#the first book is called the outstretched shadow

[lyn31]

First Steps

Summary

You and Zayne witness your children’s first steps unfold in a chaos of love, laughter, and sibling-led fanfare.

Ao3 link

My Masterlist ✨

Notes

Pairing: Zayne x MC/Reader More focus on family, family fluff, domestic fluff, banter, chaos, just all around cute children!

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Evening settles gently over the house, casting the living room in amber tones and soft shadows. Zayne has just come home not long ago, his tie now draped over the arm of the couch, his sleeves rolled past his elbows as he finishes drying his hands in the bathroom.

Dinner lingers warm in your stomach, Serena fed and giggly, her soft hair a little tousled from the way she kept leaning against your shoulder mid-bite—like she couldn’t decide whether to eat or cuddle.

Now, you’re curled up on the rug with her, flicking through channels absently while she babbles at the TV, half-interested in the changing lights and sounds. You smile, leaning back on your elbow, the remote warm in your palm. When you glance away from the screen to check on her—

She’s standing.

Not new. Not shocking. She’s been doing that a lot lately, pulling herself up with that proud, wobbly little grin like she knows she’s doing something big. But this time there’s no couch, no support, no hand clinging to yours.

Just Serena, standing alone. Arms slightly lifted for balance. Eyes on you. Brows furrowed like she’s solving a puzzle with her whole body.

Then—she takes a step.

You blink. “Zayne,” you call, eyes still on her. “Darling—husband!” You quickly soften your voice when Serena blinks at the sudden shout, but the urgency stays. “Come here—quick!”

Hurries footsteps carry over from the hallway after the sound of the water shutting off, and then he rounds the corner, towel still in hand, and follows your line of sight. “What’s wrong—”

She’s walking. Slowly, carefully, like she’s moving through honey. Arms out, little knees bending too much, but she’s doing it. One step. Another. The tiniest wobble.

Zayne stops beside you, eyes wide. He looks like someone just took the ground out from under him.

You nudge his leg, still staring at her. “Zayne, sit down—come here.”

He lowers himself to the rug without a word, stunned into silence. You shift, arms outstretched toward Serena. “Come on, sweetie,” you coax, voice gentle and bright. “Come to Mummy.”

Zayne echoes softly, like he’s afraid to break the moment. “Come to Mummy and Daddy, Serena.”

She beams at your voices, as if your encouragement wraps around her like a safety net. Her steps are clumsy, her balance barely there—but she keeps going. One foot. Another. A tiny stumble, a frown. You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until—

She falls right into your arms.

The cheer you and Zayne let out in unison is loud enough to startle her for half a second—but then her eyes crinkle, and she grins so wide it takes up her whole face. You gather her up with a laugh, kissing her cheek over and over as she squeals.

Zayne leans in, brushing his fingers through her hair, voice low and full of wonder. “She walked. She really walked.”

“She did,” you murmur, pressing Serena close. “Right to us.”

And in the warm evening quiet, with your daughter in your lap and Zayne at your side, it feels like the world just tilted slightly more into place.

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Sunday mornings are slower now.

The kind of slow where sunlight pools over the hardwood floors, warm and golden, and the living room looks like a cozy battlefield of toys, cushions, and small victories. You’re sitting against the couch with Zayne, his shoulder against yours, your phone lazily balanced in your hand while he has his book open in his.

Serena’s nearby on the rug, focused and serious as she helps Callum stack pastel-colored blocks into an unsteady tower. Lucas, as usual, has other ideas—already halfway across the room on all fours, on a determined mission to god-knows-where.

You track him with one eye, about to call out, but before you can say a word, Serena scrambles after him with surprising speed.

“Lucas!” she calls. “You are not permitted to leave your post!”

Zayne raises an eyebrow. “Post?”

“She’s been watching that fantasy cartoon again,” you murmur, amused. “The one with the little knight and the stuck-up noble? She’s both now.”

“I see,” Zayne says softly, eyes flicking from his daughter to the crawling baby. “Impressive range.”

Serena catches Lucas just as he reaches the hallway, her hands scooping under his belly to gently lift him back. She’s stronger than she looks, and careful too, even when Lucas protests with wild baby babbles and flailing limbs.

But even so, Lucas is not one to give up, so when he’s about to topple both of them, Zayne moves to help, but Serena holds out her palm, like a stop sign.

“Father,” Serena announces, holding Lucas like he’s a squirming kitten, “I got this.”

You snort behind your hand.

Zayne blinks, stunned into silence. Then he nods solemnly. “Carry on, Lady Serena.”

Lucas lets out a long string of gibberish that sounds vaguely offended. She gently redirects him toward Callum, who is now looking up from the tower with a furrowed brow like he’s not sure whether this is part of the game or a threat to his structural masterpiece.

Lucas locks eyes with his brother, suddenly still. Then he babbles again—louder this time. High-pitched and emphatic, like a declaration of something very important and very urgent.

Callum answers back in kind, equally nonsensical, their baby language bouncing between them in rising tones. Serena watches them both—half fascinated, half concerned.

Then—Lucas screams.

An actual shriek, arms flung out, and one tiny hand smacks right across Serena’s cheek.

“Ow!” she cries, stumbling back a step. Not truly hurt, just shocked.

You and Zayne both move at once, but Callum beats you to it—he lets out his own battle cry and stands. Wobbly but determined, like someone just flipped a switch.

He points at Lucas dramatically, as if delivering a verdict. Lucas freezes for half a second, guilt and confusion chasing each other across his face. But then, seeing Callum upright, he does the same—rising slowly, legs stiff, arms out.

And they walk.

Not toward you. Not toward Serena. But toward each other.

Tiny, uncertain steps. Stumbling. Teetering. The air is thick with silence and barely restrained laughter as you and Zayne watch, Serena standing off to the side, wide-eyed and rubbing her cheek.

“They’re… walking to duel?” you whisper.

“Seems like it,” Zayne murmurs.

You smile softly, leaning into him. “Our boys. Always dramatic.”

Zayne hums in agreement, his breath cool against your head.

They meet in the middle, nearly nose-to-nose, sway for a moment—

And then simultaneously reach out to pinch each other’s cheeks.

Soft squeals and giggles fill the room, and you let out a breathless laugh, leaning into Zayne’s shoulder.

“Well,” you say, eyes shining, “that’s how our boys take their first steps.”

Zayne hums, smiling faintly. “As long as they don’t take their second steps into war.”

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The house is alive in that usual early evening way—voices down the hall, a door opening, the quiet buzz of homework music leaking from Serena’s room. You and Zayne are in the kitchen, debating cookies versus fruit, when somewhere from the living room comes a faint—

“HOPE?! Wait—HOPE!!”

You freeze mid-step, breath caught.

Zayne halts mid-peel, the mango half-peeled in his hands. “Was that Lucas?”

You barely nod before the sound of quick footsteps fades, followed by—

“CALLUM! SHE’S WALKING! I NEED BACKUP!”

You blink. “She’s what?!”

Zayne drops the mango.

Back in the living room, Hope stands in the middle of the floor, wobbly but beaming, her tiny fingers fluttering in the air like she’s holding invisible reins. Lucas circles her in tight loops, hands fluttering like he’s afraid to touch her and ruin it.

“Stay there! Don’t move! Wait—move a little—but carefully!”

A thump from the hall—then Callum stumbles in, one sock on, holding a juice box like it’s sacred. “What did you do?!”

“I didn’t do anything! She did it on her own!” Lucas gasps. “Get Sis! Get Mom and Dad! Leave your phone here—I’m gonna film it!”

Callum thrusts the juice box into Lucas’s hand, bolts, then doubles back to hand him his phone before sprinting toward the kitchen.

And then Hope walks. Just one step, but it lands like thunder.

Lucas shrieks, nearly vibrating with joy. “YES! Good job! You’re doing amazing, Hopey—” He circles wildly. “Wait for everyone! WAIT FOR—”

He suddenly claps a hand over his mouth, as if just realizing he might’ve startled her—but Hope only giggles, eyes locked on her big brother.

She’s too delighted to stop. She takes another step, then one more—arms up, laughter spilling out with every wobbly bounce. Each tiny footfall louder than the last.

Serena bursts in, breathless, pencil still behind her ear and eyes wide. “Is she—?!”

“She’s WALKING!” Lucas yells. “Callum’s getting Mom and Dad—someone cheer or something!”

“She’s not a dog, Lucas!”

Hope wobbles and plops down on her diaper, still giggling.

You and Zayne make it with Callum in tow—just in time to see her push back up to her feet again, determination written all over her face.

You both freeze in place, breath held, memory bleeding in.

Zayne’s hand brushes yours, then lingers—fingers tangling loosely.

“She really about to walk,” he murmurs, voice low with something like wonder.

You glance at him, your smile soft. “Time flies, huh.”

Then, toward the kids. “Did we miss it?”

“No!” Lucas and Serena shout at once. “She’s gonna do it again!”

Lucas frantically shoves the phone into your hands. “Record! Mom, Record! I forgot to do it! Go! Quick, she’s gonna do it again!”

You’re laughing too hard to respond, but you hit record anyway, just as Hope steadies herself and starts walking toward Serena, her little feet slapping against the floor with every precious step.

Serena crouches low, steady, like Hope’s own lighthouse. “Come on, Hope! That’s it, little star—”

Callum skids into place beside Serena, holding out a handful of cereal as a bribe. “Hope, you want this?! Come and get it!”

Hope changes direction with a squeal. While Serena sighs. “One of these days, she’s going to bite one of you.”

Somehow, Lucas is holding a blanket now, sweeping it before her like she’s royalty. He gasps, “Let her through! Royal baby on the move!”

Zayne leans into your side, watching the chaos unfold as Hope toddles into her siblings’ arms, her laughter rising with theirs.

“Did the others ever have this many cheerleaders?” he murmurs, eyes still on them.

“Nope,” you murmur. “But I think she’s enjoying the audience.”

And she is—because of course the baby of the family learns to walk surrounded by love, laughter, and a full production team of siblings ready to replay the video a hundred times.

In this house, every step—no matter how small—always leads back to love.

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Notes

Omg I was trying to find on where I put the last line where it say something like "Serene and Hope" and I was gonna be like "Look guys I plan it since back here!" But I forgot which fic that is 🥹 I thought it was in Little Surprise, but it’s not... Just know, I was thinking about it very carefully, lol. The forgetful part is inevitable... Here's the series list if you want to read more about Husband/Dad Zayne! Parenthood AU list ✨ EDIT: I found it… It's in the It'll be okay technically it's not in the main timeline but I thought it's like a cheeky little thing I can slip in to because I already decide their children from the start already ahahaha

[myster-roca]

The Catfish Incident

"Thanks for the energy drink, man," Jake said, cracking open his can of blue energy soda as we ambled down the dimly lit hallway back to our apartments. The gym members' party had left us both hot and sweaty, and I thought a refreshing drink would be the perfect cap to our evening.

"Yeah, no problem, bro. You owe me one next time!" I replied, although I was thinking something else entirely as I watched him guzzle his beverage.

He was tall, about six feet three inches, with a toned physique that would make anyone envious. His hair, the color of wheat, was slicked back with some kind of product, and he wore a tank top that hugged his chest tightly, emphasizing his broad shoulders and thick arms. His shorts were tight enough to show off his wide hips and well-defined ass.

Standing beside him, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of insecurity. While I was reasonably fit and steadily working towards what I hoped would be my ideal body, Jake's presence ignited a deeper yearning within me. It wasn’t just about having muscular broad shoulders and a confident stride—it was about embodying that effortless aura of masculinity, the kind of identity that defines an alpha male.

"Oh yeah, almost forgot—I need to head back to my apartment now," Jake said abruptly. "I have a little rendezvous tonight," he added, flashing a smile.

"Sounds like a plan. What time is your date?" I asked casually, pausing beside him.

“About an hour from now, so I should probably hit the showers first. Gotta freshen up and work out these guns again,” he laughed. Then, without warning, he raised his left arm above his head and flexed his bicep, staring intently into my eyes. “It’s been too long since they’ve seen any action.”

I felt myself blush uncontrollably at his words, but luckily Jake didn't see it, and he continued heading down the hallway.

"See you tomorrow, Dave!" he called out over his shoulder before disappearing through his apartment door.

Little did he know, I was well aware of who he was meeting tonight.

As I stepped into my apartment, the familiar walls and furnishings offered no comfort to the restless longing stirring within me.

Each well-placed book and neatly aligned chair seemed to echo the structured, unyielding life I had sculpted for myself—a life of discipline as a respected professor, always mindful of reputation and societal expectations.

With a sigh, I removed my glasses and set them aside on the table. The lenses caught the fading light of the day, scattering beams that danced across the blandness of my living space, teasing me with glimpses of brightness in my otherwise predictable world.

This simple act felt like peeling away the layers of a persona crafted over years.

It felt symbolic, like I was discarding a part of myself that was too familiar, too constricted by old fears and inhibitions. Tonight was not a night for the timid David hidden behind those lenses; it was a night for someone entirely new.

I pulled off my tank top, feeling the cool air hit my bare skin, followed by the soft cotton of my white gym shorts. Finally, I slid down my underwear and tossed them aside. I felt incredibly vulnerable, standing there nude with no one else around.

Across the room, my gaze then shifted to the bed, where the realistic bodysuit of a Latino model lay outstretched. The room lighting cast a bright hue over its meticulously detailed surface, accentuating each muscular contour and shadow, making it look almost alive. It wasn’t just a garment; it was a gateway to another existence.

As soon as I saw it, I couldn’t resist touching its smooth skin. I ran my fingers over its chest and arms, feeling the softness of its skin. Then I slid my hands down to its waist and squeezed its firm butt cheeks. It even had a built-in penis that was larger than my own, which gave me a sense of excitement.

"Alright," I muttered under my breath, "let’s get started."

I could feel my dick twitch as I reached down and grabbed hold of the slit at the back of the bodysuit. The suit itself was made of a special material that allowed for easy movement and flexibility. Slowly, I began pulling the two sides apart so that there would be enough room for me to get inside.

As I sat down in the chair, I began sliding my right leg into one of the muscular legs. They were tight but not uncomfortable. As I pulled them up over my thigh, I could feel the skin stretching slightly as it moved up my leg. This was going to be so fucking hot!

I continued moving my left leg into the second leg until both feet were on the ground. Next, I positioned my shaft to the built-in dick and slid my arms into the sleeves. My biceps bulged with each movement.

Standing up, I took a few steps forward, feeling the incredible strength of my legs against my skin. I flexed my arm, watching the veins pulsate under the surface. I couldn’t help but smile at my new, sexy body.

Finally, I put on the built-in mask that resembled the handsome face of a Latino model.

As I slid it over my head, I felt the soft material conform to the contours of my face.

Once the mask was fully secured, the ’Heddon’ app on my phone opened up.

In order for the bodysuit to work properly, it needed to be activated. I selected “Start Sealing” and watched as the screen filled with images of the process.

Suddenly, there was a click, and the suit began to seal shut around me. I felt the muscles of my legs begin to tingle as they fused with the suit.

My thighs and calves became more defined as the skin tightened around them. The same sensation spread across my chest and shoulders, making them bulge outward. My arms seemed to grow larger as the suit conformed to my muscles.

Within seconds, the transformation was complete, and the suit fully integrated with my body, leaving no trace of its presence. It was as if I had become one with this sexy, lifelike skin.

With a grin, I stepped towards the mirror, admiring my reflection. The face staring back at me was that of a young, fit Hispanic man with broad shoulders and narrow hips.

“Welcome back,” I whispered to myself as I looked in the mirror at my new reflection. “Diego.”

My jawline was strong and defined, giving me a masculine appearance. I flexed my biceps, showing off the definition in my arms.

I ran my hands over my hard chest, feeling the firmness beneath my fingers. Then, I squeezed my pecs, enjoying the way they rippled beneath my touch.

I let my hands travel down to the bulge between my legs, squeezing it gently. My cock throbbed with excitement as I imagined what it would feel like to fuck someone with this body.

I picked up my phone, opened a dating app and messaged Jake using the Diego profile. We’d chatted a little bit on the app a few weeks earlier, and he seemed really interested in meeting up.

“Hey sexy,” I typed into the chat window. “Want to see some pics?”

“Sure thing, stud,” Jake responded. “Whatcha got?”

I smiled as I sent him a couple of pictures of myself wearing different leather and latex outfits.

“That’s hot,” Jake wrote. “Do you think you can do something even hotter tonight?”

I grinned as I typed back, “Of course, baby. Anything for you.”

****************************************************

A few weeks ago, I stumbled upon a Reddit thread mentioning "Heddon: House of Transformation" — a service offering realistic bodysuits that promised an entirely new level of personal transformation. Intrigued yet skeptical, I clicked through.

The website was adorned with glossy images of transformations and detailed testimonials from users who spoke of life-altering experiences. Video demos showcased the suits’ incredible realism and functionality, portraying seamless transitions from person to suit.

Admittedly, the site and service were new, which did little to alleviate my skepticism. However, a promotional offer for first-time users—a significant discount on their first order—was enough to tip the scales.

Despite my initial doubts and the nagging thought that it could all be an elaborate scam, I decided to take the plunge with some disposable income I’ve set aside.

I ordered a customized bodysuit modeled after a muscular Latino—a physique and persona so starkly different from my own that it felt like it could only exist in fantasies.

When the package arrived, it included not just the bodysuit but also detailed instructions for using the accompanying "Heddon: House of Transformation" app.

The app, once downloaded, allowed me to control the bodysuit’s features, including the crucial sealing process which would integrate the suit seamlessly with my own body.

When I first donned my new Diego bodysuit a few nights ago, I created a fake profile on the dating app and got tons of messages but one message caught my attention— it was my gym buddy Jake.

“Hi there! You’re so hot and cute!” he wrote.

“Thank you! You’re pretty handsome yourself,” I responded.

We chatted for a bit, discussing our hobbies and interests. I told him that I was looking for someone to share my fetishes with, and that I loved wearing latex.

He responded quickly, saying that he was also interested in exploring his kinks and that he loved wearing leather and latex. Before long, we were messaging each other every night, sharing our deepest desires and fantasies.

A few days later, Jake asked me if I would be willing to come over to his apartment and have some fun. I agreed, excited to finally meet him in person.

“I’m so glad you’re coming over,” he wrote back. “I’ve been dying to meet you in person.”

“Me too,” I replied. “I can’t wait to see you.”

****************************************************

Now, here I am, standing outside Jake’s apartment door, feeling nervous and excited all at once. I knocked on Jake's door and soon heard the sound of footsteps approaching. The door swung open, revealing Jake standing there in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

Diego! Come in!” he says, grinning at me. I follow him into the apartment, and he shuts the door behind us.

Jake leans against the door, studying my body. “Wow, you look amazing,” he says. “I never imagined you would actually look like this.”

“Thanks. It feels good to finally be able to meet you in person,” I reply. Jake smiles and directs me toward the living room. I remove my jacket, revealing my tight black muscle shirt and latex pants.

Jake’s eyes widen, and he lets out a low groan. “Damn, you’re fucking hot,” he says, running his hands along my chest. His hand then slides down my chest and over my crotch. “And you’re hard.”

“I am,” I whisper. “You make me feel so horny.”

We sit down on the couch, and Jake pours us some drinks. “So, tell me more about yourself,” he says. “What kind of stuff do you like doing?”

“Well, I love wearing leather and latex,” I say. “And I love playing different characters. Sometimes I dress up as a superhero, sometimes as a villain. It really depends on my mood.”

“That’s cool,” Jake says. “Me too. I love wearing my costumes, especially when I’m out with friends. It helps me let loose and have fun.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” I say. “Sometimes it’s hard to be yourself when you’re around other people, but when you’re in your costume, you can let go and be whoever you want to be.”

“Exactly,” Jake says, smiling. “It’s like a whole new world opens up when you put on a costume.”

Jake leans closer, his eyes locked on mine. “And sometimes, they bring us closer to our true selves than we ever thought possible. Maybe because we feel safe behind the mask, we can express our true feelings.”

The air between us charges with an unspoken understanding. I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest. “Have you ever felt that way? Like you’ve discovered something real about yourself through a character?”

Jake nods slowly, his gaze intensifying. “More often than you might think. Sometimes, it’s only when I'm someone else that I can express what I really feel... what I really want.”

I watch as he removes his towel, revealing his hard cock. I gasp in pleasure as he strokes himself slowly, looking straight into my eyes. The moment hangs heavy between us, laden with unvoiced desires.

Then, impulsively, Jake closes the distance, his lips meeting mine in a passionate kiss that feels like the culmination of our shared revelations. Our tongues dance together, exploring each other's mouths, as I moan softly and my fingers thread through Jake's soft hair.

Jake breaks away from our fervent kiss, leaving me breathless and longing for more. With a sultry grin, he stands up and begins to undress me, one piece at a time.

My excitement grows as he pulls my tight latex shirt over my head, exposing my toned chest and chiseled abs. He trails his fingers down my torso, sending delicious tingles through my entire body.

As Jake continues to undress me, his touch becomes increasingly intimate and sensual. He caresses my skin, grazing his fingertips along my shoulders, arms, and sides. I lean into his touch, letting the warmth of his hands linger on my skin.

Finally, Jake reaches my pants and skillfully slips them down my legs, revealing my matching black briefs. He pauses for a moment, admiring the sight of me in my underwear, before slowly removing them as well. Standing before him completely naked, I feel exposed yet empowered by his admiration.

Jake's eyes sparkle with lust as he looks me up and down. "You're beautiful," he whispers, his voice thick with desire.

My heart races as he bends down to press his lips against my chest, trailing kisses down to my abdomen. His hands explore my body, massaging my muscles and stroking my skin. I close my eyes, surrendering to the waves of pleasure that wash over me.

Just as I start to drift into blissful oblivion, Jake abruptly stops. I open my eyes to find him looking intently into my eyes, a small smile playing on his lips.

"What's wrong?" I ask, confused by the sudden pause.

"Come with me," he murmurs. "I have something I want to show you. It’s my private collection."

He then gestured to a door at the end of the hall. My heart pounded in my chest as I followed him into the room.

Entering, I gasped in surprise at the sight. Scattered all over the room were several realistic bodysuits, each one more impressive than the last.

While pretending to be amazed, I wondered if Jake realized I was wearing a fake body.

Jake grinned. "My job has its perks," he explained. "I'm a beta tester for 'Heddon', so I get access to their entire collection."

"This is amazing," I remarked, feigning ignorance. My hands ran over one of the suits. "What are these things and how do they work?"

"Don't pretend you don't know," Jake chuckled. "You may think you're fooling me, but you aren't."

He was right. Staring at him in disbelief, I asked, "What?... what do you mean?"

"It's not a secret," Jake replied. "These suits have a distinct smell, and I've gotten used to it. I know when someone is wearing one."

I sighed, knowing I couldn't deny it any longer. "Okay, fine," I admitted. "You caught me. But please, don't tell anyone else. This is just between us."

"Of course," Jake nodded. "I understand."

He reached out and touched the side of my fake face. "I don't care who you are or what you're doing. I like the idea of someone else being able to take on a new identity for a while."

"Thank you," I said, smiling. "But seriously, why are you showing me all of these suits?"

Jake shrugged. "Since you're wearing one, I thought of wearing one as well," he suggested. "Maybe we can have a little role-play fun."

He then picked up a bodysuit that resembled a tanned male model with long hair. "Do you think this fits the bill?" he asked, holding it up.

I smirked and touched the bodysuit Jake had chosen. "Let's find out, shall we?"

[spr1ngpvrinbwunnie]

Scenario & Imagine: Late-Night Star Gazing on the School Roof

𝙽𝚎𝚛𝚍𝚢!𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚖 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚘𝚗 𝚡 𝙶𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚔!Y𝚘𝚞 (𝙷𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚊𝚞)

William always kept a structured routine, a disciplined approach to school and life, but that routine frayed the moment you marched into his world.

You were chaos—a hurricane of black leather and sharp wit that tore through his carefully composed days.

And yet, there was a strange serenity to you, something in the way your presence brought unpredictability without true harm.

It was your idea to sneak onto the school roof after hours, your boots clicking against the metal ladder as you beckoned him with a half-mocking smirk.

He followed reluctantly, the stack of notes he’d intended to review for tomorrow’s exam abandoned in favor of an impromptu adventure. The night sky stretched out above you like an ink-stained canvas, stars puncturing the blackness with tiny shards of light.

You lounged carelessly against the slope of the roof, your dark attire blending into the shadows, while he sat stiffly nearby, knees pulled up and arms resting across them.

A book he’d brought “just in case” remained unopened at his side. You teased him for bringing it, of course, with that low laugh of yours that somehow held warmth despite its sharp edges.

He offered a soft chuckle in return, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation. But then your voice softened, and you started pointing out constellations, their patterns mismatched and rearranged in the way you saw fit. "This one? I call it the Guitar, because look at it—it’s like strings strumming the night sky."

He didn’t correct you. In fact, he let his gaze follow your outstretched hand, noting the way the starlight glinted off the silver rings you wore.

You were so different from him in every way—loud where he was quiet, bold where he was cautious—and yet sitting there with you felt oddly natural, like the stars themselves had written this moment into the fabric of the universe.

And then, without warning, you leaned over and nudged him—softly, as though testing his reaction. He looked at you, your face lit faintly by the moon, and saw a rare flicker of sincerity beneath the layers of bravado you usually wore like armor.

“Hey,” you said, your voice unusually gentle. “You don’t have to sit like that, all uptight. Relax a little, nerd. You’re with me.”

Before he could respond, you tugged at his arm, pulling him back until he was lying flat beside you. He protested at first, muttering something about the dust and the impracticality of it all, but the protests died in his throat when he felt your shoulder brush against his.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward—it was full, charged with unspoken understanding. He stared up at the stars, his thoughts wandering through the vastness of the cosmos and somehow always circling back to you.

You, who had upended his routine, who had taken his world of order and given it a soundtrack of guitar riffs and laughter.

After a while, you turned your head to look at him, your voice cutting through the quiet. “You ever think about how small we are compared to all this?”

He did think about it. Often, in fact. But hearing you say it made the thought feel less daunting, less like an existential crisis and more like an invitation to wonder.

“You don’t seem small to me,” he murmured without thinking, and then immediately regretted it, the words hanging in the air like an unintentional confession.

But you didn’t mock him, didn’t call attention to the sentiment behind his words. Instead, you smiled—a rare, genuine smile—and nudged him again, this time with enough force to make him laugh softly.

“Careful, nerd,” you said, your voice teasing but light. “Say things like that and I might think you actually enjoy hanging out with me.”

He smiled back, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks as he turned his gaze back to the sky. And though he didn’t say it, he realized in that moment that he did enjoy this—your chaos, your humor, your unexpected depth.

It was unlike anything he’d ever known, and he couldn’t help but feel grateful for it.

As the night stretched on, the stars above bore silent witness to a connection that defied definition.

You, with your gothic edges, and he, with his bookish precision, existed in a space that was wholly your own—a balance of contrast and harmony, built on the unshakable foundation of something deeper than words.

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟏𝟏   ❛ 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 ❜   |   MAYPOP RESORT, INTIZARA, OCTOBER 1991

❧  𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲  /  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

It surprised Leonor how little she thought of the trip until she was in the middle of it. The prospect of going where her mother last lived should have inspired despair, rage, at least whimpering fear. There should have been nightmares. Instead, she had simply acknowledged it. She was going. So it went. The trepidation that rose up in her en route was about seeing her living family—her brothers, Mateo especially. After all, more recent events loomed. It was never hard to imagine Mateo’s disapproval, but she would see concern this time, too, etched into his features alongside the scowling, eye-rolling, lip-pursing disappointment. He was a snotty child, and adolescence hadn’t done much to dim it. But, then again, Leonor herself had been the same. There was always something underneath the superiority with him, though—something that made him better, something that had made him her favorite. Unfortunately, his concern would be genuine. 

❧ i hadn't quite planned for the tonal contrast between the conversation itself and the surrounding context, but i think it works !!! people do indeed get through hard stuff by being silly together :^) anyway, i thought a bit of sibling fun would be nice to include

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

It surprised Leonor how little she thought of the trip until she was in the middle of it. The prospect of going where her mother last lived should have inspired despair, rage, at least whimpering fear. There should have been nightmares. Instead, she had simply acknowledged it. She was going. So it went. The trepidation that rose up in her en route was about seeing her living family—her brothers, Mateo especially. After all, more recent events loomed. It was never hard to imagine Mateo’s disapproval, but she would see concern this time, too, etched into his features alongside the scowling, eye-rolling, lip-pursing disappointment. He was a snotty child, and adolescence hadn’t done much to dim it. But, then again, Leonor herself had been the same. There was always something underneath the superiority with him, though—something that made him better, something that had made him her favorite. Unfortunately, his concern would be genuine. 

The invitation to spend time in Intizara with her father and brothers came without precipitation or any hint of warning. She hadn’t known they were together; she hadn’t known they would want to reunite with her anytime soon, not with the anniversary looming as it did. That would snatch them from their new lives and force them, together, back into the one that had passed. It didn’t occur to her that they ought to do that to themselves.

Rodrigo’s initial calls had gone unanswered, but the silence wasn’t just for him. Kore dumped Leonor into her bed after the costume party and stuck around long enough to make sure she woke up the next morning. After that, her house became a tomb again. It was quiet while reporters clamored outside. The curtains remained drawn, and little daylight seeped in from the dramatic, floor-to-ceiling windows Leonor once loved so much. Even the lights remained off throughout the day and into the evening. Shadowed daytime gave way to black night as it crept along the walls and descended from the ceiling. Leonor, growing sore from stillness, would press her face further into her pillow and hope to fall asleep. When she didn’t, she outstretched a hand to grasp around the cluttered bedside table—for something to take, for water to slosh, for a book on whose words she wouldn’t focus. 

That was how four days and nights proceeded, blending together into an indistinguishable flow of time. It moved slow and heavy, not swift or certain like a flood. Leonor sunk further into the downy coffin of her bed and waited to be suffocated or crushed, whichever came first. However, the fifth day interrupted that wait. Her aide—patient and willing to obey even the cruel order that she be left alone, “to sleep, or to die, I don’t care”—entered the room after a forceful knock went ignored. Leonor didn’t bother sitting up as she strode over and stepped onto the dais where the bed stood. She waited, perhaps knowing the colorful bundle in her hands might rouse her princess from this state that had befallen her. Like burdened wood, Leonor groaned as she sat up. Her eyes hurt. Her cheek bore the light pattern of wrinkled fabric. Without uttering a word, she took the wrapped gift and ripped it open with clumsy hands. 

It was poorly wrapped but bundled tight with layers of paper—first, bright colored tissue, seemingly every shade except blue, then old newspapers. Leonor’s momentary burst of anxiety at the sight of them collapsed quickly into confused relief. Once she had yanked away those layers, a VHS case stared up at her. She smiled despite herself. Inside the case, a scrap of ripped paper folded twice bore a note in familiar scrawl: ‘Take care of yourself, baby.’ She might have flung it all across the room, striking the tape into a mirror with hopes of shattering both, but instead she smiled more.

Once she looked up, the aide passed her another sheet of paper. This was firm and lovely stationary, not a receipt sliver with ragged edges. It had her own signature stamped in the letterhead. This note was in pen, not pencil. The aide explained her father had called once, twice, three times in the last day. He needed his messaged passed onto Leonor. Upon realizing his daughter was not in bed due to any physical illness, he became loud and insistent. Leonor could hear the tone in her head and felt a twinge of pity.

Having read his message, she threw the note aside. She leaned against the headboard and allowed the fatigue in her body to anchor her there. In a bitter exhale, she had scoffed, ‘He thinks this will make me feel better? As if.’

Leonor would never admit that her father was right, but the weight of her emptiness—and it was weight, a feeling so ponderous as to be unignorable—lessened as she departed. By the time Intizara’s coastline became visible through the plane window, her days spent sinking in a morass of anguish were distant. Apprehension danced on her nerves but wasn’t bottomless. It wasn’t intangible, nameless, so unfathomable as to only grow more intense when she tried to grasp it. This was anxiety she could wrap her arms around. 

Intizara boasted excellent weather, and she let herself indulge in pleasant memories of holidays past as her car sped from the airport to Maypop Resort. There, her family waited. She didn’t know what to expect. How would they would perceive her, knowing what a mess she had left behind in Nakawe? Yet, her genuine longing for them tempered the uncertainty. She rejected it time and time again, but being together was medicine. Mateo would look at her like she was a child in need of scolding, but he wouldn’t scold her. When they beheld each other for the first time in weeks, relief would overtake everything else.

After all, she knew their emotions ran parallel. It was easier to pretend otherwise, but that was just a convenient lie. The consequences of coming here and looking out at the water where their mother struggled for her last breaths would descend slowly on them all. The feeling would, like the snow out west, drift down and melt away until, all it once, everything was blanketed. When that happened, the only solace would be each other. What better way to face grief yet again than together, on a picturesque resort beach, bathed in sunshine while seagulls squawked and waves crashed and other families filled the air with sounds of life carrying on? 

Leonor too often imagined her father to be careless and insensitive. She wanted him to be her protector, but she needed him to be a vessel for all that remained unforgivable. Yet, at the beach, setting her eyes upon Mateo’s figure in the distance, inhaling the scent of saltwater, feeling the sun on her bare skin, that characterization faltered. His note echoed in her mind. He gathered them here with intention and compassion, it appeared. Leonor had experienced innumerable solitary firsts in the aftermath of their shared loss, wandering alone through much of the grief-tinted world into which they had been plunged. She could never predict how hard any given first would hit. Some shocked her. Some she anticipated better than others. Visiting this place that every Reyes had hitherto avoided would, mercifully, not be among those she endured alone.

TRANSCRIPT:

[Waves crashing, indistinct conversation and laughter]

LEONOR | You were here with him? MATEO | For a few days, yeah. LEONOR | Mother Beatriz allowed that?

MATEO | “Mother Beatriz allowed that?” [scoffs] No one asked about it, and she didn’t stop us. Why are you so surprised? LEONOR | It’s—Whatever, no, I’m not.

MATEO | You look good, you know. Skinnier. LEONOR | Thanks.

LEONOR | What about last week? I didn’t see you at all. MATEO | [laughs] Oh, gasp, how unusual—! I was with Aunt Prissy in Canarís. Her friend has a new installation at the—

LEONOR | You can’t spend all of your time with a bunch of fifty year old women, Teo. Please tell me you still have other friends who do more than play cards and go shopping.

MATEO | You’re so judgmental. What’s wrong with that? Not everyone wants to spend their free time getting drunk and doing drugs. LEONOR | Well, there’s an unfair accusation. MATEO | But it’s not untrue. [Leonor huffs]

MATEO | Besides, I have do other friends, but … I don’t know what to say to them anymore, I guess.

LEONOR | You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, Teo. But, you never know who might end up understanding, if you do.

LEONOR | Look, I know plenty of fun, classy clubs in Nakawe—or Canarís, if you plan to continue hanging out with auntie down here. You should go dancing, at least. That’s what I did, when I could.

LEONOR | Look, I know plenty of fun, classy clubs in Nakawe—or Canarís, if you plan to continue hanging out with auntie down here. You should go dancing, at least. That’s what I did, when I could.

MATEO | You don’t do that anymore. You should. Maybe you could— LEONOR | [chuckles] I’m not going clubbing with you. That would be so embarrassing.

MATEO | [gasps] Come on! That’s mean. LEONOR | You’re a baby, Teo. MATEO | I’m seventeen. I’m an adult! LEONOR | [sniffs] You smell like womb water.

LEONOR | I’m going to make a call, okay, and arrange a section. There’s a retro night this weekend at a place Kore goes sometimes. You can invite whoever you want, but they definitely have to be under fifty. MATEO | Or what?

LEONOR | I’ll come down there and pull your ears off. MATEO | [laughing] Okay, anything to get you to join us!

MATEO | … What are you doing that night? Do you have plans? LEONOR | Don’t tell anyone, but I joined a showcase at The Den that night. We rehearsed a lot. Can’t miss it.

LEONOR | Well, the after-party is another story, and— MATEO | No, no, no! Cheesy dance recital! Let me have this! LEONOR | [chuckles] You’ll loosen up someday, and then maybe I’ll be seen after dark with you.

[quillcraftconquer]

Beneath Us Pt. 2

1.1k words

Part 1

11 years ago

“Hand me the wire cutters.” Simon said, gesturing to the bag of tools sitting next to me on the tailgate of the humvee. I dug through the bag, passing the cutters to his outstretched hand. He snipped away at the barbed wire lining the top of the base's fence, pulling it taut and resecuring it. 

“Pliers?” He asked, reaching back down. Simon was 2 years my senior, a corporal paired with our troop containing 2 other soldiers and Bull, who I had befriended a year ago during enlistment. 

“I feel like this is going to be a ‘mouse asking for a cookie’ assignment.” I said, passing the pliers up to him. Simon paused, staring down at me from where he stood on the edge of the tailgate. The sun had begun to set half an hour ago, and a chill had crept into the air. Simon had noticed the fenceline uncoiled just as we were ending our day, and said, or rather, demanded, it be fixed tonight. 

“Am I supposed to know what that means?” Simon asked, his gloved hand wrapping around the pliers. 

“You know, the children’s book. If you give a mouse a cookie, he’ll ask for a glass of milk? You’re the mouse, the fence is the cookie. First it was “lets just flag it for tomorrow”, then it was “Well, lets just re-secure the barbed wire.” Now it's almost dark, we're building a new fence, and I didn't bring a jacket.” I said. 

Simon glanced back down at me, a blank look in his eye laced with amusement. 

“When we met, you called me Clifford after the dog, and now I’m a mouse?” He asked.

“Well, Bull and I decided it wasn't an immense amount of love that made you that big, so we had to toss ‘Clifford’ out. Have you never had a children's book read to you?” I asked jokingly. The humvee squeaked in protest as Simon hopped off the tailgate, tossing the pliers back into the bag.

“‘The Wind in the Willows.” Simon answered. I smiled, ignoring the chill that began to nip at my skin under my clothes. Simon had a dry sense of humor and intense focus for his job. It was rare when our conversation didn't contain either of the two.

“Who would I be in that?” I asked. Simon tossed the tool bag further into the bed of the humvee, leaning against the tailgate as he crossed his arms and stared at me in silence. The illumination of the moon casted a soft shadow over the right side of Simon’s face, but he was still handsome. He had a sharp jawline, short hair that teetered between light brunette and dirty blonde, and full lips I often thought about when I had nothing better to do. He was lean, but not skinny. He looked stern, and his perfected scowl would have had people guessing he was in his mid to late twenties, not 21.

“Rat.” Simon answered, tilting his head to the side. I shook my head, clearing the appreciative thoughts of Simon’s body.

“A rat?” I gawked at him. 

“You called me a dog and a mouse, and Ratty is a good character.” Simon argued.

“Clifford is a dog who is so big because he was loved too much, and Mouse is an adorable little mouse who just wants a glass of milk to go with his cookie. I’m a rat?” I said, sliding off the tailgate as SImon closed it up. He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, a smirk creeping on his face as he made his way to the driver's side. 

“If I’m the rat, who are you?” I asked, settling into the passenger side as Simon made his way back to the bunkhouses.

“You read it and tell me.” Simon answered, pulling into a parking space and removing his gloves.

“I don’t own it.” I said, and Simon unbuckled and turned to look at me. I held my breath as his gaze dropped to my lips, before meeting my eyes again. Soft tendrils of vapor escaped his mouth as he breathed against the cold. HIs hand rose off the center console, his knuckles scraping against my cheek as he moved the hair away from my face. He rested his hand against the side of my neck, his thumb grazing the bottom of my jaw. Gently, he pulled me closer to him, pausing as if to ask permission. I closed the gap between us, pressing my lips against his. Everything about his touch was tentative but soft, as if he was afraid I would go into the bunkhouse singing praises about the kiss. Finally, he pulled away, remaining close enough I could feel the heat from his exhale hitting my cheek.

“I’ll buy it for you.” He breathed, letting his hand drop from my face. He leaned away, pulling open the door of the humvee, and leaving me to reminisce.

Present

I hate the cold. It wasn't just the biting chill that made me hate it, it was the way it invaded every part of my body. When the temperature dropped, it felt like the world was going to war with my body. Hating the cold was more than physical, it ate at me mentally. It gnawed at my spirit, unraveling something deep inside like a slow, tortuous suffocation. I hated the cold because of the slow, relentless nature of it- how it didn't just stop. It pressed on, day after day, hour after hour, until it felt like there was no escape. 

“I miss Texas.” Maverick grumbled, hauling his bag over his shoulder. I snorted in response.

“I miss beer. Do they have beer here, or are they a strictly ‘tea only’ type of Brit?” Ethan asked. I focused on the body approaching us from one of the buildings, and turned to face both Ethan and Maverick.

“Ethan, until you hear me say “alright, lets head home.”, you are on strict no drinking orders. Maverick, I don't care how many opportunities you see to make a jab at the British, you keep it to yourself. This isn’t a ‘me against them’, we officially became a team when we agreed to the mission. I’m trusting them with your lives, and you will learn to do the same. Understood?” I said, and Maverick and Ethan nodded.

“Lieutenant.” The voice behind us called, and I turned to face their Captain. He extended his hand out to me, nodding at the building behind him. 

“Come inside, get settled. I’ll have Sergeant MacTavish show you around.” Captain Price said, and I followed him into the building. Their living space was small, accompanied by a couch, a coffee table, and a small dining area. My eyes flicked across the counter top, landing on the box of tea. I glanced over at Ethan, who was biting his bottom lip to contain the stupid. I gave him a stern shake of my head, and his cheeks twitched in an attempt to hide his smile. 

“Here they are. Lieutenant, this is Sergeant MacTavish, Sergeant Garrick, and Ghost.”.

[loudlittleecho]

DC Batman Prompt: Please (Dis)Incorporate

Bruce was prepping for a gala later in the evening. Tim and Stephanie would be on patrol tonight, while Dick, Duke, and Damian had to make appearances along with Bruce. 

The day had felt off. Bruce didn’t like it. He had gone over all of his procedures. Nothing about this day stood out special. 

He was walking downstairs when he froze. He noticed a man standing at the end of the staircase, looking up at him expectantly. 

The man looked completely unfamiliar, and yet deeply familiar at the same time. 

The man smirked up to him, in an expression almost reminiscent of Jason.

“Hello Bruce.”

The voice, also; unfamiliar and yet one Bruce recognized.

“Hello, I apologize, I didn’t realize I had a guest.” Bruce replied pleasantly, wondering how the man had gotten in. 

The man’s eyes crinkled; it reminded him of Dick’s when he knew something Bruce didn’t. 

“I let myself in; don’t worry, it’s just us- for now. Alfred has been called out.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes.

“No, no,” the man continued gesturing for Bruce to continue down the stairs. “I wouldn’t hurt Alfred. Caring-” The man’s body -glitched- “permissive” -glitch- “militaristic” -glitch- “butler of Bruce Wayne, Batman.”

The man was either a time traveler, a multiverse traveler, or a mixture of the two based on his stuttered body trying to find the correct adjective to identify Alfred. 

“What do you want, then.” Bruce had reached the man. The man was both taller… shorter… the same height as him. 

The man sighed, his right hand gesturing vagueling, similar to one of Stephanie’s.

“Come with me.”

He turned from Bruce, walking toward the living room often used for family night. 

Bruce tried to place his posture; he seemed to share Damian’s purposeful gate. 

Luckily Damian wasn’t at the mansion; he had requested getting ready with Dick, to be sure “Grayson arrived on time for this one.”

When Bruce reached the doorway he noticed the room had been rearranged. A swivel chair in the center of the room; the television, couches, carpet, bookcase, everything, all removed. Except for the chair. 

The man glanced at the chair. Bruce recognized the man wanted him to sit. When Bruce didn’t, the man sighed, quickly moved the fingers of his right hand, and snapped. 

Bruce found himself sitting in the chair. 

“Who are you.”

The man laughed sharp and quick. This one Bruce couldn’t place. 

“You don’t recognize me? You should.” His voice clipped with a bit of static- similar to how Barbaras did sometimes when on the comms as Oracle. 

The man glanced around the room, and looked back at him, expression calculating. Like Tim’s when he had pieced together a case.

“Family second, work first. Tonight, that is going to change.”

With that, he snapped again. Bruce tried to rush up, but found he was stuck to the chair. 

On silver disks around the room his children appeared.

Dick, with a suit jacket half on. Jason, in mid stretch. Tim, holding an energy drink. Damian holding his sketch pad. Cass, pajamas. Duke, still in uniform, hands partially outstretched, as though in a conversation. 

Instantly were on high alert. Attempting to move- 

“Not yet.”

Their bodies froze, though their facial expressions were unaffected.

“And no powers for you.” 

Bruce glanced as the shadowed corners lightened. 

The man glanced at them, then back to Bruce. Bruce noticed the mans appearance had shifted-The man stretched, and as he did he became a woman with black/red/blond/brown hair. Constantly blending under the light as the different shades. 

“We’re missing some. . .”

Bruce noticed the spacing in which his children were placed. To the right, Cass, Damian, and Duke stood a couple feet apart from one another, while to the left to near center Dick, Jason, and Tim had spaces between themselves. Between Tim and Cass a large space was apparent.

The woman snapped again.

To Jason’s left, Barbara appeared, outreaching with a book in one hand, and a small stack in her lap. To Cass’ left Steph appeared, paused in brushing her teeth. With a wave of the woman's hand, the books and toothbrush disappeared.

Instantly the spaces between his family were filled with seven others he didn't recognize.

Between Dick and Babs was a young woman around their age, with black hair and hazel eyes. Between Jason and Tim was a young woman with short reddish blonde hair and green eyes wearing glasses. Between Tim and Stephanie were two people. Two almost adult teens, a girl with half her dark hair shaved, and a boy with black hair, blue eyes. Between Damian and Duke floated a. . . Starro. And after Duke stood two people. A teen girl around Dukes age, blonde and blue eyed, and a girl around Damian’s age with brown hair and eyes. 

The woman laughed mirthlessly as the new ones also attempted to get out, and their subsequent frozen natures.

“No spores for you little Jarro.”

Bruce again attempted to leave the chair; he was unable. 

“Let’s name and label them, shall we?”

The woman pointed down the line.

"Richard “Dick” Grayson, the first Robin. Helena Wayne, daughter of Bruce Wayne. Barbara “Babs” Gordon, the best Batgirl, the Oracle. Jason Peter Todd, the dead Robin. Carrie Kellie, the forgotten Robin. Timothy “Tim” Drake Wayne, the detective Robin. Harper Row, the badass. Terry McGinnis, the future Bats, manufactured son of Batman. Stephanie Brown, the fired Robin, the purple one. Cassandra “Cass” Cain Wayne, the weapon. Damian Al Ghul Wayne, Stabby Robin, son of Batman. Jarro the Starro, the weird Robin. Duke Thomas, the daytime Vigilante. Claire Clover, the traumatized girl. Mia “Maps” Mizoguchi, the supernatural Robin, the time traveler."

She bounced on her feet.

The chair Bruce was in turned slightly to face each person that was named. 

Bruce tried to memorize the faces of the ones he didn’t recognize. Helena. Carrie. Harper. Terry. Jarro? Claire. Mia. 

“Look at them. Every child you have helped hone into a vigilante. Almost all of them would have donned a mask without you guiding them.” The disk under Jason’s and Jarro's dimmed. 

“Many of them have also died working under you.” The disks under Dick, Barbara, Tim, Terry, Stephanie, and Damian's dimmed. Jason’s and Jarro's dimmed further. 

"We all wind up as this." She motioned to herself. Her form shifted again as shadows under her grew.

“But the mission comes first.” The voice held a bitter edge. “Family comes second. Even if I am your child” -glitch- “partner” -glitch- “mentee” -glitch- “responsibility” -glitch- “sorrow.” 

She turned toward Bruce. Now her face held a green and brown eye, mismatched eyebrows. A scar of a J on her cheek. Her form shifted again, no longer specifically masculine or feminine.

"It's already started you know. The incorporating. The ones you don't recognize? They've been dropped into this universe at least for the last week. Some have done better than others.

I came here to bring the rest of us into the same universe.” Their voice cold and dispirited. “Less pain.” 

Suddenly their body spasmed. Their features painfully shifting from Helena-to Damien-to Terry.

“Time for me to go.” Their face shifted into a blend of Dick and Tim. The blue eyes pierced into Bruce’s own. The anger, the condescension had gone for just a moment. The voice whispered as a small childs. Hopeful. In pain.  “Fix this. Please.”

Their body spasmed again and they took something out of their pocket- Bruce couldn’t get a good look at it- and their body seemed to fade into dust.

Instantly the force holding Bruce was gone. The disks vanished, and the others could move again as well.

Dick was the first to say anything. 

“I’ll let them know that the Waynes will be absent at the gala tonight.”

[lysistratawrites]

when you’re lost in the dark (chapter 2)

Luck does not last forever.

Pairing: Original Female! Character x Joel Miller

A/n: this is the last chapter that goes closest to the canon, from now on things are going to go more au, possibly some chapters will stick to canon facts, but things will variate. fuck, my feels with the end of the chapter 😭 i think maybe this chapter has one of the hardest parts in all the fic, feel free to skip from where joel and ellie leave the state house until the last paragraph and you can ask me later about what happens if it is hard for you

Warnings: canon violence, swearing, suicide mentions (pls pls pls get help if you are in need)/assisted suicide

Rating: Explicit (+18)

Tagging list: @maegelletargaryen @mmkkzz

“What!?”

Hanna tosses Joel the portable scan as her eyes go to the kid, sat on the floor with her back against a rickety school bus. Certainly she has not expected things to turn this way.

“Ellie?” Her gaze goes to the girl, one of her hands looming around her gun, ready to use it in case there is any need.

She can explain. Of course she can. Between stutters she lifts the right sleeve of her long-sleeved t-shirt and here it is in all its glory, enlightened by another lightning, a bite.

“This is three weeks old! I swear!”

Before she can react, Joel approaches her and with an arm outstretched, shielding her from the others, like wanting to protect her from Ellie, gun in hand.

“Marlene would set us up with an infected kid?”

The stunned faces around Ellie suggest disbelief, uncertainty whispering a chilling song among the group as rain patters against the metal roof of the bus.

“I’ve got the cure! Marlene said they were going to take me to a lab on the West to run tests on me and make a vaccine!”

The answer is certainly not the one they were expecting, and of course Joel is the first to bite back.

Because he knows.

“How many times have we heard that, huh?” He runs a hand along his hair, and Hanna can clearly see the internal struggle he is fighting, making her regret having told him about her own past. “A cure. A vaccine.” He scoffs, fairly indignant.

“Why would Marlene set us up?”

Tess tries to make him come to his senses, and only both them shut up when she nods at Ellie.

“I believe her.”

And it is all it takes for Joel Miller to give in with a non-compliant grunt, his gaze meeting hers for a moment. He knows. She told him about the attempts to make a cure by FEDRA, and she can only hope the Fireflies don’t reach the same levels of cruelty.

The sound of oncoming patrols make them rush to the forbidden part of what once was the city of Boston, and they stick to the shadows as they keep walking, taking shelter in an old building that once hosted a bustling library. Rows of forgotten books line the walls, their pages turning yellow with age, telling tales that no one reads anymore.

“D’you think we’re safe here?” Hanna peeks through the gaps between the wooden planks nailed to the windows, rain making it hard to see anything beyond the sheets of water cascading down the glass.

“Sure, let’s take a break now. At first light we’ll continue to the meeting point.”

Joel stands by the door, keeping watch, his gun held tightly in his grip. Despite his face being the same as always, hanging between a frown and a look of determination, his eyes unveil something else, and Hanna knows it well.

“I’ll take the first shift” she says as she makes sure the entrances to the room are properly closed and have something heavy against them before taking a seat against one of the walls, the one closest to the QZ, the only one facing the storm outside. “You guys get some rest.”

Ellie nods, settling into a corner of the room, her backpack serving as a makeshift pillow. Not far from where she is lands Tess in a similar fashion, her breathing slow and steady as she drifts into an uneasy sleep.

“Babydoll, a word?”

Joel’s mumbling calls her attention, and when she pats the floor next to where she is, he walks over, sitting down with a heavy sigh. “First time leadin’. How does it feel?”

Shadows cover most of his face, but she can see the lines of worry etched deeper than ever.

“If something happens to any of you I’ll kill myself,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the rain.

A soft chuckle escapes his lips. It is just a moment, but Hanna appreciates the instant of levity. She just leans on his shoulder, closing her eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath.

“You’ve been quieter than usual” Joel kisses her hair, nuzzling against it. She knows he likes it, sometimes burying his nose in her hair to try and get some proper sleep. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“I think Marlene knows something.” She can feel how he clenches his jaw with that name. “She’s been asking weird questions, and— Dunno, maybe I’m making up stuff in my head…”

She is still scared, he knows it well. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, she wakes up covered in sweat, eyes wide with the echoes of dreams that feel too real, the little hole where the needle pierced her skin itching like hell, and all she can think about is to take that shit out of her body —and Joel is always there, ready to hold her between his arms, to share the burden with her despite his own demons.

“Ain’t gonna let anythin’ happen to ya” he mutters, holding her hand in an attempt to reassure her, to show her that she is not alone. When she looks at him, she can feel his gaze rooted in unwavering determination, a promise silently exchanged between them. “I’m willin’ to kill any fucker who dares to do anythin’ to ya, babydoll. Y’know it.” She nods, softly, and his lips twitch into something like a little smile —a flicker of warmth amidst the shadows. “When we meet the Fireflies, just stay by my side. After we can go to Bill and Frank’s before beginnin’ the trip, y’know, pickin’ up supplies, takin’ some time to breathe.”

She smiles back, silent, and kisses him tenderly on the corner of his lips, thankful. For years he has always been there, no need for him to be asked to.

“Now get some sleep, ol’ man. Gonna check if there’s still something worth around.”

…

The first light brings a teasing Ellie against him, a duel to start the day. She had properly waited for Tess and Hanna to leave the room to take a look for safer routes to avoid as many infected as possible to talk.

“Aren’t you ashamed, dude? She’s really nice and you’re a douche. Sunshine and grumpy.”

He just raises an eyebrow, still reluctant. He had barely slept with the picture of the girl’s arm in his mind, a visual echo of moments he'd rather forget. No matter if Hanna had been close to her, sharing some of the rations of her backpack with her, giving her a comic book about astronauts she had found during the night, truly having spotted the kid’s weakness for science fiction.

“Just finish eatin’ and move your ass.”

By the time Tess and Hanna are back, he is checking the ammo of his gun, making himself ready for what could be outside.

“Got a problem” Joel and Ellie turn to face Tess as she speaks, her face contorted into a thoughtful grim, slightly disturbed. “The usual route is fucked up. There’s a colony and it makes a huge risk. We could take the hotel and make the route larger or the museum and get there by midday, the thing is we have no clue what could be waiting for us there.”

Joel’s gaze lands upon Hanna, and all he wishes is to take care of the wounds she sustains from the last encounter with Robert and his goons. In a normal day they would be still in bed, her warmth a balm against the brutal reality outside. But they must face reality, and sooner or later the QZ will fall and they will be forced to give up, fight or flee. Better now in silence.

…

The way to the History Museum is short from where they are, about two hours of Ellie asking incessant questions about the city and people’s lives before outbreak.

“Thought you’d learnt ’bout it in FEDRA school.” Bites Joel back, and when Hanna turns to look at him she can even see a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“Ha ha. Funny guy.”

She likes it, the feeling of banter cutting through the tension, if only for a moment. Every step they take makes them closer to their yearned adventure. She still wonders how the fuck they will manage to get to Wyoming and find Tommy in a place like that, but that is something she just wants to leave aside, to figure it out as they get there.

“Now keep quiet.” Tess, always the leader, the one maintaining order and focus, motions for them to stop when they have barely made it inside the History Museum, one of her hands rising, and Hanna out of instinct gets her gun ready, heart thumping as she scans the surroundings. A faint noise echoes from an alley to their left, and Tess gestures for Joel to take point.

“A clicker” she mouthes Ellie, unconsciously stepping before her, like wanting to protect her from the most dreadful threat they can face out of the QZ.

They all freeze, muscles tense, listening intently to the haunting clicks echoing through the alley, the non-human wails half muffled by the shadows. The creature’s distorted silhouette moves slowly, its head twitching unnaturally as it searches for them, for any sound they can make to help it spot them and attack. They hold their breath, knowing the slightest movement could give them away. Joel motions with his hand, signaling to move slowly along the wall, and Hanna can’t help but be grateful for him to be there with them.

They all know the presence of an infected leads to the possibility of others there, and, as a sort of unspoken agreement, the mood changes abruptly, with even Ellie yielding her switchblade with white handle ready to attack in case they need it. By the corner of her eye Hanna spots Ellie’s little hand, firm, the fingers curled into a tight fist, and all she can think about is to pray for her to not be in need of using her arm as long as they remain there.

The History Museum is divided into three different stages, each one of them covering a different part of the American History, with rooms dedicated to almost every aspect imaginable, all of it almost lost due to the bombing the days following the outbreak and the lack of maintenance of the building, leaving space for nature to sweep into, patches of grass and mole making their way, blending with a diorama of the typical pioneer family, or a mural telling the story of the battles on the Pacific during the Second World War, all hidden beneath the creeping vines. Silence reigns as they step carefully past faded exhibits, their flashlights casting eerie shadows on faces frozen in time.

“Fucking crap.” Hanna breathes, startled, when, as soon as they turn in the second floor to come into a room, by the door looms a lifeless mannequin dressed like a Founding Father would do, complete with tricorn hat and frilled shirt, its eyes glassy and unsettling. She wasn’t expecting it.

Ellie giggles softly behind her, the sound echoing slightly in the emptiness of the museum, breaking the heavy silence for a moment, only to earn them wary glances from Joel and Tess.

Despite the tension of the moment, Hanna thinks that she will definitely miss Ellie once they leave her with the Fireflies.

To be able to get to the other side, they have to get to the upper floor and then cross to the building next to it through a wooden plank on the attic, a goal that seems really far away because of the threat of the infected looming over them. Joel gestures for them to move quickly, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. As they ascend the stairs to get to the next floor, the creaking steps betray their presence with every cautious footfall, adding to the urgency of their mission. He grits a curse, and to see his hands tightly gripping his gun unsettles her more than she should, knowing that Joel Miller rarely reveals his apprehensions.

The four of them stop as Hanna lifts a finger, pointing to the floor above them, a bone-chilling yell breaking the disturbing silence —a shriek that pierces through the air, freezing them in place.

“Runner?” She whispers, searching answers she cannot get in the faces of the rest of the group.

“Get your guns ready, ladies. If we spot a runner, we shoot ‘em down and get the hell outta here. No need to waste ammo on clickers if we are quiet enough.”

And despite not believing in any almighty power, Hanna finds herself begging for mercy, only wishing to leave that wretched place that so many nightmares has given her since the time they crossed it at night and a stalker almost bites her.

She steadies her breath, clenching her weapon with the resolution to survive rather than succumb to dread.

It is not until they are about to reach the stairs to the top floor that they push themselves to take a detour to avoid a pair of clickers and Joel trying to lift some debris fallen from the ceiling, has a wooden rafter creaking between his hands and they get separated: Tess and Ellie on one room and Hanna and him on the other.

“Wait there, we’re gonna meet ya.” She says just before a clicker screams and Tess yells at Ellie to run.

Hanna exchanges a quick glance with Joel, eyes wide with fear but adrenaline pushing them forward. He jerks his head toward the nearest doorway, gesturing for her to follow. The only thing that matters right now is to get Ellie and Tess safe and sound.

They dash through the debris-laden corridor, careful not to make any noise. Both of them have their guns loaded to get rid of any infected that dares to cross their way. A nauseating stench of decay envelops them, but they press on, determined to reunite with their friends.

“Be careful, okay?” Joel suddenly stops, reaching for her hand as his eyes scan their surroundings.

She nods, squeezing his hand briefly before releasing it, the unspoken promise to watch each other’s backs hanging in the air.

Hanna tries to think of it as one more time to run off FEDRA’s patrols rather than to face an unknown number of infected ahead. The dimness plays tricks on her eyes, shadows morphing into potential threats, but she brushes off her anxiety. She takes deep breaths as they keep going, each quiet footfall echoing in the oppressive silence.

Adrenaline rushes through them as soon as a scream tears through the air, chilling their blood. It came from the right, a sharp cry cutting through the oppressive silence like a blade, two shots following. They rush to see half a dozen infected lunging towards an improvised barricade where Ellie and Tess are desperately fending them off.

“Run!” Hanna yells to them as Joel starts shooting, her doing the same afterwards, the air crackling with gunfire as bullets tear into the infected, slowing them down enough for Tess and Ellie reach the nearest exit in hopes of not facing anybody else.

It takes them a while, having to recharge the pistols because of the thickness of the clickers’s skin, the layers of fungus acting like a sort of protection, but they manage to hold the line. With relentless determination, Hanna and Joel fire shot after shot, until, at last, the final creature falls limp. Their breathing comes heavy now, shoulders sagging under the weight of their exhaustion.

“Han” he pants, rushing to where she is, his eyes quickly scanning her figure as his hands check her for injuries. “Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head, though her hands are trembling.

“No. You?”

Joel exhales sharply, shaking his head as well. “I'm fine,” he replies, though his own hands betray a slight tremor, one he allows himself to hide embracing her, tightly, as if trying to shield her from everything they’ve faced. They stand there for a moment, locked in a quiet embrace, each drawing strength from the other’s presence.

Hanna pulls back slightly, looking into his eyes, her expression softening just a fraction, before turning to face a hole on one of the walls, her gaze spotting a silent Ellie peering through with wide, curious eyes.

“We should go with Tess and Ellie.” Hanna mutters, a part of her already missing the warmth of Joel’s body close to hers.

It takes her a few steps to reach the improvised exit, pausing only to ensure Joel follows. At the other side Ellie awaits with a nervous energy palpable in the air around her as Tess sits on the floor with a grim upon her face.

“You guys okay?”

“Well, I didn’t shit my pants, so…”

“Twisted ankle, but yeah.”

In a couple of strides Hanna is by Tess’s side, offering her hand to help her, earning a reluctant gaze from the woman.

“C’mon, sister. Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

…

Hanna doesn’t realise she’s been holding her breath until the four of them are outside, walking down the avenue that before the outbreak lead directly to their destination. Around them the remnants of the old world lie in ruin, buildings once teeming with life now reduced to ghostly shells, nature taking the power back, no matter the wondering people meeting their end against any infected, nor the ones who just can witness what remains of a life way different than theirs now. As she walks down those streets once bursting with life Hanna always wonders how was it before the outbreak, how people lived before the world went to shit, and her mind plays with the details Frank, Tess and Joel have told her when she had dared to ask about it and bring to the surface a reality long gone, wounds sometimes still opened.

“Yo,” she approaches Ellie after another reject from Tess, trying to keep a somewhat cheer mood now that they have faced the worst danger, “got somethin’ for you, dawg.” It obviously catches Ellie by surprise, her eyes widening with a mix of curiosity and skepticism as Hanna takes her backpack with one hand as the other roams in it, finally taking a pair of aged comic books and giving them to the girl. “You said yesterday somethin’ ‘bout comics and that. This one looks pretty cool, I think you’ll like it.”

Savage Starlight. Ellie’s eyes seem to get brighter as they observe the book, eagerly reading the synopsis printed on the back page. Her hands clutch both comics, the first and second issues, and she seems to doubt about how to react despite her face showing how she likes that improvised gift. She stutters with gratitude and Hanna can’t help but smile back at her, a small part of her hating the fact of having to say goodbye to that snarky little shit.

All those feelings twist themselves the moment they reach the outskirts of the State House and they see vehicles that could be Fireflies but hear no sound around.

“I have a bad feeling ‘bout this.” Mutters Hanna, crouched behind a rusty cab, with the rest of the group next to her, four pairs of eyes scanning the area.

“They must be waiting inside.”

“FEDRA would not adventure to this part of the city, it’s not comfortable for them” Joel mutters, his brow furrowed. “Fuck it.”

Quickly he surrounds the car they hide behind and approaches the closest truck, gun in hand, ready to shoot in case it is necessary. No matter how much the three of them try to call his attention to not risk himself, he just goes to the back of it and opens it, his hand gun going limp to his side.

“What the hell?”

They approach him, and Tess grunts a blasphemy as she takes Ellie by the hand and takes her to the stairs of the main entrance. Joel looks at Hanna with a puzzled gesture, reflected on her own face as they take a moment to look at Tess before rushing to reach her by the main entrance.

Once they make it into the main hall of the building things don’t look any better: all the cargo promised by Marlene is abandoned and untouched, silent witness of the massacre of the whole group of the Fireflies, now scattered on the floor on a pool of blood, about a dozen people dead and the chilling echo of their last moments hangs in the air. From what Joel gets to know by a quick look, he tells them what they fear the most: one of them got infected and attacked the rest.

“Fuck! No!”

Tess starts rummaging the corpses searching for any clue of the next meeting point, or a map to keep going.

“Tess.”

She doesn’t answer, and neither Ellie, Joel nor Hanna have the will to join her in her frenzied search.

“Tess.”

The woman mumbles as she keeps going, cursing after asking a nonplused Ellie about the next destination. “Tess, stop!” Joel's voice is firm, but there’s a hint of desperation, or maybe disappointment. The situation is not comfortable at all for any of them there. “This isn’t you. Just—let’s go home.”

“I’m not—I’m not going anywhere!” The three of them put their eyes upon Tess, her face revealing a deep turmoil that she can't hide anymore. “This is my last stop.”

“What? The fuck are you talking ‘bout?”

It is Hanna this time the one to speak, to put herself between Joel and Tess, her eyes scanning the woman in a futile attempt to get the reason behind her sudden declaration. Tess looks at Hanna, and for a brief moment, the strength drains from her eyes, replaced with sorrow.

“Our luck would have to run out sooner or later…” Joel tries to approach Tess, and she puts her elbow between them both, keeping him far from her “Don’t—! Don’t touch me.”

“No fuckin’ way…” Hanna breathes, visibly hurt, her dominant hand close to her gun.

“She’s infected.” By the time Ellie realises what’s happening, Hanna is already by her side, her other arm trying to make her move behind her in an attempt to protect her.

“Lemme see.” Joel’s gesture is what hurts Hanna the most, his face blank with incredulity and pain as he turns to face Tess, searching for any sign that she's lying. “Show it to me.” The woman closes her eyes in defeat and pulls the collar of her blouse, a fresh bite by her neck, where it joins the shoulder. “Oh, Christ…”

He cannot believe it. Nobody can believe it.

“Oops, right?” Tess has assumed it, or at least she looks like it. “Ellie, show your arm.” The girl looks at Hanna, and she nods at her to proceed, her mind still processing how the tables have turned. Ellie steps forward and pulls up her sleeve, revealing the old bite mark. “This was three weeks! I was bitten an hour ago and it looks worse!” She grasps the cloth of her blouse with anger as she speaks “This is real. She is fucking real and you both have to take her to Tommy’s. He’ll tell you where the Fireflies are.”

A moment of argue between them both, and Hanna is not sure what she has to do. It hurts to not be able to help, to having to get used to not have Tess around, especially when she had been such a cornerstone of their group. She has always been there, and now they are forced to part ways in the worst way possible.

“Just fucking go!” Tess pushes Joel, only making him go back two or three paces, his face reflecting defeat and anger. “Lemme have a minute with Hanna in private.”

Joel hesitates but ultimately nods, casting one last lingering look at Hanna. Their gazes meet for a brief moment before he takes Ellie by the wrist and forces her to leave the place, passive against all the girl’s thrashing.

It isn’t until they have closed the door behind them that Tess approaches her, her face twisted with a mixture of determination and vulnerability. Hesitant, she approaches her, her left arm already trembling as the Cordyceps starts to take hold. “You need to be strong” Tess tells Hanna with a trembling voice. “Those two will need you, specially Joel. You have to keep them safe, understand?” Hanna nods, tears welling in her eyes.

It is not easy to let a closest friend go. Not like that.

Tess manages a weak smile, her eyes softening with nostalgia and resignation. “Hey,” she whispers, forcing strength into her voice, “we did alright, didn’t we?”

“We sure did,” Hanna replies, choking back a sob. If it weren’t for Tess, she would not have been able to come into the Boston QZ years ago. Memories of their shared journey flash before her eyes, unbidden, like pages turning in a book too precious to ever close.

“Gotta ask you something. Something important.”

Tess’s eyes go to the gun on her holster.

“No!”

It feels almost like an offence. Tess shakes her head, fighting to maintain her focus as the creeping infection clouds her mind.

“Please, sister” she mutters, voice strained with sorrow and urgency. “Grant me a final wish. I don’t wanna become one of those things…”

Hanna’s heart aches at the plea. Though every fiber of her being rebels against the idea, she nods slowly, her heart heavy with dread. Tess relaxes a little, her expression softening with gratitude, and Hanna gets then why she hasn’t told Joel about it.

“Take my gun” Tess picks her own arm from the holster and leaves it on the ground, approaching it to Hanna with a soft kick. “Gotta save ammo. Wyoming is really fucking far and who knows what can happen.” Hanna nods, trying to hold back the flood of tears threatening to spill. She kneels beside Tess, unable to prevent a wave of remorse crashing over her. “Go to Bill and Frank’s. Sure they can give you a car or something. Joel will want to carry the world’s weight upon his shoulders, don’t let him.” Tess murmurs, a weak smile tugging at the corners of her lips, a strange mix of affection, defeat and sadness. “You are strong. And you know it. Now promise me you’ll keep going.” Hanna swallows hard, clutching the gun Tess had pushed towards her. “Hanna, promise me. Please,” Tess insists, her voice a faint echo of the strength she once embodied.

The gun on her hand feels heavier than it should, like the very embodiment of the burden Tess is passing on to her. Her fingers grip the cold metal, and she nods, forcing herself to make the promise Tess needs to hear. “I promise,” she whispers, her voice trembling yet resolute.

As if Tess has read her mind, she turns slowly, like knowing the last thing Hanna needs is to have her face haunting her dreams. One thing is to have to kill any infected, or a raider trying to kill you first, or even a FEDRA soldier threatening your life, and other way too different is to have to see the face of your closest friend moments before pulling the trigger to shoot her dead.

Hanna steps back, her heart heavy with sorrow. The world around her seems to blur as she raises the gun, biting back tears.

“Farewell, sister.”

The shoot echoes in the hall, and as soon as the lifeless body of Tess falls to the floor, Hanna can’t help but throw the gun away, sobs racking her body. All she wants is to go to the corpse of her friend, to cradle her and curse both of them for having ended in that situation, but a flicker of sanity pulls her from her grief, making her remember those waiting outside.

She rushes to the door, not even daring to look back at the motionless figure on the ground. The air feels heavier with each step she takes, the echoes of the shot still ringing in her ears. She opens the door and as soon as she puts a foot outside, her eyes search Joel and Ellie, curled up against concrete pipes, Joel always vigilant, his gun ready to shoot in case something goes south. Her steps drive her to where they wait, her face trailed by tears she hasn’t quite managed to wipe away. Joel’s gaze locks onto her, searching for answers to questions he’s too weary to ask aloud.

“Let’s just go.” She mutters as he embraces her, tightly, understanding the weight of what she had to do. Ellie watches silently, her eyes filled with a mix of sympathy and fear. “Please.”

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Neighbours｡⋆.

Daryl Dixon x plus size reader

You have a little crush on your handsome next door neighbour

Warnings: modern!au, mutual pining, Negan, fluff

WC: 1.1k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

4k Follower Celebration

King’s County was a very cute town. Barely an hour outside of Atlanta but not so far in the sticks that you were completely isolated, it was the perfect place to set up roots. You got a house at the edge of town for practically nothing and immediately a job landed in your lap.

Of course, it was a difficult adjustment having moved from New York where you worked at a cafe to being in Georgia and getting the teaching job of your dreams but what really helped was your next door neighbour- Daryl Dixon.

You first met him the day you moved in. 

Alone with a singular U-Haul truck that had your entire life in the back of it and the mid-July sun on your back, you could think of no worse torture than this as you slowly but steadily moved box after box into your new home. You felt like you were drowning in sweat and your arms were about to fall off when you heard a deep raspy voice from just outside the truck.

“Can I help?” His accent was so thick, it took you a minute to actually understand what he said. 

The sun was at his back, covering his face in shadow but from what you could tell, he was just under 6 feet with hugely broad shoulders and slightly bowed legs. “Um yeah! That would be so great, thank you!” He nodded and grabbed the two boxes in front of him. 

You were in awe as he lugged the boxes of books up your front steps without even a grunt of exertion. You followed behind with the last of your stuff, desperately trying not to look at his ass in those dark jeans he was wearing. “You can just put that by the stairs.”

He hummed and dropped them gently right where you told him to put it. “Thank you again, could I get you some water or lemonade, I’m sorry I don’t have anything else to repay you with”

He shook his head, causing his long dark hair to cover most of his face. “Naw, jus saw ya needed help. It’s what neighbours do ain’t it.” You smiled at his bashfulness.

“Well it was still a nice thing for you to do.” You reached out your hand and gave him your name. His eyes (you could now see that they were blue) flicked to your outstretched hand and then back down to your hardwood floor but he gave you a firm shake anyway.

“Daryl.” As he pulled back, he left a smear of what you thought was motor oil on the back of your hand. His face went beat red and he opened his mouth to apologise but you spoke again before he could.

“Let me get you dinner then, I was planning on ordering a pizza and I doubt I could eat a whole pie by myself.” That got a smile out of him, a small one but it was genuine and it made your heart skip a beat.

“Alright.”

Finally, it was the winter break, after four months of trying to wrangle multiple grades (it was a small school and you were the only history teacher), you could relax. You could feel the tension melting off your body as you drove up to your house.

You pulled your car into the driveway and immediately spotted Daryl. He was perched outside his garage, once again tinkering with his motorbike, a cigarette hanging from his chapped lips. He was so absorbed in his work that he didn’t notice how you just sat in your car and stared at him longingly.

Daryl was a drop dead gorgeous man and apparently he didn’t even know it. He was incredibly strong with biceps almost the size of your head and a general bad boy biker appearance but with a heart of absolute gold. You sighed and grabbed your school bag that unfortunately had paper you still needed to grade.

“Hey Daryl!” You called out. His head shot up so quickly, his cigarette fell to the ground between his booted feet. He cursed under his breath and picked it up again. “Some teachers are coming over to my place for some drinks if you want to join, no pressure though!”

“Sure.” He dismissed but you smiled brightly.

“See you there!”

Rock music crooned from the speakers, just barely audible over the chatter of your coworkers and neighbours as they mingled. You were in the kitchen, making margaritas at the behest of the school’s gym teacher. He hovered over you as you made the drinks, he was either telling you some story about his ‘glory days’ or insulting you, you couldn’t quite tell.

“Negan, it doesn’t need that much tequila!” You snatched the nearly empty bottle from his hand which he had been pouring into the blender when your back was turned.

“Of course it does!” He tried to wrestle the bottle back from you but you stubbornly held on. It quickly became a childish game of tug-of-war that neither of you were really taking seriously, just happy to let loose after dealing with idiotic students for 4 months.

Just as you were getting the upper hand, a voice caught your attention. “Hey.” Hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped forward with a small blush dusting the apple of his cheeks. 

“Hi.” You immediately greeted, unbothered that Negan had stolen back the bottle of alcohol and had subsequently dumped the rest of its contents into the half-made cocktail mixture. “There’s pizzas in the living room and some beers chilling on the deck if you want.” You offered and the shy mechanic just nodded, wandering off into the small crowd.

You couldn’t help but let your eyes dip down to his ass, watching it as he disappeared into the hall. “Seriously? Him?" Negan’s voice startled you from the hypnotising sight, your head snapping back to face him. He was smirking at you with a mixture of disgust and a strange proudness.

“Shut up.” You grumbled and grabbed some extra ice from your freezer to throw into the blender.

“I thought I was more your type but I see it now, a redneck shotgun wedding! Maybe you’ll have roadkill hors d’oeuvres with moonshine- ow! The fuck was that for?” He rubbed at his hurt shoulder which you just punched.

“At least my wedding won’t be fucking baseball themed, you has been.” And as you bickered back and forth, neither of you noticed the figure standing in the doorway, face beat red and blue eyes practically sparkling. If it were up to him, your wedding would be the most lavish event the world had ever seen and by god, he hoped that he would be the one standing at the end of that aisle for you.

Request: Can I please get "neighbors" and "Seriously?Him?" for Daryl for your celebration?

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Just A Bit Of Contraband

Word Count: 1651

Reader: Gender Neutral

Summary: You really did just want to help Fox and his brothers, but maybe there's a better way than sneaking around the Senate building at night.

Author's Note: This is the first time I've written for Fox, so I hope it's okay. And mention of annoying little shit of a brother Thorn!

Cyare - beloved, love

Osik'la - messed up, screwed up, horrible

Sneaking into the Senate building was no small feat and you were beyond lucky that most, if not all the Senators and staff had gone home for the night. You were on a mission. A very important mission to help the Coruscant Guards do their jobs during this terrible war. Up ahead of you was the room that you had arranged to meet your contact in. It had been in a room you had been in only once or twice, only for a few minutes and never on your own. You just hoped that it would be empty now. Tapping open the button to let you in, you were glad to see that your contact was already there, pressed to the back of the room and hiding in the shadows himself.

“I’ve got the stuff” you whispered, sneaking towards the figure in the break room. Commander Thorn only sighed in relief, stepping forward into the light that filtered through the small window that let it in from the corridor outside. Carefully, he quickly examined the small packages that you handed to him.

“These are perfect. You don’t realise how much we’ll need this. Senate’s holding a fundraiser, security is going to be a nightmare. You know Fox is going to have a field day” Thorn complained, slipping the packs into his belt as much as he could.

“Anything I can do to support the war effort, Commander” you replied cheekily, pulling more packages out of your bag.

The light flickered on overhead as the door slid open, revealing none other but Marshall Commander Fox himself.

“Cyare? What are you doing here?” Fox’s modulated voice came through his helmet’s speakers. You squeaked, unable to do anything but hide the packages behind your back. It wasn’t the smartest of moves, not in the least because it made you look more guilty than you were. Even through his helmet you could still feel Thorn’s side eye but you ignored him.

“Nothing! I was just waiting for you!” you excused, a shaky smile spread over your face. Maker! You could lie as well as the clones it would seem.

“Thorn? What’s going on?” Fox demanded, turning to his vod who was shuffling the packages onto the clip of his belt behind him. There was less patience in his voice now for his fellow commander, and Thorn seemed to sense that like all little brothers could.

“Fox! I was just telling your cyare that you’re probably going to be working late because of the security detail” Thorn stated, and if you hadn’t had known any better, you would have believed him. Well, perhaps you were a worse liar than a clone.

Fox hummed, coming up closer to you and standing in front of you, arms crossed across his chest and helmet tilted down to give you an analysing look. “Hand it over” he instructed, hand outstretched and expecting.

“What?” you cried, floundering for a second at how quick he was to figure you out. You should have known really, Fox could read you like an open book any day of the week.

Fox didn’t even need to look over to Thorn to know that he was trying to slide away from the pair of lovers and closer to the exit. Almost like if he tried to stay out of Fox’s line of sight then he’d be free to escape. “Stay!” he growled head not even turning in his direction, and you couldn’t help but gape at Thorn’s retreating form.

“Thorn! What about we’re in this together?” you gasped, annoyed at the Commander who was so ready to high-tail it out of this situation.

“Sorry vod’ika, but you’re more likely to get out of this than me! I’m not going to be stuck on patrol in the lowest levels again for a week!” Thorn protested, holding up his hands in surrender.

Fox let out a warning call of your name and you winced, before slumping against the counter that was digging into your back. “Alright, alright, but please don’t be mad. We were only trying to help” you sighed, handing over the packet that you had been hiding in your bag. It crinkled in Fox’s grip as you shuffled around nervously on your feet in front of him. You were unsure how he would react.

“Alderaanian caf beans?” Fox frowned, unable to believe that this was what you were sneaking into the Coruscant Guard Headquarters. He had wondered what you and his idiotic brother could be up to, but he didn’t think you would be sneaking in contraband caf beans. What the hell were you two up to?

“Please don’t be mad. I know you’re always telling me that I shouldn’t be wasting my credits on you and that it’s not my responsibility to keep you sane and awake at 4am. But I wanted to do something to help. You haven’t slept for the past 3 days, and I haven’t seen you in nearly as long. And I’m not complaining but I want to make sure you’re okay. And Thorn was telling me that you hadn’t been taking any breaks and Palpatine was being a kriffing shithead and I was worried” you hurried to explain, chest tightening as you worried that Fox would hate you for interfering with his job as the Marshal Commander of the Coruscant Guards.

Thorn winced at that, ignoring the glare that his older brother shot his way. He knew he would be getting into shit for telling you exactly what Fox was getting up to when you weren’t there. Especially not looking after himself. You were always telling Fox he needed to look after himself more. Take more rest, eat food that wasn’t rations and drink something that wasn’t caf every now and again.

“So I thought maybe making sure that you had some decent caf would help, you know, keep you awake for all the awful shit Palpatine is no doubt going to put you through because he’s the worst, and really he should be shot. And if you need volunteers, then I’ll be the first in line to shoot that motherf-” you rambled on, before Fox slid a hand over your mouth; before he or someone else heard any more and would have to arrest you for some ridiculous shit like treason.

Seeming to take a breath and stop rambling, you looked up at Fox, waiting for his reaction.

“You, get out of here. I’ll deal with you later” Fox ordered his brother, who sent you a quick thumbs up and ran out of the break room. “You… you should be careful what you say cyare. Who knows who’s listening in this building” he sighed, taking off his helmet with his other hand and settling on your waist. “Can I let go now?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you. Accepting your rolling eyes and nod of agreement, he let the hand slip down and squeeze your other hip.

“Are you mad?” you whispered, hoping he wouldn’t be too angry with you. It wasn’t like you were sneaking around for your own benefit. You truly did want to help Fox and his brothers out.

“Course I’m not mad, I’m just worried, cyare. Sneaking around the Senate building after dark, breaking at least a dozen security laws and protocols and making me think we had a thief breaking into the barracks was not the best decision you’ve ever made Cyare. I dread to think what you could do if you had more resources. But it can’t happen again, do you understand me?” Fox rebuked, gripping onto your waist and bringing you into him as close as he could get you. It wasn’t like any reprimand he’d ever given to his men, but sneaking around Senate and GAR buildings were a sure way to find trouble. Trouble he may not always be able to get you out of. It worried him too much to think of you hurt.

“I understand, I’m sorry Fox. I just wanted to make things better for you and your brothers. I know you haven’t been sleeping well, I just thought this might be able to help better than the mud water that they serve you” you sighed, biting your lip and resting your hands on the cool plastoid of his armour.

Fox cupped your face, bringing you up to look into his dark, expressive eyes. They held exhaustion, worry and no small amount of love. Being able to see him clearer now without his helmet always took your breath away. His greying hair at the temples fell across his face in soft curls, the scars that ran across his nose was slightly lighter than his usual tan tone. Maker he was beautiful, and you would tell him that every single day until he believed you. Shaking his head at whatever he could see on your face, he let out a small smile, thumb rubbing softly against your cheekbone. “Even if you shouldn’t be wasting your credits on us, and it’s the Republic’s responsibility to fund our caf addictions to keep this osik’la planet safe and running, thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without your big heart, taking care of me and my men” he whispered, leaning down to press his lips to yours to silence any reply.

“Now, how about we go back to yours and I can show you just how thankful I have to have a cyar’ika like you looking after me?” he hummed, resting his forehead against yours.

“That sounds perfect to me, Commander” you smiled, pushing his curls away from his face and leaning up to press a chaste kiss to his own lips. He just grinned, tucking the packet of caf beans into his belt before grabbing his helmet and pulling you out of the break room. After all, he was due a break and Thorn would cover for him.

[slothquisitor]

On Matters of Inertia: Chapter Eleven

Summary: Lucanis is thrilled to have Camina in Treviso...but Camina struggles to feel at home. Here there be smut; if that's not your cup of tea, I support you. Once things get a little spicy, pick back up after the break. <3

Also on AO3.

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Camina doesn't complain even once during their traverse across Treviso even though it includes two separate ziplines and at least three terrifying roof leaps. She's just glad to be with Lucanis. Glad to be following his familiar form through the brightly lit city. He keeps glancing back at her periodically, as though she might disappear if he doesn't, and every time she meets his eye, his face splits into a grin that sends her heart tripping over itself.

Soon enough, the villa's walls and roofs appear in front of them. Lucanis leads the way, the route clearly second-nature to him, but she appreciates how he slows down for her, guiding her path. She's so focused on not falling that it is only when he drops down to a balcony that she sees the entire villa is being patrolled by Crows. She wonders if the three Talons were understating the danger House Dellamorte is in or if this is just normal for Villa Dellamorte. She's not sure which would bother her more.

But then Lucanis is there, helping her down onto the balcony, hand outstretched. She takes it as he draws her into what she can only assume is his room. The room is neat and lushly furnished. There's a large four-poster bed against the largest wall, and he has a study area where there's a desk and a couple of chairs beside a bookcase. The place feels hardly lived in, so different from the cozy room they've built in the Lighthouse.

Still, there are touches, hints of him here. A book on the nightstand, an old favorite rather than something new. A coffee cup, missed or brought in after the servants had already cleaned for the day. Letters and the quill she'd bought especially for Spite to do his writing left on the desk. The whole of her Necropolis apartment could fit in the rooms he calls his within the villa. She is reminded of how little she has to her name, comparatively.

He seems to notice the way she takes it in. "It's not our room, but will it do?"

There's a note of apology in his voice, as though he senses the ways she finds it rather an impersonal space. "Of course. Has it been alright being back here?" she asks, wandering over to the desk and bookshelves.

She knows the answer is no before she even asks the question. Knows that no matter what he says, even if he believes it to be the truth, things have not been alright here. She knows it because she sees the struggle in his eyes, the ways he is split in two here. He is one self with her…the Lucanis only she and their closest friends see, and then he is the First Talon, the Demon of Vyrantium. That is who she glimpsed in that meeting at the Diamond, all the pieces she loves best about him folded down, carved into something sharp.

"It's been…strange. Illario is…difficult. And Caterina seems content to pretend that nothing has changed," Lucanis admits. "How are the Crossroads? The team?"

"Everyone sends their love, but truthfully, I think they were kind of glad to hear I was coming here."

"Oh?"

She turns back to him as she leans back against his desk. "I don't think I've been great company without you."

His laugh is a tired, wrung-out thing. "Me either."

"You're not sleeping well, are you?" she asks. It's been months since the shadows beneath his eyes have been this pronounced.

He sighs. "Spite has been…restless. I suppose…I have…" His gaze skitters away from her, whatever admission he is about to make is clearly not one he wishes to meet her eyes for. "I hadn't known what to make of your letters…of how long it's been…"

She nods. "You were right; I needed time. I needed to figure out what I wanted on my own."

"And?" The word comes out choked, like he has to force it, and though there are several feet between them, she can see the preternatural way he has gone so very still as he waits for her answer.

"I want to go back to the Necropolis. Continue my research there, but I also don't want to hide there forever. There are people my bone reading can help…I just spent the last two days with a Dalish clan helping them identify a unmarked mass grave. It felt…good in a way nothing has since…before everything."

His answering smile is soft, a little sad too. "Then you should do that." Her heart aches at how genuinely she can see he means it.

"But there's an awful lot of research work and writing that can happen from Treviso. I'll need to be in the Necropolis sometimes, but not always. And perhaps, once things are more stable here, you can come to the Necropolis sometimes too. It won't be perfect, and we'll be apart more than either of us wants…but…"

She knows she's rambling, is relieved when he cuts in, closing the distance between them. "But we'll make it work."

"You're really alright with that? A life split between two places?"

He rests his forehead against hers, and relief floods her veins. "I want you to be happy. If that is what you need, then that is what we will do."

"Because you have to stay First Talon?" she asks, voice barely above a whisper.

"My House was attacked because I wasn't here…I….I don't have a lot to lose, Camina," he says. And she knows what he means is that this isn't what he wants, but that it is what he will do anyway. With duty and love and expectation inexorably tangled within him. And if he can support her choices so easily, so unconditionally, she knows she will have to find a way to live with his too.

"Just tell me what I can do to help," she whispers. He deserves so much more than this life he was born into, the title thrust upon him, but if this is his choice, then what else is there to be said?

His eyes fall shut, and a soft smile pulls at his lips. "You're here. That's enough for now." And then he kisses her, lips brushing gently against hers. She draws him closer, hands skimming over familiar armor, pulling at buckles and unstrapping knives and daggers that drop with dull thunks against the rug.

He tips her chin back, deepening the kiss, tongue sliding against hers. He grows bolder the more they touch, easing her coat from her shoulders and then working at the buttons of her shirt. She's still pressed against the desk and he lifts her atop it, stepping between the V of her legs.

"I missed this," she manages as she kisses down his jaw. She doesn't mean simply sex, though she's made it clear to him she enjoys that, but it's the closeness of him, the intimacy she missed more. Knowing him and being known. Her hand against his chest, she can feel the pounding of his heart, how fast each of his breaths are coming.

His fingers tangle in her hair as he presses closer, their bodies melding together. His eyebrows knit together as he looks at her. "Me too," he whispers, with a bit of awe.

She knows that desire has always been complicated for him. He has told her how rarely his body and his mind had seemed to be on the same page, that he had spent years believing that sex was simply something he didn't want. They have spent the last six months moving at his pace, exploring and experimenting to find what he likes, what they enjoy together. But none of that has banished the wonder from his gaze, the awe from the realization that they are aligned in so many ways.

He is, as always, better at getting her out of her clothes than she has ever been at removing his. In fairness, his armor is stupidly and needlessly complicated. A point of which she makes often and teases him about endlessly. Still, by the time her shirt and breastband flutter to the ground and he's got the laces of her pants open, she's only managed to remove his weapons and cloak and the outermost layer of his armor.

His hands skim across her shoulders and down her arms before moving to her breasts, drawing a groan from her as his fingers coax her nipples into stiff peaks. His kisses have become more insistent, scattering her thoughts, and though she wants to feel his skin against hers, she all but gives up on undressing him and simply pulls him closer. He happily complies, humming against her lips as a hand trails down her center and dips beneath her small clothes.

For all his initial tentativeness, Lucanis has turned his rather singular training in observation to become infuriatingly good at this. He knows exactly how to work her, exactly the pressure and movement that gets her squirming in his arms. She can feel the intensity of his focus as if it is a physical weight against her skin. She often makes it her job to disrupt it. She would have him as undone as he makes her feel.

She palms the front of his pants, pressing against the hard jut of his cock, is rewarded by his sharp intake of breath and the way his hips press forward, seeking more friction. He responds by pressing a finger inside of her and drawing it slowly in and out before adding a second, all while working the heel of his hand against her clit. Weeks of missing him and pent up desire mean that it doesn't take long at all for her pleasure to crest, and she comes around his fingers. He strokes her through it, looking rather smug as she pulls away to catch her breath.

She gestures rather uselessly at his armor. "Crow armor will be the death of me."

He chuckles as he pulls away to undress. "I didn't hear you complaining."

Camina hops off the desk and lets her pants and smallclothes join her other clothing on the floor. She steps forward, hands running over every bit of newly exposed skin she has access to as Lucanis undresses. Camina presses kisses across the coarse hair of his chest, hands running down his sides.

"I thought you wanted me out of my armor," Lucanis manages, leaning into her touch and pausing his work to wrap a hand around her waist.

She pulls away teasingly, only to have her hands caught in his, brought back to his skin as she feels a smiling kiss against her cheek. "A month is too long," he whispers.

"It is," she agrees.

He steps out of the last of his clothing, and then his arms are around her, and they are at last, skin to skin. She winds her hands around his neck, allowing him to half-carry, half-back her towards the bed. "From now on, we do what we have to do to see each other once a week."

"Are you really wanting to negotiate this now?" she asks as he lays her back against the soft bed.

He crawls over her. "Seemed appropriate."

"Alright then. Now, will you please fuck me?" she asks dragging her nails gently down his back.

The kiss Lucanis answers with is searing, his patience eroding away. She feels him reach between them, dragging his cock through the wetness at her core with torturous slowness. Her breath hitches in anticipation, and then he is finally pushing inside her. The rhythm he sets is slow, and he holds her tenderly. Camina is reminded of the way he drinks coffee, a sip at a time, swirling the glass, not a moment rushed. It feels as though he wants to savor every bit of this moment with her.

Every worry and concern of the last few weeks recedes as they move together. There is a safety here, in moments like this. Stripped away of her armor and the humor she holds up as a shield, she is just herself, and it is so clearly enough.

Her orgasm catches her off-guard, taking her slowly, like the tide going out. She whispers his name again and again and again. He answers with her own, the word falling against her neck as he clutches her to him and follows her over the edge.

***

Camina wakes to Spite's insistent whispering of her name. And since the demon has never quite mastered the art of whispering, it's more like hearing her name nearly shouted until she comes to. She and Lucanis had fallen asleep tangled together last night, but now that Spite is here, he's pulled away, merely laying beside her, the inches between them deliberate as he stares at her, his features too sharp to ever be mistaken as Lucanis.

"Yes, Spite?" Her voice is still heavy with sleep even to her ears, and she rubs at her eyes.

"Missed Rook," Spite says, nudging her hand with the clear message that he would like her to run her hands through his hair.

She laughs. "Are you looking for something?"

He glares at her. "Please," he says so flatly, she laughs again, but she does acquiesce. He leans into the touch and his eyes fall shut.

"I hear you've been a bit restless lately," she says.

"Rook was gone a long time," he grumbles.

"I know, I'm sorry. We won't let it be that long again," she promises.

His eyes open again on a glare. "Rook isn't staying?"

"I get to stay for a little while - a week. But then have to go back to the Crossroads. I made a deal with Strife, remember?"

Spite nods. "Can't break deal."

She'd picked the word carefully, knowing the effect it would have, the weight he puts on something like that. Still, it's harder than she thought to explain to him why she can't just stay here with them forever. Because it won't always be Strife's deal keeping them apart, but her own choices. But that conversation can wait.

"Right."

"I've been keeping our deal," Spite says. "'Take care of Lucanis, keep him safe'."

It was a hope or a plea on the night they left her for Treviso. Lucanis and Spite have both come so far, and there was some fear that without the support of friends, they might backslide if their goals didn't align. But also, knowing that Spite is with Lucanis lets her sleep a little easier. Despite all protestations to the contrary, she knows Spite cares about Lucanis, too. They are, the three of them, bonded together now.

"I knew you would," she replies.

"Read tonight?" Spite asks.

"Of course."

And with the promise extracted, she feels Spite's presence recede, Lucanis blinking awake. He makes note of the space between them, the hand she's pulled back from running through his hair, and shakes his head. "Tell me he didn't wake you up just for that."

"I mean, I think he also wanted to talk," she says around a laugh.

Lucanis closes the distance, gathering her to him and pressing a kiss to her jaw. "You should go back to sleep."

"With you here? Like this?" she teases, a hand skating down his side. He groans as their legs tangle together, bare skin pressed against bare skin. He's told her on more than one occasion how much he loves sleepy morning sex, so she leans into his touch, drawing him closer and kissing down his neck. His fingers twist in her hair as his hands find her hips, pinning her to the bed.

He pulls back slowly, a look of apology on his face. "I have meetings this morning and other First Talon duties to see to today."

She very much wants to argue with him, try to barter for at least twenty more minutes of his time, but she can already see the guilt in his eyes. So she relaxes back down into her pillow. "Alright."

"I'm going to take care of what I must, and then clear my schedule for the rest of the week. You should go back to bed for a few more hours. Then you should explore the villa when you wake up. You'll like the library."

"Why do I feel like I'm being bribed?"

He laughs. "I'll remind you that you showed up without warning, so I'm just trying to catch up. But maybe it's a little bit of a bribe. I'll let the servants know you're here, and I'll be back this afternoon."

So she's going to be alone in the gigantic villa for the day? That feels somewhat uncomfortable, but he's not wrong. It was her idea to surprise him, and it's not like he can simply blow off his work because she's here. Still, the prospect of having to be here alone feels a little daunting. But maybe that can be a problem for less tired Camina.

"I'll be here."

His arms tighten around her, and she feels him press a kiss to her hair. "I love you; I'm so glad you're here."

She kisses his chest, the coarse hair brushing against her lips. "I love you, too."

And then he leaves the bed, his warmth gone from the sheets as he pads into the bathing chamber. She'd gotten only the quickest glimpse of it last night, but on its own, it seems bigger than their room back at the Lighthouse. She's dozing when she feels the bed dip behind her, the press of his lips against her forehead, and then he's gone.

She doesn't wake again until the sun is spilling in through the windows and the door opens. "Buenas dias!" The servant who greets her is a young woman carrying a tray laden with food.

Camina hastily gathers the sheets around her in an attempt to preserve her modesty. The woman looks nonplussed. "Buenas dias," she returns, wincing a bit at her pronunciation.

The woman's eyes tighten a little. "Master Lucanis requested we bring you breakfast here," the woman switches to Trade tongue, her accent is thick, and Camina is already wishing she could apologize for her Antivan, or lack of it. She's been trying to learn, but it's so different from Nevarran and Trade that it's been slow going.

"Thank you so much."

"Do you need anything else?"

Camina shakes her head. "No, thank you."

The woman deposits the tray on a small end table near the window and then takes her leave with a smile. Camina isn't used to people just being around or coming into the room unannounced. She wishes she'd had a single piece of clothing on or managed to make a better first impression. She sighs loudly and drops back onto the bed.

A breakfast, bath, and change of clothes later, Camina finally decides to brave exploring the villa. She has fought gods and monsters and archdemons, and yet, she still hesitates at the door leading out of Lucanis's rooms. It feels incredibly awkward to simply wander around someone else's house. It would be fine except she knows that she's bound to run into people, servants or Crows or Maker forbid, Caterina. Wouldn't that just be her luck? She takes a deep breath and steps out into the hallway.

She's once again struck by the casual luxury of the villa. All long hallways are lined with art and what she can only assume are priceless pieces of furniture and pottery. Rich rugs cover marble floors, and she steps around each corner a little nervously, as though she's sneaking about in a place she shouldn't be.

Camina manages to find several drawing rooms and bedrooms and a study. She doesn't go through any closed doors, focusing instead on wandering through the open parts of the house. She's only been in this part of the villa once, when she and Lucanis had come to question Illario and had breakfast with Caterina. When they'd rescued Caterina, she'd been kept in the nearby guest house, so everywhere she wanders today is new to her. She sees a handful of servants on her trek, and she offers up a smile and a wave each time, only to be met with averted gazes or tight smiles. She really should have asked Lucanis more questions about what is expected.

Eventually, she does find the library. It's a cavernous space, two levels, and books organized more for their aesthetic appeal than any real useful system. She wanders, fingers dragging along many pristine, uncracked spines until she spots an old favorite of hers. Something familiar within the unfamiliar. She plucks it from the shelf and settles into an oversized armchair near the window. The windows overlook the garden, bathed in golden sunlight.

She reads for a few hours before beginning to wonder how uncouth it would be to go looking for the kitchen, and then, as if summoned, the same young woman from this morning appears, another tray of food in hand. There's also a teapot filled with her favorite tea, a Nevarran specialty she knows Lucanis would have had to specially procure for her. The detail feels a little overwhelming, but the woman seems to accept it as gratitude before leaving her to her reading.

"I wondered when you'd be gracing us with your presence."

Her head snaps up at the familiar crooning voice: Illario.

"Well, I've been a bit busy," she replies with more politeness than she feels.

Illario drops into the chair across from her, all calculated, casual grace. "I thought perhaps there was more to it than that; Lucanis was so touchy every time I brought you up."

"Perhaps he simply didn't want to talk to you."

Illario grins. "Oh, he's been quite clear about that."

"I bet. Now, you don't seem the type to frequent the library, so why don't you tell me why you're here?"

Illario's smile never drops, but he does sigh. "That felt like a dig. I simply came here to see you for myself. You've caused quite the stir already. Lucanis has never brought anyone home for the night before, much less the incomparable Rook."

"He already had my favorite tea on hand. Surely it wasn't that much of a surprise," she says. But yeah, she would have preferred that her first impression was not the naked woman in the First Talon's bed.

He examines his nails. "If you're here to court Caterina's good opinion, I could give you tips on what not to do. I happen to be quite the expert at earning her ire."

She leans forward conspiratorially. "I'll let you in a secret."

Illario grins and sits forward. "I love secrets."

"I don't give a fuck what Caterina thinks."

Only then does some bit of his confident mask drop, even a little bit. He stares at her just a second too long before sitting back in his chair. "Is that so?"

It is. She'll find a way to remain civil for Lucanis's sake, but she's not going to weep when she inevitably dislikes her. She and Lucanis have chosen each other; Caterina's opinion either way means very little. Besides, it hadn't taken much of Lucanis telling Camina about his upbringing for her to decide that she wants nothing to do with the woman. Lucanis says he doesn't resent Caterina, but in her opinion, he should. So she'll just do it for him.

"Yes."

Illario stands then, brushing imaginary lint off the sleeves of his finery. "I can't wait to see how that works out for you."

It feels like a challenge; it feels like a question.

***

Lucanis finds Camina in the library. She's sitting in the chair near the window, a book in her lap, her gaze occasionally wandering to the gardens beyond. To anyone else, she would look perfectly relaxed, but to him, he sees the little spots of tension. She's not entirely comfortable, something weighing on her.

"Rook!" Spite exclaims, already moving toward her as if he could pull Lucanis along.

He exaggerates his footfalls so that she hears him approaching. She glances up at him, face half-bathed in sunlight, the light catching in her hair, making the dark strands glow red and gold. She smiles, and his whole body warms. Maker, he's missed her.

"There's the First Talon," she says, words a soft tease.

He glances around doubtfully before dropping into the chair with her. "Where?"

She rearranges a bit so they can curl around each other, his head tucked under her chin. "How was your day?"

He spent much of his day doing paperwork and meeting with a few of the merchant princes who are concerned about Crossroads access with Viago. "Tedious. Yours?"

"It was nice," she says. Then, carefully adds, "I'm not used to having quite so many people around, though."

"People?"

She sighs. "Servants. Illario implied that I'd…caused a stir."

Oh. He hadn't realized that Camina wouldn't feel comfortable with servants around. It makes perfect sense now. Being watched, someone always a short call away, was a fixture of his childhood. Linked inexorably with the villa, but Camina has never had that.

"They'll gossip with each other, but nothing gets out of the villa. Caterina chooses her staff very carefully," he replies.

"How do you deal with never being alone here?" she asks, voice pitched low.

"There are ways," he says, and he tightens his arms around her. "I'm sorry, I hadn't considered how it might be uncomfortable for you."

"I'm sure I'll get used to it."

"Wait…Illario implied…did he…?" He sits up a bit to look her in the eye.

"Come visit me here in the library? Yeah."

Spite hisses. "Stay away from Rook."

Lucanis manages not to sound too angry. "If he was bothering you, I'll talk to him."

Camina cards a hand through his hair and rolls her eyes. "Relax. He was fine. Besides, if he's living here, I'll run into him plenty. Caterina, too, at some point."

"Speaking of Caterina…" He feels Camina tense a little. "She wants to have dinner with us."

"Tonight?"

He sighs. "Yes."

"And here I thought you had big plans for us this evening."

He had talked about wanting to take her out into Treviso, it's been too long since he's cooked a meal. They were going to go and pick up ingredients, and he was going to dismiss the kitchen staff for the night. He'd wanted it to be a proper evening, just the two of them.

"Tomorrow?"

"We've got time," she replies, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

"I did bring a gift, if that helps matters."

She laughs. "An apology gift?"

He sits up a little, pulling the slender box from one of his pockets. "Just a gift."

She looks down at it in surprise. "Is there some occasion I've missed?"

"Open it," he replies.

She does. Nestled in the black velvet box is a silverite spellblade. He'd commissioned it especially for her, the pommel the skull of a crow, the eye sockets inlaid with two purple sapphires, a nod to the Nevarran practice of jeweled skulls, but the color was chosen selfishly.

Camina runs a hand over it carefully. "It's beautiful."

"I know you prefer your staff, but most Crow mages use spellblades like these to channel their magic since they're less an announcement of their power," he explains. "I thought…perhaps you might find it useful here, and that it would be something of Antiva to take with you when you're not here."

Camina is a powerful mage and a good fighter though it isn't what she originally trained for. She had worked with Neve and Emmrich to improve at the Lighthouse, even sparred with him on occasion, and painstakingly asked him to catalog her weaknesses. But someone is targeting House Dellamorte, and she will not always have her staff beside her. He'd worry about her less if she kept this with her.

"It reminds me of you and Spite," she says with a smile. "Thank you."

His demon perks up at that. "Piece of us."

"I hoped you would like it," he says.

She leans in to press a kiss against his lips. "I love it and you."

He settles back into her arms. "Will you read to me?"

Camina picks back up her nearly forgotten book, an old favorite of hers he notes. And she begins reading, and he can feel Spite settling as well, perching near them both. Two Crows and a Watcher in the library.

***

For once in her life, Camina is actually grateful for the hours and hours of her childhood spent in Watcher etiquiette classes. Lucanis had warned her about the Dellamorte weekly dinner, apparently, it had been something Caterina had insisted on reinstating with his return to Treviso. She'd watched him change into cleanly pressed clothes, cuff buttons and all, and deeply regretted her own lack of wardrobe choices.

She hadn't brought that much with her from the Lighthouse. Mostly because she hadn't planned on attending a fancy dinner with Lucanis's grandmother, but now that she's here, it feels rather obvious. She wishes she'd sent word to Willow to also send some of her other more formal clothing, and not just a gown suitable for Teia's birthday party. Lucanis assures her that she looks beautiful and that it's just a family dinner, but she feels self-conscious anyway.

She waits for one of the servants, a young man who can't be more than twenty, to pull out her chair. She tries not to fidget, but it's hard when Illario watches her with amusement across the table, adjusting the sleeves of his own fine shirt, and she notices Caterina's very expensive-looking ruby necklace and matching earrings. Lucanis sinks down beside her, and as they sit, his hand finds hers beneath the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I hope everything is to your taste, Rook. I did what I could to put together a suitable menu on such short notice. Lucanis failed to inform me of your plans to visit Treviso," Caterina says lightly, almost as if she's not admonishing her grandson.

Camina swallows down what she'd really like to say. "The fault is entirely mine; my arrival was a surprise."

Caterina looks as though she doesn't believe her at all. "Well, that does explain it then. And how did you find the library today?"

Because, of course, the servants in her house would be reporting every single movement. It feels deeply uncomfortable to know that as long as they're in this house, privacy is an illusion. Not running into Caterina today had nothing to do with luck; she'd probably known she was here the moment Lucanis spoke with the servants. She hates it.

She's saved from answering by Lucanis breaking in. "Oh, we know our humble offerings can't compare to the libraries in the Necropolis."

"Not enough corpses?" Illario jokes.

"Not nearly," she replies in mock seriousness.

Caterina's eyes flick between her and Lucanis, and she wonders what she sees, what she's thinking. Her even voice betrays nothing. "I understand you're something of a scholar there. How did you wind up with your current vocation?"

"My dossier didn't say?" she asks with a smile.

Beside her, Lucanis stiffens a bit, but she's pretty sure that Illario is smiling behind his wine glass. Caterina, for her part, doesn't miss a beat. "Well, we do usually let the guests offer up information freely, even when we know all the answers. It's only polite."

"Sounds like a pretty boring dinner party."

Caterina doesn't look particularly amused, but she shrugs a shoulder delicately. "Every now and again, people surprise you."

The rest of the dinner passes largely without incident. Caterina brings up topics, Illario and Lucanis offer a comment or two, or ask a question, and then she moves on to something else. It feels almost automatic, and it strikes her that this is their way. Everything discussed is so surface-level level it could almost be considered small talk. She finds it incredible that they can talk about things for well over an hour and say almost nothing at all.

In fact, she really believes they've all escaped this evening unscathed. After dessert and coffee, a small glass is brought out, garnished with lemon peel. Caterina takes a small sip and then pushes back from the table and stands, and Camina believes that she's managed to somehow survive the evening.

"Rook, would you join me for a turn in the gardens?"

Well, it was a nice thought. Her stomach sinks, but she puts on her most winning smile. "Of course."

Lucanis gives her an apologetic look as she stands, but it's Illario who looks the most delighted. If she wasn't worried that Caterina would see, she'd flip him off. She steels herself with the reminder to be nice, and then follows Caterina out of the dining room and into the warm evening air.

The gardens are vast, and she's pretty sure that Caterina isn't taking her out here to kill her, but still, she's comforted to be carrying the spellblade Lucanis had gifted her. The weight of it hidden against her back is a quiet reassurance.

"I am no fool, Rook," Caterina says as they walk the moonlit gardens. In the darkness, the hedges look more like shadows, and the flowers dying in the last throes of summer are wilted. "I know you do not like me."

Camina sees no reason to lie. "Is this where you tell me you don't like me either?"

She offers an amused huff. "No. I don't dislike you, nor, as you might suppose, do I not approve of you. You are strong and powerful in your own right. Lucanis will need you if he is to be a good First Talon."

It isn't what she expected. At all. "I'm still sensing a but here."

"You should know what it means to become part of our House. I assume Lucanis has told you what happened to his parents?" Caterina asks, coming to a stop and leaning on her cane as she looks at her.

The weight of Caterina's full attention feels reminiscent of her grandson's; they have the same intensity to their observation. "He did. I'm sorry for your loss."

She doesn't have to like Caterina to feel bad that her entire family was slaughtered by a rival House. Lucanis hasn't given her anything but the barest details of it all; he was a baby at the time.

"As the partner of the First Talon, you will always have a target on your back. The same will be true of your children. You have already shown great perseverance. Hold to that; you will need it if you are to survive," Caterina says.

"What if I want to do more than simply survive? What if I want to live?"

Caterina's mouth twists into something sharp. "Then you should leave and never return to Treviso. You have that choice, you are not yet part of our House."

"I find it interesting that you would offer the choice to someone you barely know, but not your own grandsons."

Caterina's hand tightens on her cane, and she leans forward. "They were born into House Dellamorte. Their choices were already made."

"Yes. By you," Camina says. "Where's the fairness in that?"

Caterina surprises her by laughing. "Fair? Oh, the world is not fair. I'd think with your background, you'd understand that better than anyone. Found in the Necropolis, but not kept. An elven mage in the Mourn Watch-"

"But I didn't punish anyone else for it," Camina cuts in.

"Is that what you believe I did? Is that why you hold me in such contempt? You put fifteen of your family members to the pyre in a single night, and then you can speak to me about what was or wasn't necessary. What you wouldn't do to keep history from repeating itself."

It's Camina's turn to laugh as she gestures back to the house. "History did repeat itself, though. Only this time, it wasn't a rival House, but Illario trying to kill Lucanis for a title he doesn't even want. Why name him Talon when you knew that?" The assumption is a gamble, the question impertinent, but Camina finds she cannot help but to ask anyway.

Caterina doesn't look surprised by the question. "Lucanis is an abomination. Illario made sure that every last Crow knew that. Naming him protects him. No one would question if he was still himself if I named him First Talon."

"Even when you yourself weren't sure?" Camina asks, remembering their conversation the day after.

"I believe you made quite the case for Lucanis still being the same man, and you were right. These last weeks with him have shown me that. He will find his footing and do his duty to House Dellamorte. There is no one else."

Camina can see that Caterina believes that. Believes wholely and completely that everything she did was necessary, and as long as her two grandsons remain alive, she will continue to believe that she has won the game. Caterina's family is broken. All over the pursuit of power, to hold onto a title. Camina sees the villa for what it is: a fucking ruin.

"Don't you ever wish there was another way?"

She doesn't expect an answer, and she doesn't get one. Caterina merely turns and walks away, her cane tapping on the stones of the walking path.

Camina turns out toward the sea, toward the water that glitters in the darkness, and she cannot help but feel a little hopeless. She's not sure that any of them can see what she does: that the Crows are at the heart of every Dellamorte tragedy, twined so tightly around each other, that they will never be free.

[dawneternal]

Just a Favor

✦ A Gwynriel first kiss one-shot (turned into multiple parts after requests for more)

✦ Inspired by a true story 🫣 when I started dating my wife in high school I had never been kissed before and she kept very politely asking if she could kiss me and I kept getting too nervous and saying no. That went on for like two months and then I finally told her to kiss me without asking or I'd keep saying no lol and she did. The end

✦ Word Count: 1.7k

✦ AO3 Link / Masterlist

"I have a favor to ask you," Gwyn's voice pulled Azriel from his thoughts.

She sat across from him at the kitchen table, half-eaten plates of lunch in front of them. The Valkyries had stayed for lunch after training, Gwyn lingering after Cassian had left to fly Emerie home. Nesta had excused herself to find a book for Gwyn, leaving the pair alone.

Azriel had not thought anything of this sequence of events, but now that he was looking at the Gwyn, head tilted to the side with an inquisitive gleam in her eye, he was finding it all suspicious.

"It's kind of an unconventional thing, so prepare yourself." Gwyn continued. He took note of her fingers fiddling with a buckle on her leathers.

"Okay," Azriel said slowly, resisting the urge to furrow his brows. Or maybe run away.

"Are you prepared?"

"Yes, I won't react."

"I want to be kissed."

True to his word, Azriel's face remained unchanged. Though his stomach had done a flip and his heartbeat thundered.

"Okay, you can react a little," Gwyn cried, indignant and incredulous.

"Are you asking me to kiss you?" Azriel surprised himself with his own calm tone.

"Either that, or help me find someone. Because I trust you to help me find someone who isn't an asshole." She had shrunk into herself a little, like her confidence had waned. Her gaze drifted down to her plate.

"Why me, though?" The corners of his mouth quirked up just a touch.

"Nesta hates everyone, Emerie only knows Illyrians and they hate Valkyries, Cassian is Cassian, and I'm not asking my High Lord or Lady to find someone to kiss me."

They were all fair arguments. He didn't bother asking why she wanted to be kissed so desperately. All of her actions pointed toward wanting to move on. He'd overheard the Valkyries several times encouraging Gwyn toward what they called 'the last step' - moving out of the library.

"I'll do it," Az said, cursing his voice for cracking. How could she unnerve him so?

She was just a woman. Except that a singular word could not fully capture what Gwyn was. Priestess, Valkyrie, Carynthian, she was something incredible. The most brightly colored thing in his life. Copper hair, turquoise eyes, white ribbons, auburn freckles.

Gwyn cheered and gave him a triumphant, toothy grin. He could not help smiling in return.

"What do you want me to do?" He asked, unsure how to proceed.

"I just want you to kiss me like you would anyone you really liked," Gwyn was blushing, now. Eyes a little wild, like she hadn't expected to get this far.

"That doesn't really tell me what you want," Azriel protested.

He picked at a leftover sliver of sandwich to give his hands something to do. His shadows buzzed with energy, darting to far corners of the room and reporting back about the dust that lived there.

"Well...what was your first kiss like?" Gwyn asked. She smiled at one shadow that approached her outstretched hand like a shy kitten.

"Probably not what you'd want," Azriel flashed a sheepish grin, still embarrassed by the centuries-old memory, "It was pretty bad. This will be your first kiss?"

"Yes," Gwyn kept her gaze on the tendril of shadow weaving through her fingers. "I think maybe I don't want you to ask me first,"

"I always ask before I kiss someone, no matter how I feel about them."

"Well, the problem is that if you ask, I might chicken out and say no," She sighed, "So I may need you to just do it."

"Ah," Azriel grinned, "I see. You want me to make it a moment."

Before she could answer, he stood and crossed to her in a few strides, turning her chair to face him and bracing one hand on the back of it. Gwyn looked up at him, eyes wide, lips parted. He leaned in close, nose a few inches from hers. Somehow, her nervousness had cancelled his out and returned his confidence. At the very least, he knew he was capable of making her first kiss better than his had been.

"I have no qualms with a surprise, if that's what you want." He said, deep voice rumbling in his chest.

"Yes," Gwyn whispered, heart hammering in anticipation.

This close, she could count every freckle scattered over his bronze skin. There was a beauty mark she had never seen before right on the edge of his full bottom lip, and glimmers of gold in his amber eyes. She hoped desperately that he could not hear the catch of her breath.

Azriel stayed still for a moment, gaze fixed on hers, letting her wonder if this was the moment. A part of her hoped that it wasn't, just so she could feel this again, have another chance to memorize his features. To breathe his piney scent, feel his shadows caress her skin.

Perhaps she should have just asked him to help her find a stranger.

Azriel straightened, flashed an insufferable smirk, and walked out of the room. Gwyn heard his footsteps echo down the hall, leaving her alone in the silent kitchen. She felt as though a summer storm had just rolled through her world, dark and alluring and thrilling all at once.

Nesta, with her brilliant intuition, returned a moment later, squealing when she took in Gwyn's red cheeks.

A few nights later, after a family dinner at the River House, a little group set out to the far corner of the estate. There, a little branch of the Sidra curved through the meadow before pouring back into the sea. A small stone bridge crossed over it, leading to an ivy covered gazebo. Azriel, Cassian, Nesta, and Mor all set out to get a moment of fresh air and a glimpse of the moonlight dancing on the water.

Gwyn followed, giggling with the group at Mor's tipsy stumbling and Cassian's booming voice declaring that he could definitely skip a rock father than the rest of them. This, of course, illicited a challenge and they all began a search for perfect rocks. Gwyn was particularly skilled at skipping stones and giddy at the idea of surprising the group with her talent and wiping the smirk from Cassian's face.

But just as she stepped over the little stone bridge, a hand grasped her arm and whirled her around. She found herself in Azriel's arms, among the swaying grass and delicate flowers. They stood halfway down the bank of the stream, Azriel's boots braced against the slope, holding them upright. The mossy stone bridge hid them from sight, only the tops of their heads visible if the rest of the group bothered to look.

It took Gwyn a moment to register what had happened, to calm her heart and adjust to the feeling of the shadowsinger's arms wrapped around her waist. He smiled down at her, moonlight gleaming in his hazel eyes. This was the moment.

Azriel softly placed his hands on her face and pulled her in a little closer. He was silent, giving her long moments to stop him if she wished. But she tucked herself into him, hands resting on his chest, fingertips just brushing the skin above his collar. She blushed deep red, looking up at him through lowered lashes, though the glimmer in her eye was eager.

Azriel could not help but notice how perfectly she fit in his hold, like her face and his hands had once been a single block of marble, the curve between them cut with a single motion. Something about it so familiar, so deeply rooted it felt almost ancient. Sacred.

And Gwyn could not help the feeling that bloomed in her chest when he brought his lips to hers. Soft, sweet, reverant. His touch was warm, every place where they connected sent sparks through her body.

She knew, deep down, was no fleeting feeling. This was the feeling of something beginning. Perhaps this was a spectacularly stupid idea, after all, as she was certain that no other kiss would ever feel this way.

Azriel pulled away, thumb brushing over her cheek. The moment he met her eyes, he felt it. It was nothing like he thought it would be. Neither pain nor pleasure, something so unique there was only one thing that it could be. Gwyn glowed before him, her aura golden. So bright, the star his whole being now orbited.

He knew he looked like a fool. Gasping, chest heaving like her kiss had hurt him. And the concern on her face stung, because it meant she had not felt it, too.

"Azriel?" She whispered, her rose-tinted stupor fading. Azriel let go of her, hands dropping stiffly to his sides. His skin burned, already craving more of her touch.

"How do you feel?" He croaked, though he knew the answer. She did not feel as he did, no matter how much she had liked it.

"Are you okay?" She asked, instead of answering. Her hands still rested against his chest, and now her fingers curled around his shirt collar, holding tight. He looked like he was beginning to panic.

Azriel shook his head, wings spreading out with a snap. It was too much. The sorrow, the longing, the roaring joy. Subtle hints of her own emotions drifting down the newly forged bond.

Mind swirling, he placed a hand on his chest and stepped back. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Just staring at the dazzling girl before him, who had been so shy about being kissed. Surely she would not be happy about such an intense bond, not be ready. And she had asked him for a kiss because she cared so little for him. She had hoped for a kiss that would not matter. No, she would not want this.

He could only think of one word and it was likely the only thing he should not say. Instead of saying anything, he shot upwards into the sky, disappearing as a dark smudge in the night. A single streak of blue in the darkness.

Gwyn was left alone, hands hovering where he had been. Confused, concerned, and entirely unaware of the bond singing in Azriel's chest.

[hotteoki]

pirate king (j.y.h)

pairing: pirate jeong yunho x fem reader

genre: strangers to lovers, alternate dimension, pirate au

wc: 4k

cw: mild language, weaponry

notes: i wrote this with the layout of the ateez ship in mind (the one in the 'illusion' mv but with blond yunho cause he 4+4 the halloween ver of deja vu

xtra - tysm @woosluv & @ssaboala for beta reading for me! <33

"all eyes on me now! if you still doubt mine, it's too pointless. we're still young and wild, we gonna find new world to be mine!" yunho's fingers moved along the quote carved into the compass he's had since who knows how long.

yunho's head was lifted up forcefully by hongjoong's pointing stick poking his forehead. "you're going to get lost later on the island if you don't listen to me right now," hongjoong tilted his head, stepping back to the blackboard. "captain, i mean this in the nicest way possible, we've been over this, like, six times in the span of a week. we'll be fine," yeosang called from across the room as he tapped his telescope against his other palm, still dodging wooyoung's outstretched arms every now and then.

"you all say this but i know one of you is going to get into some shit and i'm going to have to be the one to clean it up," hongjoong sighed, dropping his pointer onto the ground lazily, "okay, come on, let's get off the ship. remember the plan, and wooyoung, stop trying to kiss yeosang's face. you can do that when we come back."

yunho kicked the ladder down onto the dock, stepping off the ship first. the crew split up, him going into the left path trailing into the cave. they all knew exactly what they were looking for, and the lengths each and every one of them were willing to take to get it.

it was peaceful until a rustle attracted his attention. yunho paused, pretending to re-lace his shoes, his eyes darting to his left, the direction where the sound had come from. when it was calm for the following minute, yunho slowly stood to continue his journey, putting on an oblivious façade, his hand subtly inching for his sheathed cutlass with every step.

yunho wasn't stupid. he's had enough experience to know not to doubt his senses at any cost. true to him, the snapping of a branch immediately heightened his senses. he swiftly cut through the thick, tall grass, eyes meeting with ones belonging to an innocent doe.

as the doe ran off, yunho only noted then how it was running along the path he was on. the cogs in his head whirred in confusion as he wondered why a deer wouldn't run away from a potential predator, rather in the same direction as him. that thought never escaped as he trudged on, praying the cave he was walking towards would appear before him faster.

and lo and behold, there it was.

if yunho hadn't been looking for it specifically he would've missed it entirely. it blended in perfectly with the shadows of the swaying trees, outgrown weeds guarding the entrance, vines crawling around, all leading straight into the depths of the cave.

peeking into the darkness, he checked every corner, sharp eyes darting here and there. finally, they landed on an unusual glimmering spot. yunho stepped closer, cautious of the fact he was now exposed to any potential predators hiding deep in the cave.

he was about a meter away from the shining rock when he realised it wasn’t a rock at all. it was an hourglass etched into the cave walls, almost like the cave was built around it over the years. he breathed out a light sigh of relief upon feeling the grooves of the rock nearby. it wasn’t etched in that deep. he could easily pull it out with a bit of help.

he allowed himself a few more minutes of admiring the hourglass. the cromer, its name was. an hourglass with the ability to lead them to an alternate dimension, where they could escape this timeline that caused each and every one of them so much pain and loss.

after stealing books from other pirates, following leads from old legends, tracking down their ancestors' footsteps, seonghwa had finally found a map hidden deep in the journals of an unknown pirate, their initials and writings long faded within the centuries. the joy the crew had felt when they located the hourglass after years was a night yunho could not forget.

just as he was about to turn back and find his crewmates, yunho was greeted with the sight of the very doe blocking his exit. when it was made clear that the doe had no intentions of moving at all, yunho unsheathed his cutlass. this was no ordinary animal.

his theory was proved right when a gust of wind blew against his face. removing his hand from his face and opening his eyes, he tried to conceal his shock. where the doe had stood before was a girl about his age.

“you’re a shapeshifter.” you raised your eyebrows at his statement, “obviously.” “i thought they didn’t exist anymore after hunters hunted them down ages ago,” yunho still had his cutlass held in front of him, wary of this new stranger. “yeah, i know. that was centuries ago. there’re still a few of us left, but most of us don’t want to be found.” “you’re not one of them, though,” yunho pointed out.

“and with good reason,” you stepped closer as yunho stepped back. sighing, you held up your hands in surrender, “do i look like i’m going to attack you or something?” “you can never be too careful,” he shrugged.

“i’ll tell you an easier way of getting that hourglass without taking this cave down.” yunho’s arm faltered, “what do you mean?” “this entire island relies on the life within the roots, the air, the animals, you know, all that shit. you break this cave the entire island goes down with it. you and your crew would never make it out alive.”

he swallowed. he wasn’t sure if you could be trusted. shapeshifters were known to be tricksters, always up to no good. what if you were playing with him and he could’ve saved precious time taking the hourglass instead of talking to you? after meeting your impatient eyes, he finally decided to play it safe.

“what do you want in return?” “get me off this island,” you replied instantly. the lack of hesitation in your voice made yunho believe you’ve had thought about this for a long, long time. he sucked in a breath through his gritted teeth. the crew couldn’t just find an extra person for charity. they were already rationing their supplies amongst themselves, adding another person might as well be a goodbye to their albeit uncomfortable but familiar living.

“take me with you or no hourglass. your choice,” you crossed your arms, tone firm. yunho swallowed again, putting his cutlass away and rubbing a hand on his face, “you’ll have to talk to the captain.” “fine, then take me to him.” “you can’t just-” yunho wanted to scream. despite being a pirate since birth, he’d never experienced a situation like this, and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do.

“you know what? fine, let’s go find him,” yunho pursed his lips. he knew for a fact hongjoong would never agree, but how else were they supposed to get the hourglass? it wasn’t like they could just bow their heads and march back onto the ship and off.

reminding himself of the crudely drawn map in their meeting room, yunho walked for what felt like hours with the intensity of your glare burning the back of his head. he thought he could drop onto his knees and thank the heavens the second he saw the familiar back of hongjoong.

hongjoong darted up at the sound of foreign footsteps, swinging his pistol at your face out of instinct. “she wants to speak to you,” yunho deadpanned, annoyed at the situation he was currently in. hongjoong lowered his pistol slightly, aiming at your chest now, “what do you want?” “i’ll talk when you get this pistol out of my face,” you frowned.

“i’m the one with the upper hand here, you really shouldn’t be making demands.” “considering i’m one of the remaining residents of this island who knows what you’re looking for and how to get it without dying, i don’t think you are.” hongjoong made a face, “and how do i know you’re telling the truth?” “you pirates. always so nervous about everything you see,” you paused, “i want to get off this island, you can help with that, and in return i’ll give you the hourglass.”

yunho looked for a reaction from hongjoong. when he was met with none, yunho was almost disappointed over the fact that his captain was considering his answer. “okay then,” hongjoong put his pistol away, “lead the way.” yunho felt his cheeks flushing at your cheeky smile. sure, he disliked you and your cocky attitude, but he wasn’t blind. anyone could tell you were gorgeous.

“i told you guys one of you was going to get into some shit. now look who’s cleaning it up?”

≡☆

it took a while for the entire crew to be gathered in the tiny cave the cromer rested in, all squished together to get a look at the hourglass while poor mingi stood on his tiptoes at the mouth of the cave. yunho watched in awe as you lifted your hands up, determined to keep his eyes open, only to be slapped with another aggressive gust of wind blowing in his face again.

he blinked cautiously, not realising his eyes had shut involuntarily. yunho vaguely felt his breath hitching at the infamous hourglass held in your hands. the gentle glow of each individual grain amongst the heaps of sand shimmered, tugging on his attention, while contrasting with the simple and plain metal supporting the phials.

“so?” you shifted your weight, waiting for something to happen.

and something happened indeed.

one look from hongjoong was all the crew needed as san shoved you to the ground, with seonghwa snatching the cromer from your grip and tossing it to jongho, the rest sprinting back to their ship. yunho followed his crewmates swiftly, but not before throwing his head back and yelling a quick “sorry!”

in his defense, he was sorry. just not sorry enough to feel guilty about it.

he nearly crashed straight into wooyoung’s back as he skidded to a sudden halt, confused as to why they stopped. sitting on the edge of the ship, legs swinging with an unamused expression, was you. but how…

“you really think you can outrun a doe? how self-centered.” hongjoong stared right back at you, irritated, “you can’t come with us.” “then i’ll take that back.” “i’d like to see you try,” he retorted, pistol now in hand again, “you can outrun me but can you outrun a bullet aiming straight for your head?” you huffed, “i’m not asking you to adopt me or anything, i just need you to drop me off at the nearest island.”

“bullshit. you’re saying you want to go from one island to another?” jongho scoffed from beside wooyoung. “i can’t leave this place without company. please just-” you sighed, and yunho could tell you felt defeated, “please just take me with you.” if he didn’t feel guilty enough, he definitely felt bad now. “cap, maybe we should take her.”

hongjoong gave him an odd look, clearly bewildered, “you were the one who insisted on leaving her.” “yeah well, i kinda feel bad for her now. she’ll stay with us for a few days maximum then we’ll just drop her off somewhere,” yunho briefly glanced at you, lowering his voice now, “i mean, maybe she really can’t leave. what, are we just going to dump her here?”

“i say we make her a deal,” yeosang chimed in, “she can live with us until we locate a nearby island, but if we arrive and it ends up being a bad one, she can’t argue and climb back aboard.” hongjoong nodded approvingly, “yeah, that sounds good.”

yunho watched as your face lit up when he repeated their deal to you. he silently swore to himself to always bring happiness to you during your stay if it meant he could catch a glimpse of your endearing smile again.

≡☆

yunho had volunteered to wrap up the cut on your arm you earned from san’s shove, despite seonghwa usually being the one to tend to the crew’s injuries. he led you down the stairs and to the medical room (which, really, was just their meeting room with a medical kit placed on the table), kicking away scraps of used bandages to the corner, praying you didn’t see them.

as he sat you down opposite him and began prepping the bandages, he began to wonder about you. where were your parents? how did you manage to come onto the island? why did you not have friends? what-

“you look like you have questions.” his gaze snapped up from your arm to your eyes, “no i- well, yeah, kind of.” you laughed lightly, “it’s okay, i get it. i’d be confused too.” yunho hoped you took the redness tainting his cheeks as embarrassment from being caught rather than his giddiness from your laugh. he motioned for you as he got started on wrapping your arm.

“i used to live on a different island, where my parents were. i met this guy, chan, and after being friends with him for a year or so, he offered to take me on a trip with his seven friends. i agreed. i honestly don’t know why i did. it was a spur of the moment thing. i followed him to the docks, where his ship was. turns out he’s a pirate and he’s the captain, much like your crew, actually.

“they said they wanted to go find some ‘treasures’, i just assumed they were joking around. they said they wanted to find an hourglass, i think one of the crew, hyunbin or whatever, said it belonged to his father. i remembered having heard some legends about it, and offered to lead the way. we searched for months, and finally found it on this island.

“when we arrived, they began arguing over who got to have it; they all had a different timeline in mind. someone wanted to go find their dead parents, someone wanted to rescue their girlfriend, it was- it was a lot,” you closed your eyes, throwing your head back, “we weren’t even from this timeline, for fuck’s sake! they fucked with the cromer as soon as they got their grubby hands on it, knowing damn well it was a full moon! i don’t even know what happened, to be honest, either that, or i can’t remember. it doesn’t matter. i don’t want to anyway.

“i think it’s something to do with the stupid hourglass. my theory is it passes down ownership to whomever it deems worthy to hold it, eliminating the past owners. that’s how i ended up alone. i tell myself they each left one by one, but it still bothers me how cursed magic like that exists. i don’t know, the whole thing’s really messed up. i guess being the holder gives you power to hide or expose it to others, because, well, as you saw, i could play around with its surroundings.” yunho hummed, taking in all the information.

he tightened the knot on your bandage, breathing out through his nose and rocking on his chair, “well, now that i know a lot about you, ask me anything you want.” “anything?” you lifted your head up again, eyes wide. yunho smiled, “yeah.” you leaned forward, head resting against your palms, “how are you so cute?”

yunho began spluttering, rocking a bit too far back on his chair, nearly falling over until you grabbed his hand, laughing at his reaction. as soon as he steadied himself, he yanked his hand away, feeling like his entire skin was on fire. you had a proud grin on your face, “i’m playing with you. though, really, you are cute.” he was genuinely convinced right then and there that you were the human form of heaven itself with the way his heart was palpitating.

the only dilemma yunho was having with himself was the fact that you couldn’t stay with them.

he liked to think that you shared the same thought as him.

≡☆

somehow, hours later, yunho found himself next to you on the beach, admiring the sunset from afar. “i haven’t had company in ages,” you commented, “it’s nice. especially since it’s you.” yunho had really wanted to kick his feet and giggle over your bold words, but he opted for a light chuckle.

“do you ever miss your old timeline? or dimension, or however you say it,” he regretted his words instantly at the sad look on your face. “all the time. i had a boyfriend, you know? he tried to stop me from going. i ignored him out of spite because of the amount of arguments we got into before i left. they were mostly to do with chan, he never trusted him, and neither should i have.”

yunho ignored the new, strange sense of jealousy he was feeling, and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, “you wouldn’t have known.” you only gave a weak smile in response. “so tell me about your boyfriend.” you stiffened up slightly before relaxing again. if yunho wasn’t staring at you, he would’ve missed it entirely.

“well, he was the sweetest guy i’ve ever met. people compared him to a puppy all the time because of his energy,” you hesitated, “he had dyed blond-ish hair, a cute smile, a great sense of humour. he was tall, and was really popular. he always knew just how to cheer me up when i was down. he was considerate, caring, kind, he was everything.” yunho felt himself slowly getting upset. how could he ever compare to him? he sounded perfect.

“jealous?” you teased, nudging him. “not at all,” yunho rolled his eyes, playing with his compass again. he watched your eyes lower onto the very object, a soft look in them. “of course you still have it,” you murmured. “what?” yunho furrowed his brows. had he heard correctly? “it’s nothing.”

≡☆

nighttime rolled around and eventually all of them gathered around; yunho had found himself subconsciously scooting closer to you, landing himself a knowing look from mingi.

while your eyes connected with the flames yeosang started minutes ago, yunho couldn’t help but admire every inch of your carefully sculpted face. it was funny, wasn’t it? how he, at first, hated your overconfident demeanour, your demanding character, your addictive voice, your adorable laugh… huh. maybe he’d never hated you.

“so are you guys going to hide it now that you have to wait to use it?” you tilted your head curiously, and yunho wanted to choke a fistful of sand down his throat to contain the squeals that were threatening to bubble up with how absolutely beautiful you were. he shrugged, “most likely.” “the full moon’s in three days. where would you hiding it for three days?” “up san’s ass,” wooyoung laughed, before getting smacked by san.

yunho couldn’t bring himself to laugh at wooyoung’s immature joke. not when he now knew that he never had a chance with you to begin with.

but hearing your contagious laughter made him think of how lucky he was to have met you at all.

≡☆

“i know you, yunho, and i know you like her-” “like is an exaggeration.” seonghwa rolled his eyes, “just listen to me. she’s not going to be staying with us for long, and if you keep giving yourself a chance to get to know her, you’ll end up getting heartbroken.” “but isn’t that the point? maybe, when we use the cromer and get to a different dimension, maybe we can be together there…” he trailed off at how ridiculous he sounded. “that’s not how it works, and you know it,” seonghwa’s tone was now stern, almost to the point of telling yunho off.

“she clearly likes me too, can’t we at least enjoy the little amount of time we have together?” mingi tossed an arm around yunho from behind, “i say go for it.” “of course you’d say that,” seonghwa tsked, before continuing, “i’m asking you, as part of your crew, and your friend, to think this through.” “i am thinking this through!” yunho insisted, “i’d rather go through a heavy heartbreak than leave her with a bunch of ‘what if’s. i really do like her, seong-”

“no, you’re thinking this with your plan of finding her in a different timeline. yunho, you can’t do that. do you know how risky that is? ignoring the fact how we’ve only known her for a day too!” “of course i know,” he hissed, “but i don’t care how risky it is. i’m doing it.” “love at first sight, some might say,” mingi patted yunho’s shoulder. “oh, don’t get him started on love now,” seonghwa groaned. “love is a stretch, but i definitely find her interesting enough to want to be with her.” “just say you like her, yunho. everyone and their mothers can hear your giggles at night in your room,” hongjoong teased.

yunho’s face flushed, “i don’t giggle!” with that, he left the tiny crowd and stormed off to the meeting room. to his surprise, you were sitting at his regular seat, examining his compass. he left it there?

“so you want to be with me?” you raised an eyebrow, running a thumb over the quote the same way yunho does. “what- no?” yunho scoffed, taking a seat beside you. “i heard you guys. you get loud when you’re defensive. it’s okay, it’s cute.” yunho was at a loss for words. grasping for straws to change the topic, he gestured to the compass, “why did you say something like ‘i still have it’?”

you grew silent, and yunho thought you hadn’t heard him. he was about to repeat his question when you opened your mouth to answer, “i knew you, jeong yunho.” he flinched at the full name coming out of your mouth, “how…” “in my timeline. i knew you.”

you had the same stiff posture as you did on the beach, and yunho recalled what you were talking about during that time, “your boyfriend…” “yeah.” suddenly it all made sense. the dyed blond hair, the puppy personality, tall… yunho had heard every single one of them.

“we were together?” his voice was barely above a whisper. you nodded sadly, a bittersweet smile plastered, “i never got to say sorry for not believing you.” “well, at least i got an apology now,” he wrapped his hand around yours, the compass in between your interlocked fingers, and the cromer, your chance of a new happily ever after, placed on the table just centimetres away.

networks - @kflixnet k-labels kbookshelf neverendingdreams-net straykidsland @k-films

[kitty-is-writing]

Dragon's Teeth snippet

sharing a bit of my new book, Dragon's Teeth! if you like what you read here, you can grab a copy of the book on Kobo, Google Play, Amazon or my Ko-fi shop!

The floating dummy hovered midway down the garden, its button eyes staring in a way that made Enkarini a little nervous. “What do I do?” She looked sideways to Ustin, hoping for some clear instructions.

“I just want to see how you naturally use your ability. Do whatever feels right to you, and we’ll go from there.”

She took a deep breath, looked back at the dummy and tried to remember what she’d been taught so far. She hadn’t used her magic since the dragon attacks back home, and something within her seemed to be holding back. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t forget the feeling of being taken over, when the dark cloud she’d always thought of as protective had pulled itself into her, building on itself to become something overwhelming, powerful enough to defeat three rampaging dragons and totally out of her control. She missed being able to just call it up, mess with it a little, maybe make different shapes with it, and let it fade. Maybe if she just relaxed and thought about how fun it had been when she first started learning, she could use it without losing control again.

She let out her breath slowly, called up her cloud and tried to make it into a ball shape, which she intended to bounce off the dummy’s head. The ball formed just fine, but as she sent it away from herself the shape began to flicker slightly. Panic crept in, and she tightened her grip on the shadow ball. She felt it strain against the binds she was trying to put on it, and it exploded into a mass of writhing tendrils that rapidly spread across the garden. She yelped, desperately trying to bring it back under control, but the harder she tried to hold onto it the more it wriggled away.

“Calm down!” Ustin barked. She turned towards him, to see him standing firmly, arms outstretched and gently gathering in the stray wisps of shadow. “Panicking will only make this worse. I’ve got it, you need to let go and calm yourself.”

With a considerable effort, Enkarini released all the magic she had pulled up and tried to settle herself down. As her breathing and heartbeat slowly returned to normal, she watched Ustin rein in her uncontrolled burst with efficient skill. When all the extended bits were gathered back into a rough ball shape, he lowered it to the ground and gradually allowed it to dissipate into faint wisps of smoke, which blew away in the wind. “Sorry,” she said in a very small voice.

Ustin looked at her, his head slightly tilted. “You had much better control before, when you first opened the gateway. Something happened that made you a little uneasy, uncomfortable with using your magic.”

Before she knew it, the entire story poured out of her; how her home town Tewen had been attacked during the midsummer festival and how she’d got lost in the mayhem; her desperate call to Maldor for help, trying to find her father; finally managing to reach him only to see him die saving her; how her magic had reacted and spiralled out of her control, leaving her exhausted, confused and unsure how much of the damage her own outburst had caused. Even the confrontation with Aila and her mob in the aftermath, and the accusations of using dark magic that had been thrown at her by the superstitious over the last couple of years.

There were a few moments of silence before Ustin spoke again. “I can see how that would unsettle you. That inner turmoil is likely affecting your magic, too.” He led her back towards the house and sat her down in one of the weathered garden chairs on the back porch. “Shadow magic is closely connected to the wielder’s spirit, more so than most other types. It means any emotional disturbance will have some impact on your casting. It also means that your magic will reject any use outside of your own nature – the fact that you’re so concerned about being evil tells me you have a kind heart, and the shadow magic will pick up on that. It won’t allow you to use it for cruel or harmful things, because those things aren’t in your nature.”

She drank in the reassuring words, longing to believe them and let go of her fears and doubts, but years of sermons and temple-influenced gossip stood in her way. She’d always been told that magic was good when it came from intense focus, concentration and effort, but her dark, uncontrollable bursts were something else, something wild and dangerous. She had to make it obey her, otherwise someone might get hurt. She still wasn’t entirely convinced that her father’s death hadn’t been her fault, and would never be able to forgive herself if one of her friends was caught up in another violent eruption of shadow magic.

taglist: @write-with-will @eli-t-spoon

[life-at-hogwarts]

In the Shadow of Love (Ominis x GN!reader)

Pairing: Ominis x GN!reader

Warning: pure fluff

Wordcount: 1.7k

Summary: You decide to finally take the next step and ask Ominis for a date.

A/n: This once I'll let them be happy. No trauma. Just fluff.

Had this chapter lying around finished for a couple of months and for some reason never thought it was ready to be published. Now I thought I'll just put it out anyway.

(This is part four of Dark Legacy - House of Gaunt but can be read as a oneshot)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

The library was filled with the sounds of quills scratching on parchment and rustling pages. It was late afternoon and soft golden light trickled through the tall windows when you made your way to one of the desks in the corner, where Ominis was fast asleep. His face rested on the book he had been reading, with one arm covering his eyes, while the other one was outstretched, still holding on to his wand. You dropped your books on the table with a loud bang, causing him to shoot up from his book. “Studying hard, eh?” you teased and sat down opposite him. Ominis yawned and rubbed his eyes. “I was taking a break. My eyes get tired when I have to concentrate for an extended period of time.” There was an awkward pause and you quickly opened one of your books to diffuse the tension. This was the first time the two of you were alone since you had returned from the Gaunt estate late last night. Sebastian had come back from Feldcroft in the morning, just in time for breakfast. The three of you had had a busy day, and now it was time to catch up with the classwork you had missed while you were gone.

“Where’s Sebastian?” you asked, searching the room for the freckled brunette.

“He’s not coming. I think he’s in the Undercroft researching Slytherin’s spell book,” Ominis murmured, unable to hide the concern in his voice. You knew how he felt about Sebastian’s research and thought about Anne’s warning. Still, you felt torn, not wanting to take away his hope. If anyone could find a cure for Anne, it would be Sebastian. You had seen how much it pained him to see his twin suffer – he needed her. Instead of answering you got out your quill and quietly started working.

 You had been working in silence for about half an hour when Ominis sighed deeply and put away his spelled quill. “How could we have missed this much in just one day? I swear Sharp is doing this to punish us because he couldn’t the other day when he caught us in the common room.”

You closed your book too, deciding to finish the rest some other time and asked, “Have you ever been to the Underground Harbor?”

“Hmm I think so? I guess in my first year they took us somewhere by boat, but I can’t quite remember.”

“It’s by the Viaduct courtyard. I’ve discovered it on one of my nightly prowls around the castle. I don’t think people really go there, but it’s beautiful, really.” You took a deep breath. “Do you want to join me tonight?”

A cheeky smile spread across Ominis’ face. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“Well, I suppose you could call it that. It’s time we had a proper date don’t you think? Don’t get me wrong I didn’t mind our night in the common room and back at your house, but it does not really qualify as courting, does it?” No one was more surprised by the sudden burst of confidence and cockiness than you were. Immediately after the words had left your mouth you started blushing, but Ominis’ smile only widened. “In that case, I would love to go on a date with you.”

-----------

Your heart was pounding when you snuck out of your common room and made your way to the dungeons to pick up Ominis. Usually, he had no problem navigating around the castle, but he wasn’t exactly stealthy, and you didn’t want him to get caught on the way to your first date. The tall blonde was already waiting in front of the Slytherin common room. “No need to be nervous, darling. I could hear your heart beating from the other corridor,” he chuckled and brushed a lose strand of hair from your face. The sound of his voice calmed you and made your stomach flutter at the same time.

The Viaduct courtyard was on the other end of the castle, but to your luck you reached it without running into anyone, thanks to your excellent knowledge of the castle’s secret passages and corridors. Even though these nightly excursions were almost part of your daily routine by now, you still felt the adrenaline coursing through your veins when the doors of the ornate elevator closed behind the two of you. “Now I know why Sebastian is so fond of you. Based on the ease you navigate around with without getting caught I reckon you do this quite a lot. You must break even more school rules than he does.” The elevator rumbled and you moved closer to Ominis. “This is worth breaking a few rules for.”

You followed Ominis into the dimly lit room giving him a moment to take it all in, before you headed towards the docks. The blind boy walked behind you, carefully putting one foot in front of the other.

“Why did you pick this location?” he asked when you climbed into one of the rowboats and offered him your hand.

“It’s my favorite place here in Hogwarts. Whenever I need a minute of peace and quiet, I come here and sit on the docks. I thought you might like it too,” you answered while you waited for him to sit down. He seemed a bit uncomfortable, and you wondered if this had been a bad idea.

“I find the sound of the water quite calming, and I like the fresh smell of the lake,” he assured you and you could feel him slowly starting to relax next to you. Moonlight fell through the vines of the lake entrance and made Ominis’ eyes glow like pure silver. You swallowed loudly, your mouth feeling dry all of a sudden. Merlin, how you longed to finally feel his lips on yours again. He lifted his long slender fingers to your face, and you shuddered under his touch, raising your head in anticipation but the kiss didn’t come. “Tell me something about you no one knows,” Ominis demanded instead. “You’ve seen so much of my life, yet I barely know anything about yours.”

“It’s not that interesting, really,” you breathed, his sweet scent driving you insane. The blonde pulled his hand away and left you starving for his touch. You hated the effect he had on you. You weren’t usually this needy. All of a sudden, he cupped your face in his hands roughly and pressed his lips onto yours. “Believe me I want nothing more than do this all night. But I also want to show you that my attraction to you is more than merely physical. Even a blind man can tell you’re beautiful. I want to see the parts of you you don’t show anyone else.”

Hours passed in effortless conversation, and you only realized how long you had been talking when the moonlight, that had been seeping through the vines of the overgrown entrance, slowly faded. Ominis too noticed the subtle change of lighting. “Let’s watch the sunrise,” he murmured sleepily and reached for his wand. He navigated the boat safely out of the cave, stopped in the middle of the lake and raised his head to the sky which had started to change from a blueish grey into a soft orange as the sun was slowly creeping up behind the mountaintops.

An idea started to form in your head, and you gave Ominis a mischievous smile. “Do you trust me?” Before he could answer you had already summoned your broom which quickly made its way into your outstretched hand.  Ignoring Ominis’ confused expression, you mounted your broom and waited for him to climb up behind you. Knowing full well how much Ominis disliked flying you took off very gently, enjoying the warmth of his body pressed against yours, his hands resting on your waist. You flew a few slow circles around the lake to make sure he was comfortable before speeding up and flying close to the water that was glowing with the light of the sunrise.

Ominis let out a surprised laugh and you turned around to see his flushed face smiling back at you. This only fueled you on more, making you push your broom to its limits, shooting up into the sky and circling the towers of Hogwarts with delicate maneuvers until you felt Ominis anxiously digging his fingers into your hips. The sun had fully risen when you headed back to the lake and manage to land in the boat. Even though you tried your best to make the landing as gentle as possible the small rowboat shook violently, causing you to topple over taking Ominis with you. You gasped when his weight forced the air out of your lungs for a moment. The next thing you knew his lips were pressed firmly onto yours, once again taking your breath away. He stopped for a moment to let you catch your breath, but you quickly pulled him back down again. He took his time, planting gentle kisses all over your face and neck, driving you wild before giving you another taste.

“Well, that was quite the date. I am going to have to try hard to give you an even better one,” Ominis mumbled breathlessly as he untangled himself from you.

“I’d like to see you try,” you grinned, feeling quite pleased with yourself.

“I take that as a challenge. I for one would love to finally have a date during the day. As much as I love spending every night with you it’s quite exhausting and I already have a tendency to fall asleep during class, so this is not going to bode well for me.”

“You’d love to spend every night with me? Is that a promise?” you asked jokingly. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Ominis grinned and placed another quick kiss on your lips.

[istherewifiinhell]

okay. heres what were all here for. tell me why the fuck im supposed to suck the dick of these uk comics

[ID: A man holding up an aged looking paper, with a medieval style drawing of a giant metal fire breathing man. He leans forward serious asking his son "... Did it look like this?" END]

marveltf story line, MAN OF IRON, 9-12 in the UK, or.... 33-34 in the us. alright lol do whatever i guess. first published in 1985

new vibe same procedure: Script: Steve Parkouse art: John Ridgeway (9-10) Mike Collins (11-12) Colours: Joise Fermin (9-10) Gina Hart (11-12) Nel Yomtov (US)* Letters: Richard Starkings Editor: Sheila Cranna and these caps are from the UK classics idw book so: Original Series Edits by Shelia Cranna and Ian Rimmer, editorial notes and assistance by James Roberts, Collection Edits by Justin Eisinger and Alonzo Simon, Collection Design by Shawn Lee (<- hey i know his work from turtles!)

*so the uk comics were part in colour and part B&W, to save costs... including the american reissues? printing costs i guess. but when reprinted in collected books, they would get the full colour treatment. whats not clear to me is WHO did those colours, its not listed anywhere i can find. ill simply have to assume its the same artists... and hope im not discrediting anyone....

AND ALSO the last page in this reprint apparently uses the US comic page, and i have a cap of that last page, so. Yomtov's in here too..... tf franchise the way u treat ur sacred texts breaks my turtles fan heart.

and lastly! the keen eyed may notice, we are back to toy accurate art, the character model designs haven't and wont make their way over until much later, I'm told.

well with all that perfectly convoluted business out of the way, lets explore what tfs is like across the pond.

[ID: The same man, Roy, driving as he thinks to himself "What kind of bozo would want to bomb the castle? The Saxon Liberation Front? The mind boggles…" END]

[spluttering laugh] so the humours a little different!

[ID: The boy, Sammy, climbing a tree, hand outstretched reaching for the arrow he lost. Standing, with his in the canopy is Jazz. Sammy yells in fear. END]

OKAY. so the vibes are little different

[ID: Caption Box: And the apparition was fearful, being a Man of Iron of great height and girth, seeming unheedful of quarrel, spear or sword…" The robot from the illustration, clearly transformer, but blockier, more retro scifi, standing in the middle of a medieval battle, men with chain-mail and swords looking at him with trepidation. Caption Box: The Man of Iron forded the stream at Eldric's Cross, making great strides for the abbey… and some brave souls followed, though none dared come too close…" Two of the fighters shown following him, a body shot with an arrow lays at the other side of the river. END]

damn okay. so the vibes are ALOT DIFFERENT

(no 10) sammy dreams

[ID: Sammy stands on a house rooftop, in his PJ's, looking down at the cobble street, where a seeker in alt mode rests. END]

[ID: Dark and moody art, a barely seen figure towers in the shadows over the residential houses. From a higher angle, its shown to be Mirage, he stands taking up the entire street, backlit and casting shadows. END]

WHAT THE FUCK. that is terrifying

(something about beautiful black inked art + toy model makes them so CREATURE)

[ID: Roy speaks to a man in army uniform. Roy: How large? Soldier: Well… ahh…at a rough estimate? About the size of an ocean-going liner. Roy: Whaat? Roy with a hand to his head in dismay: Well, for god's sake what is it? Solider: We don't know. I've called in extra men and we're going to excavate… END]

somethings! buried under the castle... gee well one wonders what it might be

[ID: Close on Jazz's alt mode dashboard, its filled with lights and screen of alien language. Hes saying: But I'm not a stranger, Sammy. Deep down, you know… don't you? You've been wanting an adventure all your life… Besides. I have something to tell you. Sammy looking doubtful. Jazz continues: Something really important. Sammy has a hand on Jazz's open door: Why not just sit for a while in the front seat? Just pretend you're driving… END]

JAZZ THATS KIDNAPPING BUD....

really get a kick outta this note in the printed version

[ID: REMEMBER: NEVER ACCEPT LIFTS FROM STRANGERS! TO BE CONTINUED! END]

(no 11)

[ID: Jazz speaks to Sammy on the road, a blue and white F1 car pulling up. "My name is unpronounceable in your language… so just call me Jazz! And that's Mirage right behind us!" Jazz takes a exit to a low road, a black camper truck driving alongside. "This is where we rendezvous with Trailbreaker. All set Sammy?" All three driving along, Sammy responds "Sure thing Jazz!" END]

[guitar riff] THE BOYS ARE BACK IN TOWN. im so glad all my good friends are here.

[ID: An fiery explosion engulfing Trailbreaker with a "Whaamf!". Wheels coming off, glass shattering, the truck top blowing to bits. Trailbreaker veering off road, a trail of fire and parts behind him calls out "Jazz! I'm hit... I'm hit BAD! END]

TRAILBREAKER NOOOO. who could have seen this coming...

[ID: Jazz narrowing swerving a missile. Exploding behind him, and speedlines trail him, and a wreath in flame around him. The colours are almost delicate, and a reflective glow in his paint. END]

wha. this just looks so cool.... what the hell....

[ID: Bluesteak, smiling speaking to comms "Autobot Bluestreak to patrol leader +++ Just brushed something off your tail, Jazz+++ try to be more careful in future, hmmm? Bluestreak out+" END]

being a cunt in the work slack. king

[ID: Jazz in profile, lit under the starry night sky, soft line-less colours defining the planes of his head in blue greys, and pitch black. To Sammy he says "Not really. It's a shuttlecraft… now stand back…" To comms "Autobot Jazz To Autobot leader+++ Approaching shuttle with Surveillance Subject+++ Request permission to board+++" END]

Wuh. Huh. Jazz u look so fucking cool right now?? And handsome.....

okay whats going on back at the castle (no 12)

[ID: The army soldier half sitting on a desk, holding a phone to his ear, the rotary cradle held resting on his leg. He's saying "IT's not just a question of scale, sir. We simply cannot identify it. END]

whys he kinda... apparently this style of uniform is called temperate barrack dress?? that answers none of my questions im just kinda... whyd u draw him like that tho...

[ID: A seeker, drawn in blues, walking between the ruins of the castle. Off panel someone says "It just seemed to appear from nowhere!" END]

bigfooting it up... AT A CASTLE. oh lads. im done for [blah blah he telePORTS and thats skywarps power but hes blue so WHO is it. dont worry abt it man. dont matter. they apparently change in the various times its been coloured, which is objectively funny imho. keep em guessing]

[ID: Moody and still illustrations of a robot identical to the Man of Iron in stasis, plugged into a bed of sorts. The ship around him is dark but for strips of coloured computer like lights in the walls and floor. Caption boxes narrate: Deep beneath the Autobots feet, in a sealed chamber, a special Autobot lay waiting… He was navigator, warrior and guardian of Autobot destiny… In his long, slow, machine world, a million years were as fleeting seconds. Human history had passed over him. Small inter panels. Mid on the Guardian: Locked in his dormant brain was the location of the planet Cybertron. He waited only to be re-activated, re-integrated with his mission… Restored to life. Close on the Guardian: His attendant was no more, the link between them severed. Laying in profile, just barely defined in the pitch black: Alone in the darkness he patiently beamed his signal. The same pattern of impulses… Waiting. END]

What the actual fuck (its even more somberly dramatic than just that)

[ID: Sammy, from a distance, staring at the castle. Caption Box: Autumn came, leaves fell. Sammy was a year older and a year wiser. He never saw Jazz again… Sammy asleep in bed, moonlight pouring through his paneled window. "But on clear, sharp nights, when stars glittered like needles and the night winds rattled his window… Then he slept a fitful, fearful sleep…" Sammy sleeping, with his dreams projected above him. "And the Man of Iron walked once more through his dreams." The End]

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

um well. okay! thats. fucking crazy. and this is the only tf comic this dude ever did. okay... can u tell he was from the dr who comics...... it ALSO means this doesnt actually speak at all for what the rest of tfuk will be like. which is damn funny. LIKE WOW! THAT WAS CRAZY. anyways.

[bloodycotton]

Day eleven, does anyone know that Alfred's GIF where we look at the camera and smiles? Because i cannot for the sake of myself find it anywhereeeee. (Fuck, i swear i was about to upload at a good time, but you know, shit happens)

Prompts by: @raven-cincaide-words

(English is NOT my first language)

Day 11.- Graveyard Dare (I forgot to add the "dare" part)

Jim Bussey (The waterman, 2020) x Gn!reader

Once, when he was younger, Jim remembered that he used to work in a cemetery as a night guard.

It was just one more story he had accumulated while working during his active years. 

His heavy body plopped down in the comfortable armchair, with a batch of biscuits in the oven, and now his only job was to wait, while he looked through his books and put on a vinyl with some classic song he didn't really know by heart, which sent him on a trip down memory lane. 

It was about three and maybe a quarter decades ago, when he still had no grey in his hair and no beard, just a neatly trimmed moustache. 

He had a belt on which hung an expensive torch, which he had already been warned that if he broke it, the replacement would have to come out of his own pay. It was night, three or four in the morning, only a couple of hours more to hand over the keys to his replacement and punch his exit card, when the heat of the night made him leave his post to take a breath of the warm air of the cemetery, he wasn't afraid of them, but of course he believed in spirits and creatures. 

Jim sat on the cold cemetery bench, the night enveloped him, but it was not completely dark, the moon was in the waning quarter phase, illuminating the gravestones, statues and flowers of the cemetery. 

He looked up at the statue of an angel, its face serene in the hard stone, but he could swear that its skin would be so soft to his touch, the angel that always accompanied him when being locked in the small cabin became unbearable. 

That angel, with its outstretched wings and compassionate gaze, seemed to be the only being who truly understood him. Jim felt drawn to it, as if in the solitude of the night it could share his burden.

"You know," Jim murmured, feeling vulnerable talking to the statue. "Sometimes I think you're the only one who really listens to me. In the dark, where everyone else is absent, you're here, always present, always listening to me."

He looked down, his hands trembling slightly. "It's easier to talk to you. You don't judge me. You always listen to me, no matter what."

He chuckled, remembering the taunts of his peers. "Sometimes, they call me crazy. They say I should stop wasting my time with fairy tales and spectres. But I know there is something beyond what we see. This place, with its history and its secrets, is full of life... even if it's a life that not everyone can see."

He moved a little closer, his eyes full of longing. "If only you could open those stone eyes and look at me. I tell you my secrets, my beliefs, and yet here you stand, unmoving."

His voice trembled as he spoke, as if each word carried a special weight. "Imagine if you could walk beside me, listen to my stories and share my fears. I promise I would never make you feel alone."

Jim leaned into the statue, feeling the cool night breeze caress his face. The moon, in its waning quarter phase, illuminated the cemetery with a soft, silvery light, creating dancing shadows among the gravestones and wilting flowers. Trees rustled in the distance, and the distant hoot of an owl broke the silence, reminding him that he was not entirely alone in the darkness.

Jim moved closer to the statue, his heart pounding in his chest. The moon illuminated his face, revealing the mixture of longing and sadness in his eyes. With each step, the world around her seemed to fade away, leaving only the silence of the cemetery and the presence of the angel.

His lips barely touched the surface of the stone, and in that instant, a flood of emotions swept over him. "I promise you, angel, that if you could come back to life, I would give you my soul. I don't need riches or fame, only your company."

The sound of the oven brought him out of his memories, the biscuits were ready.