#sorry for not using a city of Real Life New Haven. or a city even remotely near conneticut Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[bizlybebo]

on demonkicks and devotion

sources:

1, 3, and 5: Dreams Fall Hard by Car Seat Headrest

8, 12, 14, and 17: Life Worth Missing by Car Seat Headrest

2: x

4: original writing by me

6: x

7: x

9: Vernet Horace, 1851

10: Antonio Canava, 1794-1799

11: x

13: Mhairi McFarlane

15: JRWI: Prime Defenders s1ep24

16: Fra Filippo Lippi, 1449-1459

18: JRWI: Prime Defenders s1ep24

[thewardenisonthecase]

Moments in Between - Chapter 5

Lucanis Dellamorte x Grey Warden!Rook (Dawn Thorne)

Chapter 4

Read on AO3

Summary: The aftermath of the dragon attack and a certain demon cause a little bit of mayhem.

A/N: I struggled a bit with this chapter as I had to focus on some real life stuff (applying for a masters and had to do a bunch of self tape auditions). At least, I have a clearer vision of where I want to go with this story, I just need to adjust how to tackle it.

What a mess. 

Rook’s first real taste of leadership had ended in disaster. Minrathous had been destroyed in the attack, and the Venatori had used the chaos to make a pass at the throne. 

She brought the whiskey bottle to her lips once again. 

The reality of what they were facing was starting to dawn upon her. 

People would die. Sacrifices were to be made. And sometimes, no matter what you chose, the outcome would still be shit. 

Varric had tried to ease her mind, but it didn’t help her guilt. Could she have done more? She should have had. There must have been some way to save both cities. If she’d been faster with the ice dragon, maybe they could have reached Minrathous in time. 

Rook wiped her tears. She didn’t have the right to cry, it was not her city that was burned to the ground. If Neve never wanted to step foot in the Lighthouse again, she wouldn’t blame her. 

The whiskey tasted bitter in her mouth yet she couldn’t stop drinking. The worst part was that the blissful ignorance of being drunk never arrived. 

In moments like this she cursed her high tolerance for alcohol. 

“Drinking yourself to death will not solve your problems, kid.” Varric said, entering her room. “Trust me, I tried.” 

She sighed “I didn’t realize it would be this hard.” She looked at him. “Being the one who makes the decisions.” 

He walked to her and sighed. “I’m sorry you’re having to take all of this on. I’m the one who should have been leading the team…”

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault you got injured.” 

“Stil…” Varric put a hand on her shoulder. “But I know you can do this. You were my second in command for a reason. You’re a responsible woman, resourceful. If anyone can deal with this, its you.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Now, instead of spending your day here until you enter an alcohol induced coma, you need to plan your next steps. If I were you, I’d talk to Solas, see if there’s anything you can take from him.” 

Rook nodded. “I think I’ll do that…after I take a bath.” 

Varric chuckled. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” 

. 

Lucanis hadn’t seen much of Rook. After the dragon attack, she had been busy recruiting new members for their team, planning for what was next. 

The dragon…he didn’t think she would choose Treviso. It was a merchant city that few seemed to care about. It did not haven defenses, and with the occupation going, they’d have even less protection. 

Treviso did not have much to offer in the fight against the elven gods. 

Minrathous was a capital to one of the most powerful nations in Thedas, they could provide an army if things escalated, the Shadow Dragons even had connections to the magisterium. 

And yet, Rook had showed up and helped them fight off the dragon. He shuddered to think how many lives would have been lost - in the attack, and afterwards. 

Lucanis had tried thinking of how he could say thank you. They hadn’t spoken much since, not with Lucanis staying away from the group. Since the dragon, Spite had grown more restless, demanding to be let out.

He couldn’t give voice to the demon, but he also could not control it. He feared what Spite could do to the others, especially now, and so, Lucanis had retreated into his mind even more. 

He stood by the fire, deep in thoughts, not even noticing that others had arrived in the dining hall until they began talking. He hadn’t heard much of what was being said until the new guy, Davrin interneved. 

“Hang on a minute. Not only have you retained the services of a demon assassin, you’re also taking advice from the elven god who attempted to tear down the veil.” 

He turned to the group “Spite is my problem.” He told the warden. 

“That’s what they always say.” Davrin crossed his arms, turning to Rook. “Thorne, what mess have you gotten yourself into? Lucanis is one thing, but do you really trust this Solas?” 

Lucanis frowned at the name. Did she know him from before? The two were wardens after all. 

“I would not call it trust.”

“So you don’t trust him?”

“No.” She replied, bluntly. 

“Alright then.” 

The conversation continued, as they planned on who to contact. Bellara happened to know a professor from Nevarra who could help and Harding would speak with her contacts to find a dragon hunter. 

The others began exiting the room, Rook being the last of them to stay. They exchanged a look, and it seemed as if she was about to say something before turning to the door and leaving. 

Lucanis sighed. As if things weren’t bad enough, now there was a monster hunter on the team. He looked at Spite, who had grown more restless since the dragon attack, demanding to go out. 

He’d need more coffee to keep the demon at bay. 

. 

Rook remembered the first time she met Davrin, five years ago when she was sent to the Anderfels. 

The two of them had been grouped alongside Evka and Antoine to go on a mission. Investigate the appearance of darkspawn in a village and make sure they wouldn’t cause any more trouble. 

The whole situation had turned out to be much more complex than they had expected, and by the end of it, Rook had three new friends. At the time, the only friends she had. 

She was excited when she realized Davrin would join their team. They hadn’t seen each other in long, and the two had been close confidants in the Anderfels. Besides, she knew how capable of a warrior he was. 

Rook did not expect, however, that he and Lucanis would be at each other's throats all of the time. 

It did not matter where they were, at some point, the same conversation would happen: Davrin would bring up the fact that Lucanis was an abomination. Lucanis would bring up the warden's mysterious secrets. They’d talk in circles and get nowhere. 

Maker, the headaches she was getting because of the two. 

It was terrible. She did not wish to intervene as they were two grown men, but one of them was her closest friend and the other…

Well. That was the worst part. Rook believed she was starting to have…feelings for Lucanis, and at the moment, that was the last thing she needed. They had recruited the fade expert, Emmrich, but they still needed the dragon hunter. She had to focus. 

But it was hard to do so when he would look at her with those sad, brown eyes of his and make her chocolate. Or when he seemed to be opening up, even if just a bit, when she was around. They hadn’t spoken much since Treviso, and she did not know why, but it was as if Lucanis was even more closed off than before. 

She did not understand it, but she didn’t find the courage to ask. 

Rook would find an answer soon enough, after their hunter, Taash, joined the team. 

. 

She followed the shouting to the room where the eluvian was kept. Taash stood in front of it, stopping Lucanis and Harding from getting through. 

“What’s going on here?” Rook asked. 

“It’s the demon!” Harding exclaimed. “It’s taken over Lucanis and now he’s trying to leave.” 

When Rook looked at him, she saw that his eyes were no longer the same, becoming bright purple, and when he spoke, a different voice than the one she knew said “Smells like…jam and brimstone.” 

Was that what Spite sounded like? 

“Rook, do something.” Lace pleaded. 

She looked at the man in front of her. This was not the first time she had spoken to a demon, but each one required a different approach. She thought of his nature - Spite. Perhaps if she catered to it, he might be more agreeable to letting Lucanis go. 

She had an idea. If he wanted to go through the eluvian, what could be more spiteful than not giving it to him?

A part of her wondered if it was a good idea to aggravate the demon, but between her, Harding and Taash, she believed they could do it. She only feared Lucanis getting hurt. 

With a firm voice, she spoke “Spite, I’m not letting you take Lucanis through there.” 

“I could. If you’d move!” 

“So you can take him to where? A cliff, or worse?”

Rook crossed her arms. “Give it up. It’s not happening.” 

She saw him gnarl, before Lucanis shook his head, blinking. 

“How did…Rook? Taash?” He asked confused, looking around before exhaling. “Ah…”

“You…tried to walk through the eluvian in your sleep.” Lace explained.

“Spite wanted out.” 

Lucanis sighed. “I need coffee.” 

“Lucanis…are you sure you’re all right?” 

“This…could be better.” He said, looking embarrassed. “I must have fallen asleep. It won’t happen again.” 

“What do you mean?” Harding asked but Rook knew why. He had told her long ago. 

Lucanis explained to the others “It’s hard for Spite to take control when I’m awake, so…I try to stay awake.” 

“You can’t just stay awake forever. I think that would kill you.” 

“I’ll be more careful next time.” 

“But you shouldn’t have to live like this.” Rook put her hands on her hips. “Lace is right, not sleeping for so long will be bad for you.” 

He raised a brow. “That is rich, coming from you.” He shook his head. “Just…I can handle it.”

“I know you can but maybe Spite could be reasoned with, so you wouldn’t find yourself in these situations.” 

“He’s ‘Spite’, not ‘Learning’. He doesn’t listen to anyone.” 

“He seemed to listen to Rook just a moment ago.” Taash spoke up.

“He didn’t-” Lucanis sighed. “Don’t worry about it. It won’t happen again.” He said and marched out of the room. 

The three of them looked at each other. 

“Do you really think he could be reasoned with?” Lace asked. 

“Maybe? I mean, he’s still a demon but if he really wanted to hurt Lucanis, he could have done so already.” Rook told her. “I remember him saying they had a deal, but he never said what it was. I wonder…”

Making deals with demons was tricky and there was too much involving Spite that she did not know about. Rook sighed as she shook her head. 

“I’ll think about this later. Lace, you said Morrigan wanted to speak to me?” 

. 

“She. Talked to me. Listened.” Spite said as Lucanis walked. “You. Never. Do.” 

He tried to keep a calm facade as he began brewing some coffee. Spite, however, made it very difficult to keep focus. 

“You’re not. Living. I want. Out!” The demon screamed. “I want. To talk.” 

Lucanis bit his tongue, to avoid answering him. Give the demon some leeway and look at what happened. Maker knows what he would have done if the others hadn’t stopped him. 

He felt ashamed that they had seen him like that. That… Rook had seen him like that. 

It was then he realized. Lucanis put a hand on his forehead, sighing. In his haste to leave, he had forgotten to thank them. 

No matter. He shook his head. He wouldn’t let it happen again.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

aquarium ii | kth

pairing(s): taehyung x reader; ex-jungkook x reader

summary: Life after Jeon Jungkook was grey. You had to find your own color, grow your own rainbow. But what would surprise you the most is the appearance of white cosmos, seven of them clutched tightly in Kim Taehyung’s hand.

warnings: reader discretion is advised: a (half-hearted) suicide attempt; mentions of cheating in previous relationship; language; heavy angst; fluffiest fluff; non-idol!AU; kind garden-loving landlord!Taehyung x reader; ft. sadboi!Jungkook

–

part i

-

now playing – without me by halsey ft. JUICE WRLD

tell me, how's it feel sittin' up there? feelin’ so high, but too far away to hold me

You couldn’t remember that night very well, because you didn’t come up.

The worst part about being cheated on was not the actual cheating. It was the moment where you thought you had done something wrong, like somehow it was your fault it happened, like if you hadn’t done this or that, maybe things would have been different. Maybe if you hadn’t chosen that night to snoop into Jeon Jungkook’s phone, he would have had second thoughts, deleted it all, and loved you again. Maybe if you were a little kinder, a little more attentive, he wouldn’t have fallen out of love with you. Maybe... Maybe.

Maybe.

You knew that was just your brain trying to rationalize his irrationality. You had done wrong by invading his privacy by acting on sheer gut feeling. And you had run away, without confronting it, without giving him a chance, because you knew, you knew that if you gave him a chance, you would believe all his words, get dragged back into his sea, back into those dangerous waters.

All these thoughts coursed through you as the water closed in.

The milky bathwater was slowly replacing your depleting air, leaking into your lungs and you didn’t fight it, turning the darkness of the underside of your eyelids into light, because deep down you still loved him, no matter how stupid or foolish it was. Your heart still clung to his soft, I’m sorry, and you didn’t want to hear it anymore.

You didn’t want to know what loving Jeon Jungkook was like anymore. It was too painful.

you know i'm the one who put you up there name in the sky, does it ever get lonely?

You gave everything so he could be what he wanted to be, not knowing that you were the one slowly being eroded. No one could tell you. You were the one who had to find the signs. You were the one who found yourself trapped in glass walls, stuck in an aquarium, surrounded on all sides by Jeon Jungkook as he made a mockery of your feelings.

You screamed into the water and no one heard you.

The next memory you had was hazy, barely there.

You felt a tightness in your chest, harsh, solid pressure. A frustrated, agonized voice above you, desperately calling your name in deep baritone, desperately asking you to come back, praying in every language he knew for you to come back, come back, please, please, please.

“Please…”

In the whiteness, you wandered. Were you meant to be here? It was a loose fog. You looked around, seeing traces of memory like torn book pages, slipping through the haze. You reached out to touch them and they disappeared, only mirages.

And then you fell, dragged into dark blue, torn, battered, lungs burning as you struggled to stay afloat, coughing hard, your muscles screaming with asphyxiation, sudden oxygen flooding your brain. You whipped your head to the side, hacking up water, spilling it all over the green tiles of the bathroom floor, head pounding. Thoughts swimming, barely computing the shouting above you.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” one voice growled above your jerking body, so venomous that it made your blood run cold. “You absolute disaster of a man, thinking for one fucking second she would even consider taking you back. Look at her! She’d rather drown herself in my damn bathtub than hold a conversation with you!”

“What the fuck do you know?” The familiar voice, the voice that haunted you in your nightmares, the voice that fed you sweet poison. “She would do anything for me! She worships the fucking ground I walk on!”

You curled up into a ball, head pounding by the sudden explosion of light and sound. There was a towel over you, covering your wet naked body, and yet you shivered. You barely registered Kim Taehyung snarling, rising to his feet.

“You narcissistic bastard,” Taehyung spat out. “Get the fuck out of my house. Get the fuck out and don’t ever come near her again or I’ll break your fucking neck.”

“You can’t do anything to me. You’re a nobody,” Jeon Jungkook taunted. “Unlike you, I actually have money to sue you for assault.”

Apparently, Taehyung did not give a single shit, because he immediately roared and launched himself past you, the brown ball slamming into the black wall. You blinked, trying to register what was happening, but it was too much for you and your brain that was slowly trying to restore function due to lack of oxygen. They tumbled down the stairs and you laid your head against the floor, hearing the grunts and shouting, wondering why Taehyung had come back.

Wondering how he knew.

You closed your eyes.

In your dreams, you saw the soft sunlight glowing against Taehyung’s tan skin as he reached down to retrieve a dark green cucumber to show you. It was a bit wonky and hadn’t grown quite right, but you watched Taehyung tap it and smile to himself.

“Doesn’t matter what it looks like on the outside,” he said cheerfully. “I know it will still taste delicious because I gave it love.”

-

You tried to go back to work, but it was awful.

You loved your work. Perhaps it was boring to others, accounting all day, but it was mundane and peaceful, always knowing what you had to do. You never had to question the numbers. The numbers were what they were and that was that.

But now when you stared out into the grey urban jungle, it pained you.

What once was your safe haven turned into your cage, chaining you to clock in, clock out. You would go home to a motel nearby, crying into unfamiliar, starched sheets, pitying housekeepers preparing your meals, asking you what was wrong and you couldn’t tell them.

Because you didn’t know.

i'm sad inside, but i know it's for the best, right? you had to realize where you drew the line 

You didn’t check his social media. You didn’t check his Twitch, his Instagram, his Twitter. You got a new phone, only giving your new number to your work and your parents. With a start, you realized you hadn’t contacted your old high school friends in years. You had lost them all, committing social suicide for Jeon Jungkook. In fact, you had no social media presence, so there was no need to download those apps.

There was nothing on your old phone that you wanted. It sat in the storage unit, forgotten. You didn’t want to turn on your old phone to see the photos, the lock screen of his arms around you, smile on his face from two years ago.

A smile you didn’t even know was real or fake.

i still hate it when you’re not there

You tried to tell yourself you were fine, because moping over Jeon Jungkook was stupid. But you had invested so much. You had given him everything. It was hard to regrow. You were stuffed in this tiny motel room, staring out to the hazy, polluted city, yellow sunlight fighting to be seen.

You sat by the window, clutching your pink flats, remembering Taehyung’s last words to you before you left.

“I looked up the brand and bought you some new ones,” he had said sheepishly. “I felt bad that they got so ruined, all because I asked you to help me with the garden.” He gave you that big, boxy smile. “Just think of them as a parting gift for being such a great tenant.”

You inhaled a deep breath, placing the pale pink flats next to the exact same style but grass-stained, greyed-out, worn ones. You stared at them both.

And made a choice.

-

“I thought I would never see you again.”

You lifted your head. The scent of flowers, so familiar and comforting, wafted around you, a reassuring embrace. You were wearing a long-sleeved white dress, a brown ribbon around the collar. The pink flats, the ones the owner of the deep baritone voice had gifted you.

That was nearly six months ago now. You had since thrown away the other ones.

Kim Taehyung walked up to you. He was wearing brown overalls and a cream shirt, elbows smeared with dirt. His skin had lightened due to the passing winter, but it was spring now. The flower shop was very busy, but there were other employees, and Taehyung was fixated on you.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” Taehyung said quietly, his brown eyes shimmering. “I would have come here a lot more often if I knew.”

You bit you lip and bowed your head politely, smiling at him. Taehyung coughed and rubbed the back of his head, messing up his dark brown hair. It was longer and curlier now, desperately needing a trim.

“I… I came to get carnations. The shop I normally go to ran out.”

You nodded, leading him wordlessly to the red and pink carnations. There was still a good number left, but you had to pick through carefully to find the most beautiful ones for him. He watched you work, chewing on his lip. You held up the large bouquet to him.

“What do you think?” you asked softly.

He smiled at you. “Perfect.” He didn’t ask the price. “Could you make two corsages out of a few of them?”

“Of course. Right this way.”

You brought him to one of the counters, selecting a few blooms to make the corsages. You showed him the available ribbons and he picked a thin, sheer white one. He watched you work, quickly, but delicately, careful not to bruise the petals.

“You became an expert about flowers,” he remarked. “I’m still struggling.”

You smiled. “I’m still learning. It’s very different from what I used to do.” You twisted the ribbon into a perfect bow, using floral wire to secure it.

“You don’t talk to him anymore, do you?”

You shook your head. “Haven’t seen him since that day you threw him down your stairs.”

Taehyung laughed a little too loud, making the patrons stare at him. He coughed nervously, cramming the crumpled brown hat under his arm onto his head. You placed your hand over your lips, trying to hide your chuckle. Your fingertips smelled like phloem sap from the cut stems, sweet and grassy.

Taehyung gazed at you, surrounded by flowers, carnations laid out on the counter.

“Will you… let me take a picture of you?”

You blinked at him, lips parting.

Taehyung reached into his pocket, pulling out an old 35mm film camera. He looked sheepish as he held it up, hesitating.

“Sorry, I just… you look so beautiful, and I don’t want to forget that.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “I know it’s a weird habit. But I like to take pictures and I never took one of you.” He looked deep into your eyes.

“I really regret not taking a picture of you.”

Your fingers were still over your mouth. You nodded.

Taehyung held the camera up and snapped a photo.

-

“He waits for you to get off work every day. It’s been a week now.”

The manager was teasing you, nudging your arm as you tugged on your long camel coat. You smiled at her, an old woman with knowing eyes that had seen and enjoyed a lot of life. Taehyung waved across the street as you made eye contact with him.

“There aren’t men like him anymore, you know,” she said gently. “These kinds of things happened in my generation, but now young people send pictures of flowers instead of the real thing.”

When you thanked the manager and walked out to Taehyung, he held out a small bundle of tiny flowers to you. White cosmos. You stopped, surprised. Breathless as you looked up at him. He was illuminated by a streetlight and the dying sun, the golden hour matching his golden skin. Holding out the white cosmos, shivering in the spring breeze.

“They’re not that pretty,” he said guiltily, stepping up to you. “I’ve been trying to grow flowers for months now and these are the only ones that survived, ahahaha…”

He scratched his head, brushing his hair back.

“I always hoped that if I saw you again, I could show you that I was able to finally grow flowers.” Taehyung laughed, shrugging apologetically. “This is all I got.”

You reached out and took the small bundle from him. They were a bit curled and slightly wilted from being carried around but you smiled at them.

“No one has ever grown flowers for me,” you said quietly.

The tiny yellow centers of each flower were surrounded by white. You counted seven. Taehyung had given you seven flowers. Seven flowers he grew on his own, because he wanted to show you. You placed your fingers on your mouth, the scent of the floral shop returning to you with the action. Your chest felt tight and full, a feeling unlike any other.

“I wanted to grow at least eight,” Taehyung lamented. “Because that would be luckier, but…”

You shook your head quickly, looking up at him. Him and his beautiful brown eyes, a small patch of dirt underneath his cheek. He probably didn’t even know it was there.

“No.”

You removed your hand from your lips and smiled at him.

“Seven is perfect.”

You threw your hands around him and hugged him tightly.

-

When Jeon Jungkook saw you again, everything was different.

He was distracting himself from school. University was much harder than he thought, especially since he didn’t attend right after high school to pursue his streaming career.

For a long time, he had someone to take care of him, first his mom and then you. Someone to do everything so he could recklessly chase his dreams. But things were different now. He had to suddenly become an adult. It wasn’t because of you. You hadn’t told anyone what happened.

But everyone knew.

One girl had let it slip, and then another and another, and then screenshots were plastered everywhere, all over the internet for anyone to see, not knowing the context, tossing judgements left and right. His parents found out and then his friends, everyone disappointed in him, not surprised that you vanished without a trace. He had to vanish too, every sponsor cutting ties with him immediately, not asking if it was true or not. It was bad for business to be associated with something like that.

Jungkook really regretted it now, but there was nothing he could do to take it back.

That’s why he was sitting in this tiny, one room apartment, using what was leftover from his streaming money to get a degree, saving every penny to his education. At least he hadn’t been so reckless to overspend. You hadn’t let him, always reminding him to save for his future, using your own income to pay for the necessities.

Even now, you were helping him.

Every once in a while, Jungkook would type variations of your old Instagram username into the search bar, wondering if you had ever set it up again. He had asked you to delete it, since you had been getting constant DMs from guys asking you out, sending you unsolicited dick pics. You had agreed, even through you could have fought him or simply privated it.

You had deleted it, Jungkook knew now, because he asked you and you loved him.

It hurt to know that you loved him so dearly and he was too busy feeding his own ego to see it.

When Jungkook saw you again, you were surrounded by flowers.

Your profile picture was a close up shot of your beautiful face, golden sun against your skin, a white cosmos tucked behind your ear. He knew it was you. He could tell by the shape of your lips, the contours of your eyes, even through your eyes were closed. Wearing a white dress, the ruffles fluttering in the wind.

Jungkook was breathless, seeing you again. He scrolled through your pictures. They were mostly of flowers, with captions of how to grow them. Were you a florist now? Some of them were of you in different dresses, surrounded by blue sky and green summer. The smile on your face was so dazzling that he wondered who gave you that smile.

His heart wrenched uncomfortably in his chest.

Or maybe it wasn’t a someone.

There was a time when that smile was his. There was a time when he could make you smile like that, your lips saying his name breathlessly – “Jungkook, Jungkook, look at this!” – showing him something silly or giving him his favorite banana milk with special edition packaging, saying how cute it was, just like him.

He blinked and a droplet fell onto his phone.

Right on your smiling face, hand holding a large straw hat, your pink dress fluttering in the wind.

Jungkook wiped it away, swiping at his tears with the sleeve of his black sweatshirt, wondering why had he taken that smile for granted, why he had drifted away from the safe coast, why he had thought, even for a second, that the days and nights you spent cleaning after him meant that you were keeping yourself busy and away from him, not seeing it for what it was, not seeing that it was your love for him and his own sloppiness that left him here now, staring at your summer as his summer was torn from him by textbooks and lectures.

He shuddered, still looking at the pictures, not wanting to miss a moment, even if they weren’t his moments anymore.

One of your pictures was a bundle of seven white cosmos, a little wilted and sad-looking.

Jungkook read the caption.

It doesn’t matter if you don’t think you’re beautiful. Because there is someone out there who thinks you are. They use every resource they know to give you love, even if it’s clumsy at first. Even if you don’t think you need it or want it.

The tears were really coming now, streaming down his cheeks as Jungkook asked himself why, why did he give this up?

They celebrate you and your love instead of simply tolerating it.

-

You sat on the edge of the cliff, legs dangling over the side.

Your pink flats were right beside you, and your arms were resting on the wooden fence. The ocean breeze was strong here, salty and cold. But you didn’t feel the cold, because Kim Taehyung had wrapped a thick wool blanket around you two. It was already night, but by the seaside it was still chilly, even in the summer, due to the sea breeze.

He peeled the foil back on a roasted sweet yam, taking off some of the skin so you could bite into it. You tried to take it from him but he shook his head, frowning at you. You laughed and took a bite, scalding your mouth from how hot it was. But it still tasted good.

“I asked my parents if I could have it.”

You looked up at him, trying to blow the steaming air from your mouth in attempt to cool off.

“The cottage?”

Taehyung nodded, taking a bite and wincing. “You’ll never guess what they said.”

You smiled. “What did they say?”

He scowled. “Then pay rent!” He waved a hand to the seaside house behind you two. “They own it! Why do I have to pay rent? I’m their son!”

You giggled, hiding your mouth behind you hand. Taehyung angrily bit into the sweet yam again and choked, forgetting how hot it was. Your giggles turned into full-blown laughter, falling back onto the grass, wool softening your fall. Taehyung narrowed his eyes at you, shaking the yam furiously. The white moonlight glinted off the silver foil. He puffed his cheeks and sighed as your laughter faded out.

You looked up at the stars, realizing how clear the sky was here.

It was nothing like the city.

Even in darkness, the white stars shone against the black, bright and clear. You wouldn’t have seen them if you weren’t here, on your back and looking up at them.

“Anyway, they only said it was a hundred won, so I guess that’s fine,” Taehyung grumbled. “Really made me worried there for a second, sheesh.”

You turned your head to look up at him. “You going to live here?”

Taehyung shook his head.

“No, you are.”

You blinked, taken aback. He rewrapped the yam, determining it was too hot to eat right now. He gazed down at you, smiling a little.

“It’s better than that one room you have in that house. Safer too.”

You chewed on your lip. “But I can’t pay the amount I paid when I rented it…”

Taehyung poked you with the yam. “Weren’t you listening? The rent is a hundred won. No, two hundred for you, since I have to make some profit.”

He laid down next to you, eye to eye now, smile getting bigger.

“Although I hear there’s this annoying gardener that comes around every day caring for the plants.”

You were smiling now too, drawn by his cheeky, boxy grin.

“Really? I think he’s pretty cute. I think that’s how he gets away with it.”

His brown eyes locked with yours.

“Will you let me care for you too?”

The sound of the sea, crashing into the rockface, constructing a new memory for you.

“I know you’ll be much harder than a plant,” Taehyung murmured quietly. “Sorry, that’s a dumb thing to say, I meant–”

You pressed your lips against his, cold air chilling your cheeks, warmth spreading throughout your soul.

When you pulled away, breathless, Taehyung was staring at you, eyes wide. Those three words came to you, words that you thought you were never going to say again, words you had for someone else, but you knew this was the right one, the perfect flower.

The one who struggled to grow seven flowers.

White cosmos.

Just for you.

“I love you, Kim Taehyung.”

-

The next summer.

Seven flowers. White cosmos, bright, glowing, perfectly shaped. Surrounding your left hand. The ring finger held a princess-cut diamond surrounded by six tiny small ones like petals.

The caption.

He grew them perfectly this time.

Jeon Jungkook sighed heavily, placing his phone back in his pocket. The noise around him was loud, clattering and chattering, now a familiar atmosphere. The black bucket hat was low over his eyes, shrouding them. He pulled his face mask higher, hiding his features, not wanting to be recognized. Internet shame was enough; he didn’t need public shame as well. He already had to switch universities because of it.

Jungkook placed his hand back onto the subway rail, shouldering his backpack, staring out the train window at the black tunnel.

--

masterpost

[thedanceronthestreets]

PEDRO PASCAL GQ GERMANY - OCTOBER 2020

Original text by Esma Annemon Dil

Fotos by Doug Inglish

Styling by Simon Robins

Translated by @thedanceronthestreets

Intro: A broken tooth could almost have been the reason for our meeting with Pedro Pascal to be cancelled - and with that our conversation about roots, his new movie and times of change. 

Interview: It is almost eery how empty the streets of Los Angeles are under the gleaming sun. While Europe is finding its "new normal", people in L. A. are cutting their own hair even without being neurotics. Many of them have not seen their friends in half a year. The pandemic is out of control. So are the reactions to the situation. Inviting someone to a "distance drink" in the backyard can lead to the same consternation as proposing a relationship partner exchange. 

All the more of a surprise was Pedro Pascal's immediate confirmation. To the drink, not the partner exchange. He is one of the winners this year - and if Corona had not forced the movie industry to go on a holiday, he probably would not have had the time for this drink. After "Game of Thrones", the series in which his head was squished, followed 2015 the leading role in "Narcos" as a DEA agent on the hunt for Pablo Escobar, and now the leap onto the big Hollywood screen. As of 1. October the Chilean will appear in the blockbuster "Wonder Woman 1984". Furthermore, the second season of the "Star Wars" series "The Mandalorian" will start in October with him as the main character - unfortunately underneath the helmet. But we all seem to be under the same helmet in 2020. It is this man we want to meet, who worked as a waiter in New York a couple of years ago. Whose parents are political refugees that settled in Texas, and one day their son decided to walk into a drama club in high school. 

And then the cancellation. While we were preparing the house and garden for Pedro's drink and fashion shoot, which isn't an easy task under L. A.'s restrictions, his management called in with terrible news: Pedro has - no, not Corona - had to receive emergency surgery due to a sore tooth and is now lying in bed with a swollen cheek, making talking or shooting impossible. The sun shines onto empty streets. And our empty garden. 

A few days later, he stands in front of the door anyway, no huge bulge in his face, but stitches in his gum. No limousine service that dropped him off, he arrived in his own car and picked up his makeup artist on the way. He helps her to carry in all the equipment and states first and foremost: "I've got time today!" What a star! It does not seem like we are about to ask him how he managed to become a Hollywood sensation, but rather him asking us that question. Pedro Pascal! So, what kind of star is he then? 

Pedro Pascal: Sorry for ruining your plans. The operation was a total emergency. 

GQ: Really? We were wondering whether the swelling was the result of a secret trip to the plastic surgeon. Apparently, because of the quarantine in Hollywood, their schedules are packed. 

Sorry to disappoint you. A few days before our appointment I raced to the hospital with a tooth fracture and the worst pain I've ever felt - a hospital where the severe Corona cases are treated. I was unable to contact any dentists! Right before I parked, a specialist called back. I'll spare you the details of the surgery, gruesome. The pain was excruciating despite the 10 anaesthetic shots. The doctor said I wasn't the only one going through this, a lot of people grind their teeth at night thanks to stress. 

What are you most afraid of at the moment? 

The way the government is handling the pandemic scares me more than the virus itself. The lack of intelligent crisis management is a moral disgrace. The leadership crisis makes orphans out of all of us - we're left to fend for ourselves. 

How have you spent the last few months? 

With frozen pizza in jogging trousers in Venice Beach. I live in a rear building that's in the garden belonging to a family. In reality there are enough good takeout restaurants around that area, but for some reason I like salami pizza from the supermarket. 

That doesn't exactly sound like the movie star lifestyle. What does it feel like to be forced from top speed to zero? 

Considering the things happening in this world, my own state really isn't the top priority. But I would have to lie, if I said I wasn't disappointed. The entire cast and crew of "Wonder Woman 1984" put so much heart and soul into the production. We had so much fun on set. I had hoped to carry this feeling of exuberance around the globe to the openings of this movie. 

You are part of a political, socialist family that fled the Pinochet regime in Chile. What do you remember from back then? 

My sister and I were born in Chile, but I was only nine months old when we claimed asylum in Denmark. From there, we moved to San Antonio in Texas, where my dad worked as a doctor in a hospital. 

Texas isn't exactly considered to be socialist utopia. How well did you settle in? 

San Antonio isn't a cowboy city but rather very diverse with large Asian, Afro-American and Latino communities. In my memory it's a romantic place, culturally inclusive. The cultural shock only hit when we moved to Orange County in California later. Suddenly, the environment was white, preppy and conservative. 

How were you welcomed in California? 

To this day I'm ashamed when I think about how I let my classmates call me Peter without correcting them. I'm Pedro. Even without growing up in Chile, the country and language are part of me. I was quite unhappy in that place. At least I was able to switch schools and visit one in Long Beach, where I felt more comfortable. With its theatre programme, I found my path. 

Could you visit your family's homeland as a child? 

Yes, after my parents ended up on a list of expats that were permitted to re-enter the country. First, there was a big family gathering, then me and my sister were parked at some relatives' place for a few months while my parents returned to Texas. They probably needed a break from us. They'd had us at a very young age, had a vibrant social life, and my mother was doing her doctorate in psychology. 

Was your mother a typical young psychologist that tested her knowledge at home? 

You mean whether I was her lab rat? Absolutely. I can remember weird sessions camouflaged as games, where someone would watch my reactions to different toys. Even though I couldn't have been older than 6, I knew what was happening. My favourite thing was to be asked about my dreams. That was always a great opportunity to make up fantastic stories. 

Was that your first performance? 

Definitely! My strong imagination alarmed my mother, because I'd rather live in my fantasy world than in real life. I didn't like school. I ended up in the "problematic kid" category. At some point the subjects got more interesting and my grades improved. So many children are unnecessarily diagnosed with learning disabilities without considering that school can be daunting. Why is it acceptable to be bored out of your mind in class, when there are more stimulating ways to convey knowledge?

With everything happening in the world this summer: Do you believe that social hierarchy structures are genuinely being reconsidered? 

Hopefully. After the lockdown my first contact with people was at the Black Lives Matter protest. The atmosphere was peaceful and hopeful until the police got involved and provoked violence. At least during these times we can't avoid problems or distract ourselves from them as easily as we usually do. It seems that the pandemic provided us with a new sense of clarity: we don't want to go on like this. 

The trailer of "Wonder Woman 1984" represents the optimism of the 80s. That almost makes one feel nostalgic nowadays. 

That holds true. It's two hours of happiness. Patty Jenkins, the director, managed to make a movie full of positive messages. We shot in Washington, D. C., then in London and Spain - which now sounds like a different time. 

Do you miss travelling? 

I've only now realised what a privilege it is to just pack up your things and fly anywhere. With an American passport you can travel freely. And that's why the small radius we live in now is kind of absurd. Over the last few years I often retreated in between takes, because I was always on the road and overstimulated. Friends complained about how comfortable I had become. We all took social interactions for granted and realise now how reliant we are on human connection. Now, I wistfully think about all the party and dinner invitations I declined in the past. 

In L. A., people spend more time indoors or in nature than in other metropolises. Could this city become your safe haven after New York City? 

My true home is my friends. Ever since I was young I've lived the life of a nomad and haven't set roots anywhere. Until recently, my physical home was a place for arriving and leaving and hence I didn't want to overcomplicate living by owning lots of things. The opposite actually: Without having read Marie Kondo's book, I got rid of all the stuff that was unnecessary and lived a very minimalistic lifestyle. 

Is there something you collect or could never say goodbye to? 

Books! I still own the literature I read during my teen and university years. Recently I found a box of old theatre scripts and materials back from my uni days at NYU. I can't separate from art either, same as lamps or old pictures. Furniture and clothes are no problem though, they can be chucked. 

Do you remember any roles that were defined by their costumes? 

Yes, "Game of Thrones" comes to mind immediately. During that time I first understood what it means, as an actor, to be supported by a look. I owe that to costume designer Michele Clapton. She developed these very feminine robes and brocade cloaks for my role that looked very masculine when I wore them. I felt sexy in them. And very important were of course Lindy Hemming's power suits and Jan Sewell's blond hair for the tycoon villain Maxwell Lord in "Wonder Woman 1984". Relating to the style, I couldn't really see myself in the role since the shapes and colours of the 80s don't really fit my body. My type is the 70s.

Do you adopt such inspirations into your private closet? 

At this point in time, I'll choose any comfortable outfit over a cool look. Sometimes I mourn the days when I defined myself with fashion. It's a bit mad when I think about how, in the 90s as a teenager, I would go to raves; a proper club kid with crazy outfits: overalls, chute trousers, soccer shirts and a top hat like in "The cat in the hat knows a lot about that!" by Dr Seuss. Later in NYC I was part of a group that placed immense value on wearing a certain style. The fact that I only walk around in joggers nowadays is actually unacceptable! 

Normally, actors who work on comic screen adaptations become bodybuilders and eat ten boiled chicken breasts per day. You don't? 

My body wouldn't be able to handle that. I find it difficult enough to maintain a minimum level of fitness. As of your mid 40s, you suddenly need a lot more discipline. Until the tooth incident happened, I worked out a couple of times a week with a trainer to keep the quarantine body in shape. 

What would annoy you the most, if you were your own roommate? 

I can be very bossy. I have to gather all my goodwill not to force my movie choice on to everyone else. When I want something, I'm not passive aggressive about it, I attack head on. Also, I can get caught up in tunnel vision: When i feel down, I can't imagine that I'm ever going to feel better again. I have difficulty with seeing the bigger picture when experiencing problems or emotions. Method acting really wouldn't be my thing. That's why I try to only work on projects that feel good and where people encourage and lift each other up. 

While you were trying on the outfits you pointed out a lack of self-esteem. How does that coincide with your career? 

Isn't it interesting how traits and circumstances go hand in hand? Self-esteem comes from the inside, but it's also influenced by what society believes. We use critical stares from the outside against ourselves. I lived in New York for 20 years, I studied there and worked as a waiter up until my mid 30s, because I couldn't live off acting. It was always so close. The disappointment of always just barely missing a perfect part or opportunity is exhausting. When is the right time to stop trying and what's plan b? That's not just a question actors ask themselves, but anybody who struggles to earn a livelihood - unrelated to how much potential they have or how close their dream may seem. We are beginning to see now how our narrow definition of success is destroying our communities. At the same time, it's becoming obvious that, until this day, your family background and skin colour determine your chances of living a dignified existence. 

What are the positives of becoming a leading man later in life? 

I have the feeling that I've got control over my life - without the pressure of having to accept projects or be a social media personality. That surely also has to do with the fact that I'm a man. Women are surely pressured to appear quirky at any age. 

Life is always a management of risks - especially at this time. For what would you risk losing something? 

Usually, if you don't play the game you're not going to win anything. That applies to friendship, love, work, creativity. Anything that really means something to me, is worth the risk. 

Wonder woman 1984 will appear in cinemas 01.10. The 800 million dollar earning DC comic franchise is moving into the New York 80s with its sequel. It looks spectacular - only Pedro Pascal with blond hair in a three piece Wall Street suit looks better.

[fuchsiagrasshopper]

Falling Together Part II

Author’s Note: So glad I’ve dove head first into this fandom, you guys are so welcoming and enthusiastic! There will be 2 more parts before this comes to its natural end. Also if you want to be tagged, or I missed you, please let me know.

Part 1

Pairing: Ivar x Reader Word count: 3213

Warnings: None "Are you still feeling sorry for yourself?" Hvitserk prodded, breaking the silence in the warm afternoon. 

Ivar had agreed to go fishing with his brother to clear his head, but between the lack of bites and Hvitserk's questions, there was little peace to be had. He had tossed away his line, and had sprawled out on the dock, falling back into his dark thoughts. Since your argument, you had made your presence scarce. You always managed to be gone before he woke at dawn, and you no longer took meals in the Great Hall. If he managed to catch a glimpse of you in a day it was something worth bragging about. 

Hvitserk let out a huff as he threw his line down. "I'm sure you're not the first man to accuse his wife of being a whore."

Ivar glared at his brother, tempted to push him into the water. "I was only going by what you told me."

"Hey, I told you to fuck her, not to accuse her of laying with any man who gives her trinkets," Hvitserk said between chuckles. "Speaking of which, I saw the boy Einarr the other day. You'd better watch yourself, or you could have a real rival eight years from now."

Hvitserk knew just what to say to make him feel like the foolish boy who crawled around Kattegat again. The boy, who just wanted to keep up with his brothers. He was a King now, but sometimes he still felt like he was chasing after their greatness. Letting out a grunt of frustration, he threw his dagger at Hvitserk's foot, just shy of sticking through the toe of his boot.

Hvitserk leapt back, and shot him an incredulous look. "I hope you don't show that same temper to your wife. She's a delicate Christian flower, not a fishmonger's daughter."

Ivar froze as he felt his back stiffen, and Hvitserk appeared to realize his mistake. "I would never harm her."

"I know that, Ivar," Hvitserk murmured, brushing his hand through his hair. "I...shit. I'm sorry for that."

The sincerity was there, and Ivar believed him, but his mind had traveled far back into a different life. He could still feel the strength of his grip, hear her struggling gasps, and see the love go out of her eyes when he took the breath out from her body. Love was a misery, and it only seemed to bring him grief. His mother and father, Freydis and Baldr, even Sigurd. Perhaps he had done you a kindness by mistake.

He had been the one that had refused all attempts at bonding between you, so it seemed ridiculous that he had chosen this instance to resent the distance. It was your talk of a marriage not needing love that had gotten to him. After Freydis, he was certain he wouldn't fall in love again, but that didn't mean his heart didn't crave it. Marriage should not be a loveless thing, not after he'd seen what it did to his mother. He wasn't in love with you, but he did not want your hatred either.

"What should I do?" Ivar asked aloud, desperate enough that he looked to Hvitserk for the answer. 

"Get her a gift, and apologize."

Ivar frowned. "What kind of gift?"

"Ask her yourself," said Hvitserk, looking over his shoulder. "She's coming this way."

You were indeed coming down the path to the wharf, a guard on either side. Ivar thought you would be wearing a scowl, but you were as poised as Frigg, with no trace of animosity to be found. You indicated for your guards to remain back as you approached the brothers. Hvitserk chose that moment to reach down and pull the stuck knife from the wood. You had caught the act, even growing a smile at it.

"What did you do to warrant a dagger to the foot, Hvitserk?" You teased.

"I'm not the best advisor," He reasoned. "That's probably why it's not my job."

You chuckled freely, all while Ivar kept his gaze away to the water. "Indeed. May I borrow my husband for a moment?"

Ivar gazed up at his brother for help, who shrugged as a reply. "Of course. Guess I'll go find myself some trouble."

"Take them with you. They look far too bored without my company," You said of your guards before taking a seat on the dock beside Ivar. Once Hvitserk was far enough away, you spoke again. "When I was a young girl, I used to run down to the water instead of practicing my needlework. A languid sunrise was all the beauty I needed, and I would watch the horizon, hoping to catch a glimpse of a ship coming into the havens."

Ivar listened to your leisured words, recalling a time when he would also go down to the shores of Kattegat. Sometimes he imagined it would be his father returning from exile on one of the ships that made port, but as he grew older, it crossed his mind less until he abandoned the wish entirely. His father had good reason to stay away, and Ivar sometimes wondered if it would have been better had he never returned.

"What do you want, wife?" He was tired and the reminiscing about things better left forgotten put him into a sour state.  

"I've come to the conclusion that we cannot remain parted like this forever, and as I told you before, the people talk," You said, smiling at him. Ivar had forgotten what it felt like to have a woman's eyes on him that way, and it commanded his whole attention. "I listened, and decided what would be best is for the people to see their King and Queen together."

"Is that the only reason?" He tested.

"No." You paused to adjust your skirts, and you shifted closer, sitting in a manner that should have been unbecoming of a Queen, but was endearing in its frankness. "I feel there are things that I don't know about you, but I believe your regret to be sincere."

"It was."

You stared at him with something akin to concern. "You were married once before me, weren't you?"

Ivar narrowed his eyes, hating the vast change of the conversation, and how you had sprung him into a trap, like a rabbit to a snare. "Yes."

"I see," You said, and after pausing a moment, you did not say more on the matter.

With your gaze set on the ocean, Ivar was able to take his time regarding you. Hvitserk was right, you were beautiful. You did not resemble the icy nordic women he had been surrounded by, nor were you like any of the English ladies who coward from his men. You were shades of a dark, stormy night, but also the fairness of a pale morning bathed in sunlight. He should be proud to walk alongside you.

When you caught him looking, you mistook what he had been fixated on. You plucked at the bracelet on your wrist as your mouth twisted into a frown.

"If it bothers you, I can get rid of it."

"Your silence bothers me," said Ivar. "You are my wife, I do not want you to be meek."

You burst into giggles, "Is that how you see me?"

"No, I see that you are a warrior who doesn't resort to the sword. This strength you have has earned you the title to be Queen."

"My father's insistence that I marry you made me Queen, but that is kind of you to say," You shifted to face him head on, and Ivar appreciated how you held his stern look. "Why did you agree to marry me? My father's lands are not widespread, you could have easily lorded over us with the warriors you have. It could have saved you the trouble of being tied to a Christian."

"My intentions to raid have not changed, but an alliance in a foreign land is its own valuable treasure. My father had done the same with King Ecbert, but not until he had made an enemy of King Aelle first. I won't make the same mistake," Ivar explained as he watched your loose curls dance in the sea breeze. You did not braid your hair, and it was longer than any woman's in Kattegat. Not to be distracted by your grace, he steeled his gaze, and continued to speak. "As for having you as a wife, I think you know that I find you to be an accomplished Queen, and an acceptable partner."

"Acceptable? Quit with that flattery husband, or I might swoon," You quipped with an eye roll.

"I would enjoy that."

Ivar took pleasure in how you flustered, mouth stuck open and not quite sure how to respond. You were often brash, so he forgot you were still a virgin until your shy side reared. It made his heart speed up to a gallop, a feeling he had almost forgotten. 

You were swift to change the direction of the topic back to neutral ground, but the faint pink still dusted your cheeks. "Would you like to walk with me? The people used to enjoy seeing my parents together when they would stroll the city."

Ivar recalled how his parents would interact with the people of Kattegat, though not often together. He understood your reasoning though, and clenching his jaw, he propelled his stiff body up with the aid of his crutch. You were at his side, hands hovering in the air to give him assistance in a moment's notice if he needed. Ivar waved you back, used to doing everything alone. He couldn't explain it, but it was important to him that you did not see him weak.

As you both started up the path, you placed your hand tentatively through Ivar's arm. The gesture startled him, but he managed to keep his footing. After a while of walking, he decided he liked the warmth of your touch. You remained tight to his side, and the people, yours and his, appeared delighted as you strode through the streets. 

The people of Kattegat had never looked at him with anything other than disdain, pity, and fear. He preferred this new change, bringing him closer to continuing his father's legacy as a worthy King. Ivar didn't share any more words with you, but instead chose to enjoy your quiet presence beside him. He was going to follow Hvitserk's advice about giving you a gift, if only to see you blush again. First though, he needed to decide what you would like.

ooOOoo

After that day by the water, your relationship with your husband changed. All of your games of avoidance stopped, and had been replaced with Ivar's new habit of teasing you. He seemed to like how perturbed you would get, or how red your face would become. You still had not consummated the marriage, but you had begun to share a bed.

The first time you had stayed in your shared chambers had been the last time you had been in your private wing. You had stayed up late, completing your correspondence when Ivar had returned. He had seemed surprised to find you awake, but had struck up a conversation that led you to sitting down beside him on the bed. Sleep had come, and by morning you'd awoken next to your husband for the first time.

When you had stirred, the morning was still young, and there was a quiet in the air that could only be found at the birth of a new day. You were facing towards Ivar and when you opened your eyes you found him toying with your hair. He gave you a coy smile at being caught, but he was not deterred from his actions, and you let him continue until the responsibilities of leading called him away.

Touching was something new that you had both slowly eased into your relationship. Brief grazes of skin, and gentle caressing was becoming something of a routine between you. Ivar's hands were tough and warm, but he was careful with you, as if something held him back. For all of his abrasive shortcomings, he was rather shy and boyish when it came to anything intimate. You were tempted by your viking husband, and your carnal thoughts were at war with your Christian values. You wanted him to push passed that barrier of gentleness and make you a woman. 

There was also the matter of things left unsaid between you. You wanted to ask about his first wife, but each time you came close to speaking up, you would recall the crestfallen look that had twisted his face when you had brought it up to begin with. Hvitserk would know, but that was a line you promised you wouldn't cross. He would tell you one day, so there wasn't much point in dwelling on it.

"(Y/N)," Ivar said, and you jolted up on the bed, not expecting his presence. 

"Hello," You greeted, closing your book as you sat upright. "Have you come to join me?"

"Yes," He replied before hesitating. "I have something for you. Can you close your eyes a moment?"

You shot him a suspicious glance. "What is this, Ivar?"

"Trust me."

He disappeared before you could say anything more. You breathed out a laugh 'Trust me' he says. Ivar did not have a face full of integrity, and you wondered how many people had been deceived by the one called Boneless.

You closed your eyes as he requested, and waited for his return. It was not long until he came back to the door, stopping outside as he called to you.

"Are your eyes closed?"

"Yes, husband," You answered, growing impatient. 

You listened to each careful step as Ivar approached the bed, and felt the familiar dip as his weight joined you.

"Hold out your hands," He told you, his voice close.

You wrinkled your nose, but did as he asked. What could he want to give you? You couldn't understand the sudden display of generosity, or his reasoning that called for a gift. Husbands gave presents to their wives of course, but you didn't think you and Ivar had that kind of marriage.

Just as you were tempted to peek, something warm and wiry was dropped into your lap. It wriggled with life, and your eyes shot open to find a wolf hound pup circling around in your arms. A pleasant surprise indeed. You ran your fingers through thick, coarse hair the color of iron, and the hound's tail thumped wildly.

You couldn't fight the elation on your face as you turned to look up to Ivar's. He had been watching for your reaction, and you thought you spotted relief in his eyes. 

"What did I do to deserve this?" You asked while your new gift started to squirm in your lap.

"For being patient and forgiving. Our marriage started with us as strangers, but I know now that you are too impressive a Queen to go unappreciated."

The fluttery feeling was back, flooding you with warmth. You no longer fought it back, even welcoming it if you were honest with yourself. When you were alone together, Ivar was different with you. Though you were not in love yet, you had compassion for your husband, and found yourself thinking about him during quiet moments of the day. You didn't think he loved you either, but he had his own way of showing he cared.

"Thank you for bringing him to me," You said softly. With one hand you held the hound to your chest, and with the other you reached for Ivar.

"Forgive me for what I said before. You are too respectable and dutiful to be any of the things I accused you of. I'm not sure why I said them," He said as he accepted your hand.

"I already forgave you for that, Ivar."

Sometimes you could see what was in his heart, and the hurt look on his face reminded you of a lost child. It had to be his first wife. You didn't know how to help him, and it made you want to scream for the truth if it would make him forget. But you also knew if you pushed him on the matter, he would start to pull away again, and you had only just begun to feel like a real wife.

"Ivar," You called for him, bringing him back to you from wherever his thoughts had taken him. His pain was something that you couldn't mend, but maybe you could help him move forward.

You shuffled closer until your leg pressed up against his. He looked uncertain as you placed your free hand upon his face. You were just going to place a kiss on his cheek, but at the last second he turned to catch your lips with his. It was soft and slow, and the perfect first kiss with your husband. Ivar had a tentative grasp of your hip with his arm around your waist, and you leaned into his chest. 

A whimper escaped from the pup whom you had forgotten was still in your hold. He was being squished between you and Ivar, and you pulled back with a sigh.

"Sorry boy," You murmured, giving him a scratch on the ears. 

Your hand was still braced against your husband, and he had not removed his arm from around you. The chambers grew stuffy, and the boldness from the kiss faded into heady unrest.

"You'll need to give him a name," Ivar spoke up after a while. 

He started to remove his braces, and you got up from the bed to grab extra furs for your new hound to sleep on.

"I will," You said as you started to make a place at the end of the bed for the dog to sleep. "We used to have many dogs when I was growing up. My mother used to say naming a pet was as difficult as naming a child, so I'll make sure to take my time to get it right. "

Ivar smirked as he pulled himself under the furs. He was still careful not to reveal his legs, and you wouldn't push the issue. You were still too shy to be naked in his presence as well, especially with how much time had passed since you were supposed to share a bed on your wedding night.

"I like your stories. You grew up with pleasant memories," He said.

Once you got the pup settled, you joined Ivar in bed. "Don't you have fond memories of growing up?"

"With three older brothers, and an absent father? No, my childhood was spent fighting to survive and finding a place to belong. If not for my mother, I would've died young."

You had your head propped up on your arm, and you were facing Ivar as he laid flat on his back. "I wish I could have met her then. Mothers should be merciful towards their children."

Ivar craned his neck to stare at you, a subtle reverence behind his eyes, "(Y/N), can I kiss you again?"

You scurried closer until your noses touched. "Yes," You whispered. 

And he did.

 Tag List

@heavenly1927

@everyartistwas-firstanamateur

@youbloodymadgenius

@xceafh

@shannygoatgruff

@zuxiezendler

@tgrrose

@blah-blah-fuckit-shit

[jeromesxreader16]

Such a Joker (53)

Part 52 Here!

~o0o~

I pack two sandwiches in my purse and proceed to cover my hair with the large silk scarf. "Where are you sneaking off to?" Babs asks walking past me and downing a drink. "Secret date? I figured you would get sick of the pale faced clown." I smile at my hands. I could never tire of my boy. I'm as crazy as him, maybe more, but he would never turn me away, and I could never leave him.

"I'm married." "Even better." I narrow my eyes at her. "Babs, I'm going to see my dad." She widens her eyes. "Now you're asking for a death wish." I walk out the door, my heels clicking every step. "If you say so."

I walk into the GCPD and can sense the chaos and tension thickly canned in the air. Not seconds later two individuals start brawling over bread. "Hey! Break it up!" My father pushes them back. "For all the new people here... everyone is welcome in Haven, but there are rules. And one of them is we leave the fighting outside. Government already thinks we don't deserve help. We have to show otherwise. Gangs want to tear themselves apart outside, that's their business. In here, in Haven... we help each other survive."  I hum with a slick smile as the two dispute the issue and the tension falls. Saved for another day.

I walk up to him nudging his arm. "Nice speech. I think it worked." He turns to me and gasps, but recovers quickly. "(Y/n). You're so big. No... Just-" "Pregnant, dad." He nods smiling. "So what happens when they find out the government abandoned them?" He sighs, shaking his head. I pat his back. "Come on paper man. You need some real food." I pull him into his office and remove the disguise. "Italian sub for you, and tuna for me." "You hate tuna." I smile sitting down. "They don't." I pat my swollen tummy. "So there are two of them?" I nod smiling.

"And you're happy? He treats you well?" I nod again smiling at him. "Of course he does. He's not a monster, dad." He grabs my hand over the desk and squeezes it. "I don't... like him. You know this. He destroyed the damn city for christ's sake, but he is the father of my grandchildren, and the husband of my only daughter, so I can promise you... I will never kill him." I kiss his hand and smile. "Who knew that'd be so comforting to hear."

~

I walk into the elevator with the smile ghosted over my lips. Crackling from the speaker erupts my mind causing me to shake and grab the wall in fright. "Aw, honey, I'm sorry." Ecco's voice pipes up from the speaker. I wave my hand in front of the camera with a smile. "No worries. All good here." I laugh placing a hand on my stomach. "Where is Jerimiah?" "Working down below. Would you like me to get him?" I smile up at the camera. "Let me go down."

"Uh... Miss, I think we should wait. He doesn't want you around the-" I press the button to the bottom floor faster than light. "Oops," I smirk up to Ecco as the elevator skips the main floor and descends below.

The two doors slide open revealing a steamed room with the funk of hard labor. I step on the uneven ground and see Jerimiah fanning himself as he watches his workers. I rest my hands on his shoulders and kiss his cheek. "You're working hard." He spins around with a glare. "And you're not supposed to be here." He grips my hips pulling me towards him.

"I missed you." I nuzzle into his chest. He hums as we rock back and forth. "I missed you, my love. Come on. No lady should be exposed to this heat." He places his hand on the small of my back leading me to the elevator.

Holding me the entire way up and then carrying me to our bed, never letting us go. "Are my darlings all suggled up?" He asks resting my head on his chest. The icy colored flesh proving wrong to the touch of fire on my fingers. "Yes, Jer." I mumble feeling my eyes draw to a close. "Never will I go a day without my family... even your father." He kisses my head before I can ask the question.

~

Jeremiah POV:

My workers work endlessly day and night to break the walls of the under the earth. Slowing down each day, getting on my nerves in the end. You're pushing my men way too hard. "We're not gonna break through for at least a couple more days. There is absolutely no way to make it on schedule." The leader of the pack of sweat cogs comes in.

My wife doesn't need to be kept in this filth any longer. How dare he disrespect my future.  "Well, not with that attitude, you're not." I slice the man's throat, as he falls to the ground, blood flowing on the dirt.

"Now... everyone... let's reach inside and dig... a little deeper, shall we? 'Cause that's the only way you're all making it out of this hole." I hum watching their fear thicken.

Two taps on my shoulder break my gaze from the project. "Oh, Echo. Are these all the recruits?" Skinny, no brains, slim Whitted. These are my soldiers?

"Well, I thought you would want quality over quantity. Not everybody can pass a .38 caliber test of faith." I smirk thinking of the trials and tests they've suffered.  "Yes... you certainly have set a very high bar for devotion."

"Oh. Almost forgot. Bruce Wayne and his sidekick Curls... Or is he the sidekick? Anyway, they tried to infiltrate our little operation here."

"Oh?" " Oh. And Curls can walk, really well, especially... for a paraplegic. Ah. And she wants to kill you." I glare at her with a snarl. This doesn't help that my wife is being cared for in the same building.

"A lot, FYI. If I see her, I'll give you a shout. Oh... and kill her." I nod rolling my eyes. Finish the job and move on for the better of my wife and children.

~

I walk into the GCPD questioning room with my scarf wrapped around my head, and my belly protruding out. Quite the look I must say. I open the door to see Victor Zsasz pushed on to the table by Harvey.

"Ow. This is a really nice table." I snicker and take my glasses off. "You do realize her thrives on the pain." The three pairs of eyes look at me.  "We got a dozen witnesses that saw you walk out of that building before it went kabooey."

"Yeah. I heard some gangs had taken over." Zsasz says turning his eyes to me.  "Figured, with you guys occupied, I might help myself to some of your supplies. Hey, do you guys have any canned peaches? Man, I'd trade an arm and a leg for that right now. Not mine, somebody else's. Maybe little baby Maniax's." He laughs reaching for my stomach before Jim swats his arm down.

"If you're innocent, why shoot up a city block full of cops?"

"Because it was full of cops." Zsasz and I say at the same time.

"Who were also trying to shoot me. And, guys, those were warning shots. I mean, if I really

wanted to kill you... you'd be dead. You got a pen? I want to write this guy a thank-you letter. Do the math. If I blew up a building full of people, I would have covered

every inch of my body in sweet, sweet scars. Mrs. Valeska...  want to do a strip search?" He winks before my father punches him. "She's married, pig."

I lock arms with my dad and walk through the station. "Got Lucius on the horn for you, Cap."

"Lucius, talk to me." I grab the phone holding it close enough for the both of us to hear. "Haven wasn't destroyed by a bomb. It was an RPG, like the one that took down the chopper."

"You sure?"

I'm holding what's left of it in my hand right now. We found pieces of it in the rubble. It was fired through the basement window, detonated the fuel oil tank. And we're still trying to figure out exactly which rooftop it was fired from.

"Rooftop?"

"Yes."

"Dad, the only angle you could hit this place from is above. Zsasz was on the ground. Looks like you need a new suspect. I think we need to-"

"Jim! Ah. I know the wheels of justice turn slowly, so I'm here to provide- a modicum of grease."

Rushing up towards the front, Oswald, the Mayor of fallen Gotham, stands tall and proud.

"You need to leave right now."

"Still claiming he's innocent, is he?"

"Yes. And as much as I hate to admit it, the evidence is backing him up."

Harvey busts out, "What the hell's going on?" "Harvey, according to Lucius, Zsasz couldn't have done it."

Oswald huffs with a smile. "I did not expect you to go soft, Jim. Actually, I did. Behind a grandpa and all must've changed your ways. Which is why I didn't come alone." Several gunmen come out armed and ready to fire. My father huddles me close and shields me from the view of guns.

"Bring me Victor Zsasz!"

"Leave, (Y/n). Go home!" Jim pushes me away towards the doors.

~

Jeremiah POV:

I wave my hat fanning my pale skin placed upon the crippling bones. It's so damp and hot in here, but I'm freezing. My heart has gone cold without her scent around. Not a touch, not a wiff, not a glace for days it seems. Where is my angel with my bundles of joy?

"You see, a river cuts through rock not because of its power, but because of its persistence. So what do we do when we feel like giving up? Dig a little deeper. And what do we do when we can't possibly go on any longer? Dig a little deeper. And what do we..." A sharp blade stabs into my side crippling my speech. I look down seeing the masked figure in the striped coat. I gasp feeling my footing slide as the attacker shoves the blade into my stomach further.

"Deep enough?" The individual removes the mask revealing the little pussy of them all. "Well, Selina, I must say..." She pulls the blade out plunging it back in sharply.

"Don't say anything." Over and over again the blade is shoved into my side. The light dimming, the hot steam hitting my brow, the devilish laughter of my brother. This is near my end? Maybe so...

"Selina!" The rat is stripped away from me causing me to fall to the ground barely clinging to the life of happiness I have.

"Selina!" Bruce Wayne holds the fierce kitty back. "Stop. It's done! It's over."

~

The building is quiet. The entire place is quiet... Not one swing of an ax hitting limestone, making a light clink sound. Not the ring of my husbands voice calling to his men. Not even Echo meeting me at the door with my slippers and milkshake. Something is not right.

"Jeremiah?" I call out as if he could hear me from below. If not him then someone. One of the members at least, but no one came. I proceeded to enter the elevator only to see blood on the buttons and floor. They were having the graduation today, not everyone makes it.

The doors  open to the pool room and I could almost drop to my knees at the smell. Thick scent of blood coating the walls. I walk out of the elevator and down into the pool counting the dead. No Echo or Jeremiah. Good so far.

I make my way down to the tunnels where silence has taken over. Just a simple lone man sitting in a chair. "Where is Jermiah?" I panic pulling my jacket closer. Could he have left me?

"Mrs. Valaska!" "Where is my husband?" "He's off in the tunnels. He's got injured. I'm supposed to take you to him." "Well, go on!" He shuffles his feet in a pace of nervousness, tripping over rocks and pickaxes. "How did he get hurt?" "Someone came in and just stabbed the boss. She was taken away by Bruce Wayne." I feel fire ignite in my blood. Selina and Bruce. What a treat. Trying to kill my husband in my own home.

Down the tunnels I hear him. Groaning in pain as Echo stitches him up. "How could you let this happen?" I shout at her. "She was fast." "And you're supposed to be faster." I glare at her as she cowers at my words.

"Don't stress, darling. It's not good for the babies."

"Jeremiah." I kneel down next to him grabbing his face. "Are you alright?" He places his hands over mine, kissing them each. "I'm still alive. One thing I've still got on my brother. How are you, my love? I'm sorry. You must've been wrecked with worry." Jeremiah pulls me into his lap. I nod with my bottom lip out. "Yes, I was. I was so scared, Jer." He pulls me to him. "Aw my darling. I know. I know."

I shift my weight slightly causing him to jet in a sharp inhale. "Oh, honey. Stitches still sore?" He nods. "Never would have happened if you wore that armor I prepared." Echo hums, causing me to roll my eyes. "That bullet makes you sentimental of the wrong things." I huff out pushing her out of the view.

"Why would you not check who was working? You always do. You're always prepared." Jeremiah places his hand on my cheek again. "I had to let Selina thrust the knife into my flesh at least once. Verisimilitude trumps precaution, you see." "They think you're dead." I think putting everything together.

Echo stands to the side bouncing with information. "What is it?" She giggles jumping on her heels. "All systems go." Jeremiah lifts himself, placing a hand on the small of my back and leading us along behind Echo.

"You could've died." I whisper looking at the dirt. "I didn't." "But you could have, Jeremiah. That's my point. You have two children growing, and soon they'll be out in this world. They need their father. You've kept me safely away, but that won't mean shit if you're not around to protect your children." I move ahead of him in a fit of fire.

A hand grabs my shoulder spinning me around. Jerehimah dips me and pushes our lips together. His grip on my arm and hip so tight, keeping me pulled to him with no fight. He pulls away only an inch, looking at my eyes, looking into the soul. "Now, you may not understand everything I do, but I do it for you and these two kids. I think and I plan for hours. You sit up in the bed resting your feet like I tell you. When you start questioning if I'm going to make it, that's when this will fall apart. You're my darling. You've been mine for thousands of years. Never doubt me, (Y/n)." He places his hands on my stomach and pecks my forehead. "Come along now. We have things to do."

Leading me through the tunnels I start to see less of the dirt and more solid grey rock already formed into tunnels. "Where are we?" Jeremiah giggles pulling me alongside.

"Doctor. I'm hearing good things." Jeremiah says holding in laughter.

What is he up to?

The Doctor nods. "The bandages are ready to come off. Your assistant thought you'd like to see the results." Echo shakes her head in praise like a dog while Jer nods his head. "Indeed, I would."

He turns to me. "You won't want to miss this, (y/n)."

The Doctor unravels the bandages on the individuals faces revealing a profile built from professional lifestyle and diets. This is Thomas and Martha Wayne before my eyes... ALIVE!

"Oh, you two look beautiful." I smile looking down at her pearl necklace. "Down to the very detail with you." Jeremiah kisses my cheek. "I love family reunions, don't you?" "More than Christmas!" I cheer and giggle.

[imnotwolverine]

The Accidental Family - Chapter 1

Henry Cavill x OFC multi-chapter

Chap 1 - Coming Home | Chap 2 >

Disclaimer: Fluff, some strong language 

Word count: 2.364

Author’s note: Are you ready for some confused Henry-fluff, my baby sweets? I really could use something to focus on now we’re in full lockdown during the Christmas days *ugly cries* -- So, dear fellow quarantine babies: I hope you’ll enjoy the story! 

Also, special thanks to my babe @darkbooksarwin​ for helping out with giving shape to this story and pointing me at some of the technicalities of brain injury and memory loss. ❤️

(Link to my Masterlist)

--

Say. What would you do if you’d one day wake up without a single memory of the last five years? Would you be like super soldier Hardcore Henry, defeating an army of bad guys? Would you return to the world in white robes, to help Hobbits on their journey to destroy one evil piece of jewellery? Or, would you perhaps be bed-ridden while you’re forced to watch yet another re-run of the Price Is Right on one far too small hospital tv? 

Well, for Henry it was unfortunately the latter. 

And where he had been ever enthusiastic to get back to work and pick up his life, the doctors thought otherwise, their voices all agreeing on one thing; he had to “take it easy”. 

Take it easy? Take it easy?! He had just skipped five years of his life! Let’s be real now! One cannot “take it easy”, when one moment you’re the main character of one of Netflix’s hit series, working 14 hour workdays, only to find yourself bedridden the next. Didn’t they need him? Didn’t they need Superman? Geralt? ..Him?

It felt a bit like he had been the first Doctor to step into the Tardis. Confused, but sharp of mind. Or, perhaps the Gandalf comparison was better; he had fought the Balrog of Khazad-dûm - or in his case some ghost riding idiot on the M5 on his motorcycle, only to return to the world as a different person..in a different time, the past five years a bit of white noise in the back of his brain.  

The one clear differentiation between him and Gandalf’s return being, that Henry had not lost “the One Ring”, but gained one, his left ring finger now sporting a pretty golden band that matched the one on the restless hands of the woman driving him home right this moment.

Returning his attention to her, he watched her, her fingers drumming on the steering wheel as her stormy blue eyes zipped over the chaotic traffic of the London city streets, her teeth biting in focus on her lower lip.  

She was his wife, apparently - a thought that both amused and frightened him. How in the hacking hell could he not remember having a wife?

Henry had always been good with people. Remembering faces, names, little details. But with her? His wife? He couldn’t even remember where or how they'd met. Matter of fact: he couldn’t remember any woman with this kind of sweet, heart shaped face, her eyes the shade of midnight blue and her hair so golden it might have been woven by Rumplestiltskin herself.

This whole thing was rather absurd.

Had someone told him he would one day wake up in a hospital bed sporting grey streaks in his hair and a scar the size of a small coin on his skull, the memories of his past 5 years erased, he’d have laughed hard. 

But, hello there new Henry, here you are.

Scratching at the edges of the itchy scar, Henry leaned into his arm, his aquamarine gaze quietly studying the blond woman.

*scratch scratch*

‘He-hey, don’t touch that.’ The blondine admonished, blindly swatting her hand in the direction of his shoulder - and missing - before she quickly reverted her attention back to the traffic, her foot pressing a bit too fiercely on the gas pedal, making the both of them jolt back in their seats.

‘WOA. CALM DOWN WOMAN.’ Henry gripped for the dashboard and gave her an exasperated look, her lips offering him a quick apologetic smile.  

‘Sorry. You usually drive.’

There it was again, one of those strange references to a life he couldn’t remember. A life that included stacks of family pictures and a car with kids seats and the smell of baby wipes and fake forest mint - he’d get rid of that stupid air refreshener the moment he could.

‘Come on…’ His wife grumbled at the traffic, her lips turning in a pout of pure focus as she tried to push the nose of the car between two sporty low riders on the right lane. ‘MOVE BITCH.’

Henry’s eyes widened at her words, the both of them laughing before she could apologise again.

‘Good gods woman. And how often DID you drive?’

‘Not too often. You were ever the gentleman.’ Her tongue poked out in sheer focus as she managed to squeeze the van into the new lane, a triumphant sigh escaping her lips before she looked back at him, making them both grin.

‘You okay, babe?’ She asked, halting the car again as they had to wait for a red light.

Babe. The simple word made his heart flutter ever so slightly, though he still wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing. An unease settled in his stomach as he looked ahead, the traffic a long string of red chimy lights that sparkled in the dusk of this cool May night, small pools of rain water mirroring the ache he must have caused this woman, his wife. Even as she now offered him a warm, sweet smile, he could see the tired hollowness that burnished her pretty face with dark eye circles and pale skin.

Henry wondered if SHE was okay, but then again..was he? He sighed and tried to relax as the car awoke again under the nervous press of her foot, his hand staying splayed out on the dash as he prayed to all that was holy that he wouldn’t get into yet another mind erasing traffic accident.

One was more than enough, thank you very much.

--

The night had wrapped the familiar Mews houses in a blanket of drab darkness and, as Henry waited for his wife to fight with the door lock, he could hear the hum of engines in the distance, this area about as quiet as you could find in the middle of London.

At least that hadn’t changed.

Smiling a little, he returned his attention to all the details he had somehow missed so much. The dents in the blue front door. The lock that wouldn’t budge before you’d twiddle with the key a little. And his trusty four pawed friend at the other side, nails tapping excitedly at the hardwood floors.

Home.

With a strange ache in his heart Henry followed the blonde woman into the house, her hand flicking over the light switch before Henry was attacked by a flurry of furry warmth and doggy licks.

‘KALLL! Kal, Kal, Kal! Hey good boy..’ Henry smiled as the large Akita near jumped up in his arms, excitement making the dog roll over onto his shoes, his proffered belly begging for a good scratch. Henry bent over to do just that, only to find himself grasping for his head as a sharp pain rushed up his scalp, a loud ring in his ears making him flinch.

‘Ah..!’ He exclaimed softly, but it wasn’t soft enough for the woman to miss, her feet quickly stepping back to him as she coddled him with soft finger strokes and gentle words.

‘Heyyyy..hey..calm.’ Henry could hear the slight worry in her voice, and he fought hard to open his eyes to at least look at her, unfamiliar love and care sparking between the both of them. ‘It’s okay.’ She breathed. ‘You’re okay. Let’s just..eh..get you up to bed, yea?’ She quickly stepped back and licked her lip, unsure of how to proceed with her stranger-of-a-husband.

Henry felt another painful jolt ring up through his skull, and so he could only nod in defeat, eyes clenching closed as he let the woman lead him up to the master bedroom.

Before long he was safely wrapped in the familiar smell of his own sheets, the bedroom a safe haven that had changed little except for the signs of a person that had slept on the other pillow, her smell still lingering.

That same smell now stepped into the doorway in the shapely appearance of dark jeans with hastily washed off toothpaste stains and a comfy cable knit sweater, long blond tresses cascading over her shoulders. She had taken the moment to get rid of their jackets and calm down Kal. 

‘You comfortable? I’m just going to message the day nurse to give her an update on...’ The woman hesitated, and then simply shrugged.

‘Yea, thank you,..eh..’ Henry felt a lump form in his throat as he realised he couldn’t remember her name, his face turning a blank at the rise of her mischievous eyebrows.

Shit.

‘Say now Mr. Cavill, have you forgotten my ..name?’ Her tired lips curled up in a smile.

‘I …’

It’s like she was making him sweat on purpose, her smile growing ever so slightly.

‘Bee?’ He tried.

She chuckled, a silent relief unclenching the tightness in her shoulders. ‘Well there’s one thing you remember. Or did you pick that up when I was on the phone?’

‘It was the phone.’

She sighed, knowing it had been too good to be true, her head shaking. ‘Shucks. Anyways. It’s Phoebe, or Feebs. Though Bee is the general “go to”.’ She marched out to the larger dresser, her fingers quietly clicking open one of the doors to retrieve some fresh linens. ‘And I used to call you Bear, in case you wonder. But eh, I guess that’s for another time.’ She heaved the pile of white cotton in her arm and gave him a puzzled look. ‘Or, maybe never.’ She quickly turned on her heel, her lips barely managing to hide the sadness that licked at her words.  

Henry smiled gently. ‘Thank you Phoebe-Bee.’

Her shoulders tensed up again. ‘I’ll..eh..be in one of the other -’

‘Wait, you’re not sleeping..?’ His voice trailed off as he looked at the slightly tousled sheets and pillow next to him - he knew she used to sleep there.

‘No, no. I’ll be right next -’

‘You can sleep here if you want.’

He had hoped the words would bring her comfort, but all he released was sorrow, a single tear sliding down her cheek as she looked over her shoulder at him.

‘I-I...oh, fuck, this is so silly.’ She quickly wiped the tear away, her body turning back again so she could hide the anguish that wrecked behind her light hearted facade. ‘I’m sorry, let’s just..’

‘Phoebe,’ Henry pleaded, earning a soft sniffle from her. ‘hey. Come now sweetheart. Come here.’

And like he hoped, these dark chocolate words did bring some sort of comfort, a short chuckle escaping her lips as she slowly shook her head. ‘You used to say that a lot.’

‘Well, you bet I did! And if you keep crying like that, I’ll come over to you instead!’ He pushed the sheets off, revealing his black boxers and two muscular long legs. 

For a moment he could see her look down over her shoulder, look down at him, guilty eyes not daring to really look to much before Henry’s gentle arm wrapped around her back as he escorted her to the edge of the mattress, her body eagerly leaning into him as they both sat down, more tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘Now, settle down, sugar.’ He hushed, brushing away some of the golden hair that curtained her stormy eyes.

Again he could feel a slight tingle in his loins, and, for all it was worth, Henry hoped that it could be a sign that he would remember her soon. Even if it was just a little. With a tender caress he brushed his palm over her back, his eyes studying her silhouette in the lowlights of the bedroom. She looked exhausted, her hands desperately clutching onto the messy white pile of sheets in her arms.

They sat like that for a moment. In a confusingly friendly manner, her breathing slowly calming and tears drying on her cheeks. 

‘Hey. If you promise not to bite, neither will I, okay?’

His words were met with a confused rise of her left eyebrow. ‘What?’

‘Biting bed bugs I can survive, but biting wives? I’m..eh..hahah, not so sure.’

Finally, that sweet smile of hers returned. ‘Oh Bear.’

‘Hi Bee,’ He returned her sweet smile and moved up his hand to brush a thumb over her cheek. ‘let’s both get some sleep, okay?’

Slowly, hesitantly, her gaze merged with his, an uncertainty still lingering deep in her midnight blues as she nodded her head yes. ‘Okay.’

And so, minutes later, Henry found himself in his bed with a wife. His wife, her sweet soft snores heard moments after her head had hit the pillow, her blonde hair splayed out over the dove grey satin. Again, he felt his stomach wring, but now it was with guilt, because as he looked at her sleeping form, darkness hiding most of her face, he could still see the pull of her eyebrows, the concerns of life not leaving her even in her sleep.

Henry sighed quietly and turned on his back, his eyes studying the familiar ceiling above his head, dark beams running long lines over a canvas of white. He had a million questions he still needed answers to. And, from the way people had evaded some of his questions, he knew there was still a lot to unpack; he hadn’t even been allowed to use his phone or laptop in the hospital. Then again, now he at least had someone who probably knew it all.

A wife. How about that?

Smiling to himself, he wondered what he would do tomorrow now his every step was no longer monitored by the hawk-like eyes of the hospital staff. He could like..start making phone calls. Or send some e-mails. Or better yet... figure out what was up with the tiny details that referred to..children. Children’s seats. Smells. And.. did he see Lego pieces strewn around in the hallway?

Children, could you imagine? Henry, a dad? Sniffling in amusement, Henry turned his face back to the woman next to him. Where were the children anyways? Had she been a single mom when they met? Was a crazy ex now taking care of her brood? Did she miss them? Miss him? The ..old Henry?

No, don’t think of that.

Sighing again, Henry’s lips opened, the words so gentle he hoped it wouldn’t wake her. ‘Good night Bee.’ He watched as she shifted a little, but didn’t wake. ‘and thank you. This must be as weird for you as it’s for me, but at least we’re ..home, hmm?’ He watched her silhouette a moment longer and then turned away, the familiar streak of light from the streetlight seeping in through the cracked open door. 

If only he could remember what had happened. 

--

Chap 2 >

--

General Tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss @tumblnewby @magdelen69 @thereisa8ella @mary-ann84 @darkbooksarwin @summersong69 @madbaddic7ed @luclittlepond @maroonmolly @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @hell1129-blog @agniavateira​ @tillthelandslide @elinesama 

[lilhawkeye3]

This Ohio discourse has got me dying to create discourse about every other state now hehe so I officially present:

Hawk’s review of 36/50 US states!

In alphabetical order because that fuckin song “50 nifty United States” has been stuck in my head since fourth grade.

Arizona: Phoenix is hot. Can’t believe y’all choose to live in a place that gets haboobs. Saw Sen. John McCain in the airport. I feel that sums up the state well. 4/10

California: as a resident of the state of Oregon, I’m legally required to say fuck California😌 unless anyone else talking shit about Cali and then we got your back😤 SoCal vs San Fran vs Northern Cal are totally different worlds though. 7/10

Colorado: damn idk how y’all breathe there, them air is thin. But really pretty out there! 7/10

Connecticut: oh my god fuck New Haven. And Stamford, and Hartford, and— Yknow what? Let’s just toss the whole state into the Sound. For real, traffic is the WORST here and I’m so sorry that y’all gotta live like that. 3/10

Delaware: I cannot believe this is considered a state. There’s no difference between Delaware and Maryland/Pennsylvania. 1/10 should not be a state

Florida: “the only hills in Florida are the highway ramps and the Matterhorn!” —the shuttle driver at Disney World. He was right. Shit is flat as fuck here. And hot. And humid. The Gulf Coast is nice? But tbh it’s just all very touristy which is kind of a bummer. 5/10

Georgia: ...I can’t with the humidity or thinly veiled racism. But y’all got nice peaches! Also Black Panther filmed there so thank you for blessing us with that. 6/10 for fruits

Hawaii: okay pineapple farms are cool. Tbh I just feel really bad for how much mainlander/tourist bs all the islanders put up with. Ik price of living is v high and keeps going up. That said I did love Hawaii... although I was stung by a jellyfish. Hate those little bastards. 8/10 for wonderful people and nature

Idaho: as an Oregonian I’m required to also say fuck Idaho 😝 you da hoes. Okay for real tho southern Idaho has become v white white and kinda scary tbh. The northern part of the state is pretty chill tho. Also Oreida kettle chips are partly made in Idaho so I gotta give you half credit for that. 4/10

Illinois: at least you’re not Indiana. 4/10.

Indiana: I never want to step foot in Gary, Indiana again in my life. (Passed a Mack truck hauling a race car to Indy 500 though so that was cool.) 2/10

Iowa: I almost moved here. I’m so glad I didn’t. Why are the Quad Cities actually a group of five towns? I hate that. Also the roads were all cement, felt like driving on a sidewalk. Was also interesting because the second we got out of the city proper, it was just... corn fields everywhere. 2/10 y’all raising children of the corn.

Kentucky: I really don’t have anything to say about Kentucky. I thought the trees were pretty? 5/10 yeah idk

Maine: my relative has totaled two cars by hitting moose in Maine. Maine scares me. Or rather, the moose do. Also the lobster roll hype is real. And the coast truly is beautiful. 8/10 but an extra point for the moose bc I hate that relative so 9/10

Maryland: oh god Baltimore. Also I’m blaming you for the DC traffic because it’s on the land you gifted them. 3/10

Massachusetts: Patriots fans are the worst NFL fans (the racism is real, especially after fans burned the jerseys of Black players who knelt for the anthem). Liking Dunkin’ Donuts is not a personality trait. The North End in Boston is truly the best place to get pizza in the entire country. Western Mass is not the same state. And the Cape Cod bridges give me nightmares. 5/10 but cause I had to pay taxes two years and it really is Taxachusetts, knocking it down to 4/10

Michigan: it’s a lot bigger than I initially thought. 5/10

Minnesota: it’s Canada but in the US. Pretty driving through the southern part. Cops suck tho. 5/10

Montana: okay Montana is downright gorgeous. (Except Billings. Sorry, Billings.) I must include a photo. I wanna get a cabin here and just exist. 8/10

New Hampshire: can’t decide if it hates Massachusetts or wants to be Massachusetts. All it knows is that it’s better than Vermont. Which... y’know, valid. (If you wanna see NH culture watch North Woods Law tbh). 4/10

New Jersey: why are there so many goddamn highways in this state? Also there are more places to weekend trip than the Shore or the Poconos. Although you do have people pump gas for you just like Oregon, so... that’s valid. Things my friends have added: Newark airport is cursed (valid), the jughandles are nightmares (true), pork roll/Taylor Ham is good and so are bagels and New Jersey pizza (allergic so idk), and everyone is split on whether the shore is actually decent or not 😂 I give it a 3.5/10 out of spite

New York: NYC is fun, Upstate is MASSIVE but really beautiful. Long Island is... yeah I don’t have anything nice to say about Long Island. 8/10 For NYC, 6/10 for Upstate, -2/10 for Long Island, gives us an average of 6/10

North Carolina: very good peaches. Isn’t South Carolina. Keep it up👍🏽 6/10

Ohio: I already told y’all how I feel about this flat ass boring state. I feel no need to slander it any more lmao. 3/10

Oregon: she flies with her own wings, mi amor🥰 to list all the reasons I like Oregon (and the issues too bc it ain’t perfect), I would need a whole other post. I’ll just leave you with this picture I took of Mt. Hood, the queen of our Cascades. 11/10

Pennsylvania: so apparently PN is three states hiding in a trench coat like NY. There’s upstate, philly and Pittsburg. Personally I think they’re just trying too hard and wanna get the same recognition as NY. Meh. 5/10

Rhode Island: THIS FUCKIN SHAM OF A STATE Just merge it with Connecticut and be done with it!! It’s tiny. Providence sucks. There’s nothing unique about this state that you can’t find in Southern Mass (except MA has cheaper taxes so y’all come to work and shop in MA anyways smh). Also the fingers are really annoying to drive down to get to some beach areas haha. 2/10 you’re barely better than Delaware.

South Carolina: my Black father was invited to a party celebrating General Robert E Lee’s birthday. So... 0/10

South Dakota: very gorgeous, didn’t realize the Missouri River went this far west, but VERY LARGE. I mean it looks big on a map but then you get there and... yeah. No speed limit on highways is a great time though. And the Badlands have mountain goats! 6/10 bc while pretty, living there seems really hard. (Picture is me in the Badlands).

Texas: gave us Juneteenth and Beyoncé and JJ Watts. Thank you Texas. But is very big, got independence from Mexico to keep slavery (yikes), is like 97% private land (yikes) and is like the second or third largest state. Very big. That said, everyone I’ve ever met from Texas is lovely. 6/10.

Utah: Other than Idaho, this is the whitest state I’ve been to. Or it feels that way. Like a, the people crossed to the other side of the street and held their bags because I’m brown, state. And I don’t ski so I can’t even say that’s a good thing (I fell off the ski lift the one time I went, long story). Yeah 0/10.

Vermont: wants to be New Hampshire or Canada and can’t decide which. So it’s just kinda there. Pretty hills though. 3/10

Virginia: let’s be real we all forget that Virginia exists west of Richmond. Nova is a beauracratic and traffic nightmare and half our neighbors had to pass security clearance checks. Hampton Roads and beach area is a tourist and mosquito nightmare. But there were dolphins and I made snowmen on the beach. Good times. 6.7/10

Washington: again, legally required as an Oregon resident to say fuck Washington because it’s all your fault we now are getting a toll on the I-5 border. But you’re better than California. And the Sound is really cool for fishing, love Wicked Tuna. And the fish market. Best salmon I’ve had. Eastern Washington... y’all got Spokane but the rest is kinda sparse. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 8/10

Wisconsin: cheese is actually good. Again, pretty state, much larger than I initially thought. 7/10

Wyoming: this was the ONLY STATE I lost cell service in when diriving cross country. Kinda surprised it wasn’t Montana, but no, it was Wyoming. Views are gorgeous though so I was distracted either way. 4/10

Thank you for joining me on this cross-country edition of Tea Time with Hawk. Please respond with any reactions, corrections, addendums about any and all of the states mentioned. And thank you for taking part in this wholesome Clone Wars fandom discourse with me 🥰💕

DISCLAIMER: THESE RATINGS ARE ALL A JOKE PLEASE DO NOT ACTUALLY GET MAD ABOUT IT

[simplyshelbs16xoxo]

'Falling Through the Cracks' Chapter 2: Two Worlds Collide

Ao3 | Buy Me a Coffee?

.

.

As she slept in his bed, Sherlock remained in the sitting room, turning over her words in his head. ‘You’ll be lost like the others,’ she had said. It sounded so eerily similar to what his landlady warned him of. ‘You’ll soon be lost to us all.’ He shook his head, berating himself for actually considering there was some credibility to the old woman’s ‘visions.’ But what had Molly meant, calling this place ‘London Above?’

‘I’ve not seen London like this.’

Mrs. Hudson’s words continued to play on repeat in his head. It was only a coincidence, he decided. Lost in his mind palace, he found his brother cocking a brow up at him. “And what do we say about coincidences, brother mine?”

“The universe is rarely so lazy,” Sherlock answered automatically; in his head or aloud, he didn’t know. All he knew is that it was already too late. He was determined to take Molly’s case regardless of her protests. It seemed too important to pass up. Or perhaps, he was simply drawn to her—a thought he dared not think too much about. The real danger, he realised, wasn’t the unknown journey that lie ahead, but the mysterious woman sleeping in his bed.

.

.

Morning had arrived; the sunlight streaming through the window in the bedroom woke her. She frowned, keeping her eyes shut tighter. Molly knew she’d have to get a move on, hoping Sherlock wouldn’t mind if she kept his shirt. Slipping out of bed, she decided to search for a pair of trousers that might be able to fit her if adjusted right. There was a pair of grey sweatpants with drawstrings. It was the best she could find and she’d make it work.

The door creaked open and she whirled around, ready to fight, but relaxed when she realised it was Sherlock. He held in his hands a pair of jeans and a jumper with a pair of new flats on top. “I took the liberty to purchase these for you, but I see you’ve found an alternate choice.”

She felt her face flush and she laughed nervously. “Thank you,” she smiled, approaching him to retrieve the clothes. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to at least keep this shirt.”

“It’s yours,” he replied rather quickly. “So, I suppose we should—“

“We? No. Sorry. You’ve done so much for me already. I couldn’t possibly keep you involved. Trust me, you don’t want to be,” she assured him. “You already seem to be too attached.”

He laughed in disbelief. “Attached? I’m not attached. I don’t attach myself to anyone.”

Molly raised a brow at him, challenging him. “Believe what you want, but I know attachment when I see it. Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side. You’re better off without it.”

His eyes widened, taken aback by her words. No, not her words, but his brother’s words. “Where did you hear that? Who told you that?”

“Just somebody I’m acquainted with back home,” she told him, worried about where this was going.

Sherlock shook his head, not quite believing this. “What’s his name?”

She shrugged, her eyes searching his for answers in a panic. “I dunno his name. He just goes by The Ice Man. That’s all I know. I plan to contact him for help through the rest of this mess.”

“I’m coming with you,” he insisted, putting his foot down on the matter. He didn’t give a damn if he disappeared out of existence. It’s what happened to his brother, and no one was going to stop him from finding out the truth.

Molly opened her mouth to protest, but she stopped herself. “You’ve lost someone. Who is it then?”

“My brother,” he answered. “Those words you spoke—he’d tell me that all the time when I was dangerously close to forming any sort of close relation with someone. It was a warning not to get involved. He disappeared nearly two years ago.”

She roughly dragged a hand through her hair. “You shouldn’t be involved in this. I’m sorry he disappeared, but the same will happen to you if I don’t leave right now. I know I can’t stop you from coming along, so here’s your warning: if you decide to come with me, there is no going back. You will not be able to resume your life here. People will start to forget you, and soon, no one here will notice you ever again. Is that clear?”

He set his jaw firmly. “Crystal,” he replied. “Let me pack a few things.”

Tears formed in her eyes, the sadness she felt for his life clear on her face. He had lost his brother, and she understood his need to find him. What she didn’t understand was how he was still able to remember him after all this time. It was impossible. Sherlock Holmes was an enigma and he fed her too curious mind.

.

.

A firm knock on the door startled Mrs. Hudson. She opened it a crack to find two sketchy men standing before her. “May I help you?”

“Yes,” Moriarty smiled in an attempt to appear trustworthy. “We’re looking for this woman.” He held up a photograph, one he had stolen from her family’s home just before he burnt it to the ground. “She’s in danger and we’re trying to bring her home safe.”

Martha Hudson definitely had seen her. The woman was with Sherlock just last night, and this morning, she wagered, but the two had left in quite a hurry. Her face remained blank. “I’m afraid I’ve never seen her before. I could keep an eye out for you.”

Moriarty eyed her suspiciously. “That won’t be necessary.” He turned to his associate. “Well, Seb, we’ve got more ground to cover, it seems. We’ll take our leave now. Thank you.”

When they reached the other side of the street, Seb stopped in his tracks. “I could smell her, James. She was there.”

“I know,” he snarled. “Try to see if you can’t pick up on her scent. Remember, if we fail, we’ll both be dead.”

Seb sighed. “Are you sure we can’t just kill her?”

“No!” Moriarty shouted. “We must bring her back alive. The job must be done properly. Only then will we be free to do as we please.”

Both of their faces blanched at the thought of the carnage from a couple of years back. Seb nodded in understanding, knowing that James was right. This had to be dealt with in a delicate matter, or they’d never see the light of day again.

.

.

“It’s…a wall,” Sherlock needlessly pointed out. He was beginning to wonder if Molly was clinically insane.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, very good, detective. Take my hand.” Satisfied when he complied, she placed her free hand against the bricks, picturing the streets of her home in her mind.

His brows furrowed, unsure of what he had gotten himself into. Soon enough, the wall gave way and it felt as if he was trying to run underwater, needing to force himself through. And then they were falling—at least, that’s what it felt like. When he opened his eyes, they were in the middle of a mostly deserted cobblestone street. It was evening, the air cool. But yet, it had been noon just a moment ago. “Where…are we?”

She slipped her hand from his. “Welcome to London Below,” Molly told him, trepidation lacing her tone.

A carriage swiftly passed by, the clopping of the horses’ hooves echoing through the street. A light fog settled over the city, reminding Sherlock of his London in Victorian times. “Impossible,” he marveled, gripping the strap of his bag slung over his shoulder. “It’s as if we’ve traveled through time.” It was all so illogical to him, but the proof was right in front of his eyes. He hadn’t been on the sweeties for a long time, so he knew it wasn’t a hallucination. “We haven’t, right?”

Molly laughed softly. “No time travel,” she assured him. “It’s just how London Below has always been. I’m from here, but people from London Above will sometimes appear, having fallen through the cracks of their world. Those who do can never go back. ”

He nodded slowly, processing this information. Everything he thought he knew was a lie. There was so much more to discover in the world. It wasn’t so boring and mundane after all. This case went far beyond a ten in his mind. Nothing would ever top it. “And what are we to do now?”

She sighed. “Well, I need to get in contact with The Ice Man. If he repeated the words of your brother, then maybe he knows where he is. Plus, he can help me get to the bottom of why I’m being sought after by two mad men. But first, we need to head to the Temple and Arch—it’s a safe haven for those who want to get away either for pleasure or safety. I have a friend who runs the place, Meena. She’s glamoured it to appear as an old run down shack, but if you’re in dire need, it’ll appear to you.” Molly reached out and laced her fingers through his. “Come along, then.”

.

.

It was practically rubble. Sherlock gazed upon the supposed ‘safe haven.’ “Are you sure it’s still standing?”

“I see it perfectly fine, but then again, I’m in more dire need than you,” she replied. “Trust me, it’s the safest place for us right now.” She led him inside, glancing over to see his reaction as the inn appeared to him. His eyes went wide, almost childlike with wonder.

“Dor?” The woman behind the counter spoke in surprise, standing from her seat. “Oh, my dear friend, what could bring you here?”

Dor? Sherlock frowned. Mrs. Hudson had warned him against doors—to be careful of them. Never did he imagine the warning would apply to a person.

Willing herself not to cry, Molly explained all she knew, including information she had not yet given Sherlock. “Oh, Meena, it’s been horrible. As you know, I was away doing an apprenticeship with Doctor Stamford, and when I returned, my home was in tatters, my parents dead. And now I’m being targeted by who I can only assume are assassins—most likely the very ones who murdered my family.”

“I’m so sorry, Dor. And…who is this fine man you’ve brought with you?” Meena asked, eyeing Sherlock lustfully.

“Meena, this is Sherlock. He’s a detective from London Above, and he has been quite helpful. And before you say anything, I warned him, but he insisted on coming along,” she informed her friend.

Sherlock shrugged. “You clearly need all the assistance you can get. Also, I’m searching for my brother. He disappeared a couple years ago. I’m beginning to think this is where he ended up.”

Meena held out a key. “I’ve only got the one room.”

“We’ll take what we can get,” Molly replied, accepting it. “Thank you.”

.

.

As he and Molly went in search of the room, he couldn’t help but ask what had been bothering him. Mrs. Hudson’s words once again arose in his mind, warning him to be cautious of doors. ‘It will be the beginning of the beginning; the new merging with the old.’ Whatever could she have meant? “Why did Meena call you ‘Door?’”

Molly grimaced. “It’s short for Doreen, my middle name. She knows how much I hate it, but I just grin and bear it. It is a bit funny though; I can open doors of all kinds, and even create doors where there aren’t any. It’s a family ability, but I suppose I’m the last one now.”

They had reached the room, but before she could slip the key in, Sherlock reached out, his fingers trailing softly down her cheek, wiping away a tear that she had fought valiantly against. “I lost my parents too, many years ago. I am sorry you’re going through all of this. I know it isn’t easy.”

She gazed up into his sparkling eyes, feeling as if she could drown in his sea-coloured irises. “Thank you.” It came out as a whisper. “I’m sorry you’ve been through it, yourself. And now your brother. I’ll help you find him.”

Molly unlocked the door, pushing it open. An oil lamp on the nightstand emitted a warm glow. An understanding had come to pass between them, two lost souls left to run and hide from the dangers in their orbit. Their mission was probably a lost cause, but they had to try. At least they had each other…and the one bed they would end up having to share. Molly gritted her teeth. This was going to be a long night.

[albino-whumpee]

Nightmare 3

Previous |

Just one more. Hope you like it~

CW// Graphic content, death, vore, dream whump, emeto, blood, situational whump, creepy whumpers, guns, monsters, body horror, flesh, failed escape attempt, horror and demons.  CANT STRESS ENOUGH THIS ONE IS VERY GRAPHIC. Ask to tag

Someone´s view was filled with neon colors and black.

Someone looked around.

And Someone thought it was a busy street with lots of people wearing black.

Wait.

Someone heard a muffled voice nearby.

Someone turned to their right and saw a freckled boy with a heavy looking armor.

He was screaming something at Someone.

“I…I can´t hear you…” tried saying Someone.

They boy apparently heard them and showed surprise in his gray eyes. Then the boy shooked Someone without ceasing the screaming.

He looked so worried about something.

But there was many people in the street just walking.

What was he so worried about?

“…un! …urry…we…ne…ind..t…EXIT!” Finally, Someone could hear everything. Inhuman screeches flooded the air. War cries trying to overthrow them.

“Hurry, Someone! we need to go! they found us! We need to find the exit now!” He screamed with desesparation on his voice.

“What´s…?” Someone started.

“Now run! RUN!” The boy grabbed Someone´s hand and sprinted across the carpet of people.

What Someone thought was people just walking, were actually humans with the same black armor of the boy.

The neon lights were not just lights. But some kind of fleshy mass with bat wings, whose screeches were making a hole on Someone´s head.

The sound of shotguns and the ground filled with corpses, made very difficult to keep up with the boy.

“WHAT´S HAPPENING?! WHERE ARE WE?!” Yelled Someone at the boy.

“Why? Why did this had to happen on the second floor? We are not even close!” Someone heard say the boy, completely ignoring Someone.

“HEY! WHAT´S HAPPENING!” Someone yelled again. The boy still didn´t listen.

Someone heard a screech too close. And when they turned around, one of the creatures was flying in their direction with its mouth completely open.

Someone saw its fangs were the size of a grown adult.

It was moving too fast, and they didn´t have anything at hand.

So, Someone jumped at the boy making him trip.

Someone felt how the creature passed above them at full speed.

Someone looked on the sea of corpses trying to find a gun.

There was one covered in blood a few feet apart.

“IT´S COMING BACK!” The boy yelled unable to move.

Someone had never hold a gun on their hands. But the movement they used to recharge and aim at the creature, came out as natural as breathing.

As if they had used it their whole life.

Without even falling over the hit of the gun on their shoulder, it shoot with a deafining sound.

The creature took all of it and exploded in a rain of yellow water.

Only for more to appear right behind it.

Someone wouldn´t be able to take them all at once.

Someone ran towards the boy and grabbed his hand while they hurried to get away.

“WHERE CAN WE HIDE?” Someone screamed at the boy, behind them.

“THE ELEVATOR IS THAT WAY. FOLLOW ME!”

The boy sprinted beyond Someone. The place they were in looked like a street in the middle of the night.  

But it was all fake.

The stars don´t move at the speed the ones in the ceiling did. Neither the sky suddenly opened in a horizontal line for other set of horrendous creatures to come out of it.

The boy kept running and took a fallen person´s gun, pointing at the newly emerged creatures with fearing accuracy.

Someone tried to help him.

The boy, having cleared the path from monsters, ran towards a control panel and attacked the keyboard.

Soon enough the wall that looked like a real city, cracked on a horizontal line, allowing to see a little metal room with tackles in each point.

“GO!”

The boy´s scream fell in some of the closest people ears. And with a tremendous sound of their boots crushing the bodies below them, they dashed to the elevator.

Someone saw themselves inmersed on a sea of people that didn´t care about pushing or hurting each other.

“GET US OUT KID” Someone heard someone yell.

The boy who was just beside Someone, slammed a botton just moments before another swarm of people jumped into the elevator.

The metal system, dropped to the ground like if gravity was even heavier than normal.

They went so fast.

Too fast.

“WE ARE GOING TO CRASH” Someone told the boy beside them.

“WHAT?”

Oh how the tables turn.

“WE MUST STOP THIS!” yelled Someone back.

“NO! WE NEED TO GET TO THE FOURTH FLOOR AT LEAST!”

“DO YOU WANT TO DIE SO MUCH?” Someone screamed trying to reach the keyboard of inside the elevator.

“NO!” The boy screamed too late. Someone had pressed the stop button.

The sudden cease on falling made everyone fly a little bit on the air before crushing their skulls into the ground.

Some quicker people, had put their hands or arms before their heads just a second before touching the floor.

But that couldn´t help them escape the great pain it caused.

Someone was quicker than half of them and had put their hand.

Someone was not as affected as the half that broke their skulls even with their hand cushioning the fall.

Someone was of the few who survived the interrupted fall.

And Someone had the fault of all that.

But Someone didn´t care a single bit.

Because Someone knew all of them would have died if they didn´t had stopped it.

However, other people weren´t as understanding.

And as soon as they could stand up, they started crying their partners deaths.

Someone felt how they were grabbed and pinned to the wall.

“WHAT WERE YOU EVEN THINKING?!” the boy punched Someone in the face. “We don´t have time for this nonsense! We NEED to get to the 5th floor if we want to survive” Someone felt their nose bleeding uncontrollably.

And Someone squeezed the boy´s hand until he let them go.

“I don´t think you understand what was going to happen if I didn´t stop it” Someone said looking at the boy from above. “I saved your sorry ass. A thank you would be nice, don´t you think?”

Someone was enraged.

And so was the boy.

“Do you know how hard we worked to get to the second floor in this six months? No, of course not. Why would the captain know how their underlings suffer and die in this hellish place” his teeth were clenched so hard Someone feared he would break them at any second.

“ok darling but haven´t you seen that little number on the monitor? We are on the 4th floor” The boy´s look immediatly fell on the big “4” the monitor showed. “We got this far, and all of this people died, and we´re finally here?”

A silent response.

The boy looked at Someone perplexed. And then started laughing histerically. Putting every survivor eyes on them.

“Okay, that´s just… whatever we didn´t need at this exact moment” tears started to flow from the boy´s eyes. “great. Just… GREAT”.

Someone felt sorry for him.

“We shouldn´t chant victory yet” A man´s voice resonated “Whatever is in the other side of this gates, is certainly going to kill us before we can even yelp for help” he aggravated.

“We are screwed then” the juvenile voice exclaimed. “There´s not enough of us”

“Not necessarily” Someone blasted out without thinking. Making every eye go on their direction “I-I mean, we can do it! we have the guns and this armors. We just need to think positively!”

The survivors looked at each other.

“We have tried making something that would get us out of the view of the demons to not make our numbers decrease, but…” the man looked away, disgusted by the very words he wanted to say.

“It didn´t work” Someone finished.

“It failed miserably”

“Then we could…” Someone started.

“STOP!” the boy screamed making everyone jump. “We are on the fourth floor right? We did it! Even tho, the fall from the second to this one, made half of us die, maybe we can actually get out of here”.

Everyone dripped a single tear of sweat.

Someone felt uneasy, but it was the only option they had at the moment.

“Let´s do this” Someone talked. “But we gotta prepare for the fall. We need to lay down while we´re at it. That way the impact won´t be as big”

“Alright, I will push the button and let you know” The boy confirmed approaching the keyboard.

Not a second after, the walls, just like a piece of paper, were teared apart.

The monster who came out of the hole, was an enourmous black mass with one eye and lots of teeth. So big, that they could only see its face. If that could be considered a face.

“HELL NO!” Someone yelled aiming the gun at the thing´s eye. As Someone shoot, Someone felt how, suddenly, the ground pulled them as strong as before.

Someone fell into their backs only to see the monster´s eye getting crushed between the elevator and the wall.

Someone felt so heavy.

Someone threw up turning their head to the sides in the fall.

It was too much to handle.

But finally they had reached the bottom.

The last floor.

Miracously the elevator had decelerated before reaching it.

Allowing a somehow soft landing.

Nevertheless, only courses vent out Someone´s mouth.

“Is everyone ok?” They asked grabbing their bloody head.

There was no response.

“Hey, I said…” Someone looked up.

There was not even one person alive.

The freckled boy´s head was smashed against the button he had pressed before.

The others…

Someone threw up once again.

Someone panted in horror.

But Someone wasn´t going to die.

Someone wouldn´t allow their body to die.

So Someone grabbed all the guns they could carry and strapped two of them together. Someone noticed how they merged to their hand,as if it was skin trying to cover a wound.

Someone´s new weapon was attached to their hand, but it didn´t hurt.

Someone was ready to fight whatever there was passing the closed doors of the fifth floor.

They opened.

And Someone saw hell.

These weren´t normal walls.

These were walls made of Flesh.

Adornated with skulls and black ropes forming beautiful patterns.

These weren´t shapeless monsters.

These were demons.

Elegant and deathly with their white skin covered in red tatoos and golden eyes.

Thousands of them.

Thousands of eye pairs locked on Someone.

But not Someone, nor the demons, attacked.

They quietly grinned. And the most close to the elevator, stood up showing the glowing white and toned naked body.

Its claws beautifully gloved with glowing scarlet.

They stood in front of a freezed Someone.

And then bowed before them.

The others followed it.

“My highness” the demon hissed. “You have done a great job. You promised us with new flesh to eat. And we´re glad your highness could accomplish the floor trials succesfully to bring the best of the best to us”

Someone was speechless.

Someone felt how the weapons attached to their hand turned into a snowy white.

Little by little covering Someone´s body.

Someone´s skin transformed into a toned white with golden tattoos.

Someone couldn´t move an inch.

“Don´t fret my highness” the same demon who bowed at first finally stood up. “for us to not die of starvation. For us, you decided to become the best meat we would ever taste by completing the floors trial made by our merciless god”

“THANKS YOUR HIGHNESS!” the demons acclaimed.

But Someone´s now elongated ears wouldn´t be fooled.

Someone´s new eyes, could perfectly see the hungry looks the demons threw at them.

“And now, would your highness allow me to take the first bite?” The demon asked Someone.

Unable to move.

Unable to think.

Someone could just tremble.

“OH! Thanks your highness!” The demon acclaimed smiling with his pointy teeth. Someone hadn´t said anything.

And in a second the demon sprinted towards Someone.

Someone moved in the last second.

Someone wasn´t going to be eaten.

Someone ran for their life.

But the demon´s tail captured them and threw them to the soft and fleshy ground.

Someone screamed as they felt the demon´s teeth ripping a piece of their body.

Then every single demon took a bite.

It must had been a delight as they went for more after tasting it first.

Millions of teeth.

Thousend of delighted moans.

And one single being screaming in pain as they were torn apart.

After some time, Someone started to not feel anything at all.

Someone´s head was all there was.

Someone´s eyes finally let go of the last teardrop.

But Someone isn´t dead.

As Someone is still dreaming.

Next |

CW// Graphic content, death, vore, dream whump, emeto, blood, situational whump, creepy whumpers, guns, monsters, body horror, flesh, failed escape attempt, horror and demons.  CANT STRESS ENOUGH THIS ONE IS VERY GRAPHIC. Ask to tag

[beca-mitchell]

wish i could pretend i didn't need you (1/?)

Summary: Beca Mitchell is born into a life of organized crime, directionless and despondent. Then she meets Chloe Beale.

Word count: 3,347

I know everybody’s focused on Bechloe week stuff and I know there are other things going on, especially with my own fics. But somehow this fic burst out of me in a stroke of inspiration. So to people to whom I still owe prompts/gifts: I’m sorry. I don’t anticipate this fic going beyond 15 chapters, hell we’ll see what happens around the 10 chapter mark based on what I plotted.

Read below or on AO3.

It is a Friday night.

Beca finds herself at her favorite bar. It is an odd hybrid between a karaoke hangout for people who are too drunk to realize how bad they’re doing and a lowkey, dimly-lit hang-out spot where she can be herself without her usual cares and concerns.

“You can go,” Beca says pointedly to her driver. He raises an eyebrow at her. “Seriously,” she promises. “I just want to be alone. I’ll call you if I…” she sighs. “Why am I explaining this to you? Please, just go,” she begs. She hates feeling like a child who needs a constant babysitter. She hates feeling watched and followed, even if it is for her own safety like everybody claims.

It’s tiring, that’s what it is.

Without waiting to see whether the car leaves, Beca turns to quickly make her way inside her safe haven. The bar downtown. A bar with music and drinks and a semblance of normalcy in a city that refuses to define the term ‘normal’ without a million asterisks.

A normal Friday night in Los Angeles.

She likes the music that wraps around her the moment she enters the bar. Barely decipherable because of how loud the bar is. It is the perfect way to both lose herself and be lost in the crowd and the atmosphere of a typical Friday night.

Beca knows exactly what she’s looking for. It’s been a while since she’s had one night of mindless, anonymous sex. She doesn’t think herself too picky, just selective about the kind of woman she can find. Nobody to get attached to, at least not for more than a couple trysts. Nobody too curious.

In her line of work, dating is overrated and entirely unnecessary.

Beca starts at the bar. A quick scan up and down the wooden surface, she can see only completely full drinks and people with dates of their own. The thought makes her scoff—makes her order a drink immediately, then proceed to down it quickly. With the burn in her throat and renewed energy, she quickly scans the crowded space, eyes trained to pick up on significant movements and significant people.

It is then, with a second drink in hand, that Beca spots her. Her eyes catch on this stranger’s hair—the pretty red hair, glinting under shoddy lighting—before her eyes are drawn to the stranger’s easy smile. She appears to be alone as well, or at least, she does for another minute longer before she is accompanied by two other young women. Beca tilts her head, wondering if she has a chance at all, with this stranger. A pretty, kind-looking stranger. With friends, Beca presumes.

“Can I buy you another drink?” Beca asks, slipping into the empty barstool next to the stranger.

Clear blue eyes turn to her, surprised. “I didn’t even hear you behind me.”

“I’d be surprised if you heard anything with how loud this music is blasting.”

A flash of white teeth. She leans closer to Beca, as if she is about to share a secret. “I don’t mind it. I like things loud,” she whispers loudly, adding an exaggerated wink to punctuate her statement.

Beca gapes at her new companion. “I mean. That’s…” She clears her throat, momentary lapse dissipating quickly when the beautiful redhead shifts closer. “So...drink?” she asks, quickly changing the subject. She finds this woman’s personality endearing to say the least, if not a little out there, but Beca thinks she can manage.

“Okay,” the woman agrees. “But you have to join me. Two margaritas, then?”

That’s manageable. Beca orders the two drinks, keeping her eye on the woman out of the corner of her eye. She’s stunned by how easily this woman smiles, but she somehow manages to do it without coming off as completely insane. Maybe a little, Beca muses, but she’s not there to judge.

“What’s your name?” Beca asks, keeping her tone light and just the right amount of disinterested. She slides a drink to the woman, smiling when fingers brush against her own in a clear display of interest.

The stranger giggles, a sound so light and airy that it almost breaks Beca’s resolve. She doesn’t crack. She tries not to, at least.

“Chloe,” she replies, finally. She brushes her hand up the front of Beca’s jacket, brushing against the leather. “I like your jacket.”

The boldness makes Beca swallow her drink a bit too early. “That’s all?” she rasps.

Chloe bites her lip, pretending to think about it. “I mean. Maybe I had more to say. But I noticed you looking at me about an hour ago. You finally made your way over here.” At Beca’s immediate blush and flustered stutter, Chloe pats her jacket again with a giggle before she draws away, sipping innocently at her drink. “What’s your name?”

“Beca.”

“Beca,” Chloe repeats. “I like that.”

To Beca’s immense relief, Chloe doesn’t ask for a last name, nor does she offer a last name of her own. Beca eases into the conversation, relaxing against the bar as Chloe begins to rope her into her orbit. Beca doesn’t even realize it.

* * * * *

“I’m not from around here,” Chloe admits.

“Here as in...Los Angeles or here as in California?”

“Um…” Chloe shifts closer to Beca, comfortable in their little corner of the bar, away from noise and nosy eyes. “Both, I guess? I moved here for a job after finishing school on the other side of the country.”

Beca pretends to gag. “School. Bleh. What’d you study?”

“I’m a vet,” Chloe says with twitch of her lips. “What do you do? Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve bought all my drinks tonight. I’m not complaining.”

Beca laughs, but she finds that she has no real excuses. “I…” Beca trails off, unsure what she can say exactly. “I’m between jobs,” she says evasively. “But I used to work for my dad. After I finished with the whole school thing.” Not quite a lie. She currently isn’t on any jobs for her father, though she’s sure she’ll have something come up over the next couple of weeks. Also not a lie—she did finish a degree at her father’s behest.

“You strike me as a musician,” Chloe says suddenly. She reaches for Beca’s hand, playing with her fingers. “Talented fingers.”

Beca holds back her laugh. Chloe is forward, which is refreshing. That was a move if she had ever seen one. She relaxes for a second, then Beca watches Chloe for a long moment, letting the slow heat spread through her body at the point which their hands are touching.

“What?” Chloe asks, shifting closer still. “Am I wrong?”

“A little,” Beca admits. “But I…” She shakes her head. “Nothing,” she says quickly. “Just a little off.” She glances at their hands, admiring the slender lines of Chloe’s fingers and the softness of her hand. “But...you might not be wrong about other things.” Beca waits for a beat before leaning in, wondering if Chloe will meet her halfway.

Chloe does. Their first kiss is explosive—Beca immediately surges closer, pulling herself further into Chloe’s orbit. Chloe’s lips are impossibly soft, undeniably pliant, and gentle.

* * * * *

It is a Friday night. Nothing out of the ordinary thus far for Beca—her first night off in months.

Her first night off in months and she is being pressed against the wall outside an apartment complex, Chloe’s tongue in her mouth doing absolutely sinful things. And they have, as far as Beca is concerned, a good few hours. But never all night—Beca makes it a point not to stay; she makes it a point not to linger. It is, however, perhaps, maybe, a little difficult to think of anything else at the moment, as the night progresses.

And it has progressed. 

Beca barely manages to take stock of her surroundings, simply allowing Chloe to navigate them into her apartment with ease. She would have never thought Chloe would freely offer up her apartment so quickly, but as they had continued kissing at the bar, Beca found that both their resolves cracked rather quickly. In short order, Chloe divests Beca of her clothes and shoves her onto her bed with a glint.

That had been a mere few minutes ago, both of them too desperate and too aroused to allow for much more else.

“Fuck,” Beca moans. “Fuck, you’re so good at that.” She plants a hand against the headboard, wincing at the strain in her arm. With her free hand, she grabs Chloe’s hair, grinding her hips down, eyes nearly crossing at the rough sensation of Chloe’s tongue against her clit. She gasps with each imprecise stroke between her legs. She wants nothing more than to feel Chloe inside her entirely—fingers, tongue, she’s not picky—but she finds it difficult to articulate more than low, drawn-out moans.

Here, she barely knows this woman’s last name—barely knows her own last name, but she finds that she does not care. Not when Chloe’s hands lock onto her thighs with an iron grip and she begins to sharply flick her tongue over Beca’s sensitive clit. Over and over—Beca cries out, gripping the headboard to the point of injuring her hand, but she does not care. She lets out a groan—somewhere between a groan and gasp—and a string of curses before she is trembling and all but collapsing to the side. Her orgasm ripples through her, like the most pleasurable of waves taking up the spaces in her body. She shudders, tensing her thighs together as Chloe maneuvers them so they are both lying face to face on the bed. Beca tilts her head to receive Chloe’s kiss, which Chloe presses eagerly against her lips. Chloe is all full lips, tongue, and passion, something which only sends heat coiling through Beca’s body again.

As if reading her mind, Chloe pulls back, tongue swiping against her lower lip as she does so. Her hand trails down Beca’s stomach, gently pushing between her legs. “Again,” she rasps, nuzzling her nose against Beca’s. “I want to see you come.” Another kiss, this time with a tug to Beca’s lip between even, blunt teeth. “Didn’t really get to—” another kiss “—see it before.”

And, yeah. Okay. Beca can do that. She nods, pulling Chloe in for another kiss. At around this point, she’d be figuring out an escape from this stranger’s bed and room. But she finds that she wants to stay; she wants to figure out how to make Chloe scream her name or at least make sure that Chloe doesn’t forget their night together.

It feels imperative that she does so.

She is momentarily stricken in the best of ways by Chloe’s hand navigating fully between her legs. She tilts her hips up eagerly, already wet and wanting for Chloe’s fingers. That one orgasm had hardly been enough and whether she chooses to blame it on the alcohol or the fact that she hasn’t been laid in at least four months, she knows that she needs Chloe now. She needs Chloe’s deft, talented fingers inside her.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” Chloe murmurs, voice thick with her own arousal. “Just say something—tell me—”

Beca shakes her head. “No, don’t stop. More.”

Chloe nods, pleased by Beca’s receptiveness and begins slowly dragging her fingers around Beca’s slick cunt, gently coaxing her into an even more heightened state of arousal. Beca wraps an arm around Chloe’s shoulder, pulling her closer still. She traces the top of Chloe’s spine, marvelling at each bump and ridge before she tires and traces the smooth muscles across her back, pleased by the shiver that she feels ripple through Chloe’s body.

Chloe shifts so she hovers over her, covering her body with her own. Beca clutches at Chloe’s back, sighing pleasurably. “Mm—fuck,” Beca murmurs, back arching when Chloe’s fingers sink inside her without preamble. She groans at how full she feels—had it really been that long?—and immediately craves more of that sensation. “Go,” she urges. “More, please, Chloe.”

“You like that,” Chloe whispers, breath hot against Beca’s ear. “You’re so tight, Bec—” the nickname falls so easily from her lips. It sends an unexpected flash through Beca, renewed arousal and all. “I’m going to make you remember my name.”

Beca isn’t entirely sure she would have ever forgotten, regardless of the circumstances.

* * * * *

Beca learns, fairly quickly, what it is that makes Chloe tick. She learns exactly where to kiss and nip to make Chloe sigh. She learns where to suck to make Chloe whimper and moan. She learns exactly how to curl her fingers inside Chloe to make her scream her name with unabashed pleasure.

She learns all about the physicality of this woman, but she cannot, for the life of her, figure out why she seems to crave more. In her sleep-deprived, alcohol-induced haze, she fumbles through the darkness of her own consciousness even as she continues to kiss Chloe’s neck and her chest.

She wants so much more.

“Beca,” Chloe rasps, pulling her back to the present. “Oh, Beca, that feels amazing.” Hands press on the top of her head, urging her downwards towards where Chloe needs her most—the place where she is wettest and where she aches for Beca.

It’s nice, Beca thinks, with a small moan of her own, to be so wanted.

* * * * *

Beca doesn’t remember falling asleep. She remembers Chloe’s lips against her own, the press of Chloe’s lips against her inner thigh. She remembers what it had felt like to press her fingers inside Chloe for the first time—the strain in her arm as she attempted to keep up with Chloe’s enthusiasm for her fingers.

She has never done this before. Sleeping over at a stranger’s apartment or house. Staying the night.

It’s new.

It’s also new, feeling a warm arm draped around her middle possessively. The curves pressing up and down her back. The mild discomfort of skin against skin beneath the chill of the air conditioning because their blanket was kicked halfway down the bed.

All of it feels so new and it makes Beca want to run and yet, she stays. She stays, gets even more comfortable in Chloe’s bed, and decides to sleep for another couple of hours.

It’s nice, feeling like she has nowhere to be.

Sleepily, from behind Beca, Chloe nuzzles into her neck with a degree of comfort that would alarm Beca normally. She nuzzles into Beca with sleepy care, clearly somewhere between being awake and asleep like Beca is herself.

The soft press of her nose and lips against Beca’s skin is comfortable. Like she has been there all her life.

* * * * *

It is a Saturday morning.

When Beca wakes again, it is due to the ray of sunlight shining almost directly across her eyes. She groans, lifting her arm to cover her eyes.

“Morning,” Chloe’s voice says, clear as day from the kitchen area. Beca blinks, lifting her head slightly. Her heart pounds as she takes in the reality of the situation: she had slept over—she had stayed overnight. She had broken her one rule about one-night-stands. “You’re up,” Chloe continues cheerily, clearly unaware of Beca’s inner turmoil.

“Um...yeah. What time is it?” Beca groans. “Good morning,” she adds hastily, as to not be completely rude.

“Just after nine. You were sleeping like a log, so I got some coffee and breakfast.” Chloe moves towards the bed from the kitchen, making Beca fully aware of the spacious studio space and open layout of Chloe’s apartment. “Hi,” Chloe murmurs, sitting on the edge of the bed. She helps Beca sit up, handing her a bagel. “Hope you like cream cheese.”

“I...I do,” Beca whispers. She sits up, surprised by how comfortable she feels baring herself to Chloe after their night together. Chloe smiles pleasantly at her, clearly delighted that Beca is receptive to breakfast. “Thank you,” she adds, sincerity in her tone. She doesn’t say it aloud, but it has been a while since she’s enjoyed any form of breakfast in bed, let alone a substantial breakfast of any kind that wasn’t an extra large iced coffee for the road.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” Chloe asks. “I can drive you.”

“You have a car?” Beca asks, surprised. At Chloe’s raised eyebrow, she laughs awkwardly, attempting to brush it off. “No, I just meant—I don’t know. Most people our age don’t really have...a car,” she finishes lamely.

“Oh? How do you know I’m not like twenty years older than you?”

Beca tugs at the sheets nervously. “I guess,” Beca stammers, pink tainting her cheeks. “I guess...I guessed,” she murmurs slowly.

Chloe laughs, settling even further on the bed, stretching out. “I’m kidding, I’m twenty-seven. I just turned twenty-seven.”

“Oh, okay. I’m twenty-five.”

“Nice to meet you, Beca, twenty-five,” Chloe announces. She sends a mock-salute towards Beca, playful smile still playing on her lips.

Beca lets some tension ease from her body. She isn’t sure where the ease comes from, but she feels incredibly comfortable talking to Chloe. Incredibly open, despite how vulnerable she feels being significantly underdressed while Chloe lounges in her leggings and button-up shirt across from her. Still, she feels the same undeniable attraction to this woman—the same attraction from the night before. It lingers, hot in her chest, drifting into her belly.

She doesn’t do this. Not usually. Not ever.

“Mitchell,” Beca says quietly while Chloe fiddles with her phone. Her voice causes Chloe to look up. “My name is Beca Mitchell.”

Chloe’s smile is incredibly radiant, enough to light up the whole room. More than the sun itself, creeping its way past the half-open curtains. Behind her head, as if the universe is further highlighting Chloe’s mere presence in Beca’s life—a miracle of sorts, if anything—there is a halo of sunlight, lighting up red strands like the tiny sparks and flames Beca feels rippling through her body. Chloe clears her throat. “We have all morning, Beca Mitchell. If you’re up for it, that is.”

“All morning?” Beca questions. She is sure wonder is written all over her face.

“I...want to get to know you. If that’s okay.”

Oh. Beca swallows. Chloe’s eyes are even more blue than Beca remembers. She is unable to look away, even for a moment, but she isn’t sure that she would even want to, not when she is so incredibly captivated by Chloe. “That’s okay…” Beca finishes by nibbling on her bagel, unsure what else Chloe wants her to say or do. She finds that she is not afraid of these completely unchartered waters, so long as she gets to dive in, head-first, with Chloe.

Chloe rises from the bed so she can sit closer to where Beca is reclining. Slowly, she leans in, eyes watching carefully for anything that Beca might be resistant to—any indication that Beca doesn’t want this.

Beca has never had a morning after—not one that mattered, at least. She is so riveted by the slow way Chloe leans in to kiss her; she is so enthralled by the way Chloe occupies all the spaces that she didn’t know she had—all the capacities she didn’t know existed within her in that moment.

Like a dam breaking, an unexpected surge passes over Beca. She reaches up quickly, pulling Chloe in to close the rest of the distance between them.

“Beale,” Chloe whispers against her lips. Her free hand glides up Beca’s body before she pries her bagel from her hand and sets it aside.

“What?” Beca asks, distracted by Chloe’s wandering hand.

“My name is Chloe Beale.”

Nice to meet you, Beca thinks. It is such a pleasant, reassuring thought that it fills her with something more than her usual existential dread.

It is warm.

Gentle.

She thinks of nothing else for the rest of the morning, simply intent on getting to know Chloe Beale beyond just the feeling of her skin beneath her fingertips.

fin ch. 1

[clownistyping]

Hello Elizabeth! Do you mind if I send you some tmnt request? Those guys are usually the ones saving people, so how about this time someone saves them? Like maybe they got ambushed by foot clan or something?

I don't mind at all and actually want them! I'm assuming you want the reader to save the bros lol. Also I have no idea how someone could take on like...more than 5 footclan members and be a human being. Bc I sure can't. So I may go a bit weird. also idk if u want bayverse but I love bayverse so u get bayverse.

Readers gender is: Tired. (Gender neutral)

You were peacefully buried yourself deep into your blankets as your soft white noise machine played and your dreams were soft of you having a picnic in the park. Only for it to be cut short by; grunting, yelling, swords? 

You sat up, sighing you turned on your light and got out of safe haven. Unsure of where the sound was coming from, you checked the living room. Nothing. Kitchen, empty. Bathroom, dripping faucet but no swords. 

Leaving the bathroom you hummed, shrugging the sound off as a neighbors TV you went back to bed, light off, eyes shut, dreamland doors opening.

And they slammed right in your face. Sitting up again you looked right at your window, now slightly agitated you slammed your window open. 

The fighting sounds were much louder, and you looked down at the alley way. Being on the third floor wasn't that bad, you could easily see the ground, but it was still dark. 

"HEY! QUIET THE FUCK DOWN! PEOPLE ARE TRYNA SLEEP!" You yelled, staring down at the shadowy figures who all paused. 

You heard footsteps quickly running and you just rolled your eyes, turning around you sat on the windowsill now fully awake at 4 AM. You feel cursed since you have a shift tomorrow at a the Stone Pizza Palor.

Only to jump from the window when the fire escape shook from behind you. 

"Hey thanks for the save!" A voice called and you went stiff, what the fuck. 

"Mikey! Get down from there!" Another voice called from below, and slowly you turned to face the voices. Sighing internally that you couldn't see the person's face. You stayed right where you are. 

"Chill out bro, I'm just givin my thanks!" The voice, who you can assume is 'Mikey' laughed. 

"Um uh...you guys were keeping me awake..so I had to. But um no problem?" You said, 

"Oh sorry about that, just was protecting the city like bam and punch!" You couldn't see the movements he was making but assumed they were action poses, but right in the middle of a pose the fire escape shook again. Another person joined Mikey. 

"Mikey, what the hell do ya think ya doin'?" The voice was rough. 

"Owowow! Raph come on man! Just bein a good  samaritan, man!" 

"You don't even know what that means." As the two argued you slowly backed up, reaching for your lamp you switched it on. Your eyes went wide. 

"Aw shit." The one called 'Raph' muttered and Mikey waved, you could only stay stiff as you finally realized that you were not talking to humans, or even bodybuilders. 

You were talking to two giant...green things...you don't know what they are exactly…

"Are they okay?" 

"Cours' they ain't, they did just see our ugly mugs!" The one wearing red yelled and managed his way into your bedroom. He pointed a finger at you. 

"You. If you eva tell anyone about thi-" 

"Raph!" Another voice spoke making you gain consciousness again and sit on your bed in shock. 

Mikey joined the bedroom, sitting near you with a smile that made you unable to blink. Then ANOTHER turtle joined the room, not even asking for permission. This one wearing blue, 

"How many times do I have to tell you-" 

"I know Leo, don't threaten, maim, harm or harass any humans. But hey, not my fault I'm defensive!" The red one argued. The other one wearing blue, named Leo, held his face and groaned. 

"Well technically it's Mikey's fault for this stranger seeing us, I mean he did come up to their window. We could've just left before they called the cops on us." Another voice said from the window, a head peaked in. This one, wearing purple and large glasses. Mikey just shrugged, not even defending himself. 

"Hi, I'm Donnie." He said with a wave and you just sighed. Suddenly all eyes were on you, 

"Please tell me this is some dream I'm having after binge watching monster movies." 

Mikey laughed, 

"This is real, dude!" He said with a smile that didn’t help the situation at all. 

"He's right, this is all real-" Leo tried to speak, 

"Come on, we coulda just knocked their ass out and left!" 

"Raph no!" As the red and blue argued, the purple one 'Donnie' slipped inside. Well not slipped he did struggle because of the gear on his back, 

"Plus dreams can't get that complex based on things you see in real life. So yes, sadly, this is true. Also sorry for keeping you up." 

"So what are you four gonna do now, kill me or something?" You said, Mikey shook his head. 

"Nah man that's against our code." He put his fist and palm together and bowed, 

"We're ninjas." He smiled, Donnie added on. 

"And we're teens." 

"We're fucking mutants." The red one snapped, turning back to the blue one, 

"But we're not monsters, we're just turtles." Leo tried to lighten the mood with a smile but by then you were too tired to care. 

"And now, we are forever in your debt!" Mikey said, getting on one knee he held your hand. You quickly pulled it back and made a confused face. 

"What- why?" 

"Because you totally saved us, dude! You scared away those bad guys who were totally kickin' our asses!" 

"Mikey!" Raph tried to defend himself but Mikey stopped him, 

"Sorry, butt." 

You stood up and sighed, 

"Listen you are not in debt to me, none of you are. I just wanted some sleep, I always yell out that window, well..mainly at crackheads..never at..giant..turtle boys." 

"Men." Mikey winked and you blinked, 

"No," you shook your head, "listen if you all just leave, right now, I won't tell a soul. Not even a stray cat. Alright?" The turtles hummed, 

"Deal but. If you tell anyone. We will find you." Leo said his finger almost in your face and you rose a brow, 

"Ya, you know where I live. I expect that." His finger curled away and he blinked, then he shook his head and left through the window. 

Then it was Donnie, Raph and Mikey. Who sat in the windowsill. He looked at you, 

"Wait, I have a question." 

"What is it?" 

"Why..why aren't you scared of us?" 

"I live in fucking New York City, I see shit like you guys everyday. You're not the first mutants I've met." You said, and Mikey then smiled with joy and shock. 

"Awesome, I'll catch ya later dude!" He waved and suddenly he disappeared. You stared out the window, watching as Mikey joined his brothers telling them of what you said. While you couldn't hear them, you know that you're bound to meet them again. 

[serararku]

Back from the Black

Giggles whispered in the wind. Soft voices mumbled amongst each other. In the hot dark Era felt things touching her face, but she was powerless to stop it; her arms and legs were bound, and she was drifting, spinning, spiraling onward into the void again. Not that it mattered to her anymore… all she wanted was to be in his arms again, to feel his breath on her neck, to hear him tell her everything was going to be okay. But he was gone. They all were. Lost their lives in the sacking of Ul’dah, their peaceful eternal slumber cut short by the will of a necromancer. “I will avenge you all…” She thought, writhing and wiggling in her invisible cocoon. “I will kill that creature and put you all back to-”

Era opened her eyes to sudden blinding sunlight and three pairs of big bright eyes. “EEP!” The kittens shrieked, leaping a dozen ilms off the ground as their stubby tails bristled. Yuun suddenly snapped awake as well, rising from her seat with fury burning in her eyes.

“You little brats! I told you not to touch her!” Her mother grabbed the closest thing she could- a makeshift broom, and gave the fleeing children beatings they wouldn’t soon forget. Era winced at the glare of the sun, but when she tried to roll over, she found herself swaddled tightly in blankets- just like she was when she was still a misbehaving kitten. “Era honey… are you okay?!”

“Euugh…” Was all she could manage. Her head ached, her mouth was dry, and she was sore from teeth to tail; but something about the concern in her mother’s face and the soothing warmth of the sun helped convince this was real. 

“Don’t try to move… here.” She sat down beside her and pulled her head into her lap. Era’s ears perked when ice cold water touched her lips. Gulp… gulp… gulp… “Slowly, Era… I don’t want you hurting yourself again.”

“Guhh… a… again…?” She repeated, trying to catch her breath with lungs that weren’t ruptured in a body that wasn’t torn apart by wolves.

Yuun closed her eyes and slowly nodded. “I thought I knew them. The Elders… they’re supposed to be the bridge between Azeyma and her children. But once that accursed cave was discovered a few moons ago, they’ve done nothing but devour strange foods and hallucinate, and they’re taking more and more of our tribe down with them. When I heard the Elders had summoned you, I thought… I would lose you.” She opened her eyes and began wiping away the ‘art’ those three kittens were drawing on Era’s face. “The next time Grandmother puts her vile hands on you will be the last time she has hands.”

Now that she had birthed five daughters, one for each astral moon in accordance to Azeyma, Yuun was officially recognized as a Matron when her last daughter and final kitten was born two years ago, and therefore was under no obligation to mate with Vahli or any other Tia that would eventually take his place in the years to come. Following closely behind the spiritual leadership of the Elders, and the military prowess of the Nunh, the Matrons represented the third pillar of the Zu Tribe, providing guidance to the kittens and new mothers alike. Thanks to the combined tragedies of the drought eight years ago and the addicts in that ‘sacred’ cave, Yuun was now the only Matron left. And she took this responsibility very seriously.

“Ahem…” Vahli cleared his throat loudly outside the tent, making his presence known long before he revealed himself. “Yuun, good morning. May I speak with Era alone?”

“Of course.” Her mother planted a gentle kiss on her forehead before pulling a corner of her blanket out of its knot, unraveling Era and setting her free from her prison. Their Nunh took her offered hand when she rose to her feet, and lightly kissed her knuckles on her way out. Era remained quiet, awkwardly laying on her back, waiting for him to say something. For a long time he simply stared off in the distance, before crossing his arms and sitting down beside her. “I’m sorry for sending you to the Elders.” Vahli was reluctant to speak; apologies must be a rarity for such a proud and accomplished man. “They told me they could help you. I should have asked for details.”

“It’s not your fault.” Era assured him. “I planned on speaking with them the day I decided to return to the tribe. Though… now knowing what happened... and what the search party had to do to me...”

“It was for your own protection.” He explained, finally glancing down to meet her gaze. “Your mother demanded I stop the Elders from influencing you. Once I formed a party to storm the caves, you were already gone. It took us… a lot of time and effort to comb the surrounding lands.”

Era didn’t like how vague he insisted on being. “How long was I missing?!”

“Three days.” 

That knocked the wind out of her lungs. She felt like she had been trapped in that hellscape for almost a full year, but to know she was hallucinating for just over half of a week…

Vahli wasn’t finished. “We found you out in the wastes, completely naked and covered in blood that wasn’t yours, dancing alone in the middle of nowhere... laughing, crying and screaming. We thought you were possessed by an evil spirit, or worse… suffering from the salivating sickness. Everyone feared you would need to be put down… myself included. I’m glad I was wrong.”

Era didn’t want to think about that nightmare any longer than she had to- that trip was not something she would ever endure again. “So I’ve snapped out of it… what’s next?”

Her Nunh leaned against a post and furrowed his brow. “Some of our youngest are scratching at themselves enough to remove hair. Others aren’t able to hold solid food down for long. The mothers insist they’re sick and they don’t feel safe with the Elders treating them. I’m at my wits end.” Slowly he rose back up to his feet, and began pacing nervously. “I know the tribeless cities may have the solution we need. Can I count on you to be our emissary?”

“Yes…!” Era answered quickly, jumping at the chance to be with Zevi again. “I know just the woman who can help them! I won’t let you down!”

Vahli pursed his lips disapprovingly at her sudden enthusiasm. “I’ve heard of the tribeless cities and their… vices. Make sure anyone you bring back to our lands is dependable… and willing to adhere to our way of life.” He paused for a moment before adding, “No witchcraft. Thanalan suffers enough already.”

“I understand…”

“Do you?” Vahli began to pace back and forth. “My instincts are telling me to keep you here. That sending you off to those havens of heresy is a grave mistake. But… our kittens need your help. I need your help.” He stopped near the entrance and placed his hand on the drape. “Come back to us. I know you’ve spent a lot of time out there… but your place is here. With me.” Era’s ears drooped as she slowly nodded. When she rose to her feet, and her blanket slipped from her body, Vahli couldn’t help but stare at her scars again.

Unable to stand this awkward staring contest anymore, Era scooped the spare change of clothes waiting for her in the corner to cover herself and assuredly muttered, “I won’t abandon my family. Not now… not ever.”

“Good.” Once her body was covered and her scars were out of sight, her Nunh blinked away his stupor and left without another word. Era was left alone to put her clothes on in silence.

The intense Thanalan sunlight began its ruthless beating the moment she stepped out of her tent. The glare from the morning was not doing Era’s headache any favors- it was difficult to focus on just about anything, and she was still disoriented and uncharacteristically clumsy. That bitter soup the Elders gave her had surely run through her system by now; if any one of these side effects became permanent, she could kiss her training goodbye. Hopefully Zevi wouldn’t mind shouldering their financial burdens if she was left unfit for wor-

"BLOOD SPEAKS TO ME!"

"BWAH!" Era leapt a full three fulms into the air before she was snatched up and pulled into a strong hug; the side of her face was smashed against the coarse beak of a zu skull, and her blood ran cold. There was only one woman in the entire tribe that would even wear a skull outside of an actual battle. 

Yhaba the Undying. The leader of the Zu Tribe’s warrior clowder, and top contender for the most deranged and bloodthirsty Miqo’te in Thanalan. To call this woman a lunatic would be an understatement. She was as unpredictable as she was ferocious, and amidst the chaos of battle, she had no equal. Drenched in the blood of her tribe’s enemies was perhaps the only time she ever felt truly home. She had lost her tail ages ago along with most of her fingers and toes, but she could eviscerate and disembowel a fully grown goobbue patriarch in a matter of seconds. If she wasn’t so good at killing, she would have likely died a long time ago.

"Yhaba…! Unnf! You're c-crushing me…!" Era squeaked out, before being suddenly released and dropped into the dirt. She stopped herself from gazing up into that skull, clutching at her pounding heart while gasping for breath. Only a fool with a deathwish would provoke Yhaba’s malignant barbarism; as a result, no one truly knows what she even looks like under her bone helmet anymore. No one that lived to tell about it at least. 

"Mountains watch us. Wait for us to die." Yhaba mumbled, scratching at the scabs on her arm. "The green speaks of buckets filled with tongues. Don’t open your mouth if you see them."

"R-right… I'll be careful…" Era slowly rose to her feet, more than eager to give this psychopath a wide berth before her mere presence set her off.

Yhaba watched her turn and leave in an unsettling silence before she opened her beak and said, “You hear the ringing? Feel the seething sickness? The voice telling you to paint with blood?”

Era stopped dead in her tracks but she didn’t turn around. “How do you know this…?” She demanded indignantly. “How could you know?!”

“I hear them too.” Yhaba pulled an ear from her necklace and held it to her temple, as if she was listening to something. “Silence loves to talk. Don’t answer when they call your name. Fly away little bird. Go where the mountains can’t watch you.” She took a few long strides toward Era and grabbed her by the wrist; she then pushed a small linen sack into her hand, and refused to let go until she closed her fingers around it.

“What is this…?” Era meekly asked, fearing it was a small bag of ears.

“Eat when the ringing returns.” Yhaba began slinking back toward a shady nook in between two tents. “Then you will never die. Spite the mountains.”

Then she was left alone, standing under the pummeling sun with more questions than answers. Era slowly opened her palm and hesitantly opened the small sack- the substance closely resembled fine red sand, or perhaps even cinnamon. A cautious sniff revealed nothing, but she sure as hell wasn’t about to taste it; that would make it the third time she ate something given to her that she shouldn’t have. Instead the woman tucked it into her pocket for safe keeping, and aptly decided to put this strange encounter behind her. 

The fastest way back was the same route she took reaching the heart of her tribe’s territory; through the air. Nossk took her up into the sky to soar high above the barren wastes again, only this time she did it by herself. With the wind in her hair and the sun tanning her skin, all she could think about was leaping into Zevi’s arms again. A relief washed over her when she saw Ul’dah emerging through the brown dusty haze, glad everything was going better than she expected; one slip up and she would have had to choose between her lover and her family. She wasn’t exactly out of the woods yet, but the hardest part was behind her. Now she could just lean back, close her eyes, and let the wind pass across her face as this giant zu cut down her return trip by over half of a day.

It was evening by the time she felt safe enough to fly over the city. Using the cover of night, Era remained far and above, partially hidden between the sparse clouds, before identifying the Goblet and diving earthbound. Nossk opened his wings last minute, swooping down through the canyon along the border of the residential district to avoid startling any guards. As silent as the grave it soared below, slipping beneath two bridges before spreading its tail feathers and tilting up toward the ledge; his long curved talons easily shattered the stone railing, crumbling it into dust beneath his weight. 

“Crap…!” Era squeaked, hoping no one heard that. She slipped from his back and wrapped her arms around his jagged beak to press her lips atop his head. “Go home, Nossk…! I’ll see you soon, okay?” The bird clicked his tongue against his beak a few times before spreading his wings wide. Era made the horrible mistake of stepping back to let him take off, thinking he would follow the same path they took to get here.

He didn’t.

Nossk launched himself high into the air with a single flap of his mighty wings, and almost scraped against a nearby tower as he made a bee-line back toward Valhaas Barrow to the southeast. Era’s ears flattened when she heard the startled screams of Lalafellin residents having heart attacks at the sheer size of Nossk soaring above their heads. He was certainly fast enough to escape before the Immortal Flames could organize a task force to shoot him down… hopefully he doesn’t stop on the way home to snack on any fleeing citizens. Instead of waiting around for a passing guard to start asking questions as to why and how that railing got destroyed, Era slipped through the main gate of the estate and quickly stepped inside.

She heard familiar voices singing an unfamiliar song. Hurrying down the steps, and through the large sliding doors of iron, and across the metal grated rafters, Era finally reached the last flight of stairs that led into the basement bar.

“Ho, ro, the rattlin’ bog! The bog down in the valley-o! Ho, ro, the rattlin’ bog! The bog down in the valley-o!” K’thalen still had his pipes, with his boisterous singing echoing off the walls and carrying far throughout the whole of the estate. Mizuna was sitting on the piano bench with her back turned to the expensive instrument, clapping in unison with the rhythm and singing along in her own shy way. A Lalafell she didn’t recognize was doing a hearty jig in the middle of the group, his tiny legs kicking and twisting faster than she expected; the room was fairly crowded with faces she didn’t recognize, in fact. But sitting alone on the opposite side of the room, invested in the party but barely involved, sat her best friend and lover. R’zevi was nodding his head to K’thalen’s catchy song and half-heartedly clapping his hands together to the tune, but he looked like he was struggling to stay awake.

That is until he locked eyes with S’era, and his face lit up like a Starlight fireworks show.

---

Mentions: @rzevi-tia-ffxiv​

[renxamamiya]

Imagine Post-P5R Akira wanting to hold Goro’s hand but he can’t so he just holds the glove Goro gave him like it is his hand and sometimes intertwines his fingers with the fingers of the glove, whenever he does this with the glove he rarely feels better instead he just feels worse and starts crying

Hey sorry this took like the entire month but like..... fuck dude... I wrote a thing... poggers

AO3

Ren woke up to the stillness of night. Light from fluorescent streetlamps poured through the curtains of his bedroom, illuminating the dark room with an eerie glow, just enough for him to see the furniture that decorated his room.

He was back in Inaba from his time in Tokyo, back in his parents' house, his name cleared from the crime he did not commit. Ren remembered how unbearable at how quiet the nights were after coming back from the city, already used to the white noise of cars roaring down narrow streets that accompanied his sleep. They were always there, a constant he was irritated with during his first nights in Tokyo, cursing at the thin walls the attic seemed to house; he thought he wouldn't get used to such a barrage of noise, a concept he now hissed at the irony of as he now yearned for it as he slept sleeplessly in quiet.

Yet it wasn't the only reason this time he stirred from otherwise blissful sleep. He was having dreams of Tokyo again... of the Metaverse. Bizarre and frightening, Ren would have passed the events he'd had to endure as stress-inducing nightmares if it weren't for the feline sleeping by the foot of his bed. Having forged a bond that's unbreakable, Morgana insisted he'd come along to his home in the countryside. His parents were... less than pleased with having a new, unexpected addition to the family, but in time they grew to love Morgana as one of their own (and Ren sometimes wondered if they loved the cat more than they did him).

There was one dream... one dream in particular that Ren had constantly revisited. One about Goro, always about Goro, and never something else.

It was an open secret amongst the Phantom Thieves during their yearlong time of operation that Ren fancied the star detective prince, even since he stood up to the Detective Prince in front of millions on TV, that first sighting of him made his heart flutter in a way he never experienced before, almost jumping up his throat and out of his mouth, and Ren always wondered if Goro ever acknowledged how flushed his cheeks under the studio lights as they shook hands.

Opposite ends of a conflict, rivals, a detective and a thief. He loved the way they danced around each other, their game of cat and mouse, constantly pushing the other to their limits, always in competition to outdo each other, the cyclical motion in which one chased each other by the coattails of their intertwining destinies�� Ren knew the same day he had met the detective that he was suspicious, always aware that Goro might be the ‘Black Mask’ behind the mental shutdowns, yet never raising it to his friends both from uncertainty and fear that the boy he crushed on was, in fact, a cold-hearted killer.

His unframed eyes wandered from his lap onto the bedside table. A lone glove sat beside his glasses, gently illuminated by a stream of moonlight. He remembered their duel in Mementos. A private battle against the other in the arena that was the stream of the public consciousness, and his triumph over his rival, his crush. Ren wouldn’t dare forget that day when Goro allowed his mask to slip for the first time, for Ren to witness the real Goro on that day as he threw his glove at him... The same glove he picked up from his bedside table. The only real keepsake he had left with the detective. He tightened his grip around it.

How he wished that things played differently, for them to be something more than rivals he insisting they’d be between each other... Ren remembered the many, many insomnia-filled nights even after changing the heart of Shido, his mind wandering to that engine room. The iconography of Shido’s twisted party burned in his mind, faded red paint pulsated perfervidly as he pounded heavily on the shutter door, how peaceful Goro sounded within his last moments of their time together, the sudden, sharp bangs of bullets blasting between his crush and his crude, cruel copy.

Yet that was not the source of his continued grief. No; with time he would have moved on from his loss, an emotion he practised when parting with his Phantom Thief life completely from Tokyo. He brought the glove to his lips and kissed it; vulnerable tears blinked down from his eyes.

Maruki. He had saved Goro from his fate, bringing the detective back from perceived death, Ren remembering how absolutely stunned he felt when he saw Goro, loosed tongued, the ‘Detective Prince’ mask he donned on gone... it was a miracle... it was a lure for him to accept his reality, Goro a piece of bait for him to allure Ren into wanting Maruki’s twisted haven of reality, to ensnare the rebellious boy into his will.

And Ren almost bought into it, almost accepted his deal, remembering his almost shameful want to keep everything Maruki had given him. He wanted to stay in Tokyo, to be with his friends, to love Goro freely, both of them finally breaking the binds that bound them to expectation and binary. Yet it was not meant to be. He remembered the way Goro sneered at him for even considering the Gentle Madman’s deal; angry, red eyes squinting hatefully at him. And Ren understood why. Even with the uncertainty of his destiny he still chose to stand against Maruki’s wishes, chose to discard being a puppet for the counsellor’s dream, taking the reins of his destiny as Ren demonstrated to him.

It was something that Ren did not want, the Fool almost abandoning the integrity he had clung on so desperately all that time, all dashed at the opportunity to finally save the one he couldn’t. Yet; he saw that even while discussing his uncertain fate, the freedom to finally control his destiny, his future, the one thing Goro had desired this whole time, even if it meant dying in Shido’s Palace, even if it meant that they would never see the other again... that Goro was happy.

And who was he to reap the happiness from the man who pursued it for so long? Ren was now sobbing, holding the glove close to him, squeezing the leather tight. The dream he would have. Where he would always see glimpses of Goro, a modern Tantalus, the thing he desired the most always just out of his reach. He would often imagine how Goro’s fingers felt intertwined in his own, skin touching skin, Ren almost pretending when he filled the glove with his grip, clutching his hands together in prayer for the life he wished for...

He felt Morgana against him, purring in comfort. The cat said nothing, understanding more than anyone the feelings Ren had for Goro, yet also perplexed; but he knew he was in no position to argue, and so he comforted Ren as he cried into the night, until exhaustion again lulled him into bliss-less sleep, the only remnant of Goro still clasped in his hands.

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

"Your food will get cold."

“Let it,” Pyro said, arms crossed in front of him, fingernails digging viciously into the flesh of his biceps. The problem with storming off on a boat was that there was nowhere to go.

“I understand if you don’t want to see me,” Haven said softly.  “But you should eat.  Don’t harm yourself out of anger.”

“I’m not the one who needs to worry about harm right now,”  Pyro snarled.  The fury  burned through his innards, licking around his heart, until he could taste ash in his mouth. He gripped his arms even tighter, not trusting what his hands would do otherwise.  Kill no man…..

“I’m sorry.  I don’t expect you to accept my apology, nor do I expect forgiveness. But it is true.  I am sorry.”

“Bullshit you’re sorry!”  Pyro shouted, turning towards her.  “You’re just like the rest of them!  Magneto, Exodus, they didn’t give a damn!  Even that shit Empyrean was just using me!  I was ‘tainted,’ I was ‘unworthy,’ I had bad genes or a weak constitution or whatever the fuck.  Better to let people like me die off, right, so that evolution can keep marching on!”

Haven was shaking her head, eyes shut as if in pain.  “It was wrong.  It was of me to think that way, and I’m ashamed that I ever did.”

“I thought you were different, you know that?  I thought you were actually kind and decent.  Most of those rich pricks just fake it for good PR, but you….I thought you actually meant it.  I thought….I thought you were real.”  

“I am…..real,” Haven said haltingly. “I am as real as any other in this world, and as flawed.  I have been blind and arrogant.  I have done terrible things.  I am still capable of terrible things.”  She whispered the last sentence.

“So am I,” Pyro said, his voice menacing. “So stop whining excuses at me and get out of my sight before I do something really awful, you lying, two-faced cunt.”  

Haven lowered her head – a nod or a bow, Pyro couldn’t tell and didn’t care - before turning and disappearing below decks.  Pyro remained where he sat, watching the waves break against the prow, stars glittering on the dark sea.  

Playing with fire at the moment was dangerous, he knew that, but he flicked his wrist to send a jet of it into his waiting hand.  Sometimes he needed fire.  When he burned, it burned with him, until the anger would melt into a comforting warmth in his chest.  He would wrap it around himself in a protective embrace, until nothing could touch him, inside or out.  

In his fingers, the fire twitched and danced, forming abstract shapes, complex spirals and patterns.  It became Haven torn apart by lions or sliced in half or simply brutally beaten by firy hands.  It gathered into a tiny ball and burned intensly hot, turning blue-white and starting to melt the nearby sunglasses Shinobi had left on the railing. It relaxed back into a ball of flame. For a moment, it shaped itself into his own face, looking thinner and more haggard than usual – then Pyro sent it flying out into the water with a sound of disgust.  

Fuck it.  He really needed a drink.

It was sometime later, halfway through his second bottle of whiskey, that Pyro realized he was no longer alone on the deck.  

“There, you see, Madelyne?  He’s fine.  He had his dramatic little snit, and now he’s crawled into a bottle.  As I expected.  Soon he’ll pass out, and the problem will solve itself.”

“Problem?  What problem?”  Pyro felt strangely offended.  He wasn’t the problem.  

“The problem of you getting wasted and possibly falling overboard, firebug,” said Maddie.  “Or just getting hypothermia from lying on the deck all night. We’re not exactly in the tropics right now, you know.”

“I know,” Pyro said, shivering suddenly, as if just noticing the cold.  

“Madelyne was concerned.”  Shaw’s face wrinkled around the word, as if tasting something disgustingly sweet.  “I just wanted to be sure you didn’t damage the ship with your tantrum.”

Someone was putting hands on him, tugging at him, and Pyro realized that Madelyne was right there.

“Don’t,” he mumbled, and then were was a sudden, strange lightness on his back.  

“Don’t!” He repeated, louder and panicked. He flailed at her, trying unsuccessfully to stand.  “Don’t, I need it!”  

“Easy, easy,” Maddie soothed,    “I’m just putting it away for tonight, okay?  You’ve had enough for tonight.”  The whiskey bottle had disappeared as well.

“Not that, I need….need fire.  Fucking sitting duck without fire.”

“Yeah, that’s going up on the shelf until you’re sober, okay?  Nothing bad’s gonna happen tonight.”  

“Everything’s bad tonight,” Pyro slurred as Madelyne tried to pull him to his feet.

“Oh, please stop your whining, Allerdyce! Acting personally wounded just because Haven fell off the pedestal that you chose to put her on.  How utterly childish.  Not exactly her brave, chivalrous knight anymore, are you?”    

“Sebastian, this is really not the time for this,” Madelyne said sternly.  

“She said, she said…said I deserved to die,” Pyro muttered.

“She didn’t say that exactly – “

“She said it was a cull!  The Virus was a cull!”  Pyro insisted.  “Let the world be cleansed….of people like me, right?  People like me ain’t good enough to live.  Sweep us all out of the way for….paradise, or mutant supremacy or whatever the fuck.:”

“Yeah, that was a shitty thing to believe,” Madelyne said.  “And she had a demon inside her pretending to be a benevolent god.  You know she doesn’t think that way anymore.  There was a time when I believed that I should sacrifice my infant son and let demons overrun New York.  I thought I was owed vengeance for the wrongs done to me, and innocent people paid for it.”

“He doesn’t care,” Sebastian put in.  “Allerdyce only cares about past sins that affect him personally.  His moral code is very self-centered in that way.”

“Oi, fuck off, Shaw!”  Pyro attempted to point vaguely in Sebastian’s direction.  “You’re the most….selfish fucker I’ve ever met.”

“I am self-interested, Allerdyce, there’s a difference.  I take care of myself and expect no one else to do it for me.  I take what I have earned, and respect those who do the same. I don’t put people into boxes of ‘good’ and ‘evil.’  You’re really surprisingly naïve for a criminal, but I suppose that’s to be expected with your romanticized view of yourself -”

“Sebastian, shut up and help me with him, okay?  You can be smug tomorrow.”

“Can I, then?  I’ll hold you to that, Madelyne.”  Pyro felt himself lifted, and carried, none too gently, down the stairs. Soon he was in his own cabin, being tucked into bed like a child, and feeling very much like this had all happened before.

“Just get some sleep, okay?”  Madelyne was saying, and in the shadows her skin took on a greyish cast.

“M’okay, Raven,” Pyro mumbled.  “I can still do the job.”  He was no longer sure exactly where or when he was – just that he was lying weak and helpless in bed while the world lurched confusingly around him.

“Seriously, St. John.  Sleep it off.  Things’ll be better in the morning.”  Maddie said, backing out and closing the door.

“It won’t, though.  It’ll still be there in the morning,” Pyro muttered, but he was alone.  As he had done in a different life, he shut his eyes, and quietly waited for oblivion.

(OOC: Don’t mind me, I’m just taking completely innocent asks on a trip to Angst City.  Pyro just found out about Haven’s views on the Legacy Virus back when she was being manipulated by the Adversary.  I promise the next Haven ask will be much nicer.  Pyro will stew for a few days, then get over it and probably apologize for saying horrible things to her.)      

[nothingbutfangirlsmut]

The Trials of Emi

Pairing: A little Minho. A sprinkle of Frypan. Gally x Emi(OC)

Summary: Emi, her twin brother Thomas, and a small group of gladers had been rescued and taken to a safe haven. Or so it seemed. It doesn't take long for Thomas to realize something is wrong. What happens next is a true trial for all of them but Emi's trials began the moment she was ripped away from a dying Gally. Watching someone you love die right before your eyes truly takes a toll.

Finally meeting the right arm could have been the end but betrayal leads to even more chaos and loss. A new mission to rescue those taken from them leads them to a city. The last city. After Emi finally comes to terms with everything that's happened something unfolds that changes everything again. She will have to not only deal with helping her brother take down WCKD and save their friend but also deal with all the new problems in her head and her heart.

Rating: As of right now it’s at most PG13. Some strong language that’s about it but it could change.

(This is the 2nd part/book to my other story "The Maze trials: A Gally Fanfiction". This will cover the events of the scorch trails and the death cure.)

Chapter Seventeen

I sat on top of the roof with my back against the edge. I was slowly going through each of the drawings in the folder. Most of them were of me. They were all so delicate and beautiful. So perfectly drawn with so much detail. It was clear Gally had taken his time on each of them.

"Knock knock" a soft voice said from the top of the stairs.

I turned my head to see Fry standing in the doorway. I gave him a small smile.

"Can I join you?" He asked hesitantly.

I nodded then patted the spot next to me. He walked over then carefully sat down beside me.

"What's that?" He asked pointing to the folder.

I put the drawings back inside it then handed it to him.

"That man, Lawrence, gave it to me. He said they were Gally's." I said softly.

Fry opened the folder. He smiled as he flipped through the drawings.

"Wow, he got really good at this." Fry said quietly.

"You knew he could draw?" I asked him.

Fry nodded as he pulled out the drawing of me laughing.

"He always had an eye for details. Looks exactly like you." Fry smiled.

He placed the paper back in the folder then handed it back to me. I sighed.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you." I said softly.

Fry chuckled.

"You don't have to apologize Em. I get it. You're under a lot of stress." He smiled at me.

"I do need to apologize Fry. You were there for me when everyone else was busy with their own problems. You stayed up at night to keep me company. You held me when I cried. You made me laugh when all I wanted to do was tear myself apart. You confessed feelings for me that I wasn't ready to reciprocate but you still continued to stand beside me and be my friend. You've been so understanding and loving and now I'm treating you like none of that ever happened and I'm sorry. I don't ever want to forget what you've been to me in the past year. I'm just so conflicted." I felt the tears fall down my cheeks as I spoke.

Fry gently pulled the folder from my hands then laid it on the ground. He picked me up then gently sat me on his lap. I buried my face in his neck so I could let everything I felt come out. He wrapped his arms tightly around me.

"Emi, you're right, I do have feelings for you but I know what you and Gally had. What you still have. I saw it with my own eyes. I knew I'd never replace him. I never wanted to. I just want to be there for you however I can. I can't imagine what is going through your head now that we know he's alive. I just want you to know it's okay. Don't feel any guilt for wanting to run to him. He's the love of your life. A love you thought you'd lost forever but now you've got the chance at a real life with him. I'm always gonna be your friend. When we go back down there do me a favor." Fry paused to look down at me.

I sniffled then pulled away from him so I could look him in the eyes.

"You grab that dumb shank and you kiss him. Make sure he knows what you feel. Don't hesitate. Don't you worry about me either. I'll happily stand by you both." He smiled down at me.

"Thank you Fry" I whispered.

"It's what friends are for Em." He leaned forward then placed a soft kiss to my forehead.

He stood up pulling me to my feet with him. He picked the folder up from the ground then handed it to me.

"I believe this belongs to you." He chuckled.

I took the folder hugging it to me as I let him guide me back to the stairs. Once we were back in the sitting room where we first met Lawrence I saw that the others had returned. Gally and Thomas both had their backs to me. The rest of the group was sitting around the room. I saw Newt nod in mine and Fry's direction. Both Gally and Thomas turned around to face us. Gally's eyes fell the the folder I was hugging. He visibly gulped as his eyes moved to Fry's arm that was gently placed against my mid back. Fry silently guided me over to a large couch. We both sat down with the rest of the group.

“So, what’s our way in?” Brenda asked from her seat next to me.

Thomas sighed as he shifted his weight between his feet. Something was up with him. I glanced to Newt who was sitting with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked angry. Properly angry.

“Teresa is our way in. We grab her and use her as our pass through the doors. I can get us guard uniforms to blend in.” Gally explained.

Thomas shook his head as he pulled at his bottom lip. My blood boiled just from the mention of her name.

“No, there’s gotta be another way.” Thomas said.

“Like what? You’ve seen the building. She is our only way in.” Gally told him.

“You really think she’s gonna help us?” Thomas asked.

“I don’t plan on asking for her permission.” Gally said sternly.

“You’re god damn right!” I shouted as I got to my feet.

“You need someone to bash her damn head in? I’m your girl. I can promise you if I get my hands on her she won’t be able to do anything but what we say.” I said angrily.

“There you go. I’m pretty sure she can do just that.” Gally said with a small smile.

Brenda stood up beside me. She grabbed my shoulder in a small gesture to keep me calm. I knew she hated Teresa as much as I did.

“Am I missing something?” She asked Thomas.

He looked at her in clear confusion.

“This is the same girl who betrayed us, correct? Same dick?” Brenda asked Thomas.

“I like her.” Gally said pointing to Brenda.

“What’s going on?” Brenda asked Thomas softly.

Newt huffed as he stood up.

“What, are you afraid your little girlfriend is gonna get hurt?” Newt asked sharply as he turned to face Thomas.

Thomas looked completely taken back.

“Hmm? Because this has obviously never been just about rescuing Minho. Has it?” Newt asked stepping closer to my brother and his boyfriend.

“Newt, what are you talking about?” Thomas asked with hurt in his eyes.

Newt started to walk slowly as he spoke forcing Thomas to walk backwards away from him.

“Teresa. She’s the only reason that Minho’s even missing in the first place. Now we finally have an opportunity to get him back. And what? You don’t want to because of her? Because deep down inside you care about her, don’t you? Just admit it.” Newt said aggressively as Thomas stopped against the wall.

“Newt, I-“ Thomas started.

“Don’t lie to me! Don’t. Lie. To. Me.” Newt shouted as he shoved Thomas against the wall.

I jumped at his action. What the hell? In all the time I’ve known Newt he’s never been angry like this. And with Thomas of all people? Newt stepped back as he panted.

“Sorry” I heard him say faintly.

He ran a hand threw his hair as he turned to face the rest of us.

“I’m sorry” he said softly.

He turned then disappeared up the stairs to the roof. Thomas took a deep breath as he stepped away from the wall.

“You better go after him Tommy.” I said sternly.

Thomas nodded the quickly made for the stairs.

“What the hell was that?” Brenda asked.

“No clue” Fry said as he stood up.

“Maybe Newt’s a little jealous. I think he has every right to be pissed about Thomas wanting to protect her.” I said with a look of disgust as I thought about Thomas doing just that.

“Emi” Gally said suddenly.

My head snapped up to look at him. He stepped back from the group then nodded for me to follow him.

“Let’s talk” he said softly as he glanced to Fry.

I nodded then stepped up to follow him. He led me into the room I was in earlier with Lawrence. He sighed as he closed the door behind him. For some reason the air seemed to grow tense once we were completely alone. My heart raced in my chest. What did he want to talk about?

“God it’s good to see you.” He said with a small smile.

He was standing a few feet from me. He was looking at me hesitantly like I wasn’t real. Like I’d lash out at him any second. As soon as I saw that in his eyes I ran to him. I threw myself against him so hard that he stumbled backwards into the wall. My arms wrapped tightly around his neck as his arms tightly wrapped around my back. He held me tightly against him. Neither of us said a word. We didn’t need to. My mind, body, and heart were overloaded. I had forgotten how it felt to hold him. To be held against him. To feel the heat radiating from him. A sob fell from my lips as I tightened my arms around him.

“I’m sorry” I cried into his neck.

“What?” He asked.

“I’m sorry I left you. I should have stayed. I should have stayed with you in the Glade. None of this would have happened if I would have just stayed with you.” I cried.

Gally stepped away from the wall carrying me with him. I felt his hands on the back of my thighs then he gently picked me up. He sat me on top the desk his drawings had once been hiding in. He pulled my arms away from him then grabbed each side of my face forcing me to look up at him.

“No Emi, you made the right choice. I was the idiot. When you asked me to come with you I should have dropped everything. I thought the Glade was my home but I was wrong. You’re my home. Seeing you again after all that time was as much of a shock to me as it was to you. What I saw was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. That I’d ever loved standing with my friend.” Gally took a breath as he let go of my face.

“What do you mean?” I asked softly.

“What I saw when you got out of that van was Fry immediately grabbing you. I saw the way he looked at you. I saw the way you clung to him. I need you to tell me and please be honest. Did you move on with Frypan? If you did I’m not going to be mad. I understand. You thought I was dead. You had every right to move on with your life. I just need to know.” Gally’s eyes started to water as he looked away from me.

I jumped off the desk then grabbed his shirt. I pulled him to me so I could crash my lips against his. Everything I was all that time ago in the Glade came right back to me. Every hope and dream I’d ever wanted for me and Gally.

“I’m not complaining but I don’t think that answered my question.” He whispered as he pressed his forehead against mine.

“No Gally, I never moved on. It took me a long time to make peace with you dying. Fry was there for me through it all. He was my support. I won’t lie that I did think when the time came and I was ready to move on it would have been with Fry. He knew where I stood and he respected it completely.” I explained softly.

He grabbed each side of my face then kissed me again.

“I never stopped loving you Em.” He whispered.

“I never stopped loving you Gally.” I told him.

—

I’m not gonna lie you guys I kinda feel like some of this is a bit forced but I honestly can’t tell so let me know what you think!

—