#sometimes you have to wait until nighttime to be able to go somewhere because it's quieter around those hours. or vice versa

[ruvviks]

made the realization my vampire story would work best as a video game and now i can't stop thinking about it

[krustyasthejokerau]

✎𝒥ℯ𝓃𝒽ℴℴ𝒹❀

(Just a little spoiler part one)

29th of April 1959

The stars were out tonight that sparkled and shine over the city of the unknown state because we were in the countryside of America where farmers were doing their jobs for giving folks some food and water and warmth. (I mean, this is the different time in the different place, after all.)

Somewhere in the countryside of America, a 8-year-old boy Cecil Terwilliger was laying down on the grass with his 17-year-old brother Bob Terwilliger as they watched the stars together while their mother Judith Underdunk was going on labour in the barn after the rest of their family had no idea that she was pregnant again.

“Why the sky so dark?” Cecil asked curious.

“Hmm, because it’s nighttime.” Bob replied, “Nighttime means way past your bedtime.”

“Why are the stars so bright?” Cecil asked again.

“So everyone could watch them when they are bored,” Bob replied.

“Why are people yellow and sometimes brown?” Cecil asked.

“It’s the way God made them,” Bob replied.

“Why the grass so soft?” Cecil asked.

“It’s depends on how season goes for the grass to be soft or hard,” Bob said while rolling his eyes. “And now, I have a question for God; Why did we have to travel all the way here when our mother goes labour and there’s no hospital here?!”

“I have a question for God, too.” Cecil replied, “Where do the babies come from?”

“I think you’ll find out when you grow up,” Bob replied.

“Why not now?” Cecil asked, raising his eyebrow.

“Trust me, you don’t wanna know.” Bob replied.

~~~

Meanwhile, Robert Terwilliger was holding his baby girl in his arms as he couldn’t believe what he and his wife Judith were sharing this moment.

The baby girl was a strong one with a mix of ginger and red curly hair that looked similar to her older brothers and her mother, blue sapphire eyes just her deceased grandmother Victoria Terwilliger and a little bit of freckles. She came to the world with a strong cry with a hint of giggle and she was already strong enough to grab hold on her father’s finger.

“I can’t believe she had your mother’s eyes, son.” Eric Terwilliger, Robert’s father, replied, “If only she could see her granddaughter now…”

“What really surprised me that she came to the world unannounced, as if she was waiting to come to see her family.” Judith smiled with a tired sigh, “She’s a strong woman who just couldn’t wait any longer.”

“Indeed,” George Knight, Victoria Terwilliger’s father, replied. “My Vicky gave us a blessing to the family.”

“Yes, a blessing!” Richard Terwilliger, Robert’s grandfather, cried out in joy. “Wait until the boys get a closer look at the little bundle.”

“How am I supposed to tell my parents?” Judith suddenly remembered that her parents wanted to her to have two children and not a third one.

“I’ll explain to them,” Robert said while the baby girl looking around and tried to reach out to her mother who gave her a pink pacifier to suck with it.

Then, Bob and Cecil came to the barn and saw their baby sister.

“Ah, boys!” Richard smiled. “Come and see your baby sister!”

Cecil came closer to his baby sister while looked at him curiously, she then tried to reach out to her older brother in front of him.

“So…” Cecil spoke, “When will I play with her?”

Richard chuckled, “She’s just born 15 minutes ago. I’m sure you’ll be able to play with her for the next few weeks time.”

“Would you two like to hold your baby sister?” Judith asked.

“Yes, please!” Cecil smiled and carefully holding his baby sister, “Hello. I’m your big brother Cecil and this is our big brother Bob, you came to the world with a big smile on your cute face. Man, I’m jealous that you have a smile like that. And don’t worry about what the people will say about you, me and Bob will look after you and teach you everything we know.”

The baby girl looked at Cecil before her eyes were on Bob and tried to reach out to his big red hair.

“Oh, I don’t think so.” Bob said, “Last time I hold a baby, he yanked the heck out of my hair.”

“By he, as in me?” Cecil asked while moving his baby sister closer to Bob, knowing well what Bob meant.

“You know what I mean…” Bob said before he realised that the baby was gently grabbing his hair and stroking it smoothly. “Huh?”

The baby just smile through her pacifier and Bob took her from Cecil in his arms, they both looked at each other for a while before she nuzzled against his chest that made him feel so warm with a smile.

“What’s her name going to be?” Cecil asked his parents.

“We haven’t thought about what her name is going to be,” Judith replied.

“I think I know,” Robert replied. “I thought we could name her Mona. But maybe we’d call her Jennifer Victoria Terwilliger.”

Eric looked at his son, “You’re putting your mother’s name on your daughter?”

“Yes, Jennifer Victoria Terwilliger…” George said, “And we can nickname her Jenny. Just like we name my daughter Vicky.”

“Ah, little Jenny…” Richard spoke before looking at the baby and eyes widened, “What the…?”

“What?” George asked before looking at Jennifer, “Oh… Oh, that little mischief bundle. Mooning at us already, are you?” He smiled at her mischief moments.

“George,” Judith spoke while raising her eyebrow. “Newborns don’t moon at people.”

“Well, this one might.” Bob replied, and he was right that Jennifer was indeed mooning at Richard and George who giggled.

~~~

Later that night, while everyone was asleep, Jennifer was gazing at the stars as she was wide awake with curiosity and smile at the moon gleaming over her.

This little bundle had a huge road ahead of her, and she was going to have a big adventure yet.

[arvandus]

Congratulations on the big 500 ^-^ I'm so happy for you! Could I get a fluffy #24 with Dabi, pretty please? 🥺👉👈

I’m finally getting to thissss! I’m so, so sorry for the delay. For some reason I struggled with this one for a while, then suddenly something clicked, and inspiration took over. I really enjoyed writing this, it felt very cathartic. It might feel a little heavy/emotional at first but trust me when I say that it ends with fluff.

#24: You're The Only Thing That Matters

Pairing: Dabi x GN!Reader

Word count: 1825

Warnings: light angst(?), fluff

---------

You hadn’t meant for this to happen. Then again, no one ever does. It’s not like anyone ever plans for their apartment to get broken into, their personal items stolen...

Then again, it wasn’t entirely unexpected, not with a neighborhood like this. But it was the neighborhood you could afford. Now here you are, hanging out across the street at the local market, too afraid to return upstairs to your ransacked home. You don’t have a car to drive yourself to a motel to stay the night, you don’t trust nighttime public transportation, and you don’t have enough money for an Uber. But you have to go somewhere. So, you take your phone and called the first person that comes to mind...

Dabi.

You can’t help but laugh that his number is the first one you think to dial. From the surface it makes sense – you two have been seeing each other, so of course he should be someone you can trust enough reach out to. But this is Dabi. Even with your intimate relationship with each other, he is often distant and, more often than not, entirely unavailable. It doesn’t surprise you too much... he’s a villain, after all, and sometimes that villain life requires him to disappear for periods at a time.

Which is why you are honestly surprised when he picks up.

“What?” he says gruffly, like he doesn’t have your number saved in his phone; he knows it’s you on the other end.

You bite your lip before answering. “Um, hey, Dabi. It’s me.”

Already you’re struggling to keep your voice from quivering with unshed tears. If you let yourself cry now, you wouldn’t be able to stop, and this really isn’t the place for it. You watch as an old man pushes a cart past you at a snail’s pace, his gnarled fingers grabbing a bag of rice from the shelf.

Dabi must have heard the emotion in your tone though, because his next words come out slightly softer. “Hey, doll. What’s up? Ain’t it a little late for a phone call?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I just...” you take a steady breath through your nose in an attempt to ease your jitters. “My place got robbed, and... I need a place to stay for tonight.”

You hear voices in the background, and Dabi growls at them to ‘shut the hell up.’

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly. “Am I bothering you? I didn’t realize you were working...”

“It’s fine, doll.” Dabi replies. “Yeah, you can crash here.”

More arguing. But a moment later, you hear the click of a door being closed and the background noise disappears.

“I’m headin’ over.” Dabi’s voice comes through clearer than before now that there are no other voices coming through the receiver. His deep tone makes your pulse slow down to a manageable pace, and you take a deep sigh a relief. “Where are you?” he asks.

“I’m at the grocery store across the street.” You reply.

“Stay there.” His words are an order, his voice unusually firm. Is that... concern you hear?

“They close in fifteen minutes.” You say nervously.

“I’ll be there in ten.”

You hear the click and the call ends, and you really wish it didn’t. Then again, there was no telling where Dabi was, or what he was in the middle of when you had called.

The minutes tick by slowly as you wait, each minute dragging on longer than the last until you’re certain that you’re in hell, watching time slow to an endless crawl. The ten-minute mark comes and goes, and Dabi is nowhere to be found, and now you’re struggling to keep the panic down. What if he doesn’t come?

But just as the dreaded thought enters your mind, he’s there, appearing next to your shoulder like an apparition, a dark angel disguised in a black hoodie, his mouth covered. You nearly jump out of your skin when he puts an arm around you before you quickly realize it’s him, your protector.

Already you can feel the tears brimming in your lashes, but his words quickly interrupt the flow like a stopper.

“C’mon, doll.” He whispers in your ear. “None of that now.”

He guides you out of the store into the dark night and you stare across the street at your apartment complex. The building is tall and old, looming over you like a bad dream as visions of your ruined home flash in your mind.

“D’ya need to grab anything from your place?” he asks. You shake your head. You don’t want to go in there, even with Dabi present.

“Didja lock the door?” he asks again, and you shake your head again.

“Whoever it was broke it.” You reply. “Please, I just want to go...”

He stares at you for a moment, his blue half-lidded eyes reading the look on your face before he looks away.

“Well, c’mon then.” He says. He guides you to the subway. Once you get on the train, you sit next to him and rest your head on his shoulder as the empty train car sways and bumps on the tracks. You can feel the fear begin to fade away with each passing of the flashing lights through the dirty windows, graffiti carved into their acrylic surface. You interlace your fingers in his, and for once he doesn’t fight it, doesn’t recoil his hand to the safety of his pockets.

The ride is silent and so is the walk to his hideout. He leads you in through the rickety door with the dented doorknob where a ragtag group of people lounge on dirty couches. Your body stiffens instantly, your hand tightening around his as if doing so would fill you with courage you didn’t have.

A man with white hair with the slightest tint of blue-grey glared at you with red eyes. “I thought we agreed on no outsiders?” his voice comes through with a growl, carried on a sneer past scarred lips.

“Shut up.” Dabi snaps at him as he leads you past the group to another door that leads to a hallway.

A couple doors down and he pulls you into what you can only assume is his room – after all, it’s your first time being here; Dabi had never let you visit him before.

“It’s not much, but it’s safe.” Dabi comments as he closes the door behind you.

The bed is messy, the mattress old. You don’t care though. The space smells of Dabi, and as soon as your brain registers that you’re no longer in danger, you buckle down onto his bed and begin to cry with your face in your hands as the aftermath of emotions overflows into your palms.

Dabi removes his hoodie and kneels before you. He watches you in silence, the glaze of his eyes never betraying the emotions tucked away in secrecy. He hates seeing you like this, hates watching you fall apart in front of him. It makes him feel useless. Cautiously, he reaches out and takes your hand from your face, holding your fingers in his warm palm. He can feel the wetness of your tears on them, and he fights the urge to increase his body temperature, to evaporate the evidence of your pain from his skin. Your eyes catch his, red and puffy, and before he can react you throw your arms around his neck and fall into his lap. He catches you – how could he not? – and holds you to him as you empty your emotions into his shoulder.

When the well of your tears has finally dried, you wipe your eyes with the heel of your hand and pull away from him slightly. Dabi can see the exhaustion falling over you in real time, your shoulders slumping and your hold on him loosening into a relaxed grip.

“I’m sorry, I... I just... it’s been a really bad day.” You say, your eyes downcast.

Dabi can’t help but give a dry chuckle as he helps you up to your feet. “Yeah, no shit.”

He sits on the bed and pulls you with him until you’re both lying down on his messy sheets, with you curled into his side.

“Thank you for coming to get me...” you whisper as you rest your cheek against his chest.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” he teases, but his smile falters when your breath hitches and you don’t answer.

It cuts him deeper than he expects, but at the same time he’s not surprised... he hasn’t exactly been the best boyfriend – is that even what he is? Is that what he’s been to you? It wasn’t like you two ever discussed it; you two just... were. He’s given you so little...

Dabi swallows before he continues, his voice quieter this time, quieter than he’s ever been with you before. “I’m just glad you’re not hurt.” The confession feels weird on his tongue, like a foreign language, but he pushes forward, determined to say what he should have told you sooner. His voice drops even lower to a barely audible whisper. “I’ll always come for you.”

Despite the hush of his words, they feel like a shout. The admission leaves him feeling embarrassed and vulnerable, and a part of him wishes he could take them back, simply because of what they mean. But they don’t come without their own reward - you relax at his words, your body molding against his as your arms tighten around him. It’s the first time he’s been so open with you and the nervousness in his veins gives way to a light euphoria at your acceptance. His arm tightens around you as if he’s afraid you’ll melt away, as if his touch is the only thing keeping you real, his perfect dream come to life. Within minutes, your breaths become deep and even, and Dabi realizes that you’ve fallen asleep on him, your body giving way to its exhaustion after all that had happened. He stares down at you for a long, quiet moment, watching you sleep on him.

Dabi had never put anyone else first before, not even you despite your closeness. But when he answered your call and heard the fear in your voice, it was as if the ground had been pulled out from under him, his entire world thrown into chaos. If anything had happened to you... If you’d gotten hurt in any way...

His grip on you tightens a little more and he brushes his lips against your hair. Maybe it’s the bravery he’s feeling at your acceptance of him. Or maybe it’s the fear of what could have been. But his next words come out in a hushed whisper, a secret confession meant more for himself than you.

“You’re the only thing that matters.”

And even though you’re supposed to be asleep, your soft words hum into his chest, burying themselves like sunflower seeds.

“I love you too.”

[forever-rogue]

4, 5, 15 in general for bucky?

4: “Where are you?”, 5: “What happened?”, 15: “You should have listened to me.”

Hello, please take some angst, even though no one asked for it!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been a long week. Exhausting and horrible. But at least he was home. Finally. He’d been gone for longer than expected and hadn’t even had the time to communicate properly with you. It had been terrible for both of you.

You because you had been let at home all alone and worried sick about Bucky. Realistically the odds that anything would happen to Bucky, or Sam, were slim, but they were there. They were always there. The thoughts were always at the back of your mind, nagging at you, even when you thought you’d tucked them far away. It wasn’t as bad during the day, when you were busy working, your mind was tasked on focusing on other things. It was during the down time that was the worst; you’d been sitting at your desk or working on something and your mind would zone out and go to the worst possible scenarios.

It was the nighttime when it became the worst. When you were left alone in his big bed, with too much room and only the pillows and blankets that smelled like him, your imagination was left to run wild. Your sleep was restless and when you did manage to actually get some decent sleep, it was often cut short with the nightmares that found you when you were left defenseless. It was always the same themes, playing out in different ways - his death or yours. You didn’t like either of those possibilities.

You’d wake up, scared and sweating, panicking when you couldn’t find him until you realized he was gone.

It had been happening for some time, and only seemed to get worse as time went on. You’d talked to Bucky about it, expressing your feelings and worries and while he was understanding, his reassurance did little to alleviate your fears.

And gods, you didn’t want to worry him with your own worry. You’d also never try and pull him away from the work he and Sam did these days. You weren’t that selfish and although you knew it was hard at times, he enjoyed it. Bucky Barnes wasn’t a normal, average man in the slightest. He was so much more than that. You’d always known that. But sometimes it was just more than you had bargained for.

You loved him - you were madly in love with him. Everything about him, from those sweet ocean eyes that gave away his every emotion, to that smile that made you weak in the knees, and everything in between. But you...you weren’t sure if you could handle this anymore. You honestly weren’t sure if you’d ever really been able to handle it.

When Bucky opened the door to his apartment, he’d fully expected you to be there. You were often there, more so than your own place, especially when he was gone. You’d made a place for yourself in his home and heart. So when he got home and dropped his duffel bag on the floor and found the place dark, he knew something was off.

“Sweet cheeks?” he called out to the empty apartment as he turned on the lights. You were nowhere to be found. He walked down the hall to his bedroom and found the place almost eerily empty. As soon as he stepped into the room, he first noticed that your things were gone. All your personal items that had slowly made his way to his place were missing. But there was no sign of a struggle at least, so he knew you weren’t in that kind of trouble. His heart constricted in his chest.

As he fished his phone out of his pocket, he looked around the rest of the apartment and found nothing to indicate that you were planning on coming back. Shit.

He quickly hit your number and paced up and down the hall as he waited for you to pick. Just before it went to voicemail, you answered in a small, croaky voice, “hello?”

“Hi honey,” he breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of your voice, “what happened? Where are you?”

“Bucky,” you felt a fresh wave of tears well up at the sound of his worried voice as you tried to choke back a sob. You could just picture him, worried and panicking and you hated yourself even more, “I...I’m sorry.”

“Just...are you safe?” he sighed as he leaned against the wall and let himself sink to the floor, “please just tell me you’re okay.”

“I...I’m okay,” physically yes, mentally no. You hated yourself for your decision, but knew ultimately it was the right one. But then...why did it feel so hard? A tense silence fell over the two of you as you sniffled in his ear, “I’m sorry, Bucky.”

“Why did you leave?” his simple question, not so simple in theory, hung heavily in the air. You swallowed thickly as he cleared his throat, “you’re not coming back, are you?”

“No,” you answered the question you both already knew the answer to, “Bucky...I’m sorry. I just couldn’t stay. I can’t handle the job you do, I thought I could but I can’t...and I can’t ask you to choose between me and doing something that makes you happy. Something you like. That’s not right...but I also cannot handle worrying about you all day and all night when you’re not here. I’m worried sick when you go, all day and I can’t sleep at night and it’s too much. I couldn’t do it anymore. I...I’m sorry.”

“You should have listened to me,” he huffed in bitter, harsh laughter. Your stomach churned with guilt and regret; you knew he was somewhere between upset and angry, “you should have fuckin’ listened.”

“What do you mean?” you were confused as you dabbed at your eyes, wiping away your tears.

“I told you I was no good for you but you didn’t listen,” he reminded you. He was right - from when you’d first met and started your little friends with benefits which quickly turned to best friends and lovers, he had warned. I’m no good for you, sweet cheeks. You’re too good for me. Only gonna get yourself hurt.

“James.”

“If you woulda listened then, we wouldn’t be here right now,” gods, he was beyond mad, “I shouldn’t have said yes to you. Knew I’d fall in love and look what it got me.”

“This isn’t your fault it’s me,” you said softly as he just laughed, “Bucky - I love you too much-”

“So much you just up and left me?”

“Bucky…”

“It’s alright,” he lied as he felt tears well up in his own eyes, “‘s alright, sweet cheeks. You’re right. It’s not fair for me to expect you to deal with me, my job, all of it. But you knew who I was, what I was from the start. You coulda left a lot sooner and not made it this hard, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” you knew he was right and you wished somewhere along the line things had changed, “but I don’t regret our time together. I do love you, and I’ve always loved you.”

“Yeah,” he agreed quickly, trying to figure out what to say next. Instead of repeating the sentiment, he surprised you both by ending the call. He sighed heavily before taking the phone and throwing at the wall, letting it shatter it in a million little pieces, just like his heart, “fuck.”

You stared at your phone for a long time, debating on whether or not to call him back. But you decided against it, letting that be the last time either of you would speak to each other.

“Fuck,” you whimpered to yourself softly as tears rolled down your cheeks, “fuck.”

[personasintro]

My Tiny Secret | 22; Look At Us Now (FINAL)

𝑴𝒚 𝑻𝒊𝒏𝒚 𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆 | 22; Look At Us Now (FINAL)

⏤𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; Pretty face doesn’t make it up for an ugly personality. And Kim Seokjin is the perfect proof of that.

⏤𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: seokjin x reader

⏤𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: angst, smut, fluff, mistress au, unexpected pregnancy au

⏤𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: strong language

⏤> 𝒇𝒊𝒄 𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒙

a/n: this was supposed to be posted on my birthday, as my gift for you but unfortunately I wasn't able to finish it in time. anyway, hope you'll enjoy this! all I wanted to say is written at the end of the chapter!

His back meets the backrest of the black leather chair as he stretches his arms above his head, a sigh of satisfaction fills the empty office from the feeling of his tensed muscles finally relaxing. When he opens his eyes, realizing he closed them in the first place, he's met with the frame picture decorating the glass desk. Just a few seconds staring at it, and his lips twitch into a small smile.

The sight of his son holding a football ball, enveloping it with his delicate arms, is enough to make his day and night lighter, no matter how many times he has found himself staring at it. It's been there for at least year, remembering that day clearly.

He took Yoojin and you to a huge football stadium, after finding out his son's interest in the typical boyish sport. It's quite funny because when Seokjin was little, he used to love football. Unfortunately, he had no one to take him to football stadium or even a single football pitch. At least not until he was old enough to go to the nearest football pitch where he found a few friends.

But even with those sad memories of his failed childhood, it makes him want to do all those things for his son. He doesn't want him to feel lonely, left out and unloved. It's something he felt ever since he has seen him through the hospital glass, wrapped in a white blanket, without properly realizing or acknowledging it.

His trail of thoughts is interrupted by his phone beeping with an incoming call, your name flashing on the screen. Not wasting a second, he reaches towards the device, swiping his thumb across the screen before he accepts the call.

“Hey,” he breathes out, making himself known as he hears Yoojin on the other line, telling you something as you shush him.

“Pumpkin, wait a minute, I need to speak to daddy,” you tell your son, while Seokjin's ears perk up in interest but he doesn't hear anything coming from Yoojin in response. “Sorry about that. He's being wild today.” you chuckle, a faint sound of television going on can be heard.

“Is he giving you a trouble?” he asks, chuckling at the idea of the three year old making your day adventurous.

“Nah, nothing I can't handle.” you grin, and it's not something Seokjin can see from the other line of the call, but he can hear it in your voice.

“I don't doubt it.” he jokes, grinning as he licks his lips.

“I've handled his father, I think I can handle him just fine.” you tease, earning another set of chuckles from Seokjin who finds your remark rather amusing.

He knows you're just teasing, he got used to it after such a long time of the two of you spending time together. He allows himself to laugh, finding your teasing and jokes funny, even though sometimes, it annoys him to the point his brows start to twitch. But it only makes you laugh even more and fuck, he never thought someone's laugh could be so pleasant to his ears.

“Hmm, I'm sure about it.” he hums, biting into his lower lip to hide the smile that's settled on his face.

If you were here and saw him, you'd tease him about it until the tip of his ears get red. It's one of your specialties to annoy him, often leading him to whine like a little boy.

A little cough coming from your mouth shakes off his thoughts, fully focusing on your voice.

The rustling sound is followed with your voice, as you speak once again. “Are you still coming tonight?”

“Yeah, of course. I told you I would, didn't I?” he says, checking the time on his silver watch. If he wants to be on time, he should head to your place any minute.

“You did,” He can hear the smile in your voice, “But if you're busy or tired, maybe I could call Hobi and ask him if he can babysit. I totally understand if you want your Friday evening free.”

“Y/N,” he sighs, shutting you up straight away. “I told you I don't have any issue with babysitting Yoojin. I'm heading now, be there in ten.” he says, dismissing your idea right away.

He is tired, of course he is. But he barely got to spend some time with Yoojin this week, he misses the little guy so much.

“Okay.” you murmur, responding before he clicks on the red button, canceling the call.

The ride to your apartment building is quiet and peaceful, escorted with the beautiful lights of numerous buildings. It's a random thought, but he finally gets the appreciation of Seoul's nighttime appearance. He remembers seeing you fascinated by it every time he drove you home, or maybe it was your need to stare out of the window rather than him seeing the side of your face. Whenever you were upset about something he did, you'd shut him off completely and ignored him.

He was pretty subtle with the observing, especially when it involved you.

However, as soon as he stands up in front of your front door – the key you gave him itching in his pocket but he decides not to use it – and knocks firmly enough for you to hear, he's not hiding his observing eyes. How can he, when you look completely dress up in burgundy thigh dress with an off-shoulder neckline, showing off your collarbones. Your hair is darker than it used to be when he met you, but he likes it. It brings out the color of your eyes just perfect. Your make-up is soft, nothing too fancy or too eye-catching, just enough to make your eyes pop better.

Grabbing the doorknob tightly, you set your lips into a tight smile, when you see him eyeing you. Is it too much?

He stares at the silver necklace with a 'Y' letter that lays between your collarbones, before he manages to breathe out a brief greeting. You greet him back, inviting him in as you make your way into the living room. He can't help but stare at you, even as he's taking off his shoes and suit jacket, hanging it on the rack.

All he can see is you, slowly following you into the warmth of your home, hearing a distant sounds of a cartoon that's playing on TV.

“Daddy!”

He whips his head to the sound of cheerful Yoojin that runs towards him, ready to jump into his father's arms. He manages to catch him just in time, met with the scent of fabric softener that you use. It sets a feeling of peace and relax inside of you, because it smells like home.

“Hey, pumpkin.” he greets him, meeting his son's cheerful eyes as his small arms are wrapped around Seokjin's neck, staring at him.

He giggles at the nickname, even more when Seokjin pokes his cheek.

From the corner of his eyes, he sees you pacing around the room, a purse clutched in your arms as you place your phone inside of it.

Looking around the room, you make sure you don't forget anything important, until you're met with Seokjin's dark brown eyes staring right back at you. Yoojin starts to blabber about his day, mentioning something about his new friend in the kindergarten and fuck, he feels like the worst father for not listening to him. All he can see is you, tucking a strand of hair that's styled in a huge wave behind your ear. He gulps, averting his sight on Yoojin instead, who just runs towards the couch and plops himself there.

“Do I look okay?” you ask sheepishly, staring down at yourself as if to check yourself, but the only reason behind that is, that you don't have to stare into Seokjin's eyes.

They're too intense to look at, especially when your heart hammers dangerously fast.

“You look good,” he coughs, “Any special occasion?” He can't help but ask, knowing what your answer might be.

He babysat Yoojin couple of times, it's nothing new. It was usually just you working later than usual, or you meeting some of your friends and colleagues in the evenings. It wasn't anything often, not that he minded babysitting his own son. Not at alone. He loves spending his free time with him, especially when he's not living with the two of you. It all makes it more precious, even though you've told him multiple times he can come around anytime he wants, or take Yoojin somewhere.

He has never said it out loud, but he's glad you're hanging out with your friends. Knowing how much of your time you had dedicated to raise Yoojin and fully dedicated yourself into the role of mother – to the point you barely hung out with anyone – he knows you deserve it.

“Just a date.” you respond, chuckling as he raises his brows in surprise.

The curiosity kicks right in, a fair amount of questions about your date invades his mind, but he swallows it down with a weird twitch of his lips. It's weird how awkward the atmosphere just got, even though there's nothing wrong with you going on a date.

There's nothing romantic going on between you two, since you and him have decided to focus on raising Yoojin together, even though there were a lot of times of intense staring or need to touch each other. No matter how this need is powerful and annoying, there's no love in that. Some part of you loves him, of course you do. He's your son's father but you're not sure whether you fell in love with him. You don't think so, you would know.

The same thing happens to him.

There will always be some part of him that wants you to himself, but he knows it's not healthy. It's just a greedy feeling caused by the connection he feels towards you. You're not his and he's not yours. Shockingly, he's not as surprised as someone would've guessed. He knew this would happen one day but still, he can't believe it's happening now.

“I should go,” you murmur, walking towards him as he still keeps hovering over you, even though you're wearing a pair of heels. “If anything happens, just text me. I've got my phone with me.” you inform him, like every time he's about to look after Yoojin.

You're aware that he'll manage, knowing he's reliable, but you still feel the need to tell him that.

He chuckles, thinking the same thing like you. “We'll be alright.” he assures you, causing you to nod but you don't walk away just yet.

Cocking his head at you in confusion, you nibble on your bottom lip.

“Why does this feel so weird?” you almost whisper, looking down to the floor, not having the courage to look him in the eyes.

Slowly, he cups your chin with his fingers before he tilts your head up, your eyes meeting right away. “What? Going on a date?” he chuckles again, although there's nothing amusing about it.

You hesitate before he gets a slow nod from you. Cupping your cheek, you lean into the warmth of his palm automatically, growing embarrassed but you don't move away.

“Just be yourself,” he decides to say, gently caressing your cheekbones. “Maybe don't have an attitude and sharp tongue on your first date.” he says, his tone light and teasing as you roll your eyes before you nudge his firm chest.

He refers to the first time he met you. It brings nostalgia almost right away but you still find his remark amusing as you laugh. His hand falls from your cheek, cold replacing the warmth he left there, while you try not to show your disappointment too much. He doesn't want to cross any lines, keeping his distance after the moment of weakness, and you respect that. That's what the two of you settled on.

Deciding it's time to go, you walk up to Yoojin who's completely unaware of situation, eyes staring at the cartoon he chose to watch.

“Pumpkin, give mummy a kiss. Daddy will put you to bed, okay?”

He only nods, eyes still boring into the huge screen, even as he messily kisses you into the corner of your mouth, causing you to snort.

The way to the front door, with Seokjin trailing behind you, while you tell him all the instructions about his bed time. You know no matter how many times you tell him he shouldn't be watching cartoons past his bedtime, you're aware of Seokjin letting him to do so anyway. He's just too soft whenever it comes to Yoojin. For the tenth time, he assures you that he knows and opens the door from you, as you wave at him for the last time.

When he sees your back, heels clicking against the marble floor in the hallway, he finally closes the door and goes back to Yoojin. Plopping onto the couch, he ruffles his hair but the kid barely reacts.

“Mummy looked pretty, didn't she?” he asks, not particularly waiting for any response.

“So pretty.” Yoojin says, looking at his father which manages to muster a gentle smile, wondering if the little boy can see right through him.

But he giggles before he pays attention to the television again, laughing at some funny scene. He keeps staring at him, seeing nothing but the resemblance between you and him. He has your smile and as he keeps looking at his son, he sees nothing but you. Shaking his head, he focuses his attention to Toy Story playing on the television, a cartoon Yoojin has seen hundred times.

But even then, his mind still drifts to you, no matter how loud Yoojin's laugh is.

It's weird.

Being out without Yoojin, not experiencing his wild giggles or tantrums. It feels weirdly calm, not having to check on him every few seconds but still, you miss him. But that's not the only thing that makes you feel out of place.

It's been a long time since you were on a date.

The only man you've spent your free time with was Seokjin, when the two of you were hooking up. Is that even the right term? Anyway, that can be hardly said as a date.

“Was the food good?” Your date asks, staring at you with big eyes.

It makes you smile at him, appreciating how thoughtful and caring he has been for the whole night, before you assure him the food was perfect. He carefully chose one of the best restaurants nearby, your eyes nearly popped out at the prices. No matter how many times you've assured him you're fine with whatever he plans, he still wanted to show you he doesn't care about money. It's cheesy, yet thoughtful of him.

“I didn't know where to take you. I remember you mentioning something about loving steaks, so I found this place on the internet. I don't usually go to fancy restaurants, but I like it here.” he explains, reaching for the glass of water.

He's the driver tonight, making sure he's the one taking you home instead of calling you a cab. You wish you could drink champagne together, maybe it'd help with his nervous fidgeting every now and then. It's cute. He's cute for acting so nervous, even though he knows you. You've never seen him being so shy, yet manly and attentive.

“I like it here. But you didn't have to spend so much money.” you tell him softly, seeing him already waving his hand at you.

“I know, but you deserve it.” he says, smirking when he sees you shyly reaching for the glass of champagne as you hide your grin.

“Thank you,” you smile, “I never thought you liked me. Well, at least not this way. I thought you were always just friendly.”

“I did and I was, but before I had the courage to ask you out, you were snatched by that rich man.” he fakes irritation, teasing tone in his voice as you laugh.

“Taehyung!” you scold him, laughing right after.

He joins you, grinning at you.

Your meeting was completely unplanned and funnily enough, it happened in the coffee shop you both worked at. You decided to grab a coffee when you took Yoojin to a nearby playground, knowing you'll need some caffeine. The shock when your name left Taehyung's mouth is still clear to this day. The first sight of him, after such a long time of not seeing him, you were left speechless. He has that effect on you right now.

His shoulders got broader and he looks more masculine, but he still remained that handsome and funny man you remember. You're not an idiot, you've noticed the stares of women he was receiving when you walked towards your table.

When you were getting a coffee, he noticed Yoojin straight away as he stood next to you. He talked to him and surprisingly, Yoojin was very talkative. He giggled, talked to Taehyung about the most random stuff and they instantly clicked off. Which again, is a surprise because Yoojin tends to be very cautious with strangers. A few innocent moments of getting a coffee and random hangouts at kids' playground, Taehyung had the guts to ask you out. And here you are.

It's different and weird, but nice.

When dessert time comes, your phone blinks with a notification and you apologize for the sudden interruption, even though you were just enjoying the dessert. Taehyung just waves you off with a soft smile, silently telling you it's absolutely okay. He knows the reason behind your phone placed on the table is purely because of Yoojin.

[9:41pm] hobi: how's the date??

You almost snort at the message, knowing Hoseok just can't wait to call you and make you spill all the details about your date. He even called you before Seokjin came to your place, making sure he FaceTimed you to check your outfit and make-up.

[9:42pm] great!

His message comes right away.

[9:42pm] hobi: that's it? care to elaborate??

[9:42pm] i'm on a date hobi, talk to you later

[9:43pm] hobi: fine, use protection this time

You almost choke, cheeks burning at his message before you lock your phone. Taehyung notices your flashed face, asking you if you're alright and you quickly assure him Hoseok is just being inappropriate. He laughs, not questioning his messages but from the little smirk, you can see he gets the picture.

When your phone beeps with another notification, you groan and pick up your phone again, ready to tell your best friend to kindly fuck off. But the message isn't from Hoseok, other than laughing emojis he sent you. It's Seokjin who sent you a picture and when you open it, you smile right away. It's photo of them, laying on the couch. Yoojin is showing his teeth, grinning at the camera while he holds his plushy of soccer ball that Seokjin got him. His father simply smiles at the camera, but you find yourself staring at his dark eyes longer than you should.

[9:46pm] miss you

You text him, a word 'read' on the screen pops right away. Bubbles appear, signaling he's texting you back.

[9:46pm] seokjin: both of us?

Your heart flatters as soon as you read his message, your toes curling with a weird feeling in your chest. Biting your lower lip, you glance at Taehyung who seems to be busy eating his dessert to notice your sudden change of expression.

Thank fuck.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard for a few seconds before you start typing.

[9:47pm] yes

It's a simple word, yet it leaves you excited and nervous at the same time. If you weren't in a restaurant, you'd probably squeal out loud.

[9:48 pm] seokjin: then come home

It leaves you guilty, torn between what you should do. If you leave right now, you'd feel bad for Taehyung because he doesn't deserve it and you're enjoying your date. At the same time, it doesn't feel fair towards him. You're on a date, texting with the father of your child that you miss him.

Locking the phone, you chat with Taehyung for a few minutes until you're both done eating.

“Wanna go home?” he asks, paying the bill before the two of you walk out of the restaurant.

“Yes, please.” you answer, probably too quickly for your liking but thankfully, Taehyung just chuckles and opens the car's door for you.

He doesn't kiss you when he drives you home, but he gives you a very warm hug and soft kiss into your hair. He smells nice and you enjoy his hug, feeling sad when he pulls away. After he makes sure you're inside of your apartment building, you watch him driving off through the glass door before you make your way home.

There's darkness, a muffled sound of television in the background which creates the only illumination in the living room. When you take off your heels you go there, following the sounds and lightening. Seokjin's laying on the couch, eyes staring at the screen but you notice him drifting off before he notices you.

“Hey,” he rasps out, looking at you as you greet him back.

“Hi,” you smile, “Where's Yoojin?”

“Sleepin'.” he responds, pointing towards the door of his bedroom.

He informs you he fell asleep quite early, they watched a few cartoons and played some games before he went to sleep.

Staring at Seokjin, your hands twitch at your sides as you nibble on your bottom lip. As if Seokjin could read your mind, he chuckles and makes some space for you.

“Come here.” he calls out to you, and you don't hesitate, laying next to him.

He pulls you closer, arm carefully placed above your head as he tries not to overstep any boundaries. This is not the first time the two of you are in this position. You're cuddling, barely touching each other with your hands, but just feeling his presence and warmth is enough for you.

“How was the date?” he asks silently as you plop your hands over your stomach.

“Good, he is very nice.” you murmur.

“That's... good,” you hear him swallow, “You deserve someone who's going to cherish you.”

It's almost funny how your heart skips a beat, although you've heard him being this direct and honest a few times. He opens up much more these days, saying stuff that makes your head spin and heart flutter with each word, even though he's not swooning all over you. Maybe that's what you want for him. Well, not to swoon over you but add a little bit more feelings to his words. He says it as a fact and a friend.

“Thanks.” That's all you can say. You fear he's going to hear the tremble in your voice.

“I know I wasn't treating you right, not the way you deserved. I was harsh all the time.”

You've had this conversation a couple of months ago. The night when Yoojin fell asleep after a long day and you opened a bottle of red wine. You didn't get drunk, not when there's your son sleeping in the next room. But the red liquid brought much more honest and intimate conversation than you've ever expected.

Because you can already hear the regret in his voice, you decide to stop him.

“Seokjin--”

“And I hope someone else can treat you better.”

“I wasn't innocent in that too, you know that,” You ignore his previous word, focusing on the topic that doesn't involve someone else in your life.

There are so many things, fucked up things, you both did. He needs to know that. And as many times as you told him that, he still blames himself for everything. He bursts sometimes, spitting remarks when he's frustrated but the difference this time is, that he apologizes right after. You can always see the regret in his eyes, voice filled with apology.

Before he can react, a soft whisper comes out of your mouth.

“I hope you'll find someone who's going to love you.”

You've no idea why it hurts when you say that. You want him to find someone, someone who will bring the light inside of him. It'd be interesting to see him being in love.

“Yeah,” he breathes out a chuckle, almost amused and sarcastic.

“Maybe you'll have another baby. It wouldn't be with your fling this time.” you try to joke, breathing in relief when he chuckles in a response.

“I don't think so. No more babies.”

“Why? You're amazing father to Yoojin.” you laugh, silencing yourself since you don't want to wake up your son.

“Maybe, if you'll be the one who carries them.” he teases, nudging you with his shoulder.

This time, you're glad for the lack of lightening in the room as you blush but giggle at his words. He's joking, you know that. He has mentioned not wanting to have more kids couple of times.

Yawning, Seokjin looks at you as you sheepishly grin at him.

“I'm gonna head to the bed. Argh, I'm too lazy to take a shower.” you groan, slowly sitting up. He sits up as well, rubbing his eyes as he yawns too.

“Are you staying?” you ask quietly, slowly poking your inner cheek with a tongue.

“I don't know.” he answers.

You can hear the uncertainty in his voice, like every night he's about to stay over. He has his huge condo he bought after he divorced his ex wife, yet he mostly spends his time here. Not that you mind it. You enjoy his presence, his stack of shirts and boxers in one of your drawers are the perfect proof of it.

“Come on, my bed is big enough for the both of us.”

It should be weird for the two of you sleeping in the same bed, but it's not. It's not unfamiliar, even though it doesn't happen that often.

“Are you sure?” He sounds unsure, cocking his head to the side.

The right side of his hair is rustled and you bite onto your lower lip to prevent a giggle escaping your lips.

“Or you can stay on the couch. But I know it's not as comfortable as my bed is. Your choice.” you tell him, turning around as you make your way towards the bathroom.

When you're done with taking a shower, you walk into your bedroom just to find him laying in your bad. On the same left side like he always does, causing you to smile.

You lay on the bed, wondering if he is asleep since there's barely any sound indicating that he might be awake. Your back is turned to him, pushing away the urge to cuddle up to him, even though you've never properly cuddled.

Just as your eyes are slowly closing, mind already drifting away before you hear his soft but raspy voice.

“Goodnight.”

You smile into your pillow, opening your mouth.

“Goodnight.”

With the peaceful silence and having that someone next to you, falling asleep is easier and quicker than ever before. Your mind and dreams are already filled with two men, with no idea how your heart truly feels about them.

No matter what, you need to figure it out.

author's note: Wow. Can you believe this? The end. The actual end of My Tiny Secret, a drabble series that were supposed to be a small drabble I randomly came up with. Then I wrote the second part which could've been read separately. But the reactions were so supportive and amazing, that I've decided to make it into a full drabble series. To be honest, I've never thought it'd have 22 chapters in total, I was thinking more of like maybe 10 chapters. But as I was writing it, a lot of ideas came up to my mind and all your amazing responses helped so much! I had to stop myself couple of times from creating another 'drama' or lead the storyline to a complete different level, because I had so much content to work with. I had to remind myself that this is supposed to be small/ less complicated than my other series. However, I love how we could see the characters' development and realistic scenarios. Reading all your theories, thoughts and reviews have brought so many smiles on my face and it's safe to say, that MTS became this big because of you! Your constant sweet messages motivated me so much that I never wanted it to end. But every story ends and I know so many of you wanted the ending to be them ending together or the complete opposite. I don't even know when I realized and knew what ending I want, but during writing their story it came to the point that I knew I wanted it to be them co-parenting. I knew it from the beginning that they won't stay together. There is a really thin line between love or simple attraction. No matter what the ending is, I hope you've enjoyed this journey with me. Thank you everyone for reading & being so supportive as always. I'm definitely going to miss my inbox being full of MTS asks, but I can't wait for you to read the rest of my stories I'm preparing for you! Again, thank you & I love you. Can't wait to read all your thoughts/asks about MTS for the last time!

[goofygomez]

Moonlit Wishes - A Rayllum Fanfic

Hey everyone, long time no see! I've been on hiatus for a very long time, and it's very quite good for my mental health. Recently I binged The Dragon Prince on Netflix (highly recommend it) and decided to do as I do and write a fic for it.

This one in particular is inspired by @raayllum's amazing Hiatus Hoedown. This time I'm taking a crack at Day 1: Talking to the moon. Hope you guys enjoy it.

Here's a link to the Ao3 story, if you'd prefer to read it on there.

Description: Callum and Rayla discuss the differences in their cultures' way of wishing upon celestial bodies, fluff ensues.

Wordcount: 3386

----

Callum had always loved the moon, even as a child. It had always looked to him as a watchful eye, surveying the world beneath it. His mother would take him on nightly strolls along the castle to go see it, and she knew the secret passages to the highest towers without alerting the Crownsguard. She called them ‘their little adventures’. Of course, she was the Queen, so they did not really need to sneak around, but Callum found their nighttime wanderings something… magical.

They would stare up at the moon and tell each other about their days, sometimes sharing a jelly tart from the town baker until eventually, he’d fall asleep on her lap. He never did get to tell his mother how much those nights meant to him before it was too late. Nearly ten years later, that void in his heart still ached every time he looked up at that beautiful silver moon.

“What’ya thinking about?” came the voice of Rayla from behind him. He turned to see his girlfriend tilting her head at him.

“Nothing, just… thinking,” he said.

“Oh, that’s specific,” teased the elf.

Callum rolled his eyes and took her hand in his, four fingers against five. Her silver hair fell gracefully over her shoulders, a small braid poking its way through it on her left side. Her lilac eyes, bright and alert as ever, looked into his green ones, and a goofy grin spread across her lips.

“Just thinking about you… and how beautiful you are,” he said, trying his best at sounding smooth. It was partially downplayed by his voice cracking, but she giggled nonetheless.

“Shut up, you dummy.” She punched him playfully on the shoulder.

“C’mon, I wanna show you this place,” he said, gesturing behind him.

They were on the outskirts of the Katolian Capital’s forest, walking down a partially obscured path. Large, ancient trees stood like sentries on either side of them, their tops barely obscuring the silver rays of moonlight seeping through the branches, casting odd, elongated shadows over the packed dirt. Dead leaves and pine needles were strewn about haphazardly, almost deliberately to accentuate their footfalls.

Callum thought of the last time he came to this particular spot with his brother and step-father. It seemed an eternity ago that they’d played ‘I spy’ on this very path. Now, their father was dead and Ezran, newly crowned King of Katolis, had spent the first few months of his rule advocating for the union of the human kingdoms with the Xadian population, with Callum at his side. It had not been easy so far, as some wounds were still fresh in the other rulers’ minds, but Ezran had still not lost hope.

Rayla had been with them most of the time, trying her best to be an ambassador for the young king, though her status with the Moonshadow elves was still under review. Callum assured her that they would eventually be forced to lift her banishment, but some of the elder elves were… stubborn in their thinking. He just hoped they would listen to them when they arrived there next month.

After a few minutes of silent pacing, punctuated solely by their soft footsteps and the occasional chirping of crickets, they arrived at a large clearing. Just ahead of them, a small lake shimmered under the moonlight. The packed dirt on the path gave way to lush green grass, illuminated both by the starry sky and fireflies. The bank closest to them was filled with small boulders, eroded by millennia of contact with the eerily still waters.

Callum stepped back to let Rayla see the whole picture and grinned.

“So? What do you think?”

The elf glanced around the clearing with awe and wonder in her eyes. Callum did not fail to notice her disgruntled expression directed at the peaceful water.

“Don’t worry, we’re not going into the lake,” he assured her, chuckling when Rayla sighed dramatically.

“Thank the Moon,” she said, nodding. “If you had brought me to a nighttime swim, I would probably break up with you.”

“Duly noted.” He took her hand again and led her to one of the boulders, careful not to steer her too close to the water’s edge. “I just thought it would be fun to just… hang out here.”

They sat on the rock and spread out, stretching their legs slightly after a half-hour walk down the forest.

“It does seem peaceful,” she conceded, laying her head on his shoulder. “Been a while since we were able to do this.”

Callum sighed. “I know.” Between assisting his brother and Rayla’s constant trips to and from Xadia, they had not had much time to themselves as a couple. “I promise to make a little more time when you’re here.”

“At least it’s for a good cause, right?” said Rayla. “I mean, Ez needs all the help he can get. Plus, we’ve got a lot of time to… catch up once things settle down.” She looked up at him with a fond smile.

Callum thought of all the times, even before they got together, that they just sat on a patch of dirt or some rock, looking at the sky and wondering when their mission would be over; wondering if they’d ever see their homes again, or would live to tell the tale.

“I just want to know when that is. Even just an estimate would be nice,” he said half-heartedly, letting out a deep breath and leaning forward to place a caste kiss on her lips. “But this is worth the wait.”

“Look who’s all sappy all of a sudden,” she said with a grin and kissed him again. “I love you, dummy.”

“I love you, too.”

They sat there, enjoying each other’s presence for what felt like forever, but could only have been ten minutes. A soft breeze had picked up from the east, creating ripples on the otherwise still surface of the lake; distorting the reflection from the crescent moon above. He looked up once more, wondering if his mother was out there somewhere, overjoyed that her sons were following in her and Harrow’s footsteps.

Just as he scanned the sky for whatever signs she would send him, something incredible happened. Almost as if called upon by his thoughts, a shooting star streaked across the star-strewn sky, bright and beautiful. As fast as it had come, it vanished.

“Look, did you see that?” he exclaimed excitedly, pointing at the spot where it had just been.

“Uh, what am I looking at?” asked Rayla, confused.

“The shooting star, right there.” He closed his eyes and muttered under his breath. He could feel Rayla staring at him, and after a few seconds, opened his eyes to see her wide-eyed and thoroughly confused.

“Wha- What just happened?” she said, glancing between him and the sky.

“It’s a shooting star,” he said matter-of-factly. “When you see one, you make a wish. Don’t elves do that?”

“Wait, humans wish upon shooting stars?” she asked incredulously. “Why?”

Callum shrugged. “I don’t know, we just do. It’s a tradition or something.”

“Humans are weird.”

“Sure, what do you guys wish upon? The moon?” he said with a smirk, enjoying a little too much how pink her cheeks got.

Rayla scoffed. “As a matter of fact, we do,” she said, trying and failing to sound indignant.

“But the moon is there every night,” he said, glancing up at the sky and frowning. “That’s a lot of wishes.”

“We only wish on a New Moon, dummy,” she explained patiently.

“Why only the New Moon?” Callum asked, genuinely curious. It seemed logical enough that they wouldn’t wish on the moon every single night, but any insight into his girlfriend’s culture was something he did not take lightly.

“Well, the idea is that a New Moon signals the beginning of another cycle. The halfway point between two Full Moons, which is when we’re at our strongest. The Moon Arcanum supposedly… blesses us when we’re at our weakest.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Callum said pensively. “More sense than whatever humans came up for shooting stars, at least.”

“So… what did you wish for just now?”

“I can’t say.”

“Why? Is it embarrassing?” teased Rayla, poking him in the ribs. He chuckled but shook his head.

“No, because if I tell you, it won’t come true.”

“Well that’s no fun,” she said with a pout.

Callum shrugged and scooted closer to Rayla, taking her right hand in his and squeezing gently. They both sighed contently, almost as if they knew what the other was thinking; could sense the peacefulness and the stillness of the air around them.

“Tell you what, if it comes true, I’ll let you know,” he said, kissing the top of her head, careful to avoid her horns.

“Sounds good,” she said. “So what were you muttering before? I have good hearing but it barely sounded like words.”

“It’s like a little song you say before you make your wish?”

Rayla studied him curiously, nodding along as he spoke. She seemed to be thinking about something, debating with herself. She blinked once and looked into his eyes.

“Would you teach me?” she asked softly.

“You wanna make a wish?” he said. When she nodded, he sat up straight, facing her. He took her hands in his and grinned. “Repeat after me. Star bright, star light.”

She nodded and followed his instructions. She closed her eyes and sighed before saying, “Star bright, star light.”

“First star I see tonight.” He thought it might not count, as she had not done it before, but it was the thought that counted, right?

She repeated the phrase and her lips curved ever so slightly upwards.

“Wish I may, wish I might,” he continued

“Wish I may, wish I might.”

“Have the wish I wish tonight,” he concluded, opening his eyes and seeing her mouthing the end of the song, nodding almost solemnly. Her eyes fluttered slowly open and landed on him.

Callum heard the rustling of leaves above them, possibly from a squirrel scrutinizing them or a songbird perching on a branch. He thought of all the time they’d have as a couple, especially after their help was not as imperative in the running of Katolis, to just… be happy together. How long had he refrained from letting himself be truly content with his life? And now, being with Rayla, he couldn’t even imagine anything or anyone else for him.

He leaned forward and kissed her ever so gently. Her lips tasted of moonberries, and her violet eyes, almost glowing in the dark, closed as she melted into the kiss and he felt her hand on his scarf, not quite pulling him in but not pushing him either. When they broke apart, he was grinning.

“My wish did come true,” he said, cheekily.

“Mine too,” she replied.

-

Rayla’s footsteps were light and gentle on the soft ground; years of training to be an assassin still ingrained in her every move. Even eight years after meeting who she now knew was the love of her life, there still was a part of her that kind of missed those times when life was so… straightforward. Even so, as she looked back at Callum – now a few inches taller than he’d been when they met, and growing what could only be described as the faintest shadow of a beard – she knew in her bones that that little part of her was wrong.

He looked impressive with his fur overcoat, his immaculately woven violet undershirt (which he claimed matched her eyes) and his leather boots. He had opted not to wear his signature red scarf tonight, which she suspected was just so he could more prominently showcase his facial hair, which he was weirdly proud of.

Callum stood a little ways away from Rayla, looking up at the moon with closed eyes and a sort of… wistful expression on his face. Her mind instantly brought the memory of one of their first dates to this magical clearing in Katolis, where she’d taught him the strange human tradition of wishing upon shooting stars. Moon and Stars, Ethari had burst out laughing when she had told him. Humans were weird.

Now, her weird human was stoically standing with his hands on his hips. She cleared her throat, leaning against a nearby tree. Callum shook his head as though he hadn’t realized she was there, and grinned.

“Hey, sorry, did I space out?” he said.

“Yeah, it was daytime when you stopped there,” she replied, arching an eyebrow.

He snorted and held out his hand, which she gratefully took. “I’m sure it was less than a minute.”

They resumed their stroll down the familiar path, pine needles crunching merrily under Callum’s less graceful steps. She only rolled her eyes in response and lay her head on his shoulder, doing her very best not to impale him with one of her horns, which had also grown considerably as she reached adulthood. She knew humans had a rather short life expectancy; at least shorter than the oldest elves she knew back in Xadia, but at least their early years of development were more or less even.

She wondered in silence just how much of a difference their physiology would make down the road. Would she outlive him by decades? Would the rest of her human friends do the same…? She shook her head and pushed away those thoughts, choosing instead to bask in the moment; being here with Callum was all that mattered.

Eventually, the trees thinned, thick trunks giving way to mere shrubbery as the clearing they’d been seeking opened up in front of them. A beautiful, albeit terrifying lake, loomed ahead of them, its unnervingly calm waters barely rippling in the autumn breeze. She could see the reflection of the stars in it, flashing intermittently like little candles flickering in the night.

Wordlessly, Callum and Rayla kept following the path until they reached their favourite spot: a large boulder, far enough away from the shore that her skin didn’t prickle with anxiety every time a particularly strong current grazed the edges. Callum had attempted to help her through her fear multiple times, but the best he’d ever gotten her to do was get on a boat without getting extremely seasick.

It wasn’t as though sea travel was a major obstacle between the human kingdoms and Xadia. Most if not all the roads to and from her ancestral home were entirely land-based, so she hadn’t had to brave the murderous ocean ever since their stint with Captain Villads, which she still claimed was one of the worst experiences of her life.

“You alright?” she heard Callum say beside her, as they sat atop the boulder and looked out toward the lake. “You look a little pale.”

“Just a little… cold,” she lied, shrugging. It wasn’t a complete lie, of course. The breeze had picked up considerably in the last half hour they’d been walking, but she was pretty used to the cold when living in Katolis.

Ever the gentleman, Callum took off his overcoat and draped it over her shoulders, ignoring her protests. She grinned sheepishly at him and cuddled closer to him, the warmth of the coat enveloping her only slightly more than her closeness to him.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice soft. He moved around for a second before settling in against the rock and wrapping an arm around her.

“Anything for you,” he said. She felt her cheeks heat up, almost childishly. He had complimented her thousands of times over the years, but it still didn’t mean she was used to it.

“Y’know, there was an actual reason I brought us here tonight,” he added after a few minutes of silence.

“Oh?” she said, looking up at him curiously.

“Well, I just wanted to, uh, tell you how much I love you, and how much better you’ve made not only my life, but everyone’s,” he said, clearly fumbling for words, as though he had rehearsed this and did not want to get a single thing wrong. “You’re beautiful and kind, and strong, and…” he trailed off, looking down at her apologetically. “I’m very bad at this.”

She chuckled and sat up straight, facing him as she had all those years ago under a crescent moon. “No, go on,” she said. “I like when you get all flustered.”

“Oh, then this should be a joyride for you,” he said, assuming her same posture. “I just… wanted to show you just how much I love you. Ever since you tried to kill me that night…” He looked at her with a smirk, and it was her turn to flush. “You changed my life, and I wouldn’t trade these last 8 years for the world. You make me feel whole, even in my worst days, or when I’m frustrated by a new spell, or a council meeting gone wrong. You’re always there for me. So…”

He turned slightly to the side and shoved his hand into his pocket, struggling against what she assumed were nerves. She was extremely curious as to where this was going, but her suspicions were rising. Eventually, he pulled out what seemed to be a rather small box. It was violet, like his undershirt and her eyes.

“Rayla,” Callum said, sucking in a breath and looking at her with those big green eyes of his sparkling in the starlight. He opened the small box and Rayla could finally see that it was a silver ring. It was adorned with two tiny amethysts, glinting brightly up at her, flanking what she recognized at once as a Moon Opal. Her breath caught in her throat, tears threatening to break surface with her eyes.

“Will you marry me?” she heard him say, almost hazily; as though in a dream.

She took several long looks at him, then back at the ring, then finally landed on his face, contorted with an awkwardness only Callum could pull off as cute instead of downright constipated. She let out a small laugh and nodded slowly, watching as his emerald green eyes widened, as though he couldn’t quite believe them.

“Yes,” she said softly. “Yes, I’ll marry you, you big dummy.” She launched herself at him and enveloped him in a rather strong hug, tears now flowing freely from her eyes, because who would even judge her for it? After a few seconds – or it might have been an hour – or several moonlit nights – they broke apart. She kissed him deeply and he grabbed the ring from the box, taking her left hand with his own.

“Uh…” he hesitated, looking from her hand to her face. “Which hand do elves wear wedding rings on?”

Rayla couldn’t help but giggle. In any other circumstance, she would have rolled her eyes and playfully punched him in the shoulder. This time, however, she just shrugged. “This one.” She pointed to her fourth finger, smiling.

A little more confidently, he took her hand and gingerly placed the ring on it. She heard him breathe a sigh of relief and chuckled.

“You were really nervous, weren’t ya?” she teased, admiring the ring on her hand. “You knew I was gonna say yes regardless, so why worry?”

“I did, but it still doesn’t make it any less nerve-wracking,” he said, shrugging. “You like it?”

“I love it, it’s beautiful,” she said, leaning in to kiss him again.

They lay back against the boulder, looking up at the sky, their hands clasped and breathing deep. The New Moon stood sentry in the sky, grey and muted against the starry night, yet oddly imposing. She could feel the pull of it in her bones; the characteristic surge of energy that nighttime gave her kind. She pondered this as a thought occurred to her.

“Was that what you were doing before?” she asked tentatively, glancing up at her boyfriend. No, not her boyfriend… her fiancé.

“Yeah, I remembered that time you showed me how you guys wish on the New Moon,” he explained, laying his head on the top of hers. “I guess I wanted to be extra lucky tonight.”

“You’re a dork,” she said, matter-of-factly.

“But I’m your dork,” he retorted.

Yes, he was her dork, and she was his. Forever.

[vagrantblvrd]

AU where Luke and Leia are the children of the queen of Naboo and powerful and well-respected Jedi Knight, just about the age to marry and it’s this Responsibility hanging over their heads.

Their parents would never marry them off to someone horrible, but that’s not the point, and anyway, anyway, they know their duty.

(It breaks their parent’s hearts, but barring the same sort of Very Specific and Unique events that conspired to allow Padme to marry Anakin the best they can hope for is to like their future spouses, so.)

But then!

Conspiracies and the whatnot, and whispers of war spreading across the galaxy thanks to some faceless warlord pulling strings from the shadows and so on.

Worlds that co-existed, thrived, suddenly at one another’s throats and out of fear for their children’s safety they arrange for them to visit dear friend Bail and Breha on Alderaan.

(There’s meant to be a celebration, eligible suitors for Luke and Leia while keeping them far from skirmishes that have taken place too close to Naboo.)

Unfortunately Leia gets sick just as they’re about to leave, nothing too worry over, lose sleep over, but travel would only make it worse so she’s to stay behind while Luke and leaves for Alderaan on schedule.

(He visits her, the night before he leaves. Sneaks into her rooms the way he used to when they were younger and supposed to be asleep hours ago but young and foolish and the kind of reckless rebellion of the young and so on.

Leia’s tired, still recovering but she still manages a smile, a laugh, when Luke tumbles in through the window a though their parents haven’t been training them since they were young.

Politics, of course, but their father is a Jedi Knight and their mother is the queen, and anyway, anyway, any clumsiness they show these days are deliberate, so.

They talk, aware this may be one of the rare chances they’ll get like this again, what with their duties and responsibilities and privileged as they are the universe is far from fair.

Luke smiles, jokes, but there’s a flat tone to it that Leia hears all too clearly and Luke -

“I have a bad feeling about this,” he says, wry twist to his mouth.

It’s a childhood joke borne of the stories their father and his former mentor would tell them at bedtime, well-worn phrase that heralded the kind of adventure that made them into legends, and now -

Leia grips Luke’s hands tight in hers because she does as well, dread a heavy weight in her chest.

“Don’t go,” she tells him, knowing he has no choice in the matter. “Luke, please.”

It’s on her face, in her voice, her yes, and there’s nothing they can do.

So.

Luke smiles, jokes, reminisces with Leia about the adventures they had running around the palace and its grounds and causing no end of trouble to their minders when their parents were busy until Leia falls asleep and Luke slips out the window and back to his own rooms without waking her.)

Leia knows long before word reaches Naboo that Luke’s ship was attacked in transit, all hands lost.

(Knows when their father senses it too, his rage and grief enough to send her to knees, draw the tears she refused to shed until then. She’s Force-sensitive, yes, but her father and brother are stronger, and if he’s so certain Luke is gone, then there’s no hope left for her.)

BUT THEN.

Luke’s not dead, of course he’s not, what kind of story do you think this is?

As it turns out, Luke’s ship was attacked, but one of his guards, escorts, manages to get him to an escape pod and away from the ships painted to look like one of Naboo’s allies turned jealous and bitter and angry over years and some insult or other.

(Conspiracies on conspiracies and so on.)

Lands on a planet, rocky and desolate and very much alone, injured.

Stumbles out of the escape pod, emergency supplies held tight in hand and absolutely certain he can’t stay there. Can’t wait for rescue to come, not knowing if whoever attacked his ship might find him first and finish the job that claimed his ship and the lives of people he’s known since he was young.

Manages to get a decent ways away from the escape pod before exhaustion and his injuries lay him low.

Cave in the distance he might be able to seek shelter in, assuming there are no native predators or otherwise living there, and he almost, almost makes it before he passes out.

Comes to however many hours later to a voice he doesn’t know pitched low and annoyed, but the hands checking him for injuries - he hopes, would be the worst luck to be robbed, looted, after recent events - are surprisingly gentle.

“What?”

Luke said that out loud, didn’t he.

“...Yes.”

Luke would laugh if it didn’t feel as though his head might burst, result of his skull meeting with a bulkhead at inadvisable speeds, and that had happened before the escape pod landed, so.

“Sorry,” Luke mumbles, because he does have manners. “But if you are robbing me I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer.”

There’s a long pause then, whoever is there with him so still Luke has a moment to wonder if they’ve left, offended by Luke’s words or disappointed he’s not worth robbing and then -

“Hmm.”

Luke frowns, risks opening his eyes and sees a kneeling beside him, oddly shiny.

“’Shiny’.”

Luke squints, tries to make out the figure, but it’s difficult as there seem to be two of them, and -

“I think I might have a concussion,” Luke informs the oddly shiny figure, and passes out again.

Later, however many hour later, he comes to with that same annoyed voice in his ears, but now there’s a fire merrily burning.

Nice, because it’s nighttime now, and cold and -

“You’re awake.”

As far as observations like that go, it’s incredibly unimpressed.

“Hmm,” Luke hmms, fuzzy memory of his oddly shiny companion doing the same, and also Luke being a natural-born smartass,

(Hereditary, he’s been told, along with stubbornness and fondness for eschewing things like common sense and a flair for the dramatic.)

There’s a sigh, long and heavy, and then the sound of the oddly shiny person moving closer, shadow falling over Luke that he can’t see with his yes closed the way they are, but, well.

His father is a Jedi Knight and he and Leia take after him in noticeable ways.

Luke opens his eyes and thinks oh, and hmm, and Leia is going to kill me, because his companion is indeed oddly shiny.

Or, well.

Perhaps not so odd, what with the armor and all.

Din - because of course it’s Din - is super unimpressed with Luke and his everything and Luke is just ??? because Mandalorian???

Not known to be BFFs with Jedi or Jedi-in-training, like Luke???

But Din can be excused for not partaking in this old feud/rivalry/animosity between them because Luke isn’t dressed as it befitting someone of his position, no.

He’s wearing the clothes he prefers on long trips when the are no other dignitaries along because to start with, they’re comfortable? But also Luke likes to tinker??? Little projects and such and maybe his father sent along a speeder or some other tinker-able vehicle to keep Luke occupied on the trip, use when he gets to Alderaan or...whatever.

Doesn’t look like the royalty, especially after recent events, and nothing to mark him as the prince of Naboo, or a Jedi-in-training and sworn enemy of the Mandalorians, and really, it’s incredibly, amazingly convenient, but it is what it is.

Din grumbles and complains, but he stays with Luke until he’s able to stand on his feet and even walk a fair distance without falling on his ass, and sighs when Luke invites himself along later that day when he says he has business elsewhere,

And then the two of them traveling to...somewhere, Din didn’t volunteer that information and Luke was too grateful to be headed away from where his escape pod crashed and potential search parties (doesn’t feel like trusting to the fact they’d be friendly towards him) and so on.

Doesn’t chatter incessantly as the annoyed set of Din’s shoulders heavily imply, because Luke is still injured and while his head isn’t an agony at the moment, it’s hardly a joy to deal with.

But, he does talk.

A lot.

About everything and nothing, off on a tangent here, there, wander far and wide the better to annoy Din into forgetting what questions he asked Luke. (The ones asking who he is, how he got there, and where the hell he’s going next, because Din’s patience lasts only so long.)

To Dins quiet horror, however, he actually starts to like Luke???

Like.

Annoying, yes, with the talking? But he doesn’t complain about all the walking they’re doing, or sleeping conditions when they make camp for the night and so on.

And, alright, sometimes it does get a bit lonely out here - conveniently far enough away from settlements or cities where someone would definitely recognize Luke - but he doesn’t tell Luke that, goodness no.

They run into trouble, after a while.

People who took part in the attack on Luke’s ship and other baddies on Mandalore connected to them and it’s a matter of bad luck meeting worse luck, and anyway, anyway.

There’s a fight, and some guns with the pew-pew shootout and Luke being the one to save Din’s life, escaping with him to some abandoned mine or underground tunnels, something and -

“Ah,” Luke says, breathless from the running and hiding and saving Din’s life and then hauling him somewhere that was supposed to be safe, even with the help of the Force.

(His head is killing him again, nowhere near healed enough to expend as much effort as he has just now, but it that or die, and he’d rather not get Din killed as well since the man’s only shown him kindness - and his special brand of charm - and anyway. Yes.)

He’s expecting it to be the people who ambushed them, but to his surprise, wariness, dread, it’s a Mandalorian. (Armor’s a dead giveaway and all.)

One who cocks their head when they see Luke’s face, blaster dipping slightly at the sight of him.

Luke tries for a smile, but Din groans, low, pained, and the best Luke was able to do was check the wound wasn’t life-threatening and slap a patch-job bandage over it before they made a break for it, and -

“I don’t suppose it would be asking too much if you had medical supplies, would it?” Luke asks, expecting to get shot for his trouble - sass, snark - but the Mandalorian holding them at blaster-point huffs out a laugh and holsters said blaster.

Jerks their chin towards a side tunnel and strides off, clearly expecting Luke to follow, and after a moment’s hesitation - no way to know if the Mandalorian is taking them to their deaths - but no better option available to them, so Luke follows.

(Murmurs an apology to Din when he groans again, guilt heavier than Din’s arm slung over his shoulder, the weight of Din and his armor, knowing he wouldn’t be in this situation if he’d left well enough alone after stumbling on Luke. So.)

Mystery!Mandalorian leads Luke to a room with medical supplies stored neatly. Clean and well-lit and after getting permission - nod of Mystery-Mandalorian’s head and wave of their hand that seems more amused than mocking - Luke sets about properly treating Din’s injuries.

Fumbles a bit, because Luke’s still injured himself, over-extended himself in the earlier fight, and it’s catching up to him now they’re somewhere arguably safe.

(No one actively trying to kill them, anyway.)

Mystery!Mandalorian watches as Luke tries to et his hands to stop shaking - stress, injury, exhaustion, any of a dozen reasons and he swears, low under his breath because now isn’t the time -

He startles when Mystery!Mandalorian takes the medical supplies out of his hands, didn’t notice him moving close enough to do so, and allows the hand on his shoulder that guides him into sitting on a stool as they do for him what he can’t in that moment and looks after Din.

Watches quietly, closely, but Mystery!Mandalorian knows what they’re doing, and truthfully Luke knows if they intended them harm there would easier ways, more efficient ones than this.

So.

He watches Mystgery!Mandalorian tend to Din’s injuries, and blinks up at them stupidly when they turn back to him, head tilted just so.

“What?” Luke asks, and Mystery!Mandalorian huffs out a laugh, quiet breath of laughter and then it’s Luke’s turn to be treated.

Careful, gentle hands and Luke’s mind drifts while Mystery!Mandalorian cleans and dresses a blaster burn on his shoulder, graze courtesy of a shot he hadn’t seen coming, attention on Din instead and he knows if it were a normal (...somewhat) normal situation he’d get a lecture on that lapse.

(A lecture, his father’s face stern, and under it worry, concern for him Luke’s never doubted, and after that his mother and quiet, soft words interwined with the same firece love his father has for his children. .)

As it is...

“Thank you,” Luke says, hopes Mystery!Mandalorian hears the things he can’t find the words for, the gratitude he feels.

Mystery!Mandalorian studies him for a long moment, Luke returning their regard best as he can even as he feels his mind going slow, stupid, as exhaustion rolls over him.

He can feel Mystery!Mandalorian watching him, them, unexected guests, visitors, complications, and there’s another sigh.

A gesture towards an unoccupied medical bed, slight tilt of his head that feels of that same brand of amusement from earlier.

Luke eyes it longingly because he’s tired, isn’t he, too much happening in too short a period of time and this feeling in the back of his mind that something is happening.

Whispers and rumors building towards something catastrophic if left unchecked and murmurs though the Force he’s known all his life.

“Rest,” Mystery!Mandalorian says, gentle, kind. “I’ll keep watch.”

It shouldn’t be a reassuring as it is, shouldn’t feel like Luke is breathing his first full breath since the alarms on his ship started wailing, intangible dread he’d felt once they left Naboo’s made real.

And yet...

There’s something about Mystery!Mandalorian he can’t help but trust, and Luke’s mind is tired, muddled, clear thought a struggle but the way the Force coils around them is enough to set his mind at ease.

“Thank you,” Luke says, and the words aren’t enough to articulate what he means, but it seems to be understood anyway.

He makes his way to the medical bed, and it isn’t long until he falls asleep, swears he hears Mystery!Mandalorian say, before he does, strangely soft, fond.

“You really are just like your father, aren’t you?”, and with no little amusement, “Skwalkers.”

And then shenanigans???

Luke waking up to Din staring at him from his own medical bed, at a loss regarding their situation, everything, and annoye (at himself???) about it, because Luke saved his life, didn’t he?

Saved it, and saved it again by getting them to safety and out of the hands of whoever attacked them, and that’s about the time Mystery!Mandalorian shows up, and Din is -

Not thrilled???

Doesn’t recognize the armor, person, regarding the two of them with this underlying amusement. (It rankles, that amusement, leaves him wrong-footed.)

Still, he follows Luke’s lead when he insists Mystery!Mandalorian is a friend - “Well,” Luke allows, at the look Din gives him when he says that. “He hasn’t tried to kill us. Yet.”

Which.

Fair, if not a ringing endorsement, but it’s not like they have much choice in the matter when Mystery!Mandalorian tells them to follow them, and off they go.

Underground tunnels and such until they get to some sort of base.

Other Mandalorians and Din is like oh, no, because these ones he does recognize.

“Resistance,” he says to Luke who’s picked up on his unease, gaze flicking to Din’s behind Mystery!Mandalorian’s back as they’re led down corridors to meet with what must be leadership.

Because Mandalore and unrest and that same something Luke’s known about his whole life and the way it affects the universe around him and just, yes.

Mystery!Mandalorian cocks his head as the lift they’re on descends, listening in, and still that amusement.

“Indeed,” he says, and something about it snaps Luke’s attention to him, makes Din...wary.

Just as well the lift stops, doors sliding open and then more corridors that seem to go on forever until they reach a set of doors.

Mystery!Mandalorian glances back at them for a moment, and huffs a quiet laugh at whatever he sees, and then they’re pressing forward.

It’s...not what he was expecting.

An office of some kind, with a holomap table off to one side and monitors and consoles beside it. A stripped down version of the control room they passed by floors down, and a slight figure in armor, head bowed over the holomap table.

Mystery!Mandalorian clears their throat, a courtesy, and the armore figure lifts their head, looks over at Luke and Din.

At Mystery!Mandalorian, and there’s a look exchanged between the two, silent conversation before Mystery!Mandalorian glances at Luke and Din again.

Sighs, and reaches up to remove their helmet, crooked smile on their - his face - at the way Luke goes so, so still beside Din.

Silence stretches long enough for Din to feel it, the weight of the revelation even if he doesn’t understand it.

“Hello, Luke,” he says, tired, aching.

Sharp inhale, and Luke tears his eyes away from Mystery!Mandalorian to look at Din, something so very wrong with the smile on his face.

“It’s Ben,” he says, and his voice cracks as he looks back at Mystery!Mandalorian, laughs at something Din doesn’t understand, something that makes Mystery!Mandalorian wince, even as he holds Luke’s gaze when he looks back at him. “Old Ben.”

Din frowns, because the man is older than them, Luke, that much is certain, but surely not old enough to have earned a title like that.

Because, look, alright.

Look.

Obi-Wan and sekrit missions because everyone knows trouble’s brewing, and a duchess of Mandalore contacted Padme, and things kind of just. Grew from there, to the point Obi-Wan went to Mandalore as an emmisary, ostensibly for political reasons, but really to help root out what information he could with Satine’s help and things went wrong.

Had him, and Satine, presumably killed in an uprising, no longer a threat to an unknown enemy.

Until the resistance took root, grew, and other such things.

Satine and Obi-Wan at the head of it, getting what information back to Padme, Anakin they could and everyone agreeing it was best for the time being if they stayed dead.

And then Luke’s ship being attacked and everything that followed, and anyway, anyway welcome to the resistance Luke Skywalker and friend, glad to have you.

Luke is understandably confused, angry at having been left in the dark, and angrier still that he has to admit to the necessity of it.

(He understands, but he’d still mourned for Obi-Wan, his father’s former mentor, teacher, and beloved uncle to Luke and Leia. He understands.)

And then there are briefings, because it’s very much a war the resistance is waging, against a common enemy and while Luke pay close attention to everything he and Din are told, he watches Obi-Wan, Satine.

Thinks oh, of course, when it hits him why the way the two of them interacts seems strangely familiar, known, because it’s the way his parents are, isn’t it?

Familiarity and trust, a knowing, and that little knot of anger buried deep in his chest at the deception involving Obi-Wan’s supposed death all those years ago unravels until he’s no longer breathing around it.

And then!

Shenanigans in which Din very much tries to NOT be part of this madness, because no, okay, no.

Simple bounty hunter and so on, and Luke don’t look at him like that, it won’t work -

So of course that’s when things go to hell and the base is attacked and Luke is taken and Din finds himself staring “Old Ben” down in the aftermath because this may not be his war to fight, but Luke is an idiot.

“Well,” Obi-Wan says, corner of his mouth quirking. “He does take after his father that way.”

Dramatic Rescues and Dine being So Done with everything, but also, like. Being heroically injured by shielding Luke and Luke’s pale face and fear in the back of his eyes as he leans over Din to keep him from bleeding out.

Striving for calm, soothing Din in between yelling for help, Obi-Wan and the others on their way, and Din laughing at him because he was told Jedi didn’t panic.

“Shut up,” Luke says, laugh all wrong. “I thought nothing could get through Mandalorian armor?”

Well.

Things go fuzzy for a bit, Din remembers pain and blood and yelling - a lot of that - and then he wakes up in a medical center somewhere.

Not the resistance base, but he doesn’t recognize it.

“Idiot,” is the first thing he hears, and then, “Stupid,” and so on, and when he turns his head Luke is glaring at him.

He must make for a terrible Jedi, Din thinks, because Jedi aren’t supposed to have attachment, are they?

Dangerous, terrible, and yet.

“You are, yes,” Din says, voice haorse, more of a croak, and when he laughs at the affornted look Luke gives him for that it hurts - still healing and all - but so very worth it.

And then, okay, and then.

It comes out that Palpatine has been building a base of power for himself for years, slow patient, and setting his enemies at one another’s throats to weaken them.

Conspiracies on conspiracies and Din watches Luke as his father - his father, mother, and sister who hasn’t left Luke’s side since they arrived - tell them.

(Because, you know, because. Luke’s family and secrets weighing heavy and of course, of course Leia would not be held back, would not just let Luke’s death go so easily.

Would investigate, relentless, until she stumbled over everything and her parents and a shared look and she gets it from you, you know, and me? you have to be kidding, and I get it from both of you, now tell me what’s going on right now.

Adventures, because Skywalkers. A chance meeting with a scruffy smuggler and his long-suffering Wookie friend, and a rickety, rusty freighter

.Hey, that’s no way to talk about a lady, and as if you’d know, and don’t encourage them, Padme, and Of course not, Anakin, and heavy, resigned sighs because Leia has always been terrifying like her mother and somehow more stubborn.

A resistance - “Rebellion,” Obi-Wan says, glint in his eye when Anakin looks at him, “seems more fitting don’t you think?” - growing as well in secret.

Both brought into the light with recent events and untold battles ahead, and just.

It’s a lot.

“Thought I’d find you here,” Luke says, and Din doesn’t tense at his voice, quiet, something sad to it under his amusement.

Din hmms, glances towards Luke.

So much has happened since they meet, learned of things far bigger than them, and still -

“We’re meant to be enemies,” he says, a Mandalorian to a Jedi, albeit one still in training if what Luke told him is true.

Luke cocks his head, and still crosses the clearing to sit beside him.

Hmms, right back at Din and Din bites back a sigh, watching Luke from the corner of his eye.

With everything that’s happened, they’ve learned, the old grudge seems petty in comparison.

Also, Obi-Wan and Satine, and it hardly seems important anymore, long before his time as it was, and while Luke’s certainly many things, he’s never felt like an enemy.

They sit in companionable silence for a while, calm, cool of the night and so much between them they don’t have words for yet, and none of it unwelcome.

When Luke gets to his feet, holds his hand out to Din, he doesn’t have to think about it when he takes it. Lets Luke pull him to his feet with that surprising strength of his, and falls into step with him just as easily.

And then they have Adventures and death-defying shenanigans and such. Steal kisses here and there and never put a name to this thing of theirs, but it’s strong enough to last through a war and to the other side of it.

Would-be Empire scattered and broken and a good bounty hunter’s experience is invaluable in stamping out the remnants.

Almost as much as a Jedi Knight who earned their title through countless battles and conflicts, steady familiar presence at his side.And really, really, it shouldn’t surprise him so much when Luke gives him this soft little smile when Din comes home after a solo mission, small green gremlin of a kid he’d found (rescued) in his arms and knows their little family has gained another member.

(And again and again, because Luke’s just as bad as him and Finn and Rey are fine on their own, but Grogu? An absolute nightmare and evil mastermind and Din doesn’t care what Luke says, the small green gremlin child gets it from Luke’s side of the family.)

Also, though.

The day Finn and Rey met Poe (Ben a little confused, bemused, blissfully unaware of what he was witnessing) signaled the beginning of the end and Luke is absolutely laughing at Din, don’t think he doesn’t know what that looks like by now. >:(((((((((((((((((((((((((

[viltrumitesuperboy]

Sandman (Peter Parker x Sandman Reader)

Sorry this one’s kinda shit cause I meant to put it with the other villain request. I decided not to and ended up having no ideas for this one.

Requested by: anon Could you pretty please write a Peter Parker x Sandman!Male reader? He was always my favourite Sinister Six member growing up and for now nobody has been cast as him in the MCU, so it feels like a perfect role for reader inserts. You could make the reader straight up evil or you could make him a more sympathetic antagonist like the Sandman was in the OG trilogy.

Word count: 1617

When they told you they could make your life better, you didn't think you'd end up as a science experiment. You had just gone through the events of the Battle of New York as a child and lost your family. The first people you turned to were adults who said they could help, and they lied.

They had done testing on you after you panicked about being able to turn into sand of all things. But within a few days, you found a vent with just enough space for you to filter yourself out and back into the real world. You changed your appearance when alone in public and didn't draw attention to yourself so they couldn't find you.

There wasn't a day that went by that didn't make you think of the Battle of New York. Your whole life was there in New York City, so you couldn't leave. You saw your family dying when you fell asleep. When you woke up, your roommate would give you a sympathetic smile as she made you breakfast.

Betty Brant was understanding and had lost family in the event as well. She wasn't too close to her cousins, but it still affected her and her family. Her parents were kind enough to let you stay with them for many years, knowing how much the event affected your life. None of them had anticipated exactly how much it affected you.

The first time you used your powers in public, you stopped a car crash, but the traffic caused more damage than the initial crash. You fled immediately, and suddenly your fleeing figure was on the front page of newspapers and TV news channels. Still, you remained hidden.

The ability of changing your appearance was by far one of the best parts of your unwelcome powers. Turning into sand served as a good way to sneak around. It led you to your job working with another scientist. Sure, they weren't exactly your favourite people, but Toomes had a goal of keeping his family safe considering the dangerous lives people lived when amongst superpowered people. You knew that he was just doing what he could to keep his family supported.

Whenever he needed a hand, you snuck out of the Brant's house late at night to aid him in collecting technology from different facilities. Sometimes it was just a more difficult job, like Avengers-related items, which meant that you would have to help. Your only request was that he did not go near Midtown Tech. You had to keep Betty safe. He agreed, since his daughter was there.

Then Spider-Man came along and tore that life apart.

Toomes was sent to jail, and he had broken his promise of not going near Midtown. He let Shocker stand guard there on the night of your homecoming dance, of all times, fighting the vigilante. He had put your one, and maybe only, friend at risk for his own desires. You split from him and took your own path. It wasn't quite the best idea.

"Hands in the air!"

You mumbled a curse to yourself as you turned around, your arms up in surrender. Your appearance was that of a random person you had seen the other day. The news caught on eventually that all these random people, ex-criminals or not, were not the ones committing petty theft or, in your current case, not-so-petty theft.

"Look, I'm not just going to stand around," you called back, the new voice unfamiliar to you. "I'll escape easily."

There were a few more shouts and you stepped out of the broken glass window and onto the sidewalk. Suddenly, you were hit in the shoulder and thrown to the ground.

"Hey! What the-"

A web covered your torso, holding you down. Spider-Man.

"God, you're stupid," you grumbled.

You let yourself turn into sand and escaped his webs easily. He stood on a rooftop, and you turned back into sand to get yourself up there.

"So, we finally meet. After you took down my employer and I realised who he really was, I thought I wouldn't have to see that stupid mask in person," you said.

"H-Hey! It's not stupid!" Spider-Man whined.

"Oh really?"

You shifted your appearance to look like him, a perfect copy.

"Oh, do I really stand like that? Wow, that's so awkward," Spider-Man mumbled to himself. "Maybe I should put my arms-"

"Pay attention!" you shouted. "You don't know anything about me, and I don't want to get involved with you. You let me leave and never cross paths with me again, and life will be better for you."

"Are you threatening me? Cause that kind of sounds like one. I don't really wanna fight anyone if I don't have to," he said, quickly enough that you couldn't interrupt him.

You got closer to him until you were only a foot away, and pointed your currently red-gloved finger at his chest.

"If you stay out of my life, I'll stay out of yours. I'm sure you have loved ones you don't want getting hurt, do you?"

"You wouldn't."

"No, but information is easy to get, Spider-Man. And no one can get it quieter than someone who can turn into sand."

"You've lost someone, haven't you?"

It was quiet, and the only thing you could hear were the sirens still surrounding you, and the occasional shout from a drunk person on the street.

"It’s none of your business."

You collapsed yourself into a pile of sand and left with the night wind to blow you back home. You could still feel the crack in your voice, sounding just like Spider-Man, in the last sentence you spoke.

———

It had been a few weeks since you took any jobs. Betty was completely oblivious to anything you had done in the past year, but she knew when something was wrong. Every once in a while, she'd come to the room you shared with her with two bowls of your favourite snacks and would watch a film or show you enjoy. She knew you so well and you felt bad that you never told her about what happened to you. Still, you had to keep her safe.

It was some random day during midterms when you were just stressed about everything. You found a random rooftop in the city to hang around, wearing the face of yet another stranger. You heard a distant whooshing noise and then quiet footsteps on the roof behind you.

"The city's beautiful at night, isn't it?" you asked, leaning back on your hands. "Too bad it's the reason we can't see the stars out here."

"Uh, yeah," Spider-Man responded. "Sometimes I just like to hang around Times Square with all the billboards."

He took a seat somewhere on the edge of the rooftop near you. You turned to look at him.

"That's the same suit you wore last time. You used to have that old one with the hoodie, didn't you? Like when you were fighting Toomes," you observed.

"Yeah, I have a... sponsor?"

"You don't seem so sure about that."

Spider-Man laughed, mimicking your position leaning back on his hands.

"Hey, about last time, I didn't want to overstep any boundaries. If you have lost someone, I'm sorry," he said, just loud enough for you to hear over the nighttime city sounds.

"It was my family. Battle of New York. And now I have these stupid powers because of it."

Your voice began to break again. The first time telling anyone the truth was always the hardest.

"Let me guess: you didn't know where else to go?" Spider-Man asked. "So you took the first option and it was the worst one?"

You nodded, tears beginning to fall. He shuffled a bit closer and put a hand on your shoulder.

"You know- no, you don't know. God, that's stupid."

You let yourself chuckle at his awkward slip-up.

"Okay. When I first got my powers, I did something stupid. It got my uncle killed. But  he gave me words to live by and it's the one thing that pushes me forward. I do what I do because I have the ability to do it. It's so easy for people to give in to the money, but I guess that's the one thing that makes me different. I might not exactly be the richest person around, but what does it matter when there are people whose lives could be saved because a kid decided that he didn't want them to go through what he did?"

You took a few moments to contemplate his words as you searched his mask.

"How... how do you give so much even when you're struggling like that?"

He shrugged and stood up, offering his hand.

"Maybe another time. Mind if I swing you around? Just for fun."

You ended up going through Times Square, laughing all the while. You had him bring you home and let your disguise fall.

"Hey, this is... Wait, I know you. I-I've seen you," the vigilante stuttered.

"This is Betty Brant's house. I'm (Y/N)," you said.

The extremely stupid man pulled off his mask in excitement.

"No way! I'm Peter! From the Academic Decathalon team with Betty!" he exclaimed.

"Perfect disguise, huh? A teenage nerd who can hide his body under baggy clothes. Way better than what I can do," you joked.

He gave you a hug as he was leaving, both of you holding on longer than you had to.

"You can always talk to me. I know what it's like to lose family and get some really weird powers along with it. You aren't alone."

You smiled into his shoulder. Maybe things would be okay.

[clumsyclifford]

For the writers prompt! 16 with jalex please and thank you, I love your work!

damn yall are really obsessed with sleepy jalex huh? well i can’t blame you because i am too <3 thank YOU for sending this in i liked writing it

read on ao3

-

There's a tap at Alex's window. Alex ignores it. Sometimes branches sweep down over the house on particularly stormy nights, and sometimes there are birds, and there's always the possibility that he's imagined it.

The tap comes again. Alex sighs. He knows where the sound is coming from, and it's not like he'd been falling asleep to begin with, so maybe this will help in some way. 

Slowly he kicks away his covers, drags himself out of bed, and opens the window.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi," Jack whispers. "Did I wake you?"

"Not really." Alex shrugs. "It's okay. I couldn't sleep anyway. What's up?"

Jack peers into Alex's room, which looks strange for how empty it is. So much of it is in suitcases or boxes, ready to be packed into the car tomorrow and driven off to college. The only thing in Alex's room that isn't quite ready to leave is Alex.

"You wanna sit out here with me?" Jack asks. He's on the roof, a place Alex's parents have repeatedly instructed them both not to climb on. Alex thinks Jack only really does this for the drama of breaking the rule, but he has to admit there is something unique about sitting on the rooftop. Especially doing so with Jack. 

"Yeah," Alex says, because why not. Sleep had been a failed venture, and Jack is a familiar presence. In the strangeness of Alex's room right now, he'll take all the familiarity he can get.

Jack shuffles away so that Alex can slide the window open wide enough to climb through, trying to tread as lightly as he can. It's not that he thinks the roof will cave under them, necessarily, but it's definitely an ever-present possibility of which Alex is hyper-aware. Four years ago, when Jack first climbed up the tree to the roof outside Alex's bedroom window and knocked like some Juliet-esque forbidden lover, they'd both been a lot smaller. As they've grown up — and gotten more freedom — they've taken up residence less and less on this roof.

It hasn't changed at all, though. Maybe it's a little leafier now. Alex brushes away some leaves and stretches his legs out in front of him, and at his left, Jack does the same.

"So I guess you couldn't sleep either?" Alex finally says.

Jack breathes a laugh. "Ya think?" He shrugs. "Yeah. I don't know. I've been excited to go to college this whole time, but now that we're going it feels like…"

"Yeah," Alex murmurs.

"Yeah. I don't think I'm scared, you know? But, I don't know, maybe. It's all just so weird."

"Yeah, who'd have thought we'd ever make it this far?" Alex deadpans. "I thought for sure we'd be high school dropouts."

"I seriously didn't think they would let me graduate," Jack says. 

"Nobody thought they would let you graduate. I'm still in shock."

"Just waiting for the call. 'Hello, Jack Bearcat?'" Alex laughs. Four years at their high school and somehow their principal had never managed to correctly pronounce Jack's last name. "'Yeah, we need to revoke your diploma. You actually don't get to graduate because you skipped so many classes and we hate you.'"

"It's too late," Alex giggles. "They already let you. No take-backsies."

"No take-backsies," Jack repeats, folding his hands together between his legs. "Yeah."

They fall silent, and for a moment Alex doesn't break it. 

Through the open window into his room, Alex can see a bare stretch of wall where there used to be a blink-182 poster. That poster is now folded up and hidden somewhere in the depths of one of the myriad boxes stacked upon Alex's floor. When he gets to college, he'll put it up in his dorm, and hopefully it'll feel more like home. But when he comes back for holidays and breaks, his room won't have the poster. The room where he grew up — really grew up, not from a baby to a boy but from a boy to a man, or whatever it is they’re calling him now — won't have Mark Hoppus, Tom DeLonge, and Travis Barker's judgmental gazes watching over it anymore, and neither will Alex as long as he's here. 

Packing for college is just deciding how much of home you want to take with you, and how much you want to leave to come back to in the summer. Alex still isn't sure if he's one of the things he wants to leave or take with.

"At least we'll be close," Alex finally says. His voice is a little rough, but it doesn't get better when he swallows. He clears his throat. "Right? An hour, that's not far."

"You won't be able to escape me," Jack says. "I'll be at your dorm every weekend, like it or not."

"I'm counting on it," says Alex. "I’m really gonna miss you, y’know?”

Jack exhales. “I’m really gonna miss you too.” He glances around them. “I’m really gonna miss this. I don’t know what I’ll do when I can’t just walk five minutes and be at your house. Knock on your window. How am I supposed to be your annoying best friend if I can’t wake you up in the middle of the night and make you sit on the roof with me?”

“Hey, you’ll always be my annoying best friend,” Alex says, linking his left arm in Jack’s right. He leans his head carefully on Jack’s shoulder, and Jack slump down a bit so it’s more comfortable for both of them. “And I’ll sit on any roof with you. Time and place, I’ll be there.”

Jack hums. “But I don’t want to sit on any roof,” he mumbles. “I like this one.”

A dizzying feeling swoops through Alex’s stomach. He closes his eyes. “Yeah, me too.”

They’re quiet again, and so is the world. It, like Alex, might be holding its breath, waiting for some kind of resolution, some happy ending to this moment. Where Jack and Alex realize that they would rather stay together no matter the cost, and one of them decides to transfer schools; some kind of sweeping rom-com finale that has the audience in tears. But Alex knows it won’t come. Life isn’t a romantic comedy. Life is just life, and they’re both forging paths. Setting down each stone right before they take the next step across it, maybe, but forging paths nonetheless. 

They’re not starkly different, but they’re not the same. As much as the two of them had dreamt of being together forever, pointing at adjacent unclaimed clusters of stars in the sky with bright, optimistic fifteen-year-old eyes and calling them the Jack and Alex constellations, Alex had never really thought they’d end up in the same place. 

That might be part of the magic, though. If Alex is searching for a silver lining, he can find one in this: however far apart he and Jack drift on the map, they’ll always come back to each other. It’s only an hour now, but Alex knows the way that life can grab you by the collar and whisk you away to another state, another country, another continent, how forcefully it can shake away all the strings you try to attach to yourself to keep you from being adrift in the world. He’d been too young after his first move; now he knows better. It’s not a string this time so much as an anchor, locked around Jack’s heart, braced against his rib cage, and Alex knows with almost unyielding certainty that wherever he goes, or wherever Jack goes, they’ll always find each other. 

“Hey,” Alex says, cracking the silence down the middle. “Can I give you something to bring to college?”

“Sure,” Jack says.

Alex pats his thigh. “Okay. Give me a minute to find it.”

He detaches himself from Jack and crawls back through the window into his bedroom. Compared to the breezy nighttime atmosphere, the house is eerily silent. Alex hurries over to the stack of boxes — thankfully he’d had the presence of mind not to seal them shut yet — and begins digging through the first one. He’s pretty sure it’s in this one. He’s pretty sure it’d been one of the last things he’d packed.

After emptying the box of almost all its contents, he hits jackpot. “Aha,” he mutters, carefully tugging it out from under a stack of notebooks. Ignoring the mess of stuff on his floor, he returns to the window and clambers back through it.

“What’s this?” Jack asks.

Alex unfolds the poster and holds it out for Jack to take. “You should take this to school.”

“Your blink poster?” Jack looks up from the poster and through the window, and Alex knows he’s picturing it fastened to the wall across from them. That poster has been up for almost the entire duration of their friendship. “Don’t you want this?” 

“No, I want you to have it,” Alex says. “If you want, I mean.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jack says, glancing back down at the poster. “Man. The things this poster has seen. The things this poster will see. I hope these dudes can keep a secret.”

Alex knows what the poster has seen: the two of them, growing up in tandem, constantly pulled together by something akin to gravity, making a home not out of any room or rooftop but out of each other. 

If all Jack brings of Alex to his dorm is this poster, Alex thinks that’s enough. 

“I should probably go,” Jack says reluctantly, and panic seizes Alex, because however much he can kid himself that he’s ready to say goodbye, he’s never really going to be. They’ll be counting down the hours once it’s tomorrow, but until then they have forever. And Alex isn’t letting go.

“Please don’t,” he says quietly, looping his arm in Jack’s again and shifting closer to him. “Please just stay a little longer.”

Jack breathes out, leans his head on Alex’s shoulder, and nods. “Yeah. I didn’t want to go anyway.”

The breeze ruffles Alex’s hair. He closes his eyes, cheek to the top of Jack’s head, and breathes as quietly as he can, like maybe if they’re still enough the world will mistake them for statues and they’ll never have to leave. Like breathing slowly will delay the inevitable. These things are impossible. Alex knows that.

But Jack makes a lot of things possible, and Alex isn’t willing to give up just yet.

[thetomorrowshow]

i will make the sky collapse ch. 6

First  -  Previous  -  Read on AO3!

Last chapter, but don’t fret--there is a sequel in the works! So far, it has just surpassed the length of this one! Expect the first chapter in a few weeks! It isn’t finished yet, so if there’s something particular that you want to see in it, let me know!

cw: blood, claustrophobia, violence, broken bones, depressing thoughts of death, hallucinations, slight gore within a hallucination, doctors

~

Crutchie wasn’t sure how long he had been locked in this closet. It was always pitch black, unless Snyder was in his office on the other side--then some light peeked in through the crack under the door.

For a long time, Crutchie had just cried, scared to death and certain he was going to die alone in this tiny space. Eventually, though, Snyder had enough of it, and had opened the door just to scream in his face and kick him a good few times. Now Crutchie just lay there, curled up on the floor, arms wrapped around his knees. He watched under the crack with tired, red-rimmed eyes, occasionally seeing a pair of shoes walk by, mostly seeing nothing but the legs of the stool and the beginning of Snyder’s desk.

Crutchie was alive, but exhausted. He’d slept for some amount of time, but surely not long. He still felt sticky all over, coated in blood and sweat as he was. He’d made a big deal over how small the space was, but he wasn’t sure that he could move anyways. His legs felt permanently affixed to his chest, his arms impossible to move from where they were curled. His stomach complained every couple of minutes--now that he’d gotten some food into himself, it was all offended that it wasn’t regular. Not that he thought he was ever going to see food again--or water, for that matter. Crying had left him immensely dehydrated. Every bone in his body was in complete and utter agony (he was almost certain his left arm was broken in some way). All of these ingredients added up to overwhelm his senses, making it so that Crutchie was unable to react to anything, motionless and barely present.

Still, he tried to hold onto the thought that he was alive. It had been his mantra this whole time, he couldn’t let it slip away now. Not like all his other thoughts. All that existed in Crutchie’s world right now was pain and discomfort. Even trying to discern whether or not Jack would have signed that paper was too much to handle. So instead, Crutchie stared at the small bit of light through the crack, and repeated the same phrase over and over--I’m still alive. I’m still alive. I’m still alive--until his brain turned to mush.

-

Every time Crutchie was conscious of his surroundings, not much varied. Each time, he wondered how long he’d been out for. Then he’d slump against the floor and stare into the office, if the light was on in there. If not, he closed his eyes and went back to nothingness.

Everything felt so . . . slow. Feverish, almost. He couldn’t have been here all day, right? Not that Crutchie could really remember what a day felt like. He must’ve got his head knocked pretty good.

Even his vision was blurry at this point, causing everything to seem shimmery and even less real than before. He tried to call out once or twice--even if he was coming to beat him, Snyder would at least break up the monotony enough to keep him safe--but his throat couldn’t make a single sound. At some point, he was certain that he’d been gagged. Reaching up, though, the only thing sealing his mouth was the same tacky blood as was covering the rest of his body.

When, at some point, the light in the room had been off for a very long time, Crutchie thought it might be nighttime. Or it might only be an hour later, just Snyder had left. Or maybe he just forgot what light properly looked like. It could be any of those, but Crutchie tried to believe it was nighttime. If it was night, it was another day he had survived the Refuge. Another day he was alive. Another day the strike continued. Another day Jack wasn’t found.

He could sacrifice himself for that.

-

Even though it was maybe-night, Crutchie didn’t sleep. He didn’t even close his eyes, except on occasion to blink. He just lay there, feeling the life drain from his body with every rattling breath. He’d been proud of how he’d smiled through the punishments so far, but now he wasn’t sure that he would ever smile again. He couldn’t even move his mouth. It had been so good for sales, too.

Not that it would matter, he reminded himself. Unless he gave Snyder the information, he was going to die in this closet. Assuming he was here until Snyder decided to beat up on him again, or until he talked. Maybe he was left for dead here, or maybe in the morning, he would be dragged out and put back to work. Even if he was sent back to work with the other boys, he wouldn’t last longer than a day after this. He hoped he’d be released to go home, as unlikely as it was. Not that it really mattered.

Crutchie had lost everything in the strike. Both his life and his position as a newsie had been forfeit as soon as the cuffs had closed around his wrists. His pride had vanished then too--there was no way he could make it with the other boys when they’d seen him taken down so easily. He’d barely been able to fight back, so even if, by some miracle, he found himself in the lodging house again, they would never take him seriously.

His crutch was gone, somewhere, presumably either broken or on the side of some street. Jack had first found it for him in a garbage can outside a pawn shop, then helped him clean it up and add padding made of an old shirt. Without that crutch, well-loved and useful, Crutchie would never walk out of here--and that was assuming he could get the other things back.

Last of all, Jack. If what that paper said was true, Jack was already halfway to Santa Fe. He had always promised Crutchie that they were family, brothers, would die for each other. Well, here was Crutchie, ready to hold up his end of that deal. Where was Jack? Gone. Probably.

Without anyone to shout against, Crutchie was finding it easier to believe that Jack would leave him. This closet was crowded with his demons and he couldn’t escape, could only blink slowly as the despair teamed with his physical agony to take him down. This closet teemed with torment, and Crutchie couldn’t even move.

A silent sob rose in the back of his cracking throat.

-

Crutchie was drifting.

Sometimes he wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t--was he in a closet? Under the floorboards? That felt more accurate, with all the thundering footsteps coming from above. He had been forgotten, stuffed into a coffin under the floor like he was already dead, like his body was something shameful that had to be hidden away even before he breathed his last.

Other times, he thought he could hear voices. So many boys, and even a few girls, all just talking over one another: fast and then slow, excited and then scared, angry and then joyful. Sometimes it grew so loud that Crutchie put his hands over his ears, crying and begging for quiet, before the darkness snapped into clarity and he realized that not only were his hands still curled against his chest, but there was no noise, not even from him.

Sometimes colors danced before him, flashy purple and green and orange, then slowly became dogs, colored strangely and barking and growling and attacking him, tearing his body to shreds right in front of him. He couldn’t help but laugh, though, even as their fangs dug into his flesh and pulled out great chunks of it. They were dogs, and funny-looking ones. He’d always loved dogs.

Every once in a while, though, he was conscious enough to tell real from not. In those moments, the closet was dusty and suffocating and made his spine itch under the white noise of pain. The office was silent, maybe dark, the stool that was visible under the crack still and shadowy. In those moments, Crutchie could feel his forehead burning, practically radiating heat, could feel the chills that wracked his entire body. In those moments, Crutchie felt relief, mixed with disappointment. Relief, because at least there was no floor above him, no screaming voices, no silly dogs devouring him. Disappointment because he was still here. Disappointment because Jack hadn’t come for him. Disappointment because he hadn’t faded away.

Those moments never lasted. The clarity was gone as soon as it had come, and Crutchie was back to whatever feverish dream was next. Every time he began to drift again, though, he sent out a prayer to whoever was listening, just asking that all the boys would be fine and the strike would succeed. He needed his brothers to have a better life, a better fate than his own. They had to survive, even though he wouldn’t. They had to.

-

When Crutchie woke next, it was back to the dark room. The voices from his last hallucination seemed to have bled over into reality, which was honestly frustrating. Why couldn’t this just end already?

Until the light switched on, and Crutchie realized that the voices might be real.

He blinked once or twice, his swollen eyelids sticking, trying to figure out what they were saying. Even in his mostly-dead, delusional state, he could’ve sworn he’d heard one of them before.

“--No idea,” one of them was saying. “At least--doesn’t--where--Snyder?”

Crutchie repressed a shudder, knowing it would sap him entirely and he wouldn’t hear another word. What were they talking about?

“No,” the other one--older, he thought--said. “If--somewhere--ought--him already, eh?”

“I don’t know,” and that was definitely the familiar voice. Was it . . . a . . . Crutchie actually . . . couldn’t remember. Who he would know, that is.

“Wait!” the person continued. There was a little bit of noise that Crutchie couldn’t discern. This was exhausting. Couldn’t he go back to being under the floorboards? “He took--why, if--can’t--out his crutch?”

His crutch?

“--believe--you certain--alive?”

Was he?

For some reason, Crutchie had to prove it to himself. He was alive. He cracked open his mouth, blood flaking off, trying to say something. Nothing came out. He ran his dry tongue over his split lips, and the taste of blood, the sensation of something, anything, brought his world into slightly sharper focus.

“He has--be,” the voice said, and--Katherine? Wasn’t she--what? “Crutchie is strong--just give up!”

They were looking for him.

Sure, Crutchie was dying, but he had to get out of this closet. Maybe if Katherine was here, Jack was too. Then they could go to Santa Fe together, with all the rest of the boys waiting for them there. All of them, even those who had left.

He just didn’t want to die alone.

Crutchie reached down deep within him, past exhaustion and nothing and non-existence and agony and despair and into the last reserves of hope. And with it, he pushed, pushed as hard as he could, to make some sort of sign appear. Something to show he hadn’t given up.

His right hand fell from curled around his chest to the floor.

“--was that?”

Silence, in which Crutchie continued to stare and see nothing. He barely even processed the sound of footsteps moving closer, until something was rattling the door his knees were pressed against.

“Locked,” a gruff voice said, “but something--in there. Find the key, Miss Plumber?”

Something began to bang against the door, making them shake even harder and so loud, and Crutchie wished the dogs were back. The loud voices were always the worst--he just wanted to go quietly. Instead, this awful noise rattled his brains around. He opened his mouth again, meaning to ask it to stop. No sound came out.

Then a click from the doorknob, and then--

This time, Crutchie screwed his eyes shut, unable to handle the intense amount of light that was now bathing him. He vaguely registered a gasp, so he did his best to squint up at whoever was there.

That was definitely Katherine, but he had no clue who the man was. Wasn’t Jack, wasn’t Snyder. Didn’t matter.

“Oh, Crutchie!” Katherine said, her mouth slightly behind her words. Her face was filled with horror; the man beside her had disapproval etched into every line of his face. That was bad, very bad. Crutchie shut his eyes again.

He opened his mouth for a third time, trying to say something normal like Katherine, what are you doing here or wow, am I pleased to see you or goodbye, but again, nothing came out.

“Water,” the man said, “and quickly, Miss Plumber. I’ll get him out of all of this . . . blood.”

Crutchie couldn’t even flinch as someone picked him up, with a bit of trouble--his clothes were stuck to the floor. He tried to focus on the air--fresh, open, with room to think. He pried open his eyes again to see the man leaning over him.

“Can you tell me your name, son?” he asked, not unkindly, but just sternly enough that Crutchie felt an unpleasant shiver run through his body. He couldn’t speak though, and couldn’t move, so instead he blinked twice--less as an answer, more as an acknowledgement. Adults hated it when you didn’t acknowledge them.

The man’s mustache bristled, and he pulled a handkerchief out of nowhere. Crutchie realized he had water now, as he dipped the cloth into it and rubbed it across his face. Crutchie let a bit of breath release through his nose in a sigh, his eyes rolling back and closing. Where had such cool water come from? He was happy to die now, it felt so good.

“Crutchie, please stay awake,” Katherine said, and Crutchie frowned a little bit. He was just relaxing, not taking a snooze. What was her problem?

A hand took his and he hissed as his bruised and broken fingers were made to move, but opened his eyes when the hand left. It was so strange, having a soft touch on his face and in his hand. He wanted it back.

Crutchie met Katherine’s eyes, silently begging to have her hand back in his. Instead, she began to pull off what was left of his shirt. “Oh, Crutchie,” she said again, peeling it away from his skin. “Sir, we need a doctor.”

The man brought a cup of water to his lips, pausing in his ministrations. Crutchie opened his mouth obediently, was too tired to choke when it spilled down too fast. It felt nicer than it had on his face--bringing moisture to the cracks in his throat, spreading relaxation to the rest of his body. For the first time, Crutchie properly realized that he’d been arranged so that he was lying flat on the floor, arms and legs spread instead of curled up.

“Send one of my men,” the man said, and Katherine was gone in a moment. Crutchie lifted his chin slightly, trying to show that he wanted more water. The man noticed, tipping some more into his mouth.

Something touched his neck and Crutchie flinched back, remembering Snyder’s hand gripping his throat so tightly he couldn’t breathe. It immediately left, and Crutchie looked up to see the man holding the cloth away from him, staring at Crutchie’s neck like it had personally offended him. Where was Katherine? She was good at talking things through, maybe she could explain who this was and what was happening.

“A doctor is on the way,” Katherine said, coming back into Crutchie’s field of vision. A doctor? He grimaced, shying away from the nearly empty cup of water. He couldn’t afford a doctor. Why would he need one, anyway?

Crutchie swallowed a few times, trying out the noises he could make. The cloth was back to rubbing his face, sometimes ghosting through his hair. Crutchie coughed lightly, then grunted. He grunted again, shaking his head minutely.

“What is it?” Katherine asked, and suddenly she was right in his face. He only continued to shake his head, making the motions larger until it hurt his head too much. He grunted once more, not quite able to move his tongue properly to make words.

Katherine understood though, somehow. She rolled her eyes. “You need a doctor,” she said. “Stop being difficult about it. I’ll pay, or Governor Roosevelt if he’s willing.”

Crutchie wasn’t quite sure who that was, but he closed his eyes and sighed as deeply as he could. Why was Katherine here? Shouldn’t she be helping with the strike? Why had Snyder even let her in?

He must have been making some sort of noise, because Katherine shushed him gently, once again holding his hand. He relaxed a little bit, allowing the man to wipe away some of the dried blood on his chest and Katherine to gently rub life into his fingers. He was alive.

-

The doctor’s examination was far too long for Crutchie’s comfort, and happened on the floor of Snyder’s office. The doctor prodded him all over, frowning and muttering. He said something to Crutchie--incomprehensible, of course--then gripped his left arm tight and--

Crutchie’s world exploded into pain; he was sure he would be screaming if he had a voice. Instead, he distantly was aware that he whimpered. His hearing and sight had cut out completely, his head was spinning, his arm suddenly numb.

“--set. Nothing much can be done--ribs, but rest. Is it--turn over?”

Katherine was up close again, smiling tensely, breaking through the non-sight. “Crutchie, the doctor needs to see your back. Is that all right?” she asked loudly, her words slow.

Crutchie stared at her floating face. Why was she talking like that? It wasn’t until after she nodded that he realized she was waiting for an answer. What had she asked?

He nodded a little too, then panicked as she and the doctor took him by his shoulders and pushed him onto his stomach. His ribs ached, back spasming painfully. He choked out a few tears.

A hiss of a breath came from behind him as someone cut what remained of his shirt off his body, using water to loosen it enough to come unstuck.

“Stitches, on a few of these,” the doctor said. “The others are too old. They’ll scar badly, but these that are still bleeding should leave nothing but a tiny mark after I’ve stitched them.”

Crutchie grimaced. He’d gotten stitches once, hadn’t he, from an older newsie several years ago after falling onto a particularly sharp stone. This was different than that, though--for one thing, it was probably going to be more than four stitches. For another, this was a person he didn’t know or trust working on a part of his body that he couldn’t see. Instead of pushing himself away with non-existent strength, though, Crutchie just gritted his teeth and closed his eyes.

It was over after several long, agonizing minutes, at which point the doctor turned Crutchie back over, handed Katherine a bag of bandages, and told her to wrap his entire chest and any other part of his body that he would allow. Crutchie looked down at himself to see that he was mostly clean, and shuddered at the multitude of ugly gashes in his flesh. The doctor also gave her a bottle of something, then tipped his hat and left.

The other man was also gone, but Crutchie wasn’t sure how long ago he had vanished. Now it was just him and Katherine: her dabbing a warm, soapy cloth on his wounds, him making little choked noises in the back of his throat at each stinging touch.

He looked down to see his left arm--the one that had hurt so much when the doctor wrenched it--was wrapped up heavily, barely moveable. Was it broken?

Crutchie blinked, and there was a cup of something hovering in front of his mouth. He let his mouth fall open, catching the bitter drink as it trickled down, bringing relief to his throat but a bad taste to his mouth. He coughed a few times as it was pulled away, then steeled himself for speaking.

“K-Kath?”

Instantly, Katherine was there, patting the cloth at a cut on his face. “Yes? What is it?”

Crutchie thought for a moment. There was so much he could say. Did he want to ask how she was here, what was happening, who the other man had been? How had Snyder let them in? Where were the boys? How long had he been in the shadowy closet? What day was it?

“W . . . did . . . we win?”

Katherine smiled, and Crutchie couldn’t find the energy to even move his mouth in response. “Yes. Yes, we won. You won.”

Crutchie closed his eyes, twitching when Katherine poured some of the stinging water onto that bad cut on his chest. They won. His sacrifice hadn’t been for nothing. Maybe he’d even been a catalyst. Maybe, because they were thinking of him, they won.

Crutchie let himself bask in that selfish dream, feeling the present fading away. He could sleep properly now, now that there were no walls forcing him into a tiny ball, no thugs kicking him around, no boys coming to the window in the middle of the night. He could sleep. They won.

[colonel-insomniac]

A Toast, Because I’m Mr. Loverman

@my-blood-is-maple-syrup was the one to suggest this so thank them for my break in the deaths of these characters :D. ANYWAYS happy pride month :3

“I’m headed straight for the floor…” 

Pon felt like the world was spinning. Everything moved too fast, and when did he get outside? The world was a blur, and nothing made sense anyways, so why bother trying to make sense of it now? He could spin and spin and spin and maybe it still wouldn’t be enough, they might demand more spinning from him still. 

Who ‘they’ were, he wasn’t entirely sure, and didn’t know if he could be bothered enough to figure that one out. The world like this was dizzying, clusters of light in the dark glittering like stones on a dark dress, and boy did it remind him of home. Or, what had been his home. He supposed Earth was that now. 

Sometimes, Pon felt like maybe he missed Azurelle, missed his mom the most. If he could go back for just a moment to talk to her, he didn’t know what he’d say besides how much he wished she could join them. 

“The alcohol’s served its tour…”

But, this was a wedding, and therefore was not the place to dwell over sad thoughts and he came to a standstill, the world slowly catching up. Trying to focus on the happy couple happily chatting with guests. Kai and Ezra really compliment each other so well, and Pon’s not at all jealous of either of them. He feels that if that love were to ever come to him, it would happen on its own terms, and until then, he really should just be content with who he has in his life right now. Sometimes, though, he caught himself daydreaming of the day when he found the right person. 

If anyone thought that Ezra looked happy, one look at Kai would challenge that thought. Pon’s best friend looked about ready to burst from happiness, eyes glancing to Ezra where they stayed. Pon kind of wished he had a camera on him, so he could capture the soft smile playing on Kai’s face and the look of adoration lingering in his eyes. 

“And it's headed straight for my skin, leaving me daft and dim...”

Pon remembers Ezra coming to him, confiding in him on how much he wanted to propose to Kai. They’d been going steady for three years, and it was obvious to anyone who saw them interact that they were undeniably in love, that they were each others other half. Romantically, of course. Pon would forever be Kai’s platonic other half. 

Pon had to play nonchalant as he did some investigating on Ezra’s behalf, but the thought of how happy Kai would be was almost enough to crack him. Almost, Pon knows how to keep a secret. 

Like every couple, they had fought a couple times, but they never found themselves able to stay mad at one another, and often they’d start apologizing to each other so often that Pon stepped in and graciously accepted their apologies for putting them through this. 

And at some point during the investigation for Ezra, Kai had confided in Pon too, but unlike Ezra, Kai was worried. He remembered the concerned look on his friends face, as he told Pon that Ezra had been withdrawn from Kai for a couple days. It had looked like worrying over Ezra was eating Kai alive. 

Pon knew exactly why Ezra was acting like that, but could understand exactly why Kai was so worried. Both knew that their Earth born friend still had trouble sleeping most nights, and that on the ones he was able to sleep on, often woke up with a racing heart, panic in his throat, and an incessant need to check in on Kai and Pon. He usually didn’t go back to bed after those nights, and was typically withdrawn for quite some time, almost always sitting on the balcony and staring out into the distance. 

“I've got this shake in my legs, shaking the thoughts from my head…”

So when Kai was grabbing them drinks, Pon quickly texted Ezra a message conveying the general information on Kai’s thoughts. Ezra had responded reminding Pon he just needed to know what ring to get, and then he was ready to set the reservation. He had added that he would call Kai; and true to his word, Pon then saw Kai pull his own phone out of his pocket and glance at the caller ID before accepting the call. 

By the time Kai had exited the store, Pon could tell his mood had lifted considerably, a small smile playing on his friends face. 

They wandered aimlessly around the mall, though Pon did eventually manage to direct Kai to a jewelry store by placing his friend in front of the mirrors. Fate did its thing, and sure enough he was walking in, peering over the selection. Pon prodded Kai, asking questions nonchalantly to guage what style Kai was into. 

“But who put these waves in the door, I crack and out I pour…”

It seemed that Kai was into silver more than gold, and a little simpler in design than some of the flashy ones. Pon made sure to snap some pictures of the rings pointed out, sending them to Ezra. That night, Ezra had returned from “somewhere,” and pulled Pon into his room, tossing him a small bag. 

The box was covered with soft crushed black velvet, and pressing a small button released the lid from the base. Under the soft lights of the room, the ring glittered slightly. It was a simple silver and onyx band, blood red rubies accenting the small heart designed on the ring. Gorgeous, that was the only word to describe the propped ring. 

Pon nodded, closing the lid with a quit snap, and tossed it to Ezra, “He’s gonna love that, good job.” Ezra returned the nod, placing the box in the top drawer of his dresser before exiting the room. 

Pon followed, almost missing the way Ezra gently brushed the hair off Kai’s face as his best friend napped on the couch. 

Of course Pon was invited the night of the proposal. It was to some upscale restaurant, something Ezra had saved for. Kai of course had had questions, all of which Ezra just laughed and ensured that he just wanted to splurge for this at least once. He’d insisted that Kai was worth saving the money up for, to which Kai blushed in response and Pon stuck a finger in his mouth to mimc gagging. 

The restaurant was dim, and the food was nice. Pon had surveyed the layout several times just to take in everything. He found that sometimes with restaurants, they tried to imitate dim light effortlessly, but there was always something artificial about them. He turned his attention back to the happy couple, where Kai was laughing about something Ezra said that Pon had missed. However, Pon didn’t miss the look on Ezra’s face, stupidly in love. By the time they’d finished the meal, Pon could tell Ezra was getting restless, fiddling with the box in his pocket. 

He’d glanced at Pon, who nodded before casting his gaze at his best friend, talking about some story or another. Ezra patiently waited for Kai to finish before standing and hitting the edge of his cup with a fork. Those in the vicinity turned to give their attention, and those further back had followed suit. 

“I'm Mr. Loverman, and I miss my lover, man. I'm Mr. Loverman, oh, and I miss my lover…” 

“I’m not all that great with words,” He began, eyes shifting from person to person. “But for these past three years, I have found myself falling deeply in love with this man.” The patrons blinked at Pon, who shook his head and jerked a thumb Kai’s way. 

“He knows how to comfort me, and he knows me better than I think anyone ever has. I’d like to say that I know him the same way, but I know I’m not the perfect guy, and if you asked me, I would dare say he deserves better.” Kai frowned, confused. “But, I do know that I love him so much, and I know he loves me just the same way.” Pon watched as Ezra extended a hand to Kai, who took it and allowed himself to be pulled up. 

Kai looked confused, but the moment Ezra started getting down on one knee, he gasped, hands flying to his mouth. He looked at Pon, who was barely able to contain the grin forcing its way up, and Kai narrowed his eyes at him before turning back to listen as Ezra finally ended his long, tiring speech professing his undying love to Kai with “Will you marry me?” Kai, who was thoroughly crying now, nodded before throwing himself to Ezra. They were both lucky in Pon’s opinion, Ezra was able to stay steady enough so neither of them fell to the restaurant floor as the patrons cheered. There was no telling what germs were there.

“The ways in which you talk to me have me wishin' I were gone, the ways that you say my name, have me runnin' on and on…”

Of course, Pon was there for the wedding planning, that’s why it turned out looking as good as it did. But, that was just his own opinion, Ezra and Kai might have said otherwise. And so now, here they were. It was nighttime, they’d been married by someone who’s qualifications were a little gray, but he was a funky man, so it was alright. 

Currently, the funky dude in question was dominating the dance floor, getting the attention of everyone in the room. Besides Pon, who was still closely watching Kai and Ezra. Had he been honest with himself, he might mention being scared of what comes next. From the very moment Ezra relayed the desire to propose to Kai, Pon had been unable to quit thinking about what was to come. 

He didn’t want it to seem like he wasn’t happy for the duo, because he really was. Pon genuinely though they were each others soulmate, he supposes he was just afraid of being lonely. In truth, he felt like he had a hard time making friends, and being open. Sometimes it was just hard to do. 

“Oh, I'm cramping up, I'm cramping up, but you're cracking up, you're cracking up…”

Was he worried over nothing? He knows they won’t forget him, or at least he thinks they won’t forget him. Speaking of, they looked at each other as a different song played, and Pon watched as they joined together to dance slowly. He watched as they swayed together, and didn’t miss how Kai started blushing in embarrassment, or how Ezra then said something or another that got Kai to focus only on that moment. His ability to do that for Kai was amazing to Pon, and a large reason why he was able to trust Ezra to not hurt his best friend.

Now that he thought of it, the world had stopped spinning when the couple did. That was an intriguing piece of information for Pon to think over. Was there a correlation, or was the connection only in his head? Maybe he’d had too much of whatever it was that he drunk. 

An idea popped into his head at that, and he knew just the perfect thing for it, too. But he would wait until they finished their dance to set his plan in motion. It was a simple one, really. He was going to do his best to embarrass the newlyweds. After all, was it a wedding if people didn’t have something to talk about afterwards?

Exactly, so he patiently waited, winking when he made eye contact with Kai. His friend opted to playfully glare at him and stick his tongue out at Pon. Several guests turned to see what was happening, a few of them laughing when they realized it was just towards Pon. 

“I'm Mr. Loverman, and I miss my lover, man; I'm Mr. Loverman, oh, and I miss my lover…”

But soon enough, the song ended, and Pon gestured at the DJ to stop for a moment, taking a microphone after getting a nod of approval from said DJ. He winks at the gaping couple, nervous but determined. The point wasn’t to sound good and it looked like both Kai and Ezra knew this. 

He turned back around, forgetting that he hadn’t yet told the DJ what song he was looking for. When he got a thumbs up from said person, he spun back around. The song immediately launched into a verse, which, when Pon had initially heard the music, intrigued him. Usually, music began with an instrumentals, so if Pon wanted to sit here and analyze this particularly interesting piece, he absolutely could. 

Flinging an arm out, he purposefully sang off-key, watching as everyone cringed at the awkward sound resulting. 

“I’ve shattered now, I’m spilling out upon this linoleum ground…” 

For his own sake, and the sake of retaining the ability to go on, he was able to block out the thought of everyone looking at him and instead pretended he was goofing around with Kai and Ezra. He’d done it often enough that it was easy to achieve. 

He also forced his thoughts on loneliness out of his mind. This was supposed to be a light-hearted and funny ordeal. There should be no space for that in his head anyways. He switched the hand he was holding the microphone in, shimmying around, preparing for the dramatic ending he had planned. 

“I’m reeling in my brain again before it can get back to you. Oh what am I supposed to do without you?”

He finished the song, bowing when everyone began to clap. “Thank you all, I’ll be here all night.” He got a few chuckles out of that and hopped off the stage after handing the mic back. 

“Pon,” Kai began, “Why would you do that?!” He placed his hands over his face in faux embarrassment. 

“Did you not get it the first time? Must I go sing the song again?” Pon jabbed a thumb in reference to the booth, taking a step backward, towards it. 

Kai shook his head immediately. “No, no, I get it.” Ezra laughed, covering his mouth. 

“You guys are such clowns.” 

“I'm Mr. Loverman, and I miss my lover, man…”

Kai turned and when he made eye contact with Ezra, Pon knew he was about to be subjected to more romantic gestures. Sickening, truly. 

He waited until they started to kiss and made a loud gagging noise, sticking a finger in his throat to emphasize his disgust. “And you guys are nasty dorks.” 

Kai stuck his tongue out at Pon, and Ezra rolled his eyes at his statement. “Don’t worry, we’ll find you someone here. Consider it an apology for being disgusting, oh great Pon.” Kai grabbed a hold of Ezra’s hand and used his other to pretend to scan the room, and Ezra tapped his chin thoughtfully. 

“You won’t find anyone.” And of course at that moment, Ezra’s face brightened and an evil grin took over his face. 

“Over there! Hey, you!!” Across the ballroom, a tall, dark, and handsome (anchovy) man turned, pointing at himself. Ezra nodded, and waved him over. 

Pon ducked and tried to scuttle away, but the Iron Grip of Kai’s hand latched onto his arm. For such a short dude he had incredible strength, and it doesn’t show. Darn Kai. 

“I'm Mr. Loverman, oh, and I miss my lover…”

The guy was sweet, and they wound up talking on the balcony for a couple hours. Unbeknownst to Pon, Kai and Ezra poked their heads out to check in on them, the guy catching their eyes and nodding ever so slightly at them. Several times Ezra had to cover Kai’s mouth with his hand to stifle his now-husband’s giggles. 

[moderndayportia]

4 Seasons and 5 Centimeters

A/N: This is based on a drabble prompt request from @skashi-k. Thank you! I’m trying to get my writing skills back up to par by warming up with a few of these, so if you have a drabble request, feel free to drop it in my ask box.

Pairing: Kakasaku Rating: None

“Open your eyes.” A soft voice sparked in the deep, stagnant darkness in which he existed. He tried to shift, but there was no body to shift. He tried to open his eyes, but there were no eyes to open.

He was nothing, and it was okay. The blackness rushed in tighter. “Kakashi,” the voice lit through the void.

Again. “Kakashi.” More insistent. The tense sound of pained breathing gathered at the corners of his consciousness.

“Kakashi, open your eyes.”

No.

A tether yanked hard. Kakashi didn’t want to go, but he couldn’t stop the force that had ensnared him.

Up, up, up. He was dragged out of the deep, empty pool of unconsciousness, and plunged into a red world of searing pain.

His ears- yes, he had ears and eyes and a body- rang with the blaring of a siren. Everything was defined by hurt. “Kakashi, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Sakura.

It was Sakura. Her seal was activated. Something roiled in his belly and he jerked to the side and vomited blood.

________________________________________

“You look like shit,” she said with no malice. Kakashi scrubbed his hands through his hair and then pulled up his mask. She had appeared suddenly in front of him as he crouched in the dusky shadows on the roof of Konoha’s Grand Temple. He was on guard duty—or on the pretense of guard duty.

His name was still on the evaluation list after that mission. The one where— Sakura huffed and stepped gently across the ancient clay eaves before sinking into the space directly to his right, where he knew she knew he could keep an eye on her.

Underneath his hitai-ate Obito’s Sharingan ached.

“What’s with the uniform?” he asked, his voice slightly unfamiliar to his own ears. “I’m going out,” she responded simply. “Hn,” he answered. Because what was there really to say?

He had ordered her not to follow him into Anbu. Had actively pulled strings and called in favors to make sure she wasn’t accepted. But there she was, sitting next to him in the all black uniform reserved for nighttime missions.

Assassinations. Hostage taking. Mayhem. Murder. Blood.

It’s not what he’d wanted for her.

He was tired. He shifted and stood slowly, the places that still hurt making themselves known.

“Be careful.” His voice was a weary sigh. A breeze passed behind him and she was gone.

Kakashi yanked his mask back down. The late summer air was suddenly stifling.

His eye traced the angles of the elaborate roof until they settled on a certain spot—the eaves were newer, slightly less sun-bleached. They stood out even in the waning evening light. His friend Hayate had died over there. Kakashi slouched and limped back into the dark shadows.

He was so, so tired.

 ________________________________________

“Here, eat,” Sakura said, holding out a tin plate piled high. Kakashi glanced up briefly from where he was lounging under the crimson bows of a Fire Country oak tree, and then turned the page of his book, ignoring her.

“Kakashi.” A tinge of temper colored his name. “Hm?” he asked dismissively. “I said eat.” Her patience was slipping.

“Leave me be,” he responded, maintaining the façade of reading. She stood for a moment watching him, her cheeks flushed red with anger. “That’s an order,” he reiterated stoically. “Fine.” She set the plate at his feet and returned to the campfire where the rest of their Anbu squad was warming themselves by the crackling fire.

Kakashi closed his book, slipped on his Anbu mask and leaned his head back against the sturdy trunk, pretending to sleep.

Always pretending.

 _______________________________________

The gates of Konoha before him climbed high into the stark winter sky. Always steady. Always protecting. Cold stone and mortar built and guarded by warm flesh and red blood. Kakashi glanced back at his mission-weary squad, crunching behind him through knee-deep snow. They had done well. “We’ll debrief on Monday at 8:00 AM,” he directed. Several members perked up and blinked at him in surprise. “You’re on R&R until then.”

They lingered in the coldness, not sure what to do. “Dismissed,” Kakashi barked.

Knowing not to question a good thing when it came their way, the members of his squad dispersed into the night in a flash. Except for one. Sakura, of course. “I said dismissed, Sakura.”

Sakura hesitated. She seemed to have developed that annoying habit recently. “I just...”

She walked slowly towards him, her feet skimming above the snow. Perfect chakra control left her alone able to move with the stealth expected of them even at the end of a long, arduous mission. She reached into her side pouch and pulled out a package wrapped in brown paper. “I made this for you.” Kakashi looked at the package in her extended hand and then at her.

An unfamiliar emotion flashed from her eyes. “What��what is it?” he asked rigidly. “Open it and you’ll see.” Kakashi meticulously untied the twine around the package and unfolded the paper to reveal a soft piece of red fabric folded neatly inside. “What is it?” he asked again, glancing up at her. That look was shining even more brightly from her eyes. “It’s a scarf! I made it for you,” she smiled warmly. “Why?” Kakashi asked, not able to keep the indignance out of his voice. Sakura grabbed the scarf. “Because,” she groused, “It’s cold.” She somewhat roughly looped it around his neck and pulled it snug. “And it’s Christmas.”

As she adjusted the tails against the front of his armored vest, Kakashi realized how close she was. The warmth of her body reached out to him through the frigid air. Her cheeks were rosy red when she peeked up at him. “Merry Christmas, Kakashi,” she whispered, eyes avoiding his.

“….Merry Christmas,” he answered. And then she too was gone. Not even footsteps left in her wake. Kakashi stood in the bright moonlight for a long moment, thinking. He no longer felt cold.

 _______________________________________

Another Spring, another wedding.

Since he’d been declared next in line for Hokage, Kakashi’s presence was often required at these kinds of events. He’d rather be napping in a field somewhere or out on a mission, but he did his duty and put on the stiff formal attire and smiled and nodded and shook hands.

New beginnings meant his Anbu days were over and a long string of diplomacy and politics lay ahead. He’d always thought he’d have a warrior’s death. But things change. And so do people.

Kakashi slouched against a wall and took deep sips of his shochu when nobody was looking. His head was spinning a little. They hadn’t skimped on the premium stuff.

He turned his glass around in his hands and examined a little too closely the way it caught the afternoon sunlight.

Across the garden Sakura was talking with a man he recognized from Planning and Logistics.

Nice guy, but not good enough for her, he told himself as he snuck another gulp.

He hadn’t seen her in a while. Not since she had formally accepted the position of Head Medic. He’d been relieved when she’d finally handed him her resignation, but sometimes he found himself missing her company.

Today she looked—

Beautiful.

The long sleeves of her furisode kimono were adorned with an intricate climbing lilac motif that perfectly complemented her soft pink hair. They also signaled to every bachelor in the room that she was unmarried. Young, beautiful and unmarried. Kakashi sighed and turned to leave. Thanks to Tsunade-sama’s orchestrated drinking game at the head table, the wedding party was reaching a point of alcoholic stupor that ensured he would not be missed.

He ducked out the gate and into the shady afternoon street littered with a soft blanket of pink from a tall, ancient cherry tree towering overhead. He regretted that he’d rarely been in the village this time of year.

Konoha glowed.

“Kakashi,” a voice called. Of course. She wouldn’t let him get away that easily. Deciding to be amenable, Kakashi turned back to see Sakura hurrying towards him, as quickly and gracefully as her kimono would allow. “Hello, Sakura,” he said. “Are you leaving?” she asked, a small, familiar crease between her eyebrows showing itself. He fought the urge to run his thumb over it and rub it out. “Yes,” he answered simply. Sakura glanced around the empty street before looking back at him. “Please don’t,” she said timidly.

“Why?” Sakura looked to the side and hesitated. A gentle breeze rustled through the bows high above, and a rain of soft petals fell around them.

Long ago, Minato-sensei had told Kakashi that the velocity of a falling cherry blossom petal was 5 centimeters per a second as Kakashi tried to catch as many as he could on the blade of his tanto.

Sakura laughed a little and stepped closer.

Kakashi waited, stone still.

She rose up to her toes and reached to comb her fingers through his hair. Kakashi closed his eye. This kind of touch—neither to hurt nor heal—was also a distant memory.

“You have petals in your hair,” Sakura said breathlessly.

Kakashi opened his eye. She was still close. She too had petals in her hair. Her eyes burned green in the half-light. A soft blush painted her cheeks.

Now, his heart screamed.

Now.

His hands rose to softly hold her waist as he leaned in. Centimeters separated their lips.

“Kakashi,” she whispered. Now.

His lips pressed against hers softly.

[juminly]

i saw that you were doing matchups and omg they are so amazing??? Couldnt help but want 1 for myself hehe, you're such an amaizng writer and you deserve all the recognition you get 💖 may i request an ikevamp matchup?? Thank you so much!! And i hope you're staying healthy and drinking enough water hehe 💖

La Vie en Rose 

PS: The melody of this song captures the sound of the love he feels for you and how peaceful his heart becomes, even when it’s shadowed by the burdens of his past. You can listen to it while you read the below: Gymnopédie No. 3, Lent et Grave by Erik Satie. It was a pleasure writing this matchup story for you 💜

Context: When you arrived at the mansion, anyone could see on your face that you were overwhelmed. There was so much to take in and grasping the idea that you ended up in a mansion filled with vampires wasn’t easy at all. It wasn’t some sort of fantasy, it was reality and you had to accept. In order to make the process easier for you, Sebastian had given you a tour of the mansion, told you about the ins and outs of everything around, while you met the residents one by one. (all under Le Comte’s request)

Just like he does with all his guests, Le Comte invites you for tea, just to get to know you better. The man is a socialite, an elegant handsome man that is the representation of what a true gentleman should be like.

One of the first thing’s he noticed was your preference for coffee instead of tea. After your first “tea break”, Le Comte actually requested him to buy the best coffee he could find so you could choose what you like the most. Every day after that, Sebastian would come to you with a different type of coffee (and it was a bit hard for you to even choose your favourite because they all taste so good [and definitely expensive as hell]).

Le Comte enjoyed being around you in any way he could. He invited you for breakfast and also walked around the gardens of the mansion just to learn more about you. His main goal was to make your stay as pleasant as possible and the more time he spent with you, the faster the pieces fell into place. You were vibrant, a shining light that would grow dimmer, at moments. You were human after all, no, everyone had their limits.

He requested that Mozart teach you how to play the piano (although he looked disgruntled and talked about how his time would be wasted on you, deep down, he was happy and later on discovered that his love for playing would be revived when he saw the smile on your face when you would play well) and Leonard to teach you about any other thing that would across your mind [with the support of Isaac when it came to physics and other sciences as well].

He had laid out all the possibilities before you and you had to choose how you wanted to go about things. Everyone respected your freedom and what you wanted to do with your own time, but somehow, they all still managed to keep you preoccupied (there was always something going on somewhere in that mansion). You would create your own schedule, set up lessons and meetings with the other residents that slowly became your friends. It was all part of Le Comte’s plans.

On days where you didn’t have lessons, Le Comte offered to take you to explore the beauty of Paris. He chuckled when he realized how much of a history fanatic you were. (PS: He laughs more often when he’s with you, the melodious sound is so beautiful, enough to turn heads. He finds your sense of humour a bit peculiar but he can’t resist how light his heart feels when he talks to you [Poor man has centuries-worth of burden on  his heart so the sound of his laughter often turns lots of head]).

He saw how your eyes would shine when you see beautiful things around you: dresses, the jewellry, trinkets etc... He starts taking you shopping more often. He loves seeing you change in and out of dresses and imagines you twirling in it, looking like a work of art. But what was even more beautiful were your eyes and smile, showing true happiness (what he yearns for the most but doesn’t think he deserves it).

He invited you to join him at a ball, wanting you to be his partner. He wanted to hold you in his arms, pressing your body against his and dancing with you. But, you didn’t show up. He waited for a good hour at the entrance of the mansion but you were nowhere in sight.

He came to find you, sitting in your bed, crying (and hyperventilating). He was a smart man and he understood that you sometimes just needed your space. He announced himself softly by calling out your name and settling on the edge of your bed. He asked for your hands, so he could hold them and bring your attention to the soft caresses of his fingers against yours, his thumb running smoothly on your skin. He more than treasures the fact that you consider him close enough to let him be by your side in your hardest/darkest of moments.

He would talk you through your tears, his voice almost hypnotizing and soothing while he comforted you. He would look at your wrists and bring them slowly to his lips, pressing soft kiss upon them while murmuring. “You are enough, princess. You are more than enough and I would like you to always remember that. Listen to my voice and ignore all the voices in your head. Whatever your mind is telling, it’s not true. Let me help you calm your heart, sweet one.” And if you were comfortable enough, he would hold you tightly in his arms, until you tears dried and even big spoons you in bed and talks to you to get your mind off things (and later on, apologizes since he shouldn’t be sleeping in the same bed but these were special circumstances).

He absolutely didn’t mind when you cancel all of a sudden and values your wellbeing above anything else. He understands that your emotions can sometimes run high and being around others can be too much to handle.

He is your equilibrium. It’s a weird thing to say but he reels you in when you feel low, when you get angry or succumb to negativity. You remind him of his old self, before becoming the composed and stoic gentleman that everyone knows.

He started planning makeshift balls, just for the two of you, so you could live the experience of the old Parisian of the century. He took it as an opportunity to teach you how to dance, and would serve the most decadent of delicacies just for you.

When the night would settle in and you would still be awake, rummaging in the library or walking around your room, going through the notes you took of your lessons of the day, Le Comte was obviously concerned for your health. He obviously couldn’t force you to sleep but the least he could do was stay up at night with you, keep you company. [When you were just up at night, unable to sleep, Le Comte would play chess/cards with you.] He would ask you about your day, everything that you learned and watch your face light up. He felt special to be able to glimpse this side of you.

(He found you asleep in the library and the music room a few times and carried you to your bed, cradling you gently in his arms [and inhaling the scent of your hair and your skin].

Sebastian started making you decaf coffee at night so you can unwind but still enjoy the taste of coffee in the nighttime. Le Comte was quite strict with his instructions to the butler, informing him that your health came before anything else.

It was a rare occasion when Leonardo would pick up his violin and play alongside Mozart. He heard you sing in the hallway on the way to your room (and he happened to be passing by) and he felt like he was going to lose himself and the world stood still. He could only hear the harsh drumming of his heart in his ears and he had to retire to his room, earlier than usual.

That same night, you were up very late one night and were looking for Le Comte, your nocturnal companion. He was absolutely nowhere to be found. It was weird but you thought maybe you should just leave him be. You happened to find Leonardo on the balcony and asked him if he’d be willing to play some chess with you and he replied without thinking: “Sorry, Cara Mia. You’re my dear friend’s inamorata. I couldn’t possibly take his place. Go find him.” (Leo being the smooth wingman and all)

It was strange that he would say something like that and there was a flurry of feelings bubbling inside of you: confusion, surprise, anticipation and happiness. (you didn’t necessarily understand Italian but you had a feeling you understood what he said)

You went to his room and knocked on his door once, twice and before you knocked the third time, you heard the click of his shoes on the floor. He seemed sad and almost heartbroken, you didn’t understand why he would look like that and the only thought in your mind was to ask him what was wrong. But then he spoke.

Comte: Will you forgive me, dearest one?

Lia: Comte, there’s nothing to forgive. What are you saying?

Comte: I do not want to be responsible for your sorrow… 

Lia: You’ve never done anything to hurt me. You’ve only made me happy… 

Comte: Gods, please.. I have committed a grave mistake. 

Lia: No, Comte. Please tell me… *you stepped closer to him and looked into his beautiful topaz eyes* Whatever it is that you say, I’ll…

He sealed your lips with his own, letting his loving kiss and his strong embrace convey the words he wanted to say. He loved you so deeply and it consumed his thoughts, his heart and soul. He couldn’t get you out of his mind and knew for a fact that if he fell in love with you, he wouldn’t be able to let you go. He would let you make your own decision, whether to return to your own time or not, because that would be the right thing to do. But deep inside, he would beg you, implore you and weep for you to remain by his side. [He had lost a lover before and doesn’t want history to repeat itself. In his mind, his grave mistake was letting his heart take over and become vulnerable in the face of love. However, he was mistaken. His love for you ran deeper and it was not in his control. Whether he guarded himself or not, you were meant for him and your love for him only proved that to him]

When you became lovers and would be alone together, you call him only by his real name. He doesn’t like to have any formalities between you.

The first he noticed a change in your attitude when you got jealous or acted possessive, his eyes widened only for a split second. He couldn’t really believe it. But to ease your qualms, he would do anything to prove your jealousy wrong. (example: if you were at a ball with him or on the streets, he would take your hand and kiss it or even hold you by the waist and lay the most loving of kisses on your lips).

He reassures you and comforts you whenever he sees a particular frown or gleam in your eyes. It’s that look you get when you’re feeling jealous and possessive (and boy, does it make his heart flutter to know that you feel so strongly about him. Although, this man only has eyes for you. You and only you.)

This man is elegance and eloquence personified. But beware of getting on his bad side. He absolutely cannot tolerate anyone touching you or being physically close to you in any kind of way. He would give them the deadliest glare and would have their heart trembling in fear. Any other action or words were unnecessary. This man could turn into a fierce and fearsome killer in a split second if he wanted to.

He finds your love for sweets absolutely adorable and before you were lovers, he was always tempted to lick the cream/jam from the corner of your lips but would only wipe it off with his handkerchief or when he felt bold, when his thumb (and then suck on it).

Kisses of affection: the inside of your hand, your wrists, your shoulder and your hair/head.

He loves playing with your hair, smelling your hair.

And when you told him that you wanted to stay in the past with him, the expression on his face was one that you could never forget. He cradled your face with gentle hands, his eyes shining with emotion and a wistful yet genuine smile drawn on his lips, whispering softly:  “C’est toi pour moi, et moi pour toi pour la vie…”

PS: (he was hinting that he’s willing to turn you into a vampire. Instead of saying “dans la vie”, just like in the song “La Vie en Rose” by Edith Piaf, the fact that he used the expression “pour la vie” means that he was trying to hint at an eternity spent with you.)

(Very) NSFW Ahead ~

Your first time together, you saw a different Comte and it was as if he wasn’t the same man. What you saw was a man who was driven mad by his desire and he was eating you up with his gaze alone. He was gentle with you but it was all very intense. He treated your body like a temple and he worshipped you like it was his last night on earth before claiming you and joining your bodies, making them one. Sweet words never ceased to leave his lips while he kissed down your neck, sucked on your collarbone and tended to each of your breasts, appreciating the curve of your waist and the dip of your stomach, the width of your hips and the curves of your thighs, the shape of your calves and lastly, the honey between your legs. You reigned over his heart and he treated you like the queen that you were. [Things he said to you on that fateful night: “J’ai envie de toi… Mon amour… Je n’ai besoin que de toi… Donnes-moi tout ce que tu es et je vous donnerai le monde en entier… Je ne veux que toi…”]

He loves it when you beg for him so he sometimes overindulges when he prepares your body for him. You would tell him that you’re ready and wet enough to take him but the man is going to push you to your absolute limit before sinking into you. He wanted to  hear you cry out for him and scream his name, beg for his cock to be inside you.

The one time you looked into his molten gold eyes and whispered seductively “Daddy, please take me”, the man paused for a split second before his lips were crashing into yours and he teased your entrance with his tip, coaxing you to call him Daddy again and again before fucking you. (You thanked the heavens that the resident gentleman of the mansion was such a Daddy behind closed doors [lucky you!)]. 

He loves it when you tie him up and edge him. He wants to ache for you. 

He loves pleasuring you and being pleasured by you. He is a generous giver but also willing to take whatever he can from you and sometimes, aggressively does so (if he’s in a Daddy wants to punish you mood, your mouth is going to be doing lots of work and your body will be wrecked by the end of the night). 

This man’s dirty talk wants to make you weep from its poetic/romantic/eloquent essence. Let me remind you, this man writes smut poetry about you and letters to you (this should be canon). He writes poetry/letters for you and makes you read them while he’s making love to you. With each line you read to him, he’ll come up with another one that makes you melt even more. It’s dirty, it’s filthy but it’s obscenely loving, erotic and romantic. Every time your voice hitches or you lose your breath, he’ll thrust into you harder, making you cry out. “I’m not going to let you cum until you’re finished reading it all, ma belle.” 

His voice is erotic and loves it when you have sessions where you just watch each other pleasures yourselves. Mutual masturbation is one of his kinks and boy, his sultry sexy voice is too arousing and being under the heat of his gaze, you’re a goner. 

Your lover is vocal but he’s not loud though. He voices the pleasure he feels with a range of whiny gasps, sweet moans of your name and rough groans. 

He will bite you everywhere. Mark you with his kisses, licks, nips and with his release too. He’s tried drinking your blood from every possible place in your body but he prefers to take blood from your neck and lace your fingers together when he does (and if it’s during sex, he’ll thrust his fingers in and out of your mouth, mimicking the movement of his hips or he’s restrain you by locking your wrists above your head). 

He’s a pureblood vampire and has the stamina of a Greek God [and looks like you too]. But that doesn’t necessarily apply to you. When you’re feeling lazy, he’ll hold you against him, your back against his chest and allow him to roam your body with his fingers. He’d slip his cock inside you and you both indulge in intimacy you’re basking in. Sometimes, you just want to appreciate each other’s bodies and feel warmth [and he likes to feel your pulse and see the sight of your flushed skin under his touch]. At times, he would roll his hips in languid strokes/thrust inside of you while his fingers that had touched the sweetness dripping between your legs, would press into your mouth and you suck on him lazily. 

Rousing the competitive spirit in you, you had no idea that he had a thing for bets and gambling. What was at stake? Your body or his. He would play strip poker with you and the person who would be completely stripped off their clothes first loses. The winner gets to do whatever they want with the loser. Absolutely anything.

All the things he loves to do to/with you in front of the mirror… Hngh..

He’d whisper in your ear and make you look into his eyes while you ride his thigh, while he’s unbuttoning his chemise while keeping one hand on your waist or on your breast (caressing your soft mounds or teasing your nipples). 

When facing the mirror, he usually takes you from behind so you can see every single inch of your body that he plans on touching, caressing and he’ll tease you by letting his cock glide between your lips, stimulate your sensitive bud of nerves just enough to make you tremble and scream out of frustration by not enough for you to reach your climax. And when he’s ready to take you, he’ll grip the back of your knee and spread your knees wide, so you can see how wet you are for him and he’ll remind and ask you, multiple times before he thrusts inside you. “Who’s your Daddy? Hm? Are you going to beg for my cock like the naughty little girl that you are? Tell me how much you want me inside you…” He’ll take you hard and fast, slow and gentle and let you watch his cock thrust in and out of you, ultimately filling you up with his release, his scent all over you and his mark dripping from you.

If you were the one taking control, he loves to watch you slowly undress him in front of the mirror, kiss and mark his neck with love bites and stroke his large cock in your hands (teasing him and edging him) and make him see how he looks like when he loses himself to you. 

Kinks: anything you’re into. This man aims to please and he’s a goddamn vampire. He’s seen the world and most probably tried everything. Praise kink (praising you), Body worship, mutual masturbation, overstimulation and mirror sex would be on the top of his list. He wants you trembling and begging.

Runner-up Suitor: Arthur Conan Doyle! It was such a close race but Mr. Le Comte won! ;) (I hope he won your heart too, after this)

[fallenrepublick]

Y'know, I see a lot of Maul inserts where the reader is sweet and generally a pure angel and I love that, but I'm also completely enamoured by the idea of Maul falling hard and fast for someone ruthless, cunning and deadly all wrapped up with a pretty face à la the song A Little Wicked by Valerie Broussard, who's just as into him. Have you ever considered writing a drabble like that?? Love your stuff to the ends of the earth!!!

YES YES YES

Oh my god, anon, you are my HERO

I’ve been DYING to write something like that, because that kind of M/C is ACTUALLY my DEFAULT but I figured it would be too much?? Thank you SO MUCH for saying this

Honestly, I’m kinda hoping someone might want more of this, because dAmN

Warnings: Murder in detail

City lights, the kind that carve a hazy glow into the air as you step past, creating their own unique atmosphere in the air around them, a whole world encompassed within the orb that surrounded them. Still, there lay a darkness that couldn’t be denied, even by the soft effervescence of life that drummed on and above the planet’s surface.

The cool breeze of nighttime brushed across Maul’s robes as he walked, his silence a rarity amongst throngs of people otherwise preoccupied with their lives to pay notice to a Sith stepping mere inches from their feet. He was hunting, and even those with the keenest of senses would barely have been able to spot it. The instructions from his master had been clear, and knowing a terrible fate would befall him if he were discovered, he hugged the sides of buildings, the edges and corners draping a natural shadow over him that concealed him from prying eyes.

He searched through the crowds, watching, waiting, golden eyes illuminated under his hood the only piece of him that stood out against the emptiness. But something struck him, an aura not unlike his own, that gave him pause, his task being overtaken by the sudden tug at his senses.

Lifting himself from where he leaned, he followed his urge as far as it would take him, winding through streets and turning corners until he came upon an alley. The walls were old, rust climbing the edges and lining the seams, old pages and posters soft from the rain and mist still clinging to the metal were now unreadable, the ink spreading and becoming diluted from the water that dripped from saturated clouds.

And then there was you. A knife clutched in your hand, figure standing over a trembling victim who’d been kicked to his knees, a blade pressed up against his throat. You were smiling, beautiful, terrible.

“I told you not to try it,” you hissed, voice breathy, warning against moments already passed. Maul’s hearts had found a tempo that beat with every word you spoke. “What, pray tell, were you expecting to happen?”

The man on his knees, dark grey pants marked with asphalt, shook harder, his pleas becoming more and more difficult to choke out. “I-I’m s-sorry.” He closed his eyes. “I th-thought you were-”

“Thought I was what?” you challenged, each syllable harder than the last. “You thought I was easy, didn’t you? You thought you could get something out of me. Unfortunately for you, I have some time on my hands.” You were laughing now, bitter and cold, the sound wrapping icy metallic wire around Maul’s chest, pulling him ever towards you. Oh, how he wished to see you work.

But you looked up, instincts perking once you took notice of him. Be it force sensitivity or the best situational awareness he’d ever seen, Maul couldn’t tell, but he was enamored nonetheless.

“What?” you said defensively, holding tighter to the poor soul who surely wouldn’t make it out of this encounter alive. Regardless, you clearly knew Maul was no authority figure, so you could afford to be brash.

He crossed his arms, angling his head as he watched you. “No, please,” he gestured down for a moment at the still terrified man. “Continue.”

“Ugh,” you huffed, pursing your lips and looking back down. “An audience kills the mood, don’tcha think?” With a single swift movement, you dragged the knife across the man’s throat, and as he fell to the ground completely, your clothes and skin were peppered with a spray of his blood. You wiped the knife on your pants and slipped it into the sheath on your belt, stepping towards Maul.

It was curious to him. Someone so radiant in form could be so deadly, one would never even imagine that you were capable of such atrocities. Yet here you were, standing right before him, and even more curious, he found his breath catching the closer you came.

“What was it,” he said finally, eyes scanning you, tracking even the slightest movement. “That subjected him to your anger?”

A laugh echoed in your chest as you returned his gaze, pressing down the extremely annoying feeling that was beating inside of you. “He wanted a date. He wouldn’t go away, and even tried to force it. It’s not the first time, but trust me, I’ve done a lot worse for a lot less.”

“Surely.”

“So,” you sighed, leaning on the wall to your left. “What’s a Sith doing in the most pathetic part of town? You don’t have somewhere important you gotta be?”

No. “How-”

“You really think anyone around here dresses like that? I may be a lowlife, but I’m not stupid, unlike most of these degenerates.” You thought a moment, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “I know you got some rules or whatever about people finding out about you, but don’t bother. I don’t give a shit, and it’s not like I got anyone to tell.”

He was silent, deliberation taking up his mind. Yes, his master was clear, no one could know. And yet…

“You do this a lot, don’t you?” he asked, deciding maybe, just once, he could bend the rules.

“What, kill people?” You smiled at the question, mildly incredulous, but seemingly finding it funny. You lit up, and Maul watched you in wonder. “I mean, I guess. Trust me, it’s not like any of these people are gonna be missed, and sometimes I gotta break a few necks to make my life easier.”

Realizing how much he didn’t want you to leave, he tread over, leaning on the same wall, positioned right beside you. Every so often, his eyes would drift to you, memorizing you as you breathed, smirk still tugging at your lips. He saw the ruthlessness within you, concealed behind soft features, your advantage against those who sought you out clear as day. A monster behind the facade of the innocent, using the precedent of other, truly innocent people, who came before you. But when your head turned and you looked up, there was something else. Something that came from elsewhere.

You were too close. He could feel your presence beside him, warmth bypassing his clothes and practically devouring him. But he had to keep his head. To remain silent would be to lose an opportunity.

“And you would do it again? Willingly?” It was a stupid question, he realized, but he could think of little else to ask.

“Did that look unwilling to you?” you said, eyebrows raised. “If it did, I gotta work on my form. But… yeah. We’re all gonna die someday, right? Just some sooner than others.”

Gods, take him now.

Sliding closer to him, your shoulders collided, and Maul’s hearts stopped. He froze in place, unsure of what to do. Gradually, you lay your head on his shoulder, motions lazy, but face amused.

“I think,” you began, voice quieter now, ensuring no passerby would hear. “It’s only fair that now you know what I can do, I should see what you can do.”

[cenestpasmoi-bechloe]

Wherever you may go, wherever you may be, I will never be far away

Beca has been exhausted with work and overtime in order to provide nice things for Chloe, and pay the bills, etc. When Beca comes home at around 11pm, she finds Chloe curled up on the couch after attempting to wait for Beca. Beca becomes very very soft. :)

Title from Billy Joel's Lullabye (Goodnight My Angel).

Thank you to the anonymous donor for participating in the Pitch Perfect Fandom Drive! This fic is gifted from anon to @green-eyed-weirdo on Tumblr.

Thank you for contributing! Also, happy belated birthday to @green-eyed-weirdo !

I hope you enjoy it and I apologize for taking so long!!

For more info on how to help, visit the @ppfandomdrive page.

Read on Ao3

Beca is exhausted. She’s been working her ass off at Capital records, trying to make a name for herself, and to provide for her small family of three.

Her girlfriend Chloe, herself, and their newest addition, their rescue puppy they had named Chase, because of how he had chased Beca around the first time she saw him. He was a mix of a Collie and something else they couldn’t figure out, but he was the cutest dog ever. At least that was what Chloe had said, and Beca had come to understand it.

But she would never admit that to Chloe. But that dog was damn adorable.

They live in a nice 2 bedroom apartment in Pomona, CA where Chloe can go to Vet school, at Western University of Health Sciences, and Beca can commute to her office.  Chloe has two more years of school, and she’s going to become a Vet after that, but while she goes to school, Beca is the main source of income. They weren’t broke, but they weren’t rich either, and they tried their best to keep it that way. Chloe worked at a Veterinary Clinic near the school, and helped pay the apartment rent. Although Beca had insisted that she didn’t have to, Chloe had somehow convinced her. And Beca couldn't say no to Chloe Beale.  

They had started dating after the USO tour, after Beca had gotten signed to Capitol, and Chloe had been accepted into WesternU, when Beca finally decided to sack up and tell the ginger her feelings.

Their move to California was scheduled around the same time, and having lived in Brooklyn together before, and having started dating, they had mutually decided that moving-in together was a good idea. Her workplace was not too far from where Chloe was going to go to school, and it being cheaper to live in a bigger apartment in Pomona than being crammed in a small apartment in Hollywood, they had chose to live near WesternU. They had started out living in different rooms at first, but found themselves sleeping better, and much more comfortable together in Beca’s room, and they had transferred Chloes old room into a guest room/Beca’s studio when she needed to work from home, or she wanted to work from home.

Beca usually has work with her clients until 7pm, then edit and work on other things until around 10 and then finally, head home. The drive was about 30 minutes, 45 minutes tops, and she would get home at around 11. She had her days off on Wednesdays, and Saturdays and Sundays were half days, or she would sometimes have the weekends off. She always tried to spend more time with Chloe, and she tried to keep a no-work-at-home policy although there were exceptions. That was easy since she had a girlfriend who she could barely say no to.

Tonight was one of those late nights.

The wifi stopped working, and then there was the printer jamming incident, and then had to make sure her emails were sent to her boss about the new client. She finishes up around a quarter to 11, and she gets in her car, sending a quick text to Chloe, telling her that she’d be heading home now. She doubted that she was still awake though since when she gets home at 10:30, she’s usually getting ready for bed, and on days like this, she’s usually fast asleep on Beca’s side of the bed. She drives home, and gets home at about a quarter past 11.

She unlocks the door quietly, and then opens the door slowly, making sure she doesn’t wake up Chloe, who is probably in another room. She just wanted to be safe, just in case. And then Chase comes trotting over to the door, welcoming her home.

“Shhhh… don’t wake mommy up okay?” She says as she crouches down to pet the puppy.

She sees that the light is still on in the room and looks up, seeing her girlfriend curled up on the couch, asleep.

She’s wearing Beca’s gray Bellas sweater, the one that was originally Chloe’s, she stole it somewhere around her sophomore year when she started living in the Bellas house. She had declared that it was hers now, and Chloe had allowed her to keep it all through the years, and now, Chloe’s back to wearing it again. She smiles, walks to the couch, and sits on the floor to kiss the ginger’s cheek.

“I’m home baby.” She says cupping her cheek and kissing her on the lips.

Chloe flutters open her eyes, and wakes up, looking sleepy as heck as she looks at Beca. “I was waiting for you to come home. “She yawns and stretches, rubbing her sleepy eyes.

“Sorry I’m late. I was supposed to leave earlier, but a lot of things happened, I can explain tomorrow. “ She smiles and pecks Chloe’s forehead.

“It’s okay. Did you have dinner?” The ginger asks her as she sits up and stretches her arms.

“No. But I’m not that hungry though.”

“Becaaaaa…. you have to eattttt…”Chloe says to her as she gets up. “I have some leftovers I can heat up.”

“No it’s fine. I’m fine. I’m gonna take Chase out before I get ready for bed. Wait for me in bed?” She asks the ginger, getting up and leaving her bag and taking her jacket off, leaving it on the couch. “Chase. Let’s go out. Bathroom time. “ She says to the dog and he runs to the door excitedly.

“Okay fineee, but I’m coming with you two. I don’t wanna be left behind.” She says with a pouty face as she grabs the leash off the hook.

“Okay then, let’s go.” She takes the leash from the ginger, and connects it to Chase’s collar. “Mommy’s coming with us too.”She smiles, holding onto the leash. Chase jumps up and down excitedly, “I know bud, I’m happy that she’s coming with us too.”She says to the pup and pats him on the head.

“Let’s go!” The redhead returns to the living room, and they both walk out the door, letting Chase mark his territory around the complex, while Chloe and Beca talk about their day, holding hands and walking together.

“Jill keeps texting her boyfriend at work, and she’s always on her phone. I don’t understand how she still has a job.”Beca giggles as she talks about her day.

“I’m sure you’re like that sometimes, I swear, sometimes my phone doesn’t stop vibrating with texts from you.”The redhead jokes, holding Beca’s spare hand which isn’t holding Chase’s leash. The summer breeze makes it a bit chilly, and Chloes glad that she wore her hoodie.

“Oh, I’m not that bad!” Beca exclaims in her quiet nighttime voice, “But I also can’t resist my girlfriend sending me sexy snaps in the middle of the day.”She smirks, squeezing the gingers hand for a moment. Beca had to make sure she had set her notifications to be private, she had that one incident when she almost showed her girlfriend on Airplay at a work meeting. From then on, she knew to keep her notifications discreet. She didn’t need anyone seeing her messages. “I swear to god I almost died when I accidentally opened my Snapchat from you during a meeting. I made it just in time but that was so dangerous.”

“That was because you sent me a raunchy text baby. It’s all your fault. “Chloe scoffs.

“I could’ve been fired!” She whisper yells, raising both her occupied arms up.

“Oh stop exaggerating!”The ginger laughs.

"Oh I'm totally getting back at you for that time!"She jokingly says, pointing at Chloe. "I'm gonna do something to make you so horny that you'll have to take a break, no take the day off!"

"Oh, try. You'll never be able to do that. Remember who always loses the no touching challenge?"

"..um... you?..."

"Oh you wish."Chloe giggles, kissing her nose and running ahead of them. "You can't catch me!!"

"H-Hey!! Chloooooo!"Beca follows along with Chase, but it looks like Chase is taking poor Beca on a run.

“Hey Bec?” Chloe says as they make their way back into the house, unhooking Chase’s leash off of him and letting him run inside.

“Huh?”Beca looks at the ginger, closing the door behind and then making sure it’s locked.

“I love you.”She says, her smile soft and genuine.

These are the moments that make Beca’s heart pound like crazy. Like how did she deserve this angel? How? “I love you too.” She repeats back, kissing the ginger and wrapping her arms around her. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”she mumbles into Chloes shoulder as they awkwardly toddle over to the couch and fall onto it.

“Everything Bec. You’re amazing. I wonder if I ever deserve you. You spoil me too much baby. “She chuckles as she kisses her forehead.

“And you tease me too much.”Beca jokes, and she earns a light slap from the ginger. “Heyyy! Thats not fair!”

“Its fair alright, I tease you because you’re just too damn adorable.”

“Am not! I’m not adorable! I’m badass!” She says as she tries to pry herself away from Chloe, but her girl is too strong, making her stuck in Chloe’s embrace.

“Okay, okay, whatever you say cutiehead.”She giggles, kissing her right on the cheek.

“Ugh, I hate you.”Beca pouts jokingly.

“You do not hate me. Exaggerator!”She kisses her cheek again, this time much more like a wet-grandma-like kiss.

“Ewwwwww… you kiss like a grandma! My cheek is wet!”Beca complains, wiping it off with her arm.

“Want me to do it again?”Chloe asks, going in for the kiss again, but Beca’s hand stops it from reaching her cheek. “Noooooooooh!” Her lips get closer again.

“I don’t hear a please Beca.”Chloe teases, getting even closer.

“NOooooooh!”

“C’mon Beca. Just one word baby.”

“Okay fine! Please stop!” Beca gives up and Chloe’s lips retrieves.

“See? That wasn’t so hard? Was it Beca? When you’re a good girl, you get your way, or can get things faster.”She winks. “But when you’re a bad girl, you don’t get your way, and sometimes you can get more pain or teasing from it. “She lowers her hand down to Beca’s ass and squeezes it, making Beca wince. She had been a bad girl in bed last Saturday, and the pain was much better but its still hurt a bit. But that story’s for another day.

“Can we go to bed? I’m really tired. Like exhausted.”Beca asks her girlfriend, looking up at her with pouty eyes.

“Okay. Let’s get to bed, really tired. I don’t know where my Beca went though.”She jokes and giggles, taking her hand and leading her to the bedroom.

“Its almost 12. Which means it’s already tomorrow, and now we don’t have anymore time to sleep…”Beca mumbles as she walks into the closet and gets changed into her pajamas, an oversized teeshirt, which is of corse Chloe’s, and plops down on the bed.

“You’re okay. C’mere baby.”Chloe says as she lifts the comforter up and slides in, waiting for Beca to do the same.

Beca yawns as she gets in and curls up close to Chloe, her bing the little spoon and Chloe being the big spoon. “I love you.” She closes her eyes, and lets Chloe wrap her body around hers, feeling safe and comfortable.

“You’re quite the over thinker, aren’t you baby.”Chloe chuckles as she peppers kisses all over Beca’s head, and then starts running her fingers through Beca’s hair, allowing her to relax.

“But it’s true though, i.....”

“Shh… baby. Stop talking and calm down.” The ginger says gently and kisses her head once again.

Beca’s train of thoughts don’t stop though,she stops talking but the thoughts in her mind keep running, and she can't seem to stop them. She thinks about how perfect her life is, with Chloe and Chase, and how she want to pop the question soon. How she's gonna do that, what say to ask Stacie to help her pick the engagement ring, and then how the wedding is gonna be, how she's gonna tell the Bellas, and on and on and on and....

“Beca. Turn off your thoughts. I can still hear the gears turning.”Chloe says.

"I'm no...."

"Save the questions and the thoughts for another day Becs. " She rubs her arm.

“Mkay….night...”Beca mumbles, turning and facing Chloe’s body, curling up once again as she rubs her back.

It can wait another day.

She soon relaxes and lets sleep take over, feeling safe and sound in Chloe’s arms.

Chloe kisses the sleeping brunette's head for the last time before she falls asleep.

“Good night, my angel.”

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 184 prt 1

184

Three wolves were a nightmare on his household budget. Not feeling particularly like cooking, they’d lived off the extra food Hunk had brought over until that’d run out and Lance had left the shopping to Rieva and Matt. Matt acting as if vegetables had insulted his family, Rieva not buying him a few big blocks of chocolate because too much sugar was bad for the twins. They were both banned now and Lance was having to get creative with stretching every meal as far as he could make it go with rice until he was both apologised to and bribed with chocolate.

Keith had taken over their bedroom. Not that Lance minded, things were still shaky and Keith still getting used to his ego, but their bed was now back to how it was. Blankets upon blankets with more blankets that Keith wasn’t allowed to tamper with because they made it easier for Lance to sleep. He was officially in his third trimester. The idea of giving birth more daunting than ever. Getting out of bed involved a three point turn, and there wasn’t a moment that his hips didn’t hurt with the weight of their foot and a half long subs. In some ways it felt to Lance that he was back at the start of his pregnancy. All he wanted to do was nap. He came out of a nap to pee, then straight back into the next nap. His hours now more nighttime, sleep rhythm out the window. How normal humans coped marvelled him.

It’d been a week and a half since the full moon. Keith had broken three forks, two knives, a cup, a bowl, and a plate, all by accident as he tried to help with the washing up only to use too much strength. His boyfriend felt bad. Insisting he’d replace everything, though Lance had countered that politely. What was the point of getting new things until Keith could control his strength. Currently Keith and Matt were hanging out the washing, while Lance was avoiding Rieva. She’d gone and put ideas in his head, that he now couldn’t get out of his head and seemed to haunt his dreams.

She thought he and Keith should have sex. Lance wanted to wait. But the sexual tension only seemed to be growing. He’d snuck off into the shower in the middle of the night with a vibrator just to keep a level head come morning. Usually he was the one oozing pheromones, yet lately all he smelt was Keith. The second things looked as if they were going to get heated, Lance would pull away, not wanting to force himself on his boyfriend. It was hard. So damn hard. Waking up wet and horny, aching for Keith, only to slip off to the bathroom and take matters into his own hands. Sometimes he couldn’t come, making him feel infinitely worse. If he talked to Keith about things, he felt like he’d be forcing their relationship. Plus Keith was still learning that privacy was a thing of the past now he could hear everything.

All he wanted was to be able to wait until Keith was ready.

“Lance?”

Hearing Keith call his name, Lance shocked himself as he moaned in response. There was nothing sexy about the sandwich he was currently making to satisfy his cravings. Coughing fakely to clear his throat, he knew he couldn’t take back the sound, but didn’t want to acknowledge it either

“W-what’s up?”

“Matt and Rieva are going for a run. They asked if I want to go with them”

Lance’s silly horny hopes soared, then in the same heartbeat crashed back to reality. Keith needed to be off doing wolf things and getting used to that side of himself.

Slicing through the tomato he’d been working on, the vampire tried to keep his voice level

“You should go if you want to. It’ll be good for you”

“Are you okay? Your scent is all over the place”

Fuck his scent. Pressing his lips together, Lance hummed instead of replying

“Mhmm...”

“If you don’t want me to go...”

“No! No... shit...”

He didn’t want to limit Keith. He didn’t want to bind him either... though he kind of did... Angry with himself, he nicked his finger on the knife.

Striding into the kitchen, Keith took him by the wrist, pulling him over to the tap to wash the wound

“Are you okay?! What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Sorry. I’m a bit distracted, but you should go. It’ll do you good”

“If you really mean that, why won’t you look at me?”

Lance knew the moment he looked Keith in the eyes he’d be well and truly fucked

“It’s nothing”

“You can tell me. I’m not going to get mad. If I’ve done something...”

Stupid Keith and his stupid considerate feelings. The question hurt more than his cut finger and he’d done a pretty good job on that

“It’s not... it’s fine. I’ve got this, it’s healing already”

“Lance... Please... I want to know what I did”

God give him strength

“You haven’t done anything wrong”

“Then why are you acting like this”

“Because I’m mad at myself. It’s not you. It’s me. Can you please just let me clean this up myself?”

Krolia had asked him if he’d had sex with Keith. Lance choking on air. The question coming out of nowhere, making Keith snap as the others laughed. He could feel the warmth of Keith soaking in through where he held his wrist. His damn dick twitching. He knew how good their sex life had been and now he... he wanted to jump Keith’s bones. For no apparent reason, Keith moved behind. His breath tickling Lance’s ear

“Could it be something else... like maybe your horny?”

Lance shuddered as Keith rutted against him

“Keeeeith... don’t...”

“Why not?”

“Because... I’m... trying to be... respectful”

“Matt and Rieva won’t care. They’ve already taken Kosmo ahead”

“So you knew... and you were testing me?”

“I heard you and Rieva talking. You could have talked to me”

Turning the tap off, Keith placed his hand on Lance’s belly. Nipping on his ear, Lance closed his eyes as he tried not to be swept alone

“You’re still healing... we don’t... don’t know... if... Keith...”

“I want to fuck you. I want to bend you over the kitchen table and fuck you until your fingers break the wood”

Jesus Christ. Werewolf Keith was as much of a slut as drunk Keith. Lance’s ego was all for having attention lavished on him. Some days it was on edge about Keith, but for a vampire, it seemed okay with Keith now the moon had passed and Keith was settling nicely. Sliding his hand down the front of Lance’s yoga pants, Lance’s head lolled back as he moaned

“Fuuuuck... babe...”

“Like that?”

“Mmm... feels... good”

“Then you’ll like what comes next even more”

Before Lance could ask what came next, Keith pulled his hand away. One moment he’d been at the sink, the next he was laid out on the kitchen table with Keith pulling his pants down. Bent as much as he could be thanks to his belly, the kisses they shared were frantic. Teeth gnashing painfully against teeth. Canines and fangs cutting each other’s lips as Lance moaned. Fuck. He needed this so much. He needed Keith so much. He wanted to feel their bond. He wanted to feel connected. More so then he wanted to be respectful. His overthinking went out the window. He wanted Keith to blow his mind. Nearly a full month without sex left him starved. Fucking Rieva was right, not that he’d tell her.

Keith didn’t seem to care about being patient and taking things slowly. Unable to stop himself, he tore at Lance’s shirt, Lance taking over to strip himself as Keith got the message and pulled his own off

“Fuck... I want to be in you already”

Shirts were thrown somewhere. Lance eager for more kisses as Keith fought with his jeans. It frustrated him that he couldn’t help, but his frustrations were rewarded by the strong mind numbing scent of Keith’s arousal. How one man could be so damn sexy annoyed him. Keith’s teeth poked over his lips, hair already mussed...

“You smell so fucking good. Look at you... I can smell your wetness...”

“Babe, I get you want to talk sexy, but less talking and more fucking...”

Keith grabbed him by the hips, yanking him to the edge of the table, before Lance was seeing stars. Legs up on Keith’s shoulders, the kisses he’d wanted went out the window as Keith buried his face down there. Fucking hell... the position couldn’t be comfortable for Keith, but his tongue... oh god the things Keith had done with that tongue... now he was... there was no hesitation. No asking. Keith seemed to see right through him and knew what he wanted. Slow and tender could wait for later. Now was about being in the now

“Keeeith...”

Gripping Keith’s hair, his boyfriend alternated between tonguing him and sucking him off. Lance lasted all of three seconds thrusting thirstily into Keith’s mouth, Keith growling as he swallowed what he could, before pulling back and catching the last pulse on his tongue. They’d barely begun and Lance was wrecked. They definitely shouldn’t be doing this on the kitchen table, but he was definitely going to hit Keith if he suddenly stopped before burying himself balls deep.

“Babe, you ready?”

Lance opened his eyes. Chest heaving. Legs shaking. Wrecked. But for all the passion, his boyfriend had stopped to ask...

“Yeah... God, yes. Please, babe. I want to feel you”

Keith smiled at him. A smile just for him. A smile that he appreciated yet frustrated him because he totally needed Keith to hurry up here

“You’re so damn pretty”

Lance deflected. He didn’t want to think about he looked like an already stuffed turkey with his bits and pieces up in the air for further stuffing

“And you’re horny”

“My pretty mate... fuck... I don’t know if I can last”

“I don’t care...”

With Keith being werewolf, Lance let himself feel absolutely everything. Not that he hadn’t before, but each and every time he’d marked Keith he’d felt guilty later. He’d fist the sheets to avoid scratching up Keith’s back... His nails scratched the wood of his table as Keith drove into him enough force that if his hands hadn’t been on Lance’s hips keeping him in place, he probably would have ended up falling off the table backwards. When Keith noticed, he’d made him grab him by the arms, Lance nearly wailing from the relief he felt as he came around Keith. Their bond was still there. That feeling that they were going to be okay. It wasn’t the same. Not in a bad way... just... a different way. But it lacked none of the warmth or glowy feelings that’d been there before. Keith lasting twice as long before he finally came, Lance clenching hard, feeling as if Keith was coming way too much yet didn’t want to waste any of it... not that it would do any good. Keith had long since knocked him up with his wonder sperm.

Carefully pulling out, Keith went into awkward mode. Lance knowing it was because they couldn’t cuddle with his stomach in the way and with him still sprawled across the kitchen table. Reaching a hand out, Lance could definitely go for cuddles and a nap, once they’d cleaned up. He had pretty much no energy left for anything other than being in Keith’s arms

“Help me up...”

His boyfriend looked conflicted

“Keith?”

“You look tired”

Yep. He’d called it

“I am... but I know a certain dark haired man who wants cuddles right now”

“I should have waited until...”

“Babe... don’t. That felt amazing... but now I’m stuck and I’m sticky”

Spinning around, it was almost comical as Keith searched for the tea towel beside the sink. Once he’d found it, he turned the taps on too hard, spraying water from the force against the bottom of the sink. Keith clearly couldn’t do the brain... which pleased Lance’s ego. Getting the tea towel damp, Keith then nearly dropped it

“Babe... I’m okay”

“I... uh...”

“Fucked me senseless?”

“Uh... um... yeah, that”

Lance hadn’t pointed it out, but since waking from his coma, Keith had started using the word “um” a lot more than he’d used to. He didn’t want to worry him by bringing it up. The brain was a complicated thing. The blood could only do so much...

“I... um... got carried away”

Struggling to sit himself up, Lance held his arms out, uncomfortable as heck over the cum between his belly and dick. He felt all squishy

“Hey, come here for a moment”

There was hesitation in Keith as he came into arms reach. Lance pulling him as close he could with his arms over his shoulders and his feet against the backs of Keith’s knees

“I’m okay... and you’re okay...”

“I just realised I didn’t think about the twins... what if I hurt them?”

“I’m built tougher than that... they’re okay... we’re okay”

“But... I... um... didn’t think. It felt so good that I...”

His arse was amazing. Keith had told him that many, many times

“Babe. Hey, no. Whatever you’re thinking, no. I didn’t... tell you I was feeling so pent up because I didn’t want to make you feel rushed or that I wanted anything more than you. Our sex life has always felt good. I like feeling like you wanted me as much as I wanted you”

Keith sighed softly, almost sounding regretful

“I’m still horny”

“Well, it has been a long time since we... did the do... and I’m pretty sure Rieva is currently laughing with Matt about us being horny idiots. I’m sleepy, but I think maybe we could... fool around a little more? In our bed?”

“You’re sleepy”

“Slow lazy sex isn’t so bad... especially when my big bad boyfriend is here to carry me up the stairs”

“Who says I’m carrying you upstairs?”

Lance shrugged

“Me. Now. I don’t think I can walk”

“Are you sure...?”

“I’m very sure. I’m very sure that you should listen to your pregnant mate and help me clean up before you carry me upstairs and give me so many kisses that I never want to leave our bed again... after I’ve peed”

Keith snorted at his comment. At last. He’d succeed in his mission to drive away Keith’s annoying overthinking

“You do pee, a lot”

“I know. It’s like my routine. Nap. Pee. Nap again. Remember to eat. Try to do the right thing. I’ve a very busy vampire”

“I can tell. Did... did you feel...”

“Amazing. Our bond felt a little different but I still feel like you’re the only one I could ever be like this with”

“It felt... warm... and... you felt... amazing. My ego... is happy”

Given Keith had most likely been horny since the full moon, his ego probably felt great satisfaction in being intimate with their mate

“It can’t be easy. Having so many new sensations to get used to. But we’re going to be okay”

“Are you sure I really didn’t hurt the twins?”

“Babe, they’re fine. Me on the other hand, I’m getting all crusty”

Keith wrinkled his nose

“I am too... can we take a bath? I want to take a bath”

“Can I wash your hair?”

He missed washing Keith’s hair. He missed the little things like that which all added up to a whole lot of small affectionate moments

“I’d like that”

*

Keith felt a Pringle’s ad. He’d popped and he couldn’t stop. His ego relished wrecking Lance. He’d tried to slow himself down when they’d had sex in the kitchen... tried and failed. Lance felt made to fit around him. Not that he hadn’t before, but he’d felt so damn much... a twinge of sadness did come with it. He’d loved Lance so completely as a human. He’d wanted to monopolise him. Now he had to share with his ego that was telling him that he had to take better care of Lance. He didn’t know how to take better care of Lance.

When Lance washed his hair, Keith couldn’t describe the new way he felt about. He’d enjoyed it before, but like with sex, it felt different now. He hadn’t been able to keep himself, reacting that mental fantasy he’d had as he’d first started drying Lance off, only to end up bending him over the bathroom counter and... well... it still hadn’t felt enough. In a lot of ways it felt like when Lance was in heat. His body so willing, and his scent screaming for more... only now, his scent was telling Lance kind of the same things and it felt weird.

He’d noticed Lance slipping out of bed. Then he’d been unable to not hear what he got up to. When Lance would cry, he’d wanted to go to him, his ego telling him he was a bad person for not going to their boyfriend. He just didn’t know how to settle himself... especially when he’d come twice and felt no signs of fatigue. He didn’t... know what to do with that. It left him with feelings that hurt to try and sort out. That he was being greedy. That he was making Lance feel used without knowing he was being used, even though Keith didn’t really get why he thought Lance was being used when he himself wanted to be intimate with Lance and wasn’t simply going there because Lance was convenient.

Even when they climbed into bed together, Keith couldn’t help but rut against Lance. Lance who desperately needed sleep and cuddles, not another orgasm and a good jabbing. Was he meant to be this horny? Lance was heavily pregnant. He looked ready to give birth as it was. His hips had widened and his stomach sat lower. When Keith watched his love’s stomach, he could see the way the skin moved as their twins moved. Plus Lance had been extra tired lately. Had he been pushing Lance too far and not noticed? Was this why Shiro wanted him home? Because he was bad for his mate? He couldn’t shut his brain up. He didn’t get the whole “mates thing” and Google hadn’t been kind. Werewolf porn was an actual thing. He didn’t want to... be like the wolves in the things online. He cherished Lance. He wasn’t just... someone to sex.

Sighing against him, Lance had placed Keith’s hand on his stomach, with his own over the top. Keith couldn’t help but squirm. From how hard he’d come, there shouldn’t be anything left down there, but still he wanted Lance so badly he found himself pressing forward to bury himself the best he could into his boyfriend. Lance had moaned. Lance had moaned and his body seemed to think it okay. His boyfriend felt so damn good that it was hard not to hard and rough as he slowly rocked against him. When he’d come, he hadn’t known what to say... Lance sleepily murming not to pull out as he wriggled back against him, falling asleep within moments... without having come. He felt like he belonged in a jail for horny werewolves. His ego would be quite happy if this was how things remained for the foreseeable future, and Lance seemed okay with it, but did that mean he was the only one freaking out here?

*

Thank god Matt and Rieva had work, and Lance was down for a nap. That’s all Keith could think about as he shut himself in Lance’s office. He’d wanted to go see Coran, but Platt was out of the question for now, so he’d been waiting most of the morning for the house to be clear. He was still unsure that being horny was okay. Lance seemed okay. Very okay seeing he’d woken up to Lance sliding into his lap and a very vigorous round of sex. While Lance might be okay with things, and he’d been very okay with things, he still wanted to know if having sex was okay.

Three cups of coffee and a trip to bathroom later, he’d had the courage to finally call. Using Lance’s landline, he kind of felt weirdly official, kind of like he was ringing up to order one dose of sexual advice. Being Coran, the phone had barely started ringing before it was picked up and dread flooded Keith’s stomach

“Lance! How are you my boy?! How’s our twins?! How’s our Keith?!”

Right. Coran was expecting Lance

“Um... Hey, Coran. It’s Keith...”

“Keith, my lad! How are you?!”

Keith moved the phone away from his ear. It didn’t matter how many kilometres were between them, Coran was loud

“I’m sorry to disturb you... I, um... have a question”

“Pish-posh, disturb away”

“Okay. I... guess... I was wondering if it’s okay for me to have sex with Lance?”

Someone shoot him. If the floor could swallow him right now, that’d be great

“This is not the conversation I expected. Has something happened between the pair of you? Don’t tell me you failed to preform”

Fuck. Of course Coran had no discretion talking about sex. If he started a trip down memory lane, Keith was going to hang up

“Um... think the other way”

“You can’t keep your hands off?”

“Kind of... yeah. My ego wants him all the time and I feel guilty”

“Keith, you’re a young wolf in your prime! You have a lovely mate, who’s highly compatible with you. These things are to be expected...”

“That doesn’t make it okay. Lance barely does anything but sleep. He’s exhausted. And I’m not okay with wanting to jump him when he needs his rest!”

There was a pause. Keith praying the pause didn’t lead to a story

“Ah. Yes. Perhaps I misspoke. What I meant was if Lance was happy and it was consensual...”

“Lance is too exhausted. I ended up jumping him in the kitchen. Even when he fell asleep, I wanted to keep touching him and I hate it. He needs to rest. How do I curb this?! I don’t want him to feel used but I feel like me not being able to control this is kind of the same as using him. I love him. I don’t want him to just roll over and cater to my needs!”

“Might I ask how long you’ve been feeling this way?”

“Yesterday was the first time... since... well...”

“Ah. Well I do have some idea. It could possibly be because you scent other wolves in the air and wish to stake your claim. It may also be due to this all being very new to you. You were rather horny on your first night of the moon without your mate there”

Keith looked to the ground. No convenient chasm opening to swallow him up

“I was?”

“You were. You howled the first night, not at all happy. Now I’m thinking about it, I suspect your ego is trying to bond with Lance as it missed its chance with the moon. Your compatibility is against you here. Vampires don’t naturally bond with werewolves. Lance isn’t a common vampire. His scent is appealing to both vampires and werewolves. You’re trying to appease your mate as your ego thinks it’s done something wrong by not being with him under the moon. Yes. It all makes sense now”

“I don’t care if it makes sense. I love him. I don’t want to be some kind of rabid animal”

“You’re not rabid. Your ego is still learning and it’s trying to make it up to Lance. There are plenty of things you can do that will help with the bonding between your egos”

“Other than sex?”

He wasn’t getting a story? Oh thank god. Lance would have laughed if he’d known he was sitting there listening to Coran’s sex life

“Other than sex. Grooming. Werewolves have a love of being groomed by their mate. Try small things like massage or brushing his hair. Vampires are quite the divas. The enjoy looking and feeling good. Though it may not be your thing, Lance does enjoy face masks. He and Allura had quite the time relaxing with face masks. Allura was talking for days over how he styled her hair for her”

“When did that happen?”

He hadn’t heard about this... or had he and he’d forgotten?

“Lance had... quite a hard time accepting your anger upon waking. Allura finally able to get through to him. He stubbornly refused to leave you side. That’s not to say he was alone. Pidge and Hunk visited as often as they could... You were quite upset. Accusing him of “shacking up with Allura the moment you were out of the picture”...”

Keith groaned. Recovering Keith was an arsehole

“He left that out. Coran, I don’t know how to face mask”

“Ahhh, but you have access to that amazing invention called the internet. Technology these days is truly amazing, back in my youth we’d never have dreamed such a thing. You could try making dinner for him. I suspect he’s working hard to feed the three of you well”

Keith loved Lance’s cooking, but if he had to have rice again he might murder the two other wolves in the house

“Rieva and Matt doomed us to rice. They didn’t buy the right amount of chocolate Lance wanted. If I cook, they’ll want me to cook for them. Plus, I think Lance is worried about our finances right now”

“That boy of ours does have a habit of worrying. If you’d like, I can transfer you through to Allura”

And have Allura knowing he was calling up to discuss his sex life? That was a hard pass

“No. I... um... guess I was getting too impatient”

“The most important thing to remember is that Lance loves you. He chose you. If you’re having doubts or urges, you should talk to him. He’s always been a bit uptight about his own urges. I’m sure he understands that right now you’re frisky. He won’t hate you for talking to him”

“Yeah. You’re probably right. I just didn’t want to worry him...”

“Is he really that bad?”