#the mountain bikes they gave us fit me much better but I don’t get the electric help and with my fatigue it’s nice to fall back on

[foldingfittedsheets]

If your butt aches after a lomg(ish) bike ride you either have an unfit saddle or your saddle or front part (forgot name) are set wrong.

Typically women need wider saddles.

To get the right height of the saddle have someone look at you from the side and note if your knees are in a straight lime down with the pedals when youre in neutral position (where neither pedal is down). Depending on the saddle you can experiment with tilting it forward or backward. I'd recommend a very slight tilt forward

For the front part you should try to set it in a way that you keep your wrist as straight as possible and your elbows a little bend. This will keep pressure off of your shoulders. If there's pressure you will automatically adjust to that and your butt may suffer for it

I'm kinda assuming a city bike for you (correct me if I'm wrong), if it's a different type then the settings will change because your position changes

So a new seat will probably not solve all my problems, which are numerous and first on the list is that the bike was a hand me down from my dad. I can’t quite span it as he’s just a bigger person than me, so form was always gonna be an issue. I can juuuust reach the ground with my tippiest toes on it.

But in addition I’m hypermoblle and out of shape so I’m expecting aches and pains. If biking becomes regular enough I’ll try to get a bike that fits me better but it’ll depend. Don’t wanna drop electric bike money if it’s not a big enough part of my life.

[mcfat10]

Yandere Toriel Headcannons/Story

"My child, you are safe now."

I see Toriel fitting numerous yandere traits, obsessives, overly protective, and maybe possessive.

But I think Toriel better fits being a protective yandere than the other traits.

When you fell into Mt Ebott, the first thing that hit her head was how defenseless you were.

She concluded that the reason you fell had something to do with that—You were only human, after all—who knows what somebody could do to you, especially Asgore.

So the first thing she did was obvious—bring you to her home. 

She picked up your unconscious body off the ground, bringing it to her home, eyeing anybody who saw your body, giving them a stern look.

Obviously, it scared off most monsters, anybody who could harm you.

And once you woke up in an unfamiliar home, she was happy to know to inform you are safe now, the reason why you fell doesn't matter now, what matters is you are safe with her.

At first, you were confused, but after a warm welcome and some pie, cinnamon, and butterscotch, you got used to it.

Toriel would blow off any attempt you would induce towards asking about escaping. she wouldn't leave out of frustration and attempt to destroy the door. Instead, she would slowly get more irritated towards your attempts.

"Your safe now, my child; stop asking me such silly questions."

Eventually, you stopped and accepted your fate; you weren't that determined to get out of the mountain anyway. Considering your home life with abusive parents, this is better than in comparison.

Toriel loved when that happened, happily began loving you more, and slowly got more attached. At the same time, however, she began thinking about how feeble and fragile you were.

Sure, you were human, but humans can be weak, sick, fragile, and easily break under pressure; you were only twenty, so young compared to her.

She was fine if you stayed home; the big outside scary world that only she could handle bothered her.

And it continued to bother her, even if you were in a completely safe place, with safety equipment, bicycle, bike, rollerskates, or likewise.

And she freaked out once you got hurt, taking you from the outside world in the safety and comfort of her home.

"My child, I should have never trusted you."

It was then that, over time, she slowly began limiting your venture, don't stay outside past nine and don't hug others without her permission. Don't go away far from home, and the list continues.

You could tolerate such actions that Toriel induced onto you.

After all, better than what your parents did; your father verbally abused you while your mother physically beat you, belt or fist otherwise.

However, Toriel slowly became overbearing, starting to weigh upon you like an anvil increasing in size on your back.

"My child, you were not earlier than I expected you to be here, are you hurt, damaged? Did someone take advantage?"

Even when you confronted Toriel, she would always make up some excuse to justify this behavior. 

"Humans can be weak too, y'know; a good mother cares for their children."

The overbearing continued until one day, she outright banned you from going outside without wearing a full skateboard protective gear ever again.

You had enough of this; she had demanded too much from you, and this was getting ridiculous.

So you confronted her early during the day, letting her know that you had enough of this nonsense and wanted it to stop.

However, she shrugged it off, and when you repeatedly confronted her, she began to become more annoyed and irritated at you.

She lost it for the first time when you gave her a choice, either let the protection off or find a way out of this mountain.

And when she lost it.

She hit you.

At this moment, you realized something; she was verbally abusive when crossed, just like your father, and now becoming physically abusive, just like your mother.

"My child, where are you going!?"

You dashed far from her as possible, exiting the house, dashing around the ruins, seeing everything as a blur, and tried to make some feeble attempt to escape.

And Toriel chased after you in a hurry with tears down her face.

You caused some pillars to fall, some scraps around your body, entering into some water to escape. 

Still, nothing seemed to bash Toriel off, even when she was herself hurt.

Even when monsters came to your service blocking her path, you realized nothing was stopping her, as the dust began to form as you looked back.

Eventually, the monsters that wanted to help disappeared, and your vision was dusty and dirty from the monsters she killed.

That's when you heard her voice, "My child, you should have never left me."

You never did, as she kept you in her house locked up.

Forever.

After all, it's for your protection.

[sanguineterrain]

Brooklyn Honey - Bucky Barnes x Reader

(Repost!) Hello, this is for the lovely @wkemeup​’s 9k writing challenge. I decided to go with the song prompt “Life in the City” by The Lumineers. It really reminded me of 40s Bucky.

Title: Brooklyn Honey

Summary: Life in the city ain’t always so pretty, but you’ve got Bucky and he’s got you.  

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: nah

***

“That’s so not how you do it.”

“Sorry, I must’ve missed the day you wrote the manual on how to put up curtains.”

“You sure did, and I can tell you as an expert, the nails aren’t supposed to resemble a mountain range.”

“Smartass. C’mere.”

Bucky’s palm opened and you took a nail, carefully tapping it into the wall.

“Or is it the skyline you’re going for?”

“You’re pretty mouthy for an assistant.”

“I keep it interesting, doll.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?”

“James Barnes, what on earth are you doing in there?!”

Your eyes went wide and you hurried to scramble off the chair you were standing on. Bucky put a hand on your back, shaking his head.

“Buck—”

“I got it, don’t worry. Keep hammering.”

“But—”

“Honey, don’t you trust me?”

“Absolutely not.”

More knocking, faster and louder this time.

“Coming, Mrs. Anderson!”

Bucky buttoned up his shirt, smoothing his pomade-slicked hair back, and went to answer.

You stepped down from the chair anyway, daring to peek around the corner. 

He had his arms up, trying to fill the entire door frame and hide the obnoxiously yellow curtains you probably weren’t supposed to have. Mrs. Anderson, Steve and Bucky’s busybody next door neighbor, was a small, shriveled, old woman with a perpetually pinched face that looked like it had been stored in a jar of formaldehyde for the last twenty years. She kept trying to look over Bucky’s shoulder but he wouldn’t let her, moving when she did.

“—could’ve sworn I heard hammering coming from this apartment.”

“Oh! You must’ve heard me fixing my bike.” 

“You don’t have a bike, James.”

“Did I say my bike? I meant Steve’s.”

“Steve rides a bike?”

“Absolutely. Keeps him fit.”

“I don’t recall seeing him ever—”

“Well, bye, Mrs. Anderson! Always a pleasure to see you, ma’am.”

She gave another stern look before shaking her head, walking away.

You sighed as Bucky shut the door with his foot, a too sly smile on his face.

“Didn’t I tell you to trust me?”

“I think you might be a worse liar than Steve.”

“Well, ouch, doll.”

“First of all, who’s ever heard of needing a hammer to fix a bike?”

“We can be the first.”

“Next time, I’m answering the door.”

You clambered back onto the chair, returning to knocking in the nails. 

“I still don’t understand why you wanted curtains in the first place.” 

“It adds a homely touch, doll. Aren’t you the one who’s always complaining about how drab this place is?”

“Of course, but it’s not my apartment.” 

“It could be, with how often you’re over,” Bucky said sweetly. 

“Keep dreaming, Barnes.” 

“I will,” he assured with a smile that could melt butter. 

You shook your head and returned to focus on the curtains. True, the first one was beyond help in terms of nail placement, but the least you could do was try and make the next one even. 

Bucky had offered at least ten times to do it himself but there was no way he was getting his hands on a hammer after what had happened when he’d tried to install some shelves last winter. 

Besides, you were better at decorating when it came down to it. At least, that’s what Bucky kept insisting, letting you do essentially anything you wanted to the apartment. 

The chair suddenly groaned under additional weight and you startled as you felt the side of a body press against yours. 

“How’s it goin���?”

“Bucky, this chair really isn’t meant for two people.” 

“You sure? Seems pretty sturdy to me.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Bucky wrapped an arm around your waist and you fixed him with a look. 

“What? Don’t want you to fall.”

“How valiant of you.”

“Ain’t it?”

He hopped off before you could scold him further, grinning up at you. 

“Beer?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Bucky disappeared and returned a minute later with an open bottle for you, holding it so you could sip safely while still perched on the chair.

Then you kept hammering, eyes narrowed as you focused on not hitting anything other than the nail.

Bucky watched from the floor as you did so, leaning back on his hands.

“What’re you looking at?” you asked after a while, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

He shrugged, a gentle smile on his face.

“The city.”

***

“Honey, I’m home!”

“What did I say about that, Barnes?”

“You said… you’ll love me for all eternity because you’re as sweet as honey?”

“I think it was more along the lines of, ‘don’t call me honey unless you mean it.’”

“I always mean it, Y/N.”

And that was a little more sincerity than you were willing to explore, so you pointed to the bag instead.

“What’s that?”

Bucky grinned, setting a giant paper sack on the counter.

“Lemons.”

“What?”

“Lemons. You know, the little yellow fruits that make you do this?”

Bucky puckered his mouth and smacked his tongue, eyes screwed shut.

“Lemon’s not a fruit.”

“It sure is! Fruit got seeds. Read that in a book about agriculture. We produce a lot of corn, did you know that?“

“Okay, Bucky, the presiding question still remains: why do you have every lemon in the city?”

“There was a good deal at the docks. Dirt cheap for produce. Some guys told me they were takin’ some home for their wives. Didn’t want you to feel left out.”

“I’m not your wife.”

Bucky just grinned. You rolled your eyes.

“I don't know who taught you this, but the way to a girl’s heart is not twenty pounds of lemons.”

“Think of all the lemonade we can make.”

“Unless you’ve also got FDR and his cabinet in those bags, we’re gonna have a lot of leftovers.”

“Look at it this way: no vitamin C deficiency. One less thing to worry ‘bout.”

“Bucky.”

“They’re not all lemons, doll. I got other stuff too. Tomatoes, cabbage, snuck some cucumbers, even bananas.”

You sighed, smiling tiredly. This ration was taking its toll on everyone. You knew Bucky was doing his best, had seen the vegetables and thought of you and how much you missed having cucumber salad and tomato sandwiches like you used to.

“Thank you, Bucky, really. I appreciate you.”

You brushed past him to begin preparing the excess vegetables you three wouldn’t eat this week to pickle. Salt and sugar was going to be hard to gather, but you’d manage. You always did.

“Welcome, doll.” 

He beamed, eyes full of warmth as he watched you. 

“You gonna stay for dinner?”

“I dunno. Seems like Steve’s gettin’ kinda tired of me,” you laughed.

“Never. ‘Sides, even if he was, doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, really?”

“Nope. ‘Cause you stay for me.”

“And where did you get that idea from?”

He shrugged.

“Seemed kinda obvious, doll. You’re smitten, admit it.”

“Oh dear, you’ve got me all figured out. However did you know?”

“I’m a bright fella.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You ain’t saying no…”

“Really, I have to say no? Can’t you tell I only stick around for the great deals you get on produce?” 

“But it’s me that gets the great deals, so really, you’re still staying for me.” 

Bucky was against the counter now, shoulder to shoulder with you. 

You sighed, hand on your hip as you stared at the table. 

“What the hell are we going to do with all these lemons?” 

“We’ll figure something out. Always do, don’t we?”

You hummed, leaning your head on his shoulder, aware he was talking about more than the lemons. 

“Yeah. We always do.” 

***

Steve had been home for a while, wordlessly letting you in when you’d shown up an hour ago. You didn’t have to explain anything to him anymore. 

The record player was on, crooning gently. Steve was in the corner, drawing, away from the window after the breeze had whipped his papers around one too many times.

“Can’t believe they’re building another skyscraper down on Lawrence.”

Steve frowned.

“Really? Won’t be able to see the sunset now.”

“Yeah. And Brooklyn’s not exactly known for its scenery to begin with. Saw a rat and a pigeon fighting over a pretzel this morning.”

Steve chuckled from the floor, shaking his head.

“Times are tough. Even for rats and pigeons.” 

“Sure are.”

“Nice curtains, by the way. I like the color.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Did Bucky ask—?”

“No,” he answered, smile evident in his voice. “But that’s alright. I know he’s just tryin’ to gauge what you like.”

“What?”

“Yeah, after the war’s over and all, he’s gonna try and buy a nicer place.”

“And he wants my furnishing tips?”

Steve shrugged, gaze soft and knowing.

“Guess so.”

You cleared your throat, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Want some lemonade?”

“Jesus, there’s more? I thought we’d run out of bushels.”

“You’d think, right? I put ‘em in the icebox so they won’t spoil so fast.”

“Sure, yeah. Thanks, Y/N.”

You were in the middle of stirring the pitcher when Bucky came in.

He didn’t greet you or Steve immediately, like he usually did, instead setting down his keys, then slapping the mail onto the table. 

“Well, hey there, mister. Fancy a drink? Today’s special is sour lemonade, your favorite.”

Bucky looked up, startled, and glanced at the pitcher before nodding, attempting a half smile.

“Sure, doll. Thanks.”

“Everything okay, Buck?”

He nodded, slipping away to the bathroom with a sigh.

You turned to Steve, who shrugged.

“Long day at the docks, I guess.”

***

June twelfth. That was when Bucky was being shipped out, somewhere in Europe, too far from you. This entire year you’d been holding your breath, hoping, needing the draft to leave him alone. 

Now they were taking him away from you in less than a week. 

You were in the apartment, lying on the floor, on Bucky’s second to last day. That’s how he found you upon coming home. 

“Trying to count all the cracks in the ceiling, doll? You’ll be here all night.”

You had a glass of lemonade by your head, spiked with a bit of rum. It was already warm, because it was summer and things were supposed to be warm in the summer.

The curtains danced in front of the window, yellow like sunshine and all those goddamn lemons in the freezer. The only respite from an otherwise colorless world.

“This city is so ugly.”

Bucky looked up at the sound of your voice. He walked over, crouching by your arm.

“Think so?”

“Yeah. Can’t find a single pretty thing in the city.”

“I can.”

“Can you?”

“Sure. She’s looking at me right now.”

“That was sappy.”

“Yes it was.”

Bucky lay down, rolling onto his side next to you, taking a sip from your glass.

“But I ain’t mean it any less.”

You hummed, closing your eyes.

“Well, for what it’s worth then, I think you’re handsome.”

“Oh, yeah?”

You could hear his proud smile.

“Don’t make me take it back.”

“No, I’m just surprised to hear it is all.”

“Surprised, huh? I’m certain I ain’t the first one to call you handsome.”

“You’re the only one I wanna hear it from.”

Something fluttered in your chest.

“What d’you say then? You and I, think we can take on a city as ugly as ours?”

He smiled.

“With you, doll?”

“Yeah.”

“With you, of course.”

“Good. I’m gonna hold you to that.”

Bucky propped his head up on his elbow. It was quiet again, with only your occasional sighs and his quiet breaths.

“What’re you looking at?” you breathed, opening your eyes.

“You.”

Bucky flicked a drop of lemonade from the tip of your nose.

You turned, now face to face.

And oh, Bucky’s blues. Those had been your color even before the curtains.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you blurted.

He smiled a little sadly.

“Gonna miss you too, Y/N.”

You pushed your lips together, taking a deep breath.

“You were right, you know.”

“‘Bout what?”

“That day when you brought home all those lemons. You said that I stay for you.”

Bucky’s lips quirked, gaze fond like it always was.

“All those times I stayed for dinner and pretended to know what I was doing putting up those curtains. I stayed for you.”

You wiped your nose quickly, sniffling.

“And I’m gonna keep staying.”

“Yeah? What if the bridge collapses tomorrow?”

“I’ll swim.”

“Even in the winter?”

“I’ll get myself a pair of ice skates.”

“You don’t know how to skate, doll.”

“That’s right. So you better come back safe and teach me.”

Bucky leaned in, nose brushing your cheek. He rolled over and carefully straddled you, holding his weight.

“I’ll be there, honey.”

“Now what did we say about that?”

Bucky’s eyebrows pinched in thought.

“Don’t say it if I don’t mean it?”

You hummed, pulling him closer, arms around his neck. Bucky’s lips were a millimeter from yours, breath fanning over your chin.

“Mm, I think it was something about eternity.”

Bucky was soft, tangy and sweet. His scruff scraped your cheek and your fingers curled into the baby hairs at the nape of his neck.

He slid his hands under your back and turned so you were on top, head on his chest. You lay like that for a while, listening to his heartbeat, arms strong around you. 

Yellow fluttered in the breeze, tacked unevenly onto the wall, catching your eye. 

Bucky glanced to the side, chuckling.

“Don’t let Anderson take our curtains away.”

“Of course not. I spent a weekend on those. She’ll have to fight me for ‘em.”

“Good God. Now I gotta worry about you brawling with old ladies and Steve getting into alley fights while I’m gone?”

“Nah. Steve’ll help me.”

“Oh, great.”

You reached up, brushing his jaw with your knuckles.

“Call me honey again.”

“Honey, honey, honey.”

You reached up to get just one last kiss, except it definitely wasn’t going to be the last. It couldn’t be.

“They’re not gonna take you away from me.”

Bucky shook his head, kissing you much slower this time, trying to memorize you before time ran out.

“Never. ‘M gonna think of you and I’ll be back ‘fore we know it.”

You nodded, wishing hard, hoping somebody was listening. 

“Then, when I come back,” he whispered, promise riding on the summer air.

“We’re gonna make the best damn lemonade you’ve ever had.”

And maybe this city could take away your sunsets, your tea and jams, even your summer.

But if there was anything that was yours and yours only, it was the lemon pulp on Bucky’s lips and the undissolved sugar on your own, as bitter and pretty as home.

[thetaoofzoe]

Fic: Midnight in the Desert 1/1

Title: Midnight in the Desert

Summary: Coffee + tiny bladder + long motorcycle ride = the best sex of your life

Rating: Smut, fluff, fun sexy times. My usual fare, you know what’s up. 

Pairing: Captain ‘Sy’ Syverson x YOU (AU)

Companion piece to The Road to Paloma  

‘I have to pee!’ 

You leaned against Syverson’s broad back and shouted at him above the roar of the bike’s engine. 

He turned his cheek against the wind. 

‘What?!’ he shouted back. ‘Again?? We just stopped an hour ago.’ 

‘I got a tiny bladder!’ you laughed as he decreased the bike speed. 

It was easier to talk now that the warm night air had stopped whipping away your words. You nuzzled fondly against his shoulder and eased your hands down over his belt buckle. 

‘There ain’t a place for miles,’ he said and lay his hand over your hands. ‘Can you hold it?’

You thought a moment and although that second cup of truckstop hazelnut coffee was a surprising delight to the senses, it was a mistake currently wreaking havoc on your bladder. 

‘I cannot. Nope, not in the least,’ you replied and left it up to your problem solving husband to figure it out.  

Up ahead on that long black stretch of barren backcountry Arizona road stood a high-mast sodium light which cast a broad oval of yellowy illumination across the road.  Syverson slowed the bike even more and drew close to the tall wood pole. You peered up at the ring of industrial bulbs and then down at the shadowy dirt area just at the rim of bright light. 

When he shut off the engine the world plunged into a kind of silence that only an evening on an empty road in the middle of a desert could create. Nothing but crickets, and the occasional nocturnal animal cry. You liked it. 

Syverson kicked the bike onto the stand and let the machine ease to one side. He got off it and turned to face you as he thumbed through his mobile. 

‘No signal,’ he grumped and then pointed to the saddle bag near your thigh. ‘Get out the map. Let’s take a look.’ 

You did as you were told. He always kept a big book of state maps in the bag for when the online maps failed. You paged through it, landed on the appropriate state and after a quick skimming search, you put a finger on a thin jagged red line. 

‘Highway 373,’ he said, looking down the length of your finger and rubbing his hand over his beard. ‘Yeah, see? Town’s at least another 60 miles.’

With your finger still on the map, you looked up at him and pouted. Syverson smiled fondly and used the tip of his index finger to push up your helmet visor so that he could see your eyes. He stroked the edge of his thumb back and forth against your cheek. 

‘Sure you can’t hold it?’ he asked in a tone that said come on baby you can do it.

But you shook your head and unstrapped your helmet. He removed his own in response. Might as well get comfortable.  

Handing yours to him, you rummaged about in your rucksack and made a noise of triumph when your fingers closed about a small plastic baggie. You pulled it out and held it up. 

One of the most valuable tips that you learned from women who were constantly on the road was that a ‘fuddy’ or a female urination device was a godsend and a life saver.  

Yours was pink. 

‘Looks like your girl is gonna have to make do,’ you said and groaned as your bladder protested the exertion when he helped you climb off of the bike. 

‘Awright,’ he said.  ‘Don’t accidentally piss on anything that I’m gonna have to fight, okay?’

‘Always my knight in shining armour, Sy,’ you called over your shoulder walking to the edge where the darkness met the light. 

He laughed and sat with his rear against the seat, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

‘Just do it where I can see you,’ he said. 

You stepped across that hard bright line and into the pale darkness.  

It seemed cooler there for some reason and you strained to look into the distance. The moon had gone in behind grey streaky clouds and backlit the jagged mountain range in the distance. You glanced back at the man leaning against the bike. He was still aware and watching and that comforted you. 

Always your protector.

Unzipping your loose heavy canvas trousers, you pressed the rubbery funnel into place and relieved yourself into the dirt. 

As the pressure subsided, your mood lifted and the thought of maybe another coffee didn’t sound so bad. Drying yourself and the funnel with a little bogroll, you tucked everything back into the baggie, righted your clothes and returned to the bike. 

Syverson’s keen gaze skimmed over you. 

‘Better?’ he teased.

You stored your bag into the rucksack  and stood back to look fully at him. 

‘You’re turning into a grizzly, you know that?’ you asked fondly, reaching up to run your fingers over his beard and then up over his jaw and to the back of his neck. 

‘I thought you liked me like this,’ he replied in his easy joking manner. 

He caught his thick facial hair between his thumb and forefinger and gave himself  a thoughtful stroke. You smiled and reached up to gently caress the back of his well shaped head with both hands. His eyes softened immediately and a knowing look crept into his warm gaze. 

‘What are you tryin’ to do?’ he asked. 

There was that soft, gentle laughter in his voice that you loved so much. It was the sound that had come to mean that he was settling in to play your game.  

You caught the corner of your lower lip between your teeth and looking away you lifted one shoulder in a shrug. 

‘What?’ you asked innocently, ‘I’m not doing anything.’ 

Syverson hooked his thumbs into the side belt loops of your trousers. He drew you closer but when you resisted he shot you a quizzical expression.

No play? asked that expression. 

He looked nearly betrayed that you would deny him access to the trouble he so dearly wanted to get into. He wanted to get into you.  

You moved a few steps away and when you held his full and undivided attention, you unzipped your trousers. With an insolent pause to gauge his reaction, which was immediate and intense, you shimmied, let them drop and then stepped out of them.  You wore his long tee shirt, and when the trousers dropped, the hem of it fell against your bare upper thighs, covering you. 

Syverson made a low, greedy noise in his throat. He grabbed you by the waist and in a smooth motion, he straddled the bike’s seat, and swung you effortlessly into the air before planting you firmly astride his lap with a solid thump.

You felt him move against you as he shifted in the seat and the tough material stretched taut across his muscular thighs scraped along the tender flesh of your inner thighs. A pleasurable shiver rushed through you and you put your hands flat on his heaving chest. Sy wet his lips and looked up at you. There was want and heat and desire in his blue eyes and your lips curved into a delighted smirk. 

This man, this beast of a man was yours and yours alone to do with whatever you pleased. 

‘I’ve never met a woman who was so exciting,’ he groaned, voice quiet, as if he didn’t want to break the spell you’d woven over him. 

You took the compliment in stride. Leaning in, you opened his mouth with your tongue and slid your hand down to his belt buckle. When you drew back, he looked down the length of torso and watched in breathless panting silence as you unbuckled his trousers and eased out his stiffening cock. You glanced at him, noting the colour rising high in his cheeks as he shuddered, put his head back and moaned. 

He slid up the lower edge of your tee shirt and massaged your bottom rhythmically, eagerly as you stroked him once, then again, curving your fingers around his thick girth and teasing his glistening head with your thumb. 

‘Yeah, baby. Good girl. Just like that,’ he groaned. ‘Oh, yeah, you know what I like.’ 

You warmed with the pleasure at being praised by him.

And gleefully, you twisted your slick fist and he arched, and tightened his grip on your hips. 

‘C’mon baby, c’mon… you’re teasing me.’ 

I love to tease you baby, I love how you respond to me. 

With his big hands supporting you,  you rose to your knees opening yourself to him and you whispered his name when he undulated and pushed up into your sweet quivering heat. 

As usual, you were unprepared for him, unprepared for the size of him. But you relaxed, closed your eyes, and clenched when his cock slowly stretched you to fit him. 

Between his competent, loving hands, Syverson held you still and lifted his face so that you could kiss him, softly, gently, as if the two of you were hidden away in your bedroom, and not fucking like unrestrained lusty beasts by the side of a silent desert highway. 

Sy thrust up hard into you, laying claim to you from the inside and an unnamed feral fire seared through you. You arched, sucked in a breath and your intentions of keeping quiet were obliterated. The throaty cry that erupted from you started but did not shame you. 

A roll of your hips elicited the same response from him and you hissed with pain when he dug his fingers into your vulnerable flesh. But he soothed you with warm honeyed kisses and the promise of ever increasing delights. You clenched your thighs about him and Sy encouraged you to ride him harder and faster until you couldn’t withstand the plunging shudder that rocked you. Safe in the strength of his embrace, you surrendered to him, clutched at him and shuddered through the white-hot scalding gush of lust and molten fire through your veins. 

Syverson held you against him until you finally stilled and draped yourself over him to cover his face with kisses. 

After cleaning up and dressing, you settled yourself behind him again, wrapped your arms about his waist and rested your cheek against his shoulder. You gasped when the engine roared to life as the sudden vibrations shook you intimately and the sensations made you smile. 

‘You ready?’ he asked, breaking you out of your muse. 

You squeezed him. 

‘Ready.’

A hotel room, a hot shower and another round were in order along with some downtime to rest. There was a secondary reason why you had to pee so much. Your husband was going to be a father.

-the end, you naughty little things. I love you ;D

Tag list:  @lightsidecalling​  @omgkatinka​ @igotkatiepowers​ @the-soot-sprite​  @harrysthiccthighss​ @little-green-love​ @foxyjwls007​  @angreav​ @maizyistrash @liquorlaughslove @supernaturallymarvellous​ @whiskey-cokenstuff @laketaj24​ @october505​ @inlovewithhisblueeyes​ @foodieforthoughts​ @wolvesandhoundshowltogether​ @singeramg​ @sapphirescrolls​  @emyearns​ @brandycranby​ @zealoushound​ @eldarwen333​ @beck07990​ @lunedelorient​ @henrythickcavill​ @kalesrebellion​​ @angrythingstarlight​​ @lavitabella87

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Birthday

Summary: could you do a hs losers x reader where the readers new to town and hates her bday bc each year her past friends and family had always forgotten or did nothing so when richie finds out her bdays coming up he tells the losers and they all plan a special surprise party and richie saves up and gets her something super special and the losers r all like wow he’s never gotten anyone anything like this b4 so she finds out that he likes her or something so it’s like the best bday she’s ever had

Richie bikes swiftly passed you, faster than he usually does, which can only mean he’s trying to surpass you. You barely refrain from flipping him the bird in public, as you too throw your weight into peddling. It’s no use, Richie is more athletic than you by a long shot, and he’s been practicing with Eddie for track. You’ll never be able to catch up with him with no viable effort.

‘You asshole,’ you yell out to him, noticing an elder woman pledging through her yard too late to stop your exclamation. She regards the both of you with malcontent, stabbing her hark too brutally in the soil of her allotment for it to be a coincidence.

‘Not my fault your short legs can’t reach the peddles.’

You growl, lifting up from your saddle to race faster, but Richie sees you do it and does nothing but laugh.

Any other time you might give him hell for it, but today, you are in no mood to indulge in Richie’s escapades.

It’s your birthday, and while for most that equalizes a fun day stacked with presents and cake, to you it stands for a day full of misery.

Your birthday is cursed. And no, that is not you being dramatic. At your ninth birthday, your cake got slammed into floor, therefor ruing the gift your parents had been working on for weeks, and which was their only present.

At age ten, you fell off your brand new bike into a ravine and had to go to the hospital to get eleven stitches. On your fourteenth birthday, you and your parents got into such a huge fight they send you up to your room and forbad you from sneaking down at any point in the day.

There are more examples to back up your claim for the terrible birthdays, but you have tried to desperately block them all out, so you won’t rehash them.

That’s why your so peeved that Richie is forcing you to the quarry.

‘If you could tell me where I’m supposed to be going to bet u could find a short cut and be there faster than you.’

‘Nice try Dora, I’m not telling you anything. It’s a surprise.’

‘Alright, I get two attempts. If I can’t guess where we’re going, I’ll do your homework for a week.’

‘And if you do guess it?’

‘Then you owe me a favor and no matter for what reason I cash it in, you don’t get to complain.’

‘Fine, bring it miss know it all.’ Richie slows down to slide next to you, the wind picking up as the two of you descend down the mountain. His smile is mischievous and cheeky, probably too confident to think you’ll be able to reckon the spot he has in mind.

If only he knew that you had limited the possibilities to two places, the exact amount of guess you were granted.

‘Hm, are we going to the arcade?’ Your first theory is. Richie doesn’t have anything on him right now, except pennies that have been rinkeling inside his pockets the entire bike ride, the only thing he needs to go to the arcade.

Richie smirks, and shakes his head. ‘Try one my dear, may I say that the odds aren’t in your favor right now?’

His impressive ego in the way he taunts you with the right answer fuels your desire to be right. ‘Are we going to the Barrens?’ You sing, smiling wide as Richie’s shrinks.

‘Eh, no?’ He says, but he sounds petulant. ‘Fuck this shit, what gave it away?’

‘A girl never reveals her secrets’, you say covertly, forgetting momentarily about the agitating day. You suspect that might have been Richie’s intention.

It’s not like the Barrens is such a stretch in the first place, the losers and you have made that place your own, but you do hypothesize that he may have planned something special for you.

Your theory turns out to be true, as you can spot a long table at the end of the dirt path you and Richie are currently riding on to get to the clubhouse. The table is stacked with a variety of candies, your favorite, drinks that are sweet enough to rot your teeth, something Richie should be more aware off - having a dad who is a dentist-, and a giant cake with eight candles on. Each one representing a loser.

You say nothing as you approach, in a sneaky way torturing Richie a bit more before revealing that you’re at the verge of tears of this nice gesture. Richie slows down his speed by dragging his shoes along the dirt, glances darting nervously towards your face.

‘I know you said no parties, but how else was I supposed to show off my rocking dance moves?’

‘Do you mean the moves you make that look like you’re dying?’ Stan chides, him and the rest of the losers rolling up behind you two. They’re all walking next to their bikes, and Bill’s hands are smudges with cake residue he somehow missed while cleaning up. They didn’t want to be here before you and ruin the ‘surprise’, but it’s clear everyone has worked hard to organize this for you.

‘Fuck you Stan the man, the color green doesn’t fit you.’

‘Happy’, Bev grounds out, leveling Richie with one look, the way only Bev can, and then address you. ‘Birthday.’ She hugs you despite you still holding your bike, and you let it clatter to the ground with a loud bang.

‘Thanks Bev.’

‘Happy Birthday’, the other losers also call out, because there’s just too many of them for each to wait their turn.

‘We hope you don’t mind we don’t have any presents, we spend basically all of it getting ingredients for the cake, which we had to redo- twice.’

They don’t offer any other explanation about why the cake had to be remade two times, but by Eddie’s scowl you can fill in the blanks.

‘No, honestly, this is already too much.’ It is too much, but their efforts are so kind and heartwarming that you have to bit back a happy squall. No one has ever bothered to organize anything for your birthday, whether it be purchasing a two dollar present or even ordering a cake, but these people that you had met less then a year ago were willing to scramble together all the money they could, just so they could turn your day special. Thank god for moving to Derry.

For the first time in years, your birthday has brought smiles and laughter, and no tears and weeping moods.

‘Nonsense my dearest young lady, this is but a blip on our radar, a speck of dust on the tv, nothing compared too-‘

‘Can we please cut the cake now? Before something else goes wrong with it?’ Eddie glowers, refuting to wait for an affirmative.

‘Don’t forget the candles,’ Ben says as he follows Eddie to the table. You’re about to join them, when a hand on your wrists stops you.

‘Hey, Y/N? You really don’t mind this right? I know you said you didn’t want anything but I know how nice it is be caught off guard with something like this.’ Richie rubs the back of his head as if that makes him see any less anxious. It’s incredible how smart someone can be while simultaneously also being so dense.

‘Richie’, you say as you smile, unable to hide it any longer. ‘It’s amazing, thank you so much. If there is any way I can repay you I’ll do that. I’m really happy with this.’

‘That’s good, not that I was worried about it, who isn’t a fan of everything I do?’

Rolling your eyes only spurs Richie on, but it’s become an automatic response now, you can’t help but do it.

‘Oh, I almost forgot. I did get you another gift. Two actually, if you count my huge dong as one.’

‘Gross Richie, why do you always have to add something sexual to everything?’

‘It’s my game babe, love it or leave it. Anyway, here is the gift if you want it. If you don’t that’s fine too.’

‘Don’t get all shy on me now Rich’, you tease as your bump your arm into his while grabbing the package. ‘I’ve just gotten used to your antics.’

The package isn’t heavy, but it also isn’t light. It’s wrapped in enough layer that you can’t feel what’s inside of it just by holding it, but that was probably Richie’s intention. That or he is simply horrible at wrapping up.

While you carefully peel off each layer, you begin to speculate on what it could be. It could be a gag gift, but Richie looked sincere, and his eyes behind his glasses are magnified in true anticipation, a gag gift wouldn’t illicit that response.

As soon as the final layer is detached, you gasp, armored by the actual gift. It’s a blue bracelet, covered in butterfly pattering. You once mentioned having a similar one as a kid that you loved but lost one day while playing outside and had been sad about for weeks.

You can’t believe Richie had kept it in his mind, and had gone out to look for it.

‘Richie… I don’t even know what to say right now.’ You exclaim, squeezing the bracelet in your hand tightly, a blush covering your face. Richie’s mimics yours. ‘Thank you’, you say while reaching out to him and kissing him on the cheek. Richie face burns a brighter red.

‘Yeah… glad to be of service.’ His mind is ball parks away, and he is left dazed.

‘Come on Y/N, it’s time for you to blow out the candles.’

You go easily, letting your hand linger around Richie’s, deciding mentally that you’ll do it tonight before you go home. Your birthday has already been better than anything you could have imagined, and maybe it has one more miracle left to give. If Richie says yes to your question about going on a date, then this will truly have been the best birthday you have every had. By the love struck expression Richie is walking around with, you have an inkling as to what his response might be.

You blow out your candles, but you don’t need to make a wish. You already have everything you could possibly want.

----

‘Off course that asshole buys her a gift, but never returns the money I loaned him so long ago. I’m not a fucking bank.’

‘I think it’s cute.’

‘No, Eddie is right, I’m also waiting on my refund.’

‘It’s adorable he bought her something, he really can’t hide his crush anymore.’

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 15: Spiders Aren't Water Proof

The next afternoon, June 14, seven days before the solstice, our train rolled into Denver. We hadn't eaten since the night before in the dining car, somewhere in Kansas. We hadn't taken a shower since Half-Blood Hill, and I was sure that was obvious. "Let's try to contact Chiron," Annabeth said. "I want to tell him about your talk with the river spirit." "We can't use phones, right?" "I'm not talking about phones." We wandered through downtown for about half an hour, though I wasn't sure what Annabeth was looking for. The air was dry and hot, which felt weird after the humidity of St. Louis. Everywhere we turned, the Rocky Mountains seemed to be staring at me, like a tidal wave about to crash into the city. Finally we found an empty do-it-yourself car wash. We veered toward the stall farthest from the street, keeping our eyes open for patrol cars. We were four adolescents hanging out at a car wash without a car; any cop worth his doughnuts would figure we were up to no good. "What exactly are we doing?" Percy asked, as Grover took out the spray gun. "It's seventy-five cents," he grumbled. "I've only got two quarters left. Annabeth?" "Don't look at me," she said. "The dining car wiped me out." I fished out my last bit of change and passed Grover a quarter, which left me two nickels and one drachma from Medusa's place. "Excellent," Grover said. "We could do it with a spray bottle, of course, but the connection isn't as good, and my arm gets tired of pumping." "What are you talking about?" He fed in the quarters and set the knob to FINE MIST. "I-M'ing." "Instant messaging?" "Iris-messaging," Annabeth corrected. "The rainbow goddess Iris carries messages for the gods. If you know how to ask, and she's not too busy, she'll do the same for half-bloods." "You summon the goddess with a spray gun?" Grover pointed the nozzle in the air and water hissed out in a thick white mist. "Unless you know an easier way to make a rainbow."

Sure enough, late afternoon light filtered through the vapor and broke into colors. Annabeth held her palm out to me. "Drachma, please." I handed it over. She raised the coin over her head. "O goddess, accept our offering." She threw the drachma into the rainbow. It disappeared in a golden shimmer. "Half-Blood Hill," Annabeth requested. For a moment, nothing happened. Then I was looking through the mist at strawberry fields, and the Long Island Sound in the distance. We seemed to be on the porch of the Big House. Standing with his back to us at the railing was a sandy-haired guy in shorts and an orange tank top. He was holding a bronze sword and seemed to be staring intently at something down in the meadow. "Luke!" I called. He turned, eyes wide. I could swear he was standing three feet in front of me through a screen of mist, except I could only see the part of him that appeared in the rainbow. "Y/N!" His scarred face broke into a grin. "Is that Annabeth and Percy, too? Thank the gods! Are you guys okay?" "We're... uh... fine," Annabeth stammered. She was madly straightening her dirty T-shirt, trying to comb the loose hair out of her face. "We thought—Chiron—I mean—" "He's down at the cabins." Luke's smile faded. "We're having some issues with the campers. Listen, is everything cool with you? Is Grover all right?" "I'm right here," Grover called. He held the nozzle out to one side and stepped into Luke's line of vision. "What kind of issues?" Just then a big Lincoln Continental pulled into the car wash with its stereo turned to maximum hip-hop. As the car slid into the next stall, the bass from the subwoofers vibrated so much, it shook the pavement. "Chiron had to—what's that noise?" Luke yelled. "I'll take care of it.'" Annabeth yelled back, looking very relieved to have an excuse to get out of sight. "Grover, come on! "What?" Grover said. "But—" "Give Percy the nozzle and come on!" she ordered. Grover muttered something about girls being harder to understand than the Oracle at Delphi, then he handed me the spray gun and followed Annabeth. Percy readjusted the hose so we could keep the rainbow going and still see Luke. "Chiron had to break up a fight," Luke shouted to me over the music. "Things are pretty tense here, guys. Word leaked out about the Zeus—Poseidon standoff. We're still not sure how—probably the same scumbag who summoned the hellhound. Now the campers are starting to take sides. It's shaping up like the Trojan War all over again. Aphrodite, Ares, and Apollo are backing Poseidon, more or less. Athena is backing Zeus." In the next stall, I heard Annabeth and some guy arguing with each other, then the music's volume decreased drastically. "So what's your status?" Luke asked us. "Chiron will be sorry he missed you." We told him pretty much everything, including Percy's dreams. It felt so good to see him, to feel like I was back at camp even for a few minutes, that I didn't realize how long I had talked until the beeper went off on the spray machine, and I realized I only had one more minute before the water shut off. "I wish I could be there," Luke told me. "We can't help much from here, I'm afraid, but listen... it had to be Hades who took the master bolt. He was there at Olympus at the winter solstice. I was chaperoning a field trip and we saw him." "But Chiron said the gods can't take each other's magic items directly." "That's true," Luke said, looking troubled. "Still... Hades has the helm of darkness. How could anybody else sneak into the throne room and steal the master bolt? You'd have to be invisible." We were both silent, until Luke seemed to realize what he'd said. "Oh, hey," he protested. "I didn't mean Annabeth. She and I have known each other forever. She would never... I mean, she's like a little sister to me." I wondered if Annabeth would like that description. In the stall next to us, the music stopped completely. A man screamed in terror, car doors slammed, and the Lincoln peeled out of the car wash. "You'd better go see what that was," Luke said. "Listen, has the knife come in handy?" "Very..." I smiled. "The knife is really perfect." "And Percy, are you wearing the flying shoes? I'll feel better if I know they've done you some good." "Oh... uh, yeah!" Percy tried not to sound like a guilty liar. "Yeah, they've come in handy." "Really?" He grinned. "They fit and everything?" The water shut off. The mist started to evaporate. "Well, take care of yourself out there in Denver," Luke called, his voice getting fainter. "And tell Grover it'll be better this time! Nobody will get turned into a pine tree if he just—" But the mist was gone, and Luke's image faded to nothing. We were alone in a wet, empty car wash stall. Annabeth and Grover came around the corner, laughing, but stopped when they saw our face. Annabeth's smile faded. "What happened, Percy? What did Luke say?" "Not much," Percy lied. "Come on, let's find some dinner." A few minutes later, we were sitting at a booth in a gleaming chrome diner. All around us, families were eating burgers and drinking malts and sodas. Finally the waitress came over. She raised her eyebrow skeptically. "Well?" I said, "We, um, want to order dinner." "You kids have money to pay for it?" Grover's lower lip quivered. I was afraid he would start bleating, or worse, start eating the linoleum. Annabeth looked ready to pass out from hunger. I was trying to think up a sob story for the waitress when a rumble shook the whole building; a motorcycle the size of a baby elephant had pulled up to the curb. All conversation in the diner stopped. The motorcycle's headlight glared red. Its gas tank had flames painted on it, and a shotgun holster riveted to either side, complete with shotguns. The seat was leather—but leather that looked like... well, Caucasian human skin. The guy on the bike would've made pro wrestlers run for Mama. He was dressed in a red muscle shirt and black jeans and a black leather duster, with a hunting knife strapped to his thigh. He wore red wraparound shades, and he had the cruelest, most brutal face I'd ever seen— handsome, I guess, but wicked—with an oily black crew cut and cheeks that were scarred from many, many fights. The weird thing was, I felt like I'd seen his face somewhere before. As he walked into the diner, a hot, dry wind blew through the place. All the people rose, as if they were hypnotized, but the biker waved his hand dismissively and they all sat down again. Everybody went back to their conversations. The waitress blinked, as if somebody had just pressed the rewind button on her brain. She asked us again, "You kids have money to pay for it?" The biker said, "It's on me." He slid into our booth, which was way too small for him, and crowded Annabeth against the window. He looked up at the waitress, who was gaping at him, and said, "Are you still here?" He pointed at her, and she stiffened. She turned as if she'd been spun around, then marched back toward the kitchen. The biker looked at me. I couldn't see his eyes behind the red shades. Who did this guy think he was? He gave me a wicked grin. "So you're the unclaimed kid, huh? No wonder they're arguing over who your parent is." I squinted at him, "The hell does my parents have to do with this?" "Well, which ever stuck up your parent is, the big guys upstairs are angry for interfering with your life." He said and placed his dirty boots on the table. "Your parent raised you with your mortal idiots, that's why no one can smell you." I could tell Annabeth wanted to say something but she probably was processing what this guy said. "Don't call my parents idiot. And I only have two parents, it's M/N and D/N L/N." I glared. I was confused as to why an Olympian would raise me and it'd hide my scent. Shouldn't it make worse? "Sure thing." He then turned to Percy who was beside me. "And old seaweed's kid." "What's it to you?" Percy spat. Annabeth's eyes flashed him a warning. "Percy, this is—" The biker raised his hand. "S'okay," he said. "I don't mind a little attitude. Long as you remember who's the boss. You know who I am, little cousin?" Then it struck me why this guy looked familiar. He had the same vicious sneer as some of the kids at Camp Half-Blood, the ones from cabin five. "You're Clarisse's dad," Percy said. "Ares, god of war." Ares grinned and took off his shades. Where his eyes should've been, there was only fire, empty sockets glowing with miniature nuclear explosions. "That's right, punk. I heard you broke Clarisse's spear." "She was asking for it." "Probably. That's cool. I don't fight my kids' fights, you know? What I'm here for—I heard you were in town. I got a little proposition for you." The waitress came back with heaping trays of food—cheeseburgers, fries, onion rings, and chocolate shakes. Ares handed her a few gold drachmas. She looked nervously at the coins. "But, these aren't..." Ares pulled out his huge knife and started cleaning his fingernails. "Problem, sweetheart?" The waitress swallowed, then left with the gold. "You can't do that," I told Ares. "You can't just threaten people with a knife." Ares laughed. "Are you kidding? I love this country. Best place since Sparta. Don't you carry a weapon, punk? You should. Dangerous world out there. Which brings me to my proposition." He turned to Percy, "I need you to do me a favor." "What favor could I do for a god?" "Something a god doesn't have time to do himself. It's nothing much. I left my shield at an abandoned water park here in town. I was going on a little... date with my girlfriend. We were interrupted. I left my shield behind. I want you to fetch it for me." "Why don't you go back and get it yourself?" The fire in his eye sockets glowed a little hotter. "Why don't I turn you into a prairie dog and run you over with my Harley? Because I don't feel like it. A god is giving you an opportunity to prove yourself, Percy Jackson. Will you prove yourself a coward?" He leaned forward. "Or maybe you only fight when there's a river to dive into, so your daddy can protect you." I wanted to punch this guy, but I knew he was waiting for that. He'd love it if I attacked. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction. But by the gods I want to smack him. Maybe some other time. "We're not interested," I said. "We've already got a quest." Ares's fiery eyes made me see things I didn't want to see—blood and smoke and corpses on the battlefield. "I know all about your quest, punk. When that item was first stolen, Zeus sent his best out looking for it: Apollo, Athena, Artemis, and me, naturally. If I couldn't sniff out a weapon that powerful..." He licked his lips, as if the very thought of the master bolt made him hungry. "Well... if I couldn't find it, you got no hope. Nevertheless, I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. Your dad and I go way back. After all, I'm the one who told him my suspicions about old Corpse Breath." "You told him Hades stole the bolt?" "Sure. Framing somebody to start a war. Oldest trick in the book. I recognized it immediately. In a way, you got me to thank for your little quest." "Thanks," Percy grumbled. "Hey, I'm a generous guy. Just do my little job, and I'll help you on your way. I'll arrange a ride west for you and your friends." "We're doing fine on our own." "Yeah, right. No money. No wheels. No clue what you're up against. Help me out, and maybe I'll tell you something you need to know. Something about your mom and Y/N's parents." "Our parents?" He grinned. "That got your attention. The water park is a mile west on Delancy. You can't miss it. Look for the Tunnel of Love ride." "What interrupted your date?" I asked. "Something scare you off?" Ares bared his teeth, but I'd seen his threatening look before on Clarisse. There was something false about it, almost like he was nervous. "You're lucky you met me, punk, and not one of the other Olympians. They're not as forgiving of rudeness as I am. I'll meet you back here when you're done. Don't disappoint me." After that I must have fainted, or fallen into a trance, because when I opened my eyes again, Ares was gone. I might've thought the conversation had been a dream, but Annabeth and Grover's expressions told me otherwise. "Not good," Grover said. "Ares sought you out, Percy. This is not good." I stared out the window. The motorcycle had disappeared. Did Ares really know something about our parents, or was he just playing with me? Now that he was gone, all the anger had drained out of me. I realized Ares must love to mess with people's emotions. That was his power—cranking up the passions so badly, they clouded your ability to think. He does not lie. He knows about your parents. "It's probably some kind of trick, Y/N," Percy said. "Forget Ares. Let's just go." "We can't," Annabeth said. "Look, I hate Ares as much as anybody, but you don't ignore the gods unless you want serious bad fortune. He wasn't kidding about turning you into a rodent." "Why does he need us?" "Maybe it's a problem that requires brains," Annabeth said. "Ares has strength. That's all he has. Even strength has to bow to wisdom sometimes." "But this water park... he acted almost scared. What would make a war god run away like that?" Annabeth and Grover glanced nervously at each other. Annabeth said, "I'm afraid we'll have to find out." The sun was sinking behind the mountains by the time we found the water park. Judging from the sign, it once had been called WATERLAND, but now some of the letters were smashed out, so it read WAT R A D. The main gate was padlocked and topped with barbed wire. Inside, huge dry waterslides and tubes and pipes curled everywhere, leading to empty pools. Old tickets and advertisements fluttered around the asphalt. With night coming on, the place looked sad and creepy. "If Ares brings his girlfriend here for a date," I said, staring up at the barbed wire, "I'd hate to see what she looks like." "Y/N," Annabeth warned. "Be more respectful." "Why? I thought you hated Ares." "He's still a god. And his girlfriend is very temperamental." "You don't want to insult her looks," Grover added. "Who is she? Echidna?" "No, Aphrodite," Grover said, a little dreamily. "Goddess of love." "I thought she was married to somebody," Percy said. "Hephaestus." "What's your point?" he asked. I suddenly felt the need to change the subject. "So how do we get in?" "Maia!" Grover's shoes sprouted wings. He flew over the fence, did an unintended somersault in midair, then stumbled to a landing on the opposite side. He dusted off his jeans, as if he'd planned the whole thing. "You guys coming?" Annabeth, Percy and I had to climb the old-fashioned way, holding down the barbed wire for each other as we crawled over the top. The shadows grew long as we walked through the park, checking out the attractions. There was Ankle Biter Island, Head Over Wedgie, and Dude, Where's My Swimsuit? No monsters came to get us. Nothing made the slightest noise. We found a souvenir shop that had been left open. Merchandise still lined the shelves: snow globes, pencils, postcards, and racks of— "Clothes," Annabeth said. "Fresh clothes." "Oh my gods yes." "Yeah," Percy said. "But you can't just—" "Watch us." She snatched an entire row of stuff of the racks and offered me a hand which I graciously took, together we disappeared into the changing room. "I need a shower." I groaned, while I changed. "We all do." She pointed out. A few minutes later we came out in Waterland flower-print shorts, a big red Waterland T-shirt, and commemorative Waterland surf shoes. A Waterland backpack was slung over our shoulders, obviously stuffed with more goodies. "What the heck." Grover shrugged. Soon, all three of us were decked out like walking advertisements for the defunct theme park. We continued searching for the Tunnel of Love. I got the feeling that the whole park was holding its breath. "So Ares and Aphrodite," Percy said, to keep my mind off the growing dark, "they have a thing going?" "That's old gossip, Percy," Annabeth told us. "Three-thousand-year-old gossip." "What about Aphrodite's husband?" "Well, you know," she said. "Hephaestus. The blacksmith. He was crippled when he was a baby, thrown off Mount Olympus by Zeus. So he isn't exactly handsome. Clever with his hands, and all, but Aphrodite isn't into brains and talent, you know?" "She likes bikers." "Whatever." "Hephaestus knows?" "Oh sure," Annabeth said. "He caught them together once. I mean, literally caught them, in a golden net, and invited all the gods to come and laugh at them. Hephaestus is always trying to embarrass them. That's why they meet in out-of-the-way places, like..." She stopped, looking straight ahead. "Like that." In front of us was an empty pool that would've been awesome for skateboarding. It was at least fifty yards across and shaped like a bowl. Around the rim, a dozen bronze statues of Cupid stood guard with wings spread and bows ready to fire. On the opposite side from us, a tunnel opened up, probably where the water flowed into when the pool was full. The sign above it read, THRILL RIDE O' LOVE: THIS IS NOT YOUR PARENTS' TUNNEL OF LOVE! Grover crept toward the edge. "Guys, look." Marooned at the bottom of the pool was a pink-and-white two-seater boat with a canopy over the top and little hearts painted all over it. In the left seat, glinting in the fading light, was Ares's shield, a polished circle of bronze. "This is too easy," I said. "So we just walk down there and get it?" Annabeth ran her fingers along the base of the nearest Cupid statue. "There's a Greek letter carved here," she said. "Eta. I wonder..." "Grover," Percy said, "you smell any monsters?" He sniffed the wind. "Nothing." "Nothing—like, in-the-Arch-and-you-didn't-smell-Echidna nothing, or really nothing?" Grover looked hurt. "I told you, that was underground." "Hey Percy, that wasn't nice." I glared. "Okay, I'm sorry." Percy took a deep breath. "I'm going down there." Pulling out my knife, "There isn't any monsters." "I'll go with Percy." Grover didn't sound too enthusiastic, but I got the feeling he was trying to make up for what had happened in St. Louis. "No," Percy told him. "I want you to stay up top with the flying shoes. You're the Red Baron, a flying ace, remember? I'll be counting on you for backup, in case something goes wrong." Grover puffed up his chest a little. "Sure. But what could go wrong?" "I don't know. Just a feeling. Y/N, will go with me—" "Yeah, I can go with." "Didn't take you as a romantic Seaweed Brain." Annabeth smirked. "What?" Percy's face was burning now, too. It made me laugh at how adorable he was. He turned to me and blushed even more. "Fine," he told us. "I'll do it myself." "Percy, I didn't say i don't want to come with!" I giggled. He started down the side of the pool, I followed, I hear him muttering about how this wasn't how its supposed go. Then I realized how we would've been surrounded by water. "Arthur Curry, if I drown I will beg Hades to have you." He paused and turned to take my hand and we continued walking. We reached the boat. The shield was propped on one seat, and next to it was a lady's silk scarf. I tried to imagine Ares and Aphrodite here, a couple of gods meeting in a junked-out amusement-park ride. Why? Then I noticed something I hadn't seen from up top: mirrors all the way around the rim of the pool, facing this spot. We could see ourselves no matter which direction we looked. That must be it. While Ares and Aphrodite were smooching with each other they could look at their favorite people: themselves. Percy picked up the scarf. It shimmered pink, and the perfume was indescribable—rose, or mountain laurel. He smiled, a little dreamy, and was about to rub the scarf against his cheek I frowned ripped it out of his hand and stuffed it in me pocket. "No." "What?" "Just get the shield, Arthur Curry, and let's get out of here." The moment he touched the shield, I knew we were in trouble. My hand broke through something that had been connecting it to the dashboard. A cobweb, I thought, but then I looked at a strand of it on my palm and saw it was some kind of metal filament, so fine it was almost invisible. A trip wire. "Wait," I said. "Too late." "There's another Greek letter on the side of the boat, another Eta. This is a trap." Noise erupted all around us, of a million gears grinding, as if the whole pool were turning into one giant machine. Grover yelled, "Guys!" Up on the rim, the Cupid statues were drawing their bows into firing position. Before I could suggest taking cover, they shot, but not at us. They fired at each other, across the rim of the pool. Silky cables trailed from the arrows, arcing over the pool and anchoring where they landed to form a huge golden asterisk. Then smaller metallic threads started weaving together magically between the main strands, making a net. "We have to get out," Percy said. "Woah I didn't know!" I said. Percy grabbed the shield and holding my hand we ran, but going up the slope of the pool was not as easy as going down. "I'm going to drown again aren't I? "Come on!" Grover shouted. He was trying to hold open a section of the net for us, but wherever he touched it, the golden threads started to wrap around his hands. The Cupids' heads popped open. Out came video cameras. Spotlights rose up all around the pool, blinding us with illumination, and a loudspeaker voice boomed: "Live to Olympus in one minute ... Fifty-nine seconds, fifty-eight ..." "Hephaestus!" Annabeth screamed. "I'm so stupid.' Eta is H.' He made this trap to catch his wife with Ares. Now we're going to be broadcast live to Olympus and look like absolute fools!" We'd almost made it to the rim when the row of mirrors opened like hatches and thousands of tiny metallic... things poured out. It was an army of wind-up creepy-crawlies: bronze-gear bodies, spindly legs, little pincer mouths, all scuttling toward us in a wave of clacking, whirring metal. "Spiders!" I said. I kicked these pests. Percy pulled me up and dragged my back toward the boat. "I am not staying here! I am so going to drown again!" The things were coming out from all around the rim now, millions of them, flooding toward the center of the pool, completely surrounding us. I told myself they probably weren't programmed to kill, just corral us and bite us and make us look stupid. Then again, this was a trap meant for gods. And we weren't gods. Percy and I climbed into the boat. Percy started kicking away the spiders as they swarmed aboard. I was swatting away some that I could. "Thirty, twenty-nine," called the loudspeaker. The spiders started spitting out strands of metal thread, trying to tie us down. The strands were easy enough to break at first, but there were so many of them, and the spiders just kept coming. I kicked one away from Percy's leg and its pincers took a chunk out of my new surf shoe. Annabeth was frozen from where she stood trying to keep away from us as much as possible. Grover hovered above the pool in his flying sneakers, trying to pull the net loose, but it wouldn't budge. Think, I told myself. Think. The Tunnel of Love entrance was under the net. We could use it as an exit, except that it was blocked by a million robot spiders. "Fifteen, fourteen," the loudspeaker called. Then I saw them: huge water pipes behind the mirrors, where the spiders had come from. And up above the net, next to one of the Cupids, a glass-windowed booth that must be the controller's station. "Annabeth!" Percy yelled. "Get into that booth! Find the 'on' switch!" Snapping out of her trance she turned. "But—" "Do it!" Annabeth was in the controller's booth now, staring at the buttons. "Five, four—" Annabeth sighed and started pushing every button, then looked up at us hopelessly, raising her hands. She was letting us know that she'd pushed every button, but still nothing was happening. "Y/N, I won't let you drown, just hold on!" I didn't think twice on nodding. Percy closed his eyes. "Two, one, zero!" Water exploded out of the pipes. It roared into the pool, sweeping away the spiders. He pulled me into the seat next to us and fastened me seat belt just as the tidal wave slammed into our boat, over the top, whisking the spiders away and dousing us completely, but not capsizing us. The boat turned, lifted in the flood, and spun in circles around the whirlpool. He held my hand tight afraid I'll drown the moment he lets go. The water was full of short-circuiting spiders, some of them smashing against the pool's concrete wall with such force they burst. Spotlights glared down at us. The Cupid-cams were rolling, live to Olympus. Percy and I held tight, both of us screaming as the boat shot curls and hugged corners and took forty-five-degree plunges past pictures of Romeo and Juliet and a bunch of other Valentine's Day stuff. Then we were out of the tunnel, the night air whistling through our hair as the boat barreled straight toward the exit. If the ride had been in working order, we would've sailed off a ramp between the golden Gates of Love and splashed down safely in the exit pool. But there was a problem. The Gates of Love were chained. Two boats that had been washed out of the tunnel before us were now piled against the barricade—one submerged, the other cracked in half. Jump. We have to jump. "Unfasten your seat belt," I yelled to Percy. Who already had his belt unfastened. "Jumping?" "We're going to have to jump for it." My idea was simple and insane. As the boat struck, we would use its force like a springboard to jump the gate. I'd heard of people surviving car crashes that way, getting thrown thirty or forty feet away from an accident. With luck, we would land in the pool. Hopefully not drown. Percy nodded. He gripped my hand as the gates got closer. "On my mark," I said. On mine. Jump when 'I' say so Perseus Jackson. He looked at me reluctantly. "How?" "What?" You'll know when I say so. "Fine." He shouted. "Jump when I jump!" "How would I know?!" "You'll say it!" "What?!" "Just tell me when to jump!!" "Now!" I yelled. I was about to jump when Percy pulled me closer. "Not yet! You didn't say it yet." Jump Hero. Percy jumped. I followed him. Crack! He was right. If we'd jumped when I thought we should've, we would've crashed into the gates. He got us maximum lift. Our boat smashed into the pileup and we were thrown into the air, straight over the gates, the pool was getting closer. I was going to drown again. Something grabbed me from behind. I yelled, "Ouch!" Grover! In midair, he had grabbed Percy by the shirt, and me by the arm, and was trying to pull us out of a crash landing, but we had all the momentum. "You're too heavy!" Grover said. "We're going down!" We spiraled toward the ground, Grover doing his best to slow the fall. We smashed into a photo-board, Grover's head going straight into the hole where tourists would put their faces, pretending to be Noo-Noo the Friendly Whale. Percy and I tumbled to the ground, banged up but alive. Ares's shield was still on Percy's arm. "Are you okay?" Percy panted. "Yeah... I didn't drown." Once we caught our breath, Percy and I went over to help Annabeth who was getting Grover out of the photo-board and thanked him for saving our lives. I looked back at the Thrill Ride of Love. The water was subsiding. Our boat had been smashed to pieces against the gates. A hundred yards away, at the entrance pool, the Cupids were still filming. The statues had swiveled so that their cameras were trained straight on us, the spotlights in our faces. I walked closer, "You guys suck." I blew blasphemy at the camera. Percy pulled me away. "Show's over!" Percy yelled. "Thank you! Good night!" The Cupids turned back to their original positions. The lights shut off. The park went quiet and dark again, except for the gentle trickle of water into the Thrill Ride of Love's exit pool. I wondered if Olympus had gone to a commercial break, or if our ratings had been any good. I hated being teased. I hated being tricked. And I had plenty of experience handling bullies who liked to do that stuff to me. Percy hefted the shield on his arm and turned to us friends. "We need to have a little talk with Ares."

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@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000 @katara720 @ynfics

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.14 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Hey, Stretch might hate to see Edge leaving, but he sure does love to watch him walk away.

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Read ‘All In The Jeans’ on AO3

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Read it here!

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Stretch let Edge lead him outside, towards the winding front walkway. But instead of heading down the stone path to where Stretch’s bike was sitting there like a steampunk nightmare invading their gingerbread fairytale, he drew Stretch down to sit on the front steps of the porch. The bricks were soothingly cool beneath him in the waning heat of the day and Edge sat next to him, his knee bumping lightly against Stretch’s.

“You don’t have to rush off just yet,” Edge told him quietly. “There’s still some time before sunset.” He still had a hold on Stretch’s hand and a bony thumb rubbed gently across the backs of his knuckles. “But you looked like you needed some air.”

“yeah,” Stretch agreed, numbly. He stared down at yard in front of him, the riotously colorful flowerbeds amidst rocky outcroppings that led their way up the little hill to the house. It was a little cooler here in the woods out of the stark sun overhead in town, closer to another season than summer or so it felt to him. It was all so inviting, welcoming, and his first thought upon seeing it that this was a trap of some sort seemed a little insulting now that he’d been fed and released. He’d eaten Red’s food, hell, moved right into his home without a qualm, and a well-kept cabin in the woods was where he drew the line?

But then, it wasn’t the house where the real problems lay, was it, it was the people living in it.

Monsters and a Human from another multiverse, again, and not just any Monsters, but another set of mirror images here in the Aboveground. He’d been worried about a Stephen King effect around this place and it turned out he should’ve been more concerned with Isaac Asimov, ‘cause the shift from gothic horror to sci-fi was not one he’d been braced for, with a ‘little invasion of the body snatchers’ vibe tossed in for extra flavor.

Only, that wasn’t fair, was it. Doppelgängers, Edge had mentioned earlier almost like it was a joke, but it was true, just like Sans and Papyrus were and he’d adjusted to them okay. It hadn’t been easy hanging out with someone who wore his brother’s face, but he’d adjusted. And despite the somewhat otherworldly location, these guys had been nothing but kind to Stretch, kinder than the Humans who’d greeted them when they’d popped out from the mountain, for sure.

Hell, Red took him in like a mama dog adopting a stray kitten. The glossy veneer of Stretch’s knowledge-dump panic was cracking and with it his weird sense of numbness, the void it left behind filling with dawning horror.

They were the only three who got out, Frisk said, they’d lost everything and everyone, and fled all the way here, and Stretch was the one about to have a panic attack about it. Exactly what kind of asshole was he trying to be here?

When Sans and Papyrus showed up under similar circumstances, he and Blue opened their lives and homes to them, all tea and sympathy. Well, mostly the tea was from Blue, but still. He was out here in Backwater crying in his soup over a breakup and he couldn’t even dredge up some compassion for versions 2.0?

“i’m sorry,” Stretch blurted thoughtlessly. He turned his hand in Edge’s, shifting to grip his slender fingers tightly. Bare bones against bare bones, weirdly intimate for all that they were only holding hands. He didn’t think he’d ever touched another skeleton like this except his own brother, back when he was little and Stretch was still trying to keep him from running off after every other damn shiny thing he ever saw.

Holding Edge’s hand was a lot different than trying to hang on to his squirmy wormy little brother. Edge only held on just as tight, his brow bone furrowing. “You don’t need to apologize, it’s a lot to take in. You’re honestly taking this all much better than I expected. Theorizing about a multiverse is a great deal different than being confronted with living specimens.”

“no, not that. i get that. i mean—i’m sorry.” Stretch waved his free hand around them vaguely, trying to indicate the entire world with one helpless gesture, “for everything. it must’ve been rough.”

Yeah, nice to see that Stretch’s gift for understatement hadn’t been affected by his personal traumas. Rough was a really great way of describing being the only survivors of their entire world. Next, he’d describe water as slightly damp, maybe fire could be ‘a little burny’.

Edge’s expression cleared, a certain tightness forming around his sockets. “Ah.” He looked away, eye lights rising to the sky where scattered pools of blue showed through the leafy branches. His eye lights were the orangey-red glow of a banked campfire, the crack running through his left socket lent him a sort of strangely thoughtful look. “It’s all right, it was a long time ago for us.”

“about ten years, right?” Stretch winced inwardly, yeah, sure, keep on talking about his painful past, that was a great payback for a yummy dinner. “i mean, that’s what i got from the book you gave me.”

“Yes,” Edge agreed. He didn’t seem to mind talking about it, maybe time really did pad on the emotional distance; Stretch’d have to check back on his own history in a couple years, give his memories a poke and see what bruises came back. “A third of my lifetime.”

Huh. If the math was right, that actually put Edge as a little older than him, who would’ve thunk it, the little brother mythos tipped on its axis, just for him.

Edge slanted a considering glance his way. “We knew other Monsters came to the surface. I kept tabs on the news from the world outside Backwater, just in case—” he hesitated and whatever awful scenario he was thinking about got lost in a shrug. “Well. Just in case. We saw you and your brother on the news with the other Human, and realized you were from a different Underground. They referred to you as Papyrus and Sans then and before you ask, we’d already changed our names before you came to the surface. When we came to this town, actually, and if you ask me why, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. Sometimes in Backwater, certain things simply make sense. One day, everyone started calling me Edge and that’s who I’ve been since.”

He stretched his long legs out in front of him, his slim, bare feet next to Stretch’s grubby sneakers. Edge’d changed out of his grimy gardening clothes before dinner into a fresh t-shirt, still only plain black but the way it clung to his ribcage and along the line of his broad shoulders was worth a second look. His jeans, too, and Stretch was hyper aware of his own baggie shorts and t-shirt that declared he was the taco king of Minnesota, of the differences between them.

“so you already knew about me,” Stretch said, “i mean, before i got here.” There was an unfair advantage if he’d ever heard one.

“In the abstract, yes,” Edge shrugged. “It didn’t seem very important until you showed up in my brother’s living room and tried to hit me with a lamp.”

Fair. Stretch looked back at their feet, at the visibly healed cracks in Edge’s metatarsals, nothing at all like his own undamaged bones. He understood the multiverse theory, wasn’t exactly that complicated. In theory, he and Edge were different version of the same person, each another facet to a complex jewel; that was the theory, anyway. After hanging out with Sans and Papyrus, Stretch had a few theories of his own and the most important one was one he wanted to be sure Edge understood.

“you aren’t really me, you know that, right? not me me.” It seemed important to him that Edge knew that or maybe Stretch had it backwards, maybe it should be that he wasn’t Edge, since Edge was here first by several years. He sort of had dibs, didn’t he.

For some reason, that statement made one corner of Edge’s mouth curled up in a smirk. “That seems rather obvious,” Edge said dryly. “For one, as fascinating as you seem to find my jeans, you wouldn’t fit in them very well.”

“no!” Stretch sputtered, holy shit, abort, abort, do not look at his hips right now, do not do it, “i mean in the context of the multiverse! like how chara and frisk are alike, right? they look alike, but believe you me, chara ain’t like frisk. you and me, we might’ve had the same names once, but we aren’t the same, not really.”

“Chara and Frisk have some ten years of distance between their ages that might account for that,” Edge pointed out, “but I’m no scientist, not even on the weekends. It isn’t me you should be discussing this with.”

Then who…? “i’ve got some data to back it up, i’ve met someone else from another multiverse, you know. two someones, other versions of…well…us.”

Well, now, looked like it was Edge’s turn for a shock, how about that, nice to see it on someone else’s face for a change. “You have?”

“yeah. another set of Sans-and-Papyrus skeleton brothers ended up with us before we ever got the surface. they wanted to stay out of the news and the queen let ‘em.” Stretch shrugged, “i don’t know all their story, they don’t like to talk about it. but it’s been a couple years since they showed up and we definitely aren’t very similar past being skeletons and having brothers.” For one, Blue might not cook as well as Edge, but at least his spaghetti never landed anyone in the hospital with acute food poisoning like some other skeletons who would not be named coughpapyruscough.

But Edge didn’t seem interested in another set of skeleton brothers to add to the collection, not even in the interest of making a full six-pack. He’d shifted to his knees and faced Stretch, his sockets wide, “There’s another Human that fell, then? Into their Underground?” Edge asked, urgently.

“probably, but not that came with them,” Stretch shook his head, “i. uh. i get the feeling their story is a little like yours, only more so and a lot more recent.”

That urgency faded. “Ah.” Edge settled back to sit on the step again. “I see.”

Stretch didn’t ask why Edge was so interested in there being another Human kid, that was a surefire way to wander off the path, but he made a mental note about it. “what i’m getting at is, you knew who i was when you first saw me. what i was.”

“I’m hardly going to mistake the framework of my own face.”

Yeah, see, that was another mark in the column of the differences between the ‘verses not simply being nature vs nurture, but them being different people entirely despite the whole names-and-also-skeleton thing, ‘cause Stretch had been looking at his own face in the mirror for a long damn time and he didn’t look like Edge, fuck no, he’d be the first person to know if he was that gorgeous.

Probably better not to bring that up. “and you guys have been here on the surface for ten years now, taking care of the town, and you never tried to contact anyone?”

Edge only shrugged. “What was the point? It isn’t as if we actually knew any of you. I expected that more Monsters would find us eventually and you did.”

“yeah, by accident.”

Edge slanted him another look, coolly raising a browbone, “You’ve been in Backwater a little while now. Do you truly believe you’re here completely by accident?”

Yeah, okay, that was a pretty good point. “but if you were expecting other monsters to show up eventually, then why didn’t you want me to stay?”

“Maybe because my brother was very quick to adopt a person who is wearing something like my face?” That stung and Stretch looked away, his fingers going helplessly stiff in their shared grip. “Or maybe because the longer you stay, the less likely you’ll be able to leave,” Edge sighed. “That’s how Backwater is.”

“wait.” Hold on, back that up. “you can’t leave?”

“I didn’t say that.” Yeah, and that was a backpedal if Stretch ever heard one. “Frisk has willingly tied their life to this town, and I’m sworn to protect them. I can hardly do that from another city.”

“but nothing is physically stopping you from leaving.” Because if the corn was gonna sprout little legs and come after him if he drank the water here too long, that would be important information to have.

“Where would I go?” Edge countered. “Back to Ebott? Unlike my brother and I, you have ties there. We do not and I’ve very little interest in revisiting the mountain ten years away from it. I have everything I’ve ever needed right here and as for wants, I’ve long since accepted the truth.”

There was a certain bitterness there and Stretch should let it go, he’d already poked that wound enough. He should, but he still ended up asking, softly, “what truth?”

“That sometimes people don’t get what’s coming to them.” The words were so loaded that Stretch winced and hunched down, almost expecting to hear a gunshot. Instead, Edge sighed, let his anger go on an exhaled breath and he sounded calmer as he asked, “Now you’ve heard my secrets. What about you?”

“me?” Stretch snorted. He kept his gaze on the flowerbeds, tracing the flat round stones of the path, and did not meet Edge’s crimson gaze. “heh, you guys are determined to ferret something out, aren’t you. i keep telling you, i don’t have any secrets. my boyfriend dumped me, and it brought me down, couldn’t get past it, so i left town. ended up here…i should be writing this down, it’s like the start of a country song. shame i don’t have a truck.”

“You’d look terrible in a cowboy hat. And your soul?” Edge asked, gentle but implacable.

“that’s not a secret,” Stretch muttered, “i just don’t want to talk about it.” He’d talked about it plenty back in Ebott, for all the good it did him, and he’d hoped to leave those chats behind when he got on the bus.

“Fair enough,” Edge tugged on his hand suddenly, pulling Stretch to his feet, “Come on.”

He barely gave Stretch a minute to catch his balance before he started to run, heedless of his bare feet as Stretch stumbling on after him. His brief, absurd surge of fear that they were, ‘oh, fuck, running from something,’ faded as Edge laughed aloud, pulling him past trees and through flowerbeds, around the corner of the house into the backyard again. Off to the side of the garden beneath a large tree was a massive pile of fallen leaves in a messy sprawl of browns and golds, and Stretch only realized what Edge intended when it was too late to stop him, barely stuttering out a “wait--!” before he leapt and yanked Stretch along with him.

They landed together in a cacophony of brittle crunching and the blinding, whispering surge of leaves launching into the air. Stretch sputtered and flailed, wallowing in the pile that was somehow soft and weirdly crisp at the same time, billowing around him as he floundered.

Somehow, he managed to find out which way was upright again and burst out on the surface, swimming through leaves, and through the madness, he could hear Edge laughing, that deep, rich voice sharing out happiness. For the first time in what felt like an endless dry spell, his soul felt like it was full, joy pouring into it, filling up the empty space in his chest.

“you’re crazy,” Stretch laughed, spitting out a leaf, and watched as Edge flopped back in the leaves, arms and legs moving and sending up another wild swirl of crunchy browns and golds.

“Perhaps,” Edge called, raising his voice over the cronch. “But I made you smile.”

“the technique could use work, but i can’t argue with the results.” He looked up and for the first time, Stretch noticed that not all the trees here were loaded with green. His grin slowly faded. “the leaves are falling.”

“Yes,” Edge’s smile eased down, understanding dawning, and he shuffled through the leaves to Stretch, reaching for him, “It’s a late summer heat right now, but yes. The corn is ripe, autumn is coming and soon.”

Autumn was coming, too fast, and there was nothing Stretch could do to stop it, but that didn’t mean he had to let it go. He was a little sick of letting things just happen around him and Backwater was getting him into the habit of doing something about it. “i want to see edgar allen again. you think if i went back to the field, the corn would give me a pass?”

“I think that a visit can be arranged without that being an issue.” Between the two of them, they managed to wade out of the pile onto solid ground, both of them shedding leaves as Edge headed back into the garden. He skirted the wall of sunflowers, leading Stretch deeper into the rows. Right into a small patch of corn, the tips of the leaves already yellowed and curling.

Stretch stopped abruptly, his sneakers sinking into the soft soil as he stared, “is that…?” In the middle of the little field there was a scarecrow hanging from a crossbar. It looked exactly like Edgar Allen, from the greasepaint face down to the plaid shirt, only now, there was a scarf looped around his neck, the very same one Stretch left in offering.

“It is,” Edge agreed softly. “He is every scarecrow. They awaken when needed or summoned.” He gave Stretch a nudge, hard enough for him to stumble forward a step deeper into the field. “Talk to him. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Talk to him. Right. Stretch swallowed hard, trying to shuffle aside his sudden misgivings. His voice creaked like a rusty hinge as he managed a weak, “edgar?

Then he watched, fascinated. He could nearly see the life filling those limp limbs, the burlap sack of his head lifting as he raised it, and he knew the exact moment Edgar caught sight of Stretch in front of him.

“Well, hey pal! Good ta see ya!” That croaky voice was the same as Stretch remembered and he smiled helplessly, watching Edgar unwind an arm from the bar that held him up to touch the bandana around his neck, “Wanted ta thank ya for the new gear!”

“it looks good on you,” Stretch managed. The turkey-red fabric was bright against the faded plaid of his shirt and Stretch wondered how long it would take for the sun to bleach it out. Would there even be time before Edgar…ended? Did his clothes vanish with him or was he left out in the field to rot after his seasonal duty? He didn’t know and found he didn’t want to ask. For fuck’s sake, Stretch barely even knew the guy, if he was a guy, and still his soul heavy with sorrow.

“Corn thought so, too,” Edgar Allen said gleefully. “Nattered on ‘bout it for hours. Kept me awake for an age, I tell ya.” For all that his face never changed from that greasepaint sneer, Stretch could almost feel the sudden surge of sleepiness rising in the air, the way Edgar took hold of his support again, and slumped back down, “Still restin’ up from it. Thanks, again. See ya around, pal, give me a call if ya need me?”

“i will,” Stretch said and as he watched, that animation faded, life seeping away and leaving behind a nothing but straw-filled bundle of clothes.

A gentle hand settled on his shoulder and Stretch turned to look at Edge, trying to swallow down the thickness of absurd grief in his throat. He’d met Edgar Allen for a total of ten minutes, tops, and it still hurt.

“It’s difficult for him to stay awake when he isn’t needed,” Edge told him softly.

“yeah,” Stretch managed, blinking hard, his sockets aching. “he’ll be dying in a few weeks.”

“Yes, for the season,” Edge agreed, “It’s not really a death, but it is something like it.”

“that sucks, big time.” He understood it, sure, the whole ghost of gyftmas present sort of visit. Didn’t make it suck any less.

“He’s earned his rest and his spirit will return. Perhaps in the spring you can came back to Backwater and meet his recreation.” Edge held out a hand and after swiping angrily at his sockets, Stretch took it, folding their fingers together again. “Come on, it’s starting to get dark.”

It was, Stretch saw dismally, the sunlight creeping through the trees faded and soft with oncoming dusk. He’d already been here a helluva lot longer than he’d meant and it might be an interesting trip back to Red’s if he didn’t hurry; he’d be wandering off the path simply because he couldn’t see the damn thing and he really didn’t feel up to testing the monster bear theory, not today.

The two of them hurried their way back around front. He’d left his bike on the side of the driveway and before Stretch could reach it, the hand in his that had been faithfully leading him all afternoon betrayed him. Suddenly, Stretch found himself yanked around, a tree trunk hard beneath his back.

He looked up with wide sockets and all he could see Edge looming in front of him, stark crimson eye lights boring into his own and arms braced against the tree on either side of him. They weren’t touching, not quite, but he was close, so close Stretch could feel the warmth pouring off of him and it was ridiculous that it made him shiver in the waning heat of the day, an uneasy trill tickling its way up his spine. Something that was not fear was swelling inside him, not fear at all.

“What is it about you?” Edge said abruptly. His eye lights were burning, bright coals in his dark, narrowed sockets.

“what do you—” Stretch started, too weak and a little lost.

He broke off on a confused sound as Edge leaned in suddenly, tried to jerk back but there was nowhere to go as Edge murmured close to Stretch’s audial canal, his breath damp, nearly as solid as a physical touch, “If you think I haven’t noticed your attraction to me, you may wish to redefine the word subtle.”

“uhhhh.” Not that it wasn’t true but getting called out on it right now was a little unexpected, hell, he hadn’t even been looking at Edge’s ass this time. Any reasonable answer slipped away from his fumbling reach. “that’s…i mean…”

“It’s not that you’re unappealing, but as you’ve said several times, you’re getting over a breakup.” A gentle thumb slid along his cheekbone in defiance of what Edge was saying, making Stretch suck in a sharp gasp of breath.

‘Not unappealing.’ Wasn’t exactly a glowing endorsement but eh, reviews didn’t always match the product.

“yeah,” Stretch said inanely. “yeah, i am.” As if that meant anything, as if he could even think of anything outside this singular moment. Edge was so close to him, the lines of their bodies separated by bare inches as Stretch breathed out a faint, “sorry.”

He didn’t even know what he was apologizing for.

“I’m not. You aren’t alone in this,” Edge exhaled a soft half-laugh. “I’ve felt an attraction to you since the moment you tried to hit me with that damn lamp. But that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.”

“yeah, uh,” Stretch swallowed hard, trying to add some starch to his voice, but it was so damned hard (fuck, don’t think that, don’t, shuffle that pun right to the end of the queue). Edge was so close, and the bark of the tree was rough through the back of his t-shirt, lighting digging into his ribcage like a goad, urging him to move, to step forward, to complete that circuit. Stretch didn’t move. “i mean, the way the multiverse theory goes, i’m sort of you. or you’re me. something like that.”

A low chuckle filled the air between them and Stretch closed his sockets, holy fuck, that voice rumbled through him like a miniature earthquake, “That isn’t what I meant at all. You don’t want to talk about your past and that’s fine. But that doesn’t mean the effects don’t linger.” The very tip of Edge’s nasal nodule brushed the side of Stretch’s skull as he sniffed delicately, his warm breath gusting.

Slim fingertips came to rest on his sternum over his damage soul and that single light touch affected him more than the entire groping session in the library. “I can smell your pain, such a deep hurt in your soul. I don’t want to make it worse.”

“edge,” Stretch whispered, closed his sockets against the answering whisper of his own name. There was the slightest pressure of a knee against his own and the temptation was there to spread his legs, to give it a place to rest, and he shouldn’t, they shouldn’t, but that warning voice was getting softer, distant, caught by a shepherd’s hook and hauled off the stage. He’d gone through half a dozen shocks since he woke up this morning, added them to the pile he'd gotten since he’d stepped off that bus. What was one more?

“I know all of that. I know it. So why am I so drawn to you?” Edge murmured distractedly, “What is it about you? Why can’t I leave you alone?” He reeled back, shaking his head as if to clear it, then, nearly pleading, “Don’t let me hurt you.”

A warning, a plea tangled together as one, and Stretch lurched after him, arms reaching with purely reckless intent, “you won’t, you aren’t, don’t go—"

The sudden klaxon of a horn made them jerk apart, Edge stumbling back and putting space between them. Stretch looked up see a rusty old pickup truck making its bumpy way down the path, coming to a stop with a wheezy squeal of brakes.

They watched it together, Edge with tight annoyance creasing his face and Stretch with panting confusion, struggling to get his breathing under control. It turned out to be a hell of a lot easier when the window rolled down the window and Red poked his head out, like getting doused with a bucket of ice water as he called with deliberate cheer, “hey, you two.”

“Brother,” Edge said, the greeting coming from between clenched teeth.

“you have a car?” Stretch asked, outraged. Shame was taking a hasty backseat because holy shit, he’d spent all afternoon on that bike when Red already had a set of wheels?

Red only grinned, a slash of a smile with his golden tooth winking in the dwindling light. “nah, i got a truck.”

“you never said!”

“you never asked,” Red countered. “it was gettin’ late and i got worried. didn’t want ya trying to scooter your way home in the dark, ya didn’t add a headlight to that rustbucket. toss the bike in the back and hop in.”

It wasn’t a question and yeah, somehow, he didn’t think Red was gonna buy that he and Edge were only talking, not this time.

Stretch felt a guilty flush heat his cheekbones, meekly obeying. It was for the best, he told himself, holy shit, yes, he should be grateful that Red showed up when he did, no matter what kind of protest his crotch was currently bleating up at him. The last thing he needed right now was any other attachments and not only because he felt like getting into another relationship right around never, (yeah, never worked for him) and rebound sex with the boss’s little brother was supposed to be off the table.

Getting into anything past friendship with Edge was a Bad Idea all the way around, ‘cause when it came down to it, Edgar Allen wasn’t the only person leaving, now was he. Stretch didn’t want to think about it, kept trying to avoid it, but the knowledge still came up in the back of his head, readying itself to bite him in the ass.

Eventually, Stretch was gonna have to find his own way home.

~~*~~

tbc

[inkribbon796]

Alea Iacta Est Ch. 2: The Still Hourglass

Summary: The hunt for Dark’s newest spawnlings is on.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3

King was dead to the world, completely asleep when his phone began to ring, the custom ringtone of the chorus from “I Love Myself” by the Wannadies playing.

Grumbling in anger, King blindly fumbled for his phone and answered it, “Fuck you, Ills, what time is it?”

“Seven,” Illinois answered over the phone as King dragged his hand across his face. “Look, I wouldn’t have called if I couldn’t find Host, Dark’s got more spawnlings, I need help finding them.”

“I’m going back to bed,” King decided.

“No! Kay, please,” Illinois begged and that was what started actually waking King up, Illinois really sounded that desperate. “Dad’s not doing well, I need to find them.”

“Okay, okay,” King reached over for his glasses, starting to accidentally signal to Lunky that it was time to get up and the spawnling started screeching. “I’m up, just buy me a coffee.”

“After this is all done, I’ll buy you whatever the hell you want,” Illinois promised.

Across the other side of the Egoton portion of town, Mark, Amy, and Ethan had already gotten up.

It was foggy from a rare summer cold spell. They were having an earlier day than usual since they were scheduled for an earlier patrol later.

They had their dogs with them and were talking about random topics while on a run in their normal clothes. Or at least Mark was shit talking and Ethan was shit talking to him back. Either way it was a calm morning.

Then Spencer stopped almost dead, tugging the leash as he stared down the street. The dog began growling, Ethan could physically see the hairs on the little shepherd standing up.

“Ethan?” Mark slowed down but he was still a good twenty feet away from him with Amy and their dogs. Chica was whining and Henry was just staring silently at the same direction Spencer was growling in.

“I don’t know, he just stopped,” Ethan looked around for any trouble. He saw what was wrong a bit too late. There was a patch of darker fog creeping towards him, about the size of a small mountain bike, much bigger than how he’d started out as a dinner plate sized cloud.

Spencer had smelt him but Ethan didn’t see him coming until the spawnling pounced.

A flash of aura, coated in words moved through the group and the dogs were suddenly gone, back home and fully rested and fed after their walk. But their owners didn’t move with them.

Ethan suddenly became aware that it got hard to breathe. Mark and Amy ran over to try and help Ethan when they were jumped by similar aura clouds, Mark trying to fly out of the crowd but he felt something almost pin him in place.

After a bit of a struggle the fog began to get burned away in the morning summer heat and the three heroes stood there, pushed to the back of their own minds.

“That was way more difficult than I thought it was going to be,” Mark heard himself say.

Ethan heard a bubbling laugh come from his own throat, “Let’s split up and see who can cause the most damage. I bet it’s me.”

“Eat shit, you’re on,” the demon controlling Mark spat and immediately turned tail and ran, Amy watching them both run off in different directions before the demon used her flight to take off into the sky. The Host watching the three of them go.

What most heroes woke up to was chaos. It didn’t take long for them to realize that, one, it was Silver and Crank causing the problem; and, two, they were being controlled by demons.

Not that the pair of demons let themselves get caught. The trio of demons had already been going crazy consuming aura before they took their bodies. The death troll had already risen to ten before the heroes’ bodies had been hijacked. Now things were getting worse with a super strong hero who could fly and one who could turn invisible being controlled by demons.

Marvin ran out with Chase in the hopes of finding Silver because Crank had gone invisible and some accounts said he had slipped into the river and was refusing to be drawn back out. Bing was on the hunt with Oliver and Logan to find Crank.

But it was Illinois who had joined the search with King who found one of the trio first.

“What do yeh mean there’s a third one ‘a these fookers?”[1] Marvin demanded, his voice coming over King’s communicator.

“There were three of them,” Illinois explained. “Just don’t kill them, let me trap them and—”

Illinois paused as he watched a woman walk towards them, cautious and careful.

The adventurer froze at the cloud of aura around her, the spawnling was already so much bigger and more powerful than when they had escaped the Manor.

“Might have found one, Marv, call you back,” King warned and lowered his communicator.

“Hey,” Illinois greeted.

“Hi,” she smiled back. “Where’s the pink one?”

“You mean Wil?” Illinois asked.

The spawnling had Amy nod, “Yes, I like his aura more.”

Illinois smiled in triumph and took out one of the pieces of chalk, laced with Dark’s aura, that he used to open up portals. “Alright we’ll just head back home and—”

Thick black and white aura began to cloud around the demon’s human host, a threat, “Not so fast.”

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” Illinois started trying to move in front of King. “I can take us back to the Manor, you can calm down. Both of them are there.”

The spawnling was quiet before dropping her host, Amy falling away and crashing to the ground in a semi-conscious daze. The spawnling still looked like her, her outfit part white and part black,

“You got a name?” Illinois asked.

“Tempus,” she introduced, stepping away from Amy as the hero began to shakily pick herself up. King moved slowly to get to her and pull her away.

“You okay?” King began to whisper as Illinois drew open a portal and made sure to show it led back to the Manor and he walked through first, Tempus following him into the Manor’s entrance hall.

“Okay, you know where the other two are?” Illinois asked her.

Tempus gave a noncommittal shrug, looking around the Manor.

“I’m trying to keep them from being killed, I would appreciate a little help,” Illinois barked at her.

The argument was cut off before it could even begin as Illinois heard Dark and Wil arguing as Dark was coming down the stairs.

“For the last time, I’m fine, I’ve been asleep far too long,” Dark dismissed, his aura curled protectively around him.

“At least grab something to eat,” Wil insisted before the two of them saw Illinois and Tempus. “Oh, hello.”

“We’re still trying to find the other two,” Illinois told Dark as he walked over. “They’re causing a scene all over town.”

“I noticed,” Dark told him hesitantly. “Hello, my dear.”

Tempus was extremely hesitant about approaching him, as if he’d strike out against her. An action Dark had neither the heart nor drive to do now that she held her own sentience, and Wil’s aura still was palpable amidst her own.

“Sweetie?” Wil rushed over and picked her up, twirling her around, before setting her back down and cupping her face gently in his hands. “You’ve gotten so big. It seems like just yesterday you could fit in the palm of my hand.”

“They separated this morning, Wil,” Dark reminded sharply. “Your name, my dear?”

She smiled at him, “Tempus.”

“And where are your siblings, Tempus?” Dark asked.

“I saw them a little bit ago, but I don’t know where they are now,” Tempus admitted as the group heard an audible gasp from the top of the stairs.

The four of them saw Yan, leaning over the railing of the stairs and staring at Tempus. When Tempus looked back at her, Yan ducked a little bit.

“Yan come meet your sister, Tempus,” Wilford cheerfully introduced.

Yan came down the stairs nervously ducked behind Dark, who was eyeing his new sister carefully.

There was a little bit of tense silence as Yan peeked out from behind Dark. “Can we be friends and have sleepovers and makeovers?” Yan asked Tempus.

“Well see,” Tempus allowed but smiled at Yan. Yan’s eyes got all big and hopeful.

As the situation defused, Illinois walked over to Dark and began debriefing him on the current situation.

“—and pretty sure we’re going to have to fish the other one out of the river,” Illinois concluded.

“Right, the sooner the better,” Dark agreed, and threw open a portal.

Illinois, however, caught the fact that his hand was shaking as he did so. “No, you should go back to bed, I’ll take care of it.”

“I’ve been in bed for far too long today, stay with your father,” Dark walked through a portal, and Illinois followed him before he could close it fast enough.

“What are you doing?” Dark demanded.

“Staying with my father,” Illinois didn’t break eye contact. “If you’re not going back to bed, like you should, then neither am I.”

“I shouldn’t be in bed, I don’t need to sleep,” Dark scoffed defensively. “I am fine.”

“I’m not going to watch you almost die again,” Illinois told him.

“If I died then I was too weak to handle it in the first place,” Dark scoffed.

“No it’ll be because you pushed yourself too far, why can’t you just let us take care of you, Dad,” Illinois ordered.

“I am not your father,” Dark spat, his mental walls coming up.

“Then who is it? Because it sure as shit isn’t Wil!” Illinois shouted in anger. “He was never my dad, it was always yours!”

Dark’s next words lodged in his throat, and with his already weakened state, he couldn’t stop his blue soul from reaching out for Illinois.

The effect was almost instantaneous, the adventurer felt the impact of such overwhelming emotions that it immediately brought tears to his eyes. The burden of pain, loss, fear, longing, and the need to never let go.

Illinois reached out and pulled Dark in for a hug, the Entity trying frantically to pull his blue soul back into compliance. He wanted to reach out and destroy something, to point to it and warn everyone that he was still dangerous.

But the only thing in his arms was Illinois, and his mind stalled.

When Dark could finally get the soul under control, or at least not screaming in his mind as much, he found he had a new problem, Illinois’s aura was latched into his. Even as Illinois started to pull back, he held on, “You know, even if I was calling Wil “Dad”, I am allowed to have two dads.”

“Stop,” Dark told him, realizing that his own voice was choked up, instinctively looking around to see if anyone was watching them. Thankfully the answer was no. “Don’t give me this so it can get ripped away.”

Illinois leaned back so he could look Dark dead in the eyes, “You’re my dad, and nothing is going to change that, I promise.”

Dark held onto Illinois’s arm, trying desperately not to get even more, impossibly, emotionally attached than he already was.

He was failing. Miserably. Happily.

Illinois smiled again and Dark couldn’t help but get a little hopeful. “Come on, let’s go find those two runts before they get themselves killed.”

With that Illinois led Dark away as they followed the sounds of chaos.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations:

1. What do you mean there’s a third one of these fuckers?

[soda-fawn]

Well I got bored and my brain refuses to work on anything that I should be working on so.. uhm have a meet-cute with UF Sans.. sorta

Sans grumbled as he moved through the streets. It felt as if hell froze over today, and the snow just wouldn’t let up. His car wouldn’t start, Papyrus left early and banned him from using his bike during the winter months. Sans didn’t blame him, but he still hated that he couldn’t use it. 

He would have preferred that today. To put on a helmet that would keep his gold tooth from freezing. Sans got used to this feeling when he lived in Snowdin, but it got worse on the surface. There was never this bad of blizzards in the underground, there was never this bad of cold in the underground. Hell, they were surrounded by the mountain walls on all four sides, so it was never that bad. 

So it was understandable that Sans found winters a little unpleasant on the surface. Sans wore a few layers today, an old scarf Papyrus “offered”, aka he forced him to take it for these last few weeks, his bright red turtle neck, an old worn hoodie that still smelled of his room in Snowdin, his signature jacket, some sweats that he found and just threw on, and finally his sneakers that he refused to get rid of despite Papyrus’ demands. 

He was a little surprised he wasn’t overheating, then again that was a little hard for a skeleton to do. 

The snow crunched under his feet as he made his way to a nearby bus stop. It was a familiar sound, the busy cars and people weren’t. Sure he’d been here for a few years, but he never got used to the number of people. 

He also didn’t want any sort of interaction today, he was tired and irritated. So you can imagine how thrilled he was to see someone else at the bus stop. 

He huffed and shuffled inside the little shelter. It was cold but better than being out in the snow. He took a glance at the other person at the bus stop.

….

His jaw became slacked. 

It was a small, well not really but most looked small to him, human huddled up in the corner trying desperately to stay warm. Their face red from the cold while they tried so hard to huddle in what looked like a thin sweater. They just seemed to have said sweater, jeans, and boots that were soaked at the bottom. 

They looked up at him, their eyes glazed over with regret. They scooted even closer in on themselves as if to give him room to sit down. It was adorable. 

Sans couldn’t lie, he did find humans attractive, only a few though. 

So seeing one that he did find attractive, fucking adorable right now, huddled up, shivering, cold, and offering him a seat was almost a dream come true. 

He took the seat next to them and gave them a curious glance. 

“You okay?”

They looked up at him, confused. they shivered again and gave him a curt nod. 

“..Ya don’t look it dollface. Yer shiverin” he pointed out. 

His pride swelled when he noticed their face flush. 

They bit their lip and began to fidget with their hands nervously. 

“Yes, i’m okay, just a little cold” they muttered. 

Sans’ grin grew, “I can see that.”

They laughed.

Sans’ soul swelled and pounded. God their laugh was adorable. 

“W-Well I was in a hurry this morning. It doesn’t look like I needed to be though, the bus is..is pretty late” the shivered again and shuffled a little closer to Sans. He figured it was because he was giving off body warmth. He most certainly didn’t mind it.

“Explains yer choice in clothes” he chuckled. They seemed so surprised by his laugh, their eye’s held a soft wonder and amazement. It made him a little embarrassed, he couldn’t say why. 

They snapped back to reality and laughed again, his soul thumped hard. 

“I didn’t think it would snow!” they defended. It caused another chuckle to come from Sans. 

He was pleasantly surprised when they started laughing with him. 

They shivered again, a small sneeze following after. 

He stared at them as they sneezed for a second and third time. “Ya gonna stop any time soon doll?” 

They laughed and nodded. 

They sniffled and shuffled again, hugging themselves now. Sans felt guilt swarm in him again. He was just letting them freeze! 

He slid off his jacket and pulled his hoodie over his head. It was a little obvious that he was more built than the average human skeleton now that he had two layers off. He placed the hoodie in his lap and slid the jacket over him once more. He glanced at the human next to him and his grin widened when he noticed their face had gotten redder. 

“Ya see somethin ya like dollface?” he teased. 

Their face flushed even deeper and it caused a roll of laughter to leave Sans. 

“Heh..’m just pullin your leg” he finally said. They puffed their cheeks.

“You think you’re funny don’t you?” they asked. He chuckled again.

“Oh sweetheart I think I’m hilarious” he got a significantly closer to them. He could smell them, they smelt sweet of vanilla and lavender. They stared at him for a second, a small smile cracked on their face. They analyzed his face a little more, taking the time to look at his teeth and his eye lights. 

Now he was the one becoming embarrassed again. He simply placed the hoodie in their lap and moved back to his seat and out of their personal bubble. He desperately tried to ignore the red dusting his cheekbones. 

They made a noise of confusion as the began to examine the hoodie. It would be too big to fit them, they simply placed the hoodie next to them and gave Sans a patient smile. 

“Wear it ‘fore ya freeze.”

“Oh no, sir-”

“Sans”

“..Sans. I can’t take it”

“Sweetheart do ya want to get sick?” He asked, finally facing them. 

They didn’t answer, just looked down at the large hoodie next to them. 

“But that doesn’t mean I can take it”

Sans huffed and grabbed the hoodie and scrunched it up. He gave them one more mischievous grin and rudely placed the hoodie over their head. They made a small surprise sound, which sans loved, and tried to stare at the skeleton before the hood engulfed their vision. Sans resisted the urge to laugh at how cute they were. 

They grumbled out a thank you and pulled their arms through the sleeves. They had to pull the sleeves up a little to even get their hands out. Their fingertips were a bright red and it made Sans wince. They must have been even colder than he thought. 

They pulled the hood back a little and gave Sans a bright and genuine smile. 

Sans’ soul thumped harder. 

“Thank you so much si- Sans, it’s so warm and comfy” the smiled. Sans could almost melt when he saw how happy it made them. 

“Keep it”

“What?”

“Keep it Sweetheart, suits ya better than it ever did me” he laughed off. 

They stared at him for a moment, confused and surprised by Sans’ generosity. He was a little surprised too. 

“I’d hate for ya to freeze doll, but y’know, if ya want I could warm ya up a different way” He purred. It sounded a lot more like him. 

Their face flushed and the hid their face in their hands and laughed. 

“You’re awful!”

“Oh but ya love it doll”

The two of them laughed. There was a small screeching sound and Sans looked up to see a bus that stopped by. It opened it’s doors and the human sitting next to him stood up and waved him goodbye.  

“I’m sorry to cut this short, I hope I see you again Sans!” They called out as they rushed towards the bus. 

Sans felt his stomach drop. 

He really didn’t want them to leave, he was just beginning to enjoy himself and relax. He didn’t even catch their name. 

He regretted not asking as the bus drove away. He hung his head and waited for the next bus to come. The “Monster” bus. 

It was downright insulting that he had to use a different bus, people tried to justify that “Monsters were just bigger than humans, they need more room!” Sans understood the real reason, humans weren’t accepting of their own species, why would they like monsters? 

He was damn happy Papyrus worked with the king on getting this bullshit fixed. Sans just let out a loud growl and exited the bus stop. No point in sitting there and let his anger boil over and ruin his mood, he just had the loveliest interaction with a cute little human. Better yet they liked him and had his hoodie. 

He took his time as he waltzed his way to work with his brother today, taking the time to imagine how cute and flushed that adorable human was when he gave them the hoodie. That genuine smile. To Sans of all people. 

---

Sans grumbled as he walked into Muffet’s bakery, the loud shrill of the small bell above him announcing his arrival. He really didn’t mind the spider monster, but he was craving his beloved mustard more than anything now. Mustard that Grillby would make. It had a slight kick to it that Sans couldn’t really describe.  It was basically alcohol to Sans at points, took a lot to get this skeleton drunk though. 

Sans wasn’t allowed in Grillby’s establishment for the time being. Grillby was always doing shady things, from underground to the surface the man never changed. But he never expected the entertainment that he provided to haunt Grillby. 

Grillby really wasn’t a bad guy, he never let a worker do something they were uncomfortable with. He still turned a blind eye to many dealings in the underground. From hosting illegal fights and biddings to adding poles in the far corner of his speakeasy underground. 

Asgore was pretty unhappy with it, and if word got out Asgore would have Grillby’s head. Everyone needed things to go right with the humans, even one little slip-up or bad impression could leave all monsters in a sticky situation. 

Even if they had been here for a few years, people still didn’t like them.

So here Sans was, in this overly purple bakery. It looked like a knock off Halloween store. But Sans had to admit, Muffet had gotten better with her baking skills and hired a few helpers. She had also become very successful, had her own clothing line. Sans wasn’t surprised. 

Muffet could really be as greedy as she wanted on the surface. Monster treats were becoming more popular, that’s why Grillby was in hot water and why Muffet had increased her prices. She was one of the only bakeries that served both humans and monsters. 

Felt like the 1950s.

Yeah, Sans had to go through basic school so that he was up to “Human Standards” as Papyrus called it. Good thing Sans was a fast learner. 

“Hello sir, how may I help you?” 

Sans turned to see a relatively short spider monster. It wasn’t Muffet, which surprised Sans to say the least. Their skin color was a soft maroon and instead of six arms they only had four, or at least four visible. Instead of a short bob, their hair was in a long braid that reached their waist. Sans was suddenly thankful he didn’t have a need for hair. 

Sans glanced over at the many deserts that littered the cases. “Aster usual” was all he said as he pulled out his wallet. The employee seemed surprised and quickly nodded. “T-That’ll be-” She was cut off by Sans handing her the exact amount. She gave him a quick glance and began to count out the money. Sans stuffed a few bills into the tip jar and turned on his heels. 

He was met with those same eyes he had met months ago. The two stared at each other in disbelief for a second. Sans gave them one quick glance and saw that they wore the exact hoodie he gave them. 

He met with their eyes again and they nervously smiled, probably noticing Sans’ gaze. His feet seemed to move without his permission. 

“What’s a dame like ya doin here, doll?” he teased. 

They lightly laughed, “I could ask you the same thing” they answered. 

Sans moved to the chair that sat across from them, “ya mind if I..?” They quickly shook their head. He took the seat across from them and examined them more. 

Their hair seemed a little shorter and they seemed much happier and healthy. Then again the last time he saw them they were freezing cold, and it was summer now. Not the unbearable winter. They held a soft and genuine smile at Sans. The hoodie seemed to be washed more times than Sans could count, no mustard stains near the collar, and it actually smelled nice rather than a room that wasn’t cleaned for months on end.

 Sans felt his soul thump. They didn’t just throw it away, they held on to it and took care of it. 

“It’s been a long time since I last saw you Sans” they smiled. 

He was surprised that they remembered his name. “Heh I guess it has been, I neva caught yer name” 

They looked at him surprised, “Oh! I guess I never really did introduce myself! I’m (Y/N)” they said. 

“..(Y/N) huh?” 

It rolled off his tongue nicely. He could get used to saying it more often, as much as he enjoyed calling this lovely little human nicknames, their name was just as sweet. If not sweeter. 

They nodded and leaned towards Sans a little, not a big gesture or really a noticeable body language change, but Sans noticed and loved it. 

“So Sans, what are you doing on this side of town?” 

Sans was taken back that they seemed to want to talk to him. He really shouldn’t be so surprised that they were treating him with kindness but he couldn’t help it. 

“I’m just pickin up lunch for me an’ my bro” he grinned. “What about ya dollface?”

They seemed to think for a minute. “Well, Papyrus and King Asgore went along with what they promised and have been decreasing the segregation between monsters and humans. I’ve been wanting to come here for some time, I wanted to come in when it was first opened but, uhm, I couldn’t. So I’m taking advantage of this while I can!” 

Sans’ grin grew even more. “How ya likin it? The food.”

“It’s a little odd I have to be honest.”

“Yeah, that’s cause it just turns into energy. Human and monster food are very different” Sans spoke up. 

There was soft amazement in their eyes when they glanced back at their own food. They were easy to entertain and it made Sans’ soul soar. Sans was brought out of his trance when a brown paper bag, with a small illustration of Muffet with the title “Muffet’s Bakery” plastered on the front. There was a little note at the bottom saying “Thank you for stopping by!” 

Another conversation with this adorable human was cut short again, this time by Sans. He wasn’t very happy with it. He muttered a ‘thank you’ as the maroon spider walked away. 

Sans gave (Y/N) an apologetic smile as he stood up. “It was really good seeing you again sweetheart, would you like to get a drink with me sometime?”

They gave him a curt nod, “Yeah I would love to! Is there a time and place you’d prefer? I heard that speakeasy ‘Grillby’s’ was really good!”

Sans stared down at this adorable human. He knew he wasn’t allowed in the establishment, but, who was he to say no?

“Yeah we can go there, how about tomorrow night at 7?”

“Yeah I’d love that” they smiled. 

Sans relaxed and grabbed the bag, heading for the door. He stopped when he heard the chair scoot out quickly, “I’ll see you then Sansy!” they called out. They missed it but the nickname made Sans blush, hard. He walked out the door with a large grin on his face.

[theritualofourexistence]

[hyper]tension

There are so many things I could be writing about right now. 

I’ve chosen to stick with one of the things I know best for this post.

Did you guess “body image issues and the problem of narrowly defining the concept of health?” 

If so: a cookie for you! 

A handful of pictures popped up in my Timehop from 12 whole years ago that gave me pause the other day.

Sometimes when I see older pictures of myself I am overwhelmed by how different I look now... in a bad way. I see myself in those pictures as thin and beautiful and I see myself now as a sausage monster stuffed into bike shorts. 

The more I sit with and work on my body image issues, the more I have noticed healthier thinking habits developing. Let me be clear, this has been an incredibly slow process. But seeing those changes is something I am really encouraged by... and it makes the every day body image fight have some measurable value. 

I can say with confidence that, at 200 pounds, my body image is currently the best it has ever been.

That has nothing to do with the specific number on the scale and everything to do with working really hard over a lot of years to understand that neither “beauty” or “health” are inherently defined as “thin.” A fundamental pillar of that understanding is that you cannot separate mental health from the concept of general health. 

Mainstream culture does this. 

Mainstream culture wants you to believe that it’s your weight or your BMI that determines whether or not you are healthy.

That is bullshit. 

Here are the pictures of me from 12 years ago. We were moving my high school boyfriend into his freshman dorm for his first year of college. I don’t think any of the people in these photos will mind me sharing them in the context of this blog post. 

I am *THIN* in these pictures.

I am 17.

Apart from a very clear warning sign that I was already developing horrible posture, I noticed a couple of things right away about these pictures when I was looking at them the other day.

My shirt is a size small or extra small. 

I am holding my arm across my stomach in the fourth picture because I do not think I am *thin enough* to be wearing that shirt. 

I may have been a thin 17-year-old. But I was not healthy.

I was physically fit.

I played soccer for three out of four seasons of the year.

But I was not healthy.

I know I wasn’t healthy because I was about to embark on my senior year of high school during which I would, at times, only allow myself one and a half meals per day. Sometimes that one meal would be pasta. Other times that one meal would be a bag of dark chocolate peanut M&Ms and a Mountain Dew. Other times it would be a gallon of strawberries. Other times it would be a family pack of Twizzlers.

My body in those pictures might look healthy. 

But appearance is not an appropriate indicator of health. 

The two times in my adult life that I have been the thinnest have also been the times in my life where I have struggled the most with body image and disordered eating. 

After I escaped the abusive relationship of my freshman year of college, I gained around 20 pounds.

The following summer, I exercised for an hour every day and ate only pickles and Greek yogurt (separately, of course, don’t be gross). 

I lost 30 pounds.

That was also not healthy.

Fast forward a handful of years to 2015. 

I start an anti-depressant. 

Over the course of the next two years I gain around 50 pounds.

Today, in the spirit of full disclosure (and because the numbers don’t mean shit), my weight fluctuates between 190 and 200. 

I am obese.

A mathematical algorithm used to determine BMI has labeled me “obese.” 

My clothing sizes vary day to day thanks to IBS-related bloating but I’m somewhere around a 14-16. 

Do you know the cut-off for plus sizes? 

It’s 14. 

So, I am an obese, plus-sized woman.

The numbers aren’t very polite, are they?

Within the last two years I was diagnosed with severe iron-deficiency anemia.

I committed to correcting that with a number of lifestyle changes including taking supplements and adding iron-heavy foods to my diet. I took Vitamin C to boost my absorption. On days I took the supplement I had no coffee, no tea, no dairy, and no acid-reducer meds. In 6 very committed months, I resolved my iron issues, for the most part. We have since learned that the daily stomach medicine I take may be affecting my iron absorption so, although I am no longer taking supplements, I am taking a daily vitamin to help maintain a healthy level of iron. 

That story is about health.

I had a health issue and I developed a strategy to resolve the issue, being sure to consider my mental health as well. 

I have worked really, really hard to consider my HEALTH instead of my WEIGHT.

This obese, plus-sized woman exercises for around an hour every day. She does not drink alcohol or soda. She is aware of what she eats and is careful to eat when she’s hungry and stop when she’s full. 

One of the ways I know my thinking is healthier is that when I look at bathing suits on Target’s website, I have started to consider their plus-sized models “normal.” 

The average size of an American woman based on the most recent data is between sizes 18 and 20. 

I spent over twenty years unable to see an average-sized woman as beautiful.

Even though the clothing industry has labeled me “plus-sized,” if anything, I am “slightly less than average-sized.” 

In this post, I’m sure my thinking seems sort of piece-meal and disconnected.

In my head, thin-ness and health and body image and eating and exercise and cultural interpretations of beauty are all smashed into one big Frankenstein’s creation. 

For a long, long time I did not consider plus-sized or average-sized women to be beautiful solely because they were not thin.

When I was thin (and not healthy), I know that I considered people of that size, the average size, to be unhealthy.

I am at a point in my life where my habits are the healthiest they have been and my mental health regarding my body image is also the healthiest it has been.

And I weigh 200 pounds. 

You cannot look at a person and have any idea how healthy they are. 

You cannot look at a BMI or a number on a scale and judge a person’s health accordingly. 

I have worked with people who are suicidal who are thin and people who are suicidal who are not thin.

Health cannot be separated from mental health.

Can you be too thin? Absolutely. Your body needs a certain amount of fat and muscle to function properly. Can you be too big? Absolutely. Risks for all kinds of delightfully chronic and fatal conditions increase with weight gain.

Can you be big and be healthy? Yes. 

I know because I am those things.

If you exercise, if you are aware of what you eat and are careful to not over-eat, if you get the vitamins you need, if you prioritize balancing mental health and physical health, if you get enough sleep, “healthy” is within reach for everyone. 

If I ever write a book, it will be about balancing mental health and physical health. Because for basically my entire adult life, I’ve focused on one or the other and that does not work. I promise that if I do write a book, it’ll be better organized than this zig-zaggy blog post.

We have to push back against the cultural tendency to keep mental health separate from our definitions of general health. 

We have to push back against the cultural tendency to define health by how a person looks.

You are not “healthy” if you are not physically healthy.

But you are also not “healthy” if you are not mentally healthy.

And sometimes, especially if you have a tendency toward body dysmorphia or disordered eating, the healthiest option is not to focus on weight loss or buy into a fad diet plan. 

I am not trying to lose weight.

I am trying to be healthy.

And, you could argue, I’m not trying to lose weight BECAUSE I am trying to be healthy.

Trying to lose weight feeds mental illness for me. And that is not healthy.

This blog post is brought to you by a lot of years of working really hard to understand myself. My specific approach to managing my health may not work for you, but I challenge anyone reading this to take a moment and think about whether or not you are giving balanced consideration to physical and mental health. Because, even if our specific situations are different, balancing mental and physical health is the only path to being healthy. For me, for you, for everyone.

This blog post is also brought to you by a new health hurdle that has been laid in my lap over the past few weeks.

I have high blood pressure.

Chronic hypertension runs in my family, so I have a predisposition for high blood pressure. I have not been aware of having it at all in the past but thanks to my mom’s new blood pressure machine, I am aware of it now. 

Learning that I have high blood pressure instigated a bit of a breakdown. 

For a lot of the reasons I have already mentioned.

I’m working really hard to be healthy by balancing my mental and physical health. So why, if both those things are headed in the right direction, does my body not seem to agree?

Well, genetics will do that.

In the name of health, I scheduled an appointment with my doctor. We talked about the typical “lifestyle changes” that would be recommended for someone my age with high blood pressure.

I am already doing all of them. 

There are things I cannot control, however, that are affecting my mental health right now. I am carrying a lot of stress about the upcoming election. I am carrying a lot of stress about Black people being disproportionately arrested, charged, jailed, and killed by police as part of a system of oppression that I would very much like to have a part in dismantling. I am carrying a lot of stress about the pandemic that has killed 170,000 Americans. I have spent 7-8 years learning how to manage my stress. Those tools were not intended to work in situations like this.

So, my doctor and I made a plan to monitor my blood pressure, to try do more meditation and progressive relaxation, to eliminate processed snacks from my everyday diet (on occasion is still allowed), and to start doing some basic weight exercises with my cardio. 

Blood pressure is a really good example of why a healthy approach requires balancing mental and physical health. 

I’ve checked the physical health boxes for blood pressure management. 

And things beyond my control are preventing me from checking the mental health boxes for blood pressure management.

And also, genetics.

With the help of my doctor, I’ve developed a plan that considers both my physical and mental health and only time will tell if that has an impact on my blood pressure. For what it’s worth, my doctor is optimistic. Part of the reason my doctor is optimistic is because I am healthy.

To clarify, being healthy does not mean that my IBS has gone away, it just means I am treating my IBS with diet and medicine. 

Being healthy does not mean my anxiety has gone away, it just means I am in control of my anxiety.

I would not be healthy if I was unable to manage my IBS. 

But I would also not be healthy if I was unable to manage my anxiety. 

I would not be healthy if I had not figured out the value of balancing physical and mental health. 

Just like I found a way to overcome my iron-deficiency anemia, I will find a way to overcome my high blood pressure. It may require new medication and lifestyle changes, but by giving adequate consideration to both my physical and mental health, I have no doubt that I will eventually find a healthy solution to push myself over this hurdle as well.

Gonna wrap this up with a poor quality mirror-selfie I took this morning when I tried on a new bathing suit. This is a (headless) picture of a 200-pound, obese, plus-sized, healthy person.

[kvhottie]

“By the end of their 3rd year, they had lost count of everything. They’d kiss too often—stolen in between classes and even in dusty closets—and had gone much, much further than just exchanging breaths and clothing."

Snapshots of Kageyama and Hinata’s deepening relationship, and the many things they’ve shared and borrowed.

Rating: Teen |Pairing: KageHina |Tags: Slightly Canon Divergent, Spoilers for Chapter 378, Fluff and Humor

[Ao3]

________________ 

It was a freezing cold day in the middle of winter during their first year. The uncovered tips of their hands, nose, and ears turned a painful and throbbing red as they bared the icy breeze on their way home. Hinata buried his face in the teal scarf around his neck, the light-yellow hoodie under his uniform barely providing enough warmth. His brittle fingers held on to his creaking bike beside him. Yet, even while he was shivering himself, he poked fun at the trembling Kageyama next to him who was bitterly suffering because he had forgotten his scarf at home. 

“You can walk closer to me for warmth,” Hinata snickered.

Kageyama shook his head, hugging his arms closer to his chest, “I’m not cold.”

“Yeah right, I’m sure even your snot is frozen.”

“And I’m sure your hands will be stuck to your handlebars,” Kageyama said with a darted glare at Hinata.

“Shut it, only one hand is stuck.” Hinata unraveled one side of his scarf from around his neck and offered it to Kageyama. “I’ll share it with you until the station. And don’t be stubborn—we can’t have you getting sick.”

Kageyama gave a short grunt but inched closer, wrapping the end of the scarf around his neck. There was a visible sense of slight relief showing on his face, which he did a very poor job at hiding, and he muttered a low ‘thanks’. Hinata gave him a smug but satisfied grin and they continued quietly walking to the station.

Their steps in time with each other, there was something reassuring in the warmth trapped between them.

________________ 

During the spring of their 2nd year, clothing was never offered but often borrowed—mainly by Hinata, who would leave his head at home if it wasn’t attached to his neck. This time around he had forgotten his gym uniform and had to drag his feet to ask Kageyama for his extra pair...yet again.

“I should start charging you,” complained Kageyama as he shoved his folded gym jersey and pants into Hinata’s hands. He slammed his locker shut. “You should just get an extra pair of your own.”

“You know I’d probably also forget that at home. I make sure to wash it when I give it back right? So don’t be so sulky,” Hinata nudged Kageyama with his elbow as he tried to appease him with his usual toothy, bright smile.

Kageyama covered Hinata’s face with one hand and squeezed a bit. “You think just because you flash me that smile, I’ll happily do what you say.”

“Ow. It works half the time, right? Just admit you’ve grown weak to it.”

Kageyama released Hinata’s face with a sigh and ruffled his already messy orange hair, “Whatever. Go have fun looking like a toddler dressed in adult’s clothes.”

“Hey!”

Kageyama was right…every time Hinata wore his spare uniform, he looked like the clothes were swallowing him. He had to roll up the sleeves of the jacket and the legs of the pants to account for the extra inches of fabric and though he mostly looked ridiculous, Kageyama sometimes caught himself thinking he also looked cute.   

Well, honestly, it had become more often than just ‘sometimes’. Those mushy thoughts about that rambunctious ball of energy had begun occupying whatever was left of his brain when volleyball wasn’t on his mind. And he didn’t hate it—okay, he also didn’t like it because who actually enjoys a heavy heart or unnecessary doses of adrenaline just because someone is standing close to you—but none of this was all that bad.

These unrequited feelings had yet to cause any pain. It helped that the feelings were still fresh and uncomplicated. Kageyama enjoyed the scent of Hinata’s detergent on the clothes he returned, the feel of Hinata’s longer hair on his fingers, and that stupid smile he always used to try to get Kageyama to do what he wanted. But above all, Kageyama loved that Hinata always picked volleyball, and in turn him, before anything else. He was always by Kageyama’s side during lunch, during practice, after school, and they’d even started meeting here and there during weekends. Kageyama was perfectly content…at first.  

But as summer lolled closer, his feelings also warmed up and morphed.

The ever-friendly Hinata was growing in popularity. The girls around them would whisper “Hinata-senpai” this and “Hinata-kun” that. The guys around him wanted to be his friend and steal him for a game of basketball during lunch. Hinata was oblivious to all of this, and still preferred to spend his lunch inside the classroom or practicing with Kageyama, but the few times Hinata agreed to the requests of these newcomers Kageyama could feel his stomach turn.

There was distance growing between them. As they thought about their future, Kageyama slowly planted roots of legacy and reputation in Japan and shot up like a tree with recognition. Hinata looked at the expanse of the sky, like he always did, and aimed his sights very far from Kageyama’s side: Brazil. At first Kageyama didn’t think too hard about it. How typical of Hinata to take the scenic but hard mountain trail to his goal. Yeah, so what if he was going to go to Brazil to play beach volleyball. He’d return soon, anyway.

Right?

Because it felt wrong if they were apart for too long.

This was all jealousy, of course. He wasn’t that stupid—by this point he had a decent, though still lacking, grasp on his own emotions. He knew adoration, he knew anger, and now he very clearly knew jealousy. The thought of Hinata being by someone else’s side, receiving other people’s serves, made his eye twitch, hands ball up, and throat go dry. It pricked his heart with a wave of hopelessness that wouldn’t be alleviated until Hinata was back at his side.

And it never went away.

No matter how much Kageyama shut his eyes and wished it away, these feelings persisted, slowly simmering in his chest. Until they boiled over…

It was a humid, rainy day late in the summer. Kageyama and Hinata had gotten soaked on their way to Hinata’s house for a last-minute study session (neither of them had done their summer homework, unsurprisingly). No one was home so the two boys waddled to the closet near the first-floor bathroom, a trail of water behind them. Hinata gave Kageyama a towel, took one for himself, and led them to his room as they pat themselves down. Hinata was the first to pull off his uniform shirt, the wet fabric sticking to his skin as he brought it over his head. Kageyama caught himself staring too hard at his lean frame and pristine back and quickly whipped his head away as he took off his own shirt.

“You can borrow some of my clothes for now, though they’ll all fit you small,” Hinata said as he tossed Kageyama some grey joggers and a red t-shirt.

Kageyama shuffled into each, sighing when the shirt only went as low as his belly button and the joggers were too high on his legs. “I look ridiculous.”

Hinata bit back a laugh and muffled between involuntary snickers, “What? No, not at all. The crop top really suits your abs.”

“Forget this.” Kageyama furrowed his eyebrows and grabbed the hem of the shirt to start taking it off.

“Eh! No, fun. Keep it on!” Hinata yelled as he grabbed at Kageyama’s arms with enough force that they fumbled backwards to the floor. Hinata scurried around and mounted Kageyama’s hips, pinning his arms down. “My win. The shirt stays on.”

For a moment, all Kageyama could think about was the difference in temperature between the cool hardwood floor against his back and the spot where his hips met Hinata’s inner thighs. But before his mind could even process their current predicament, Hinata leaned down until his face was way, way too close to Kageyama’s.

“Do you ever think about kissing me?” Hinata murmured, staring down into Kageyama’s eyes without an ounce of hesitation. Kageyama was usually the one looking down at him, so if his heart weren’t trying to jump out of his mouth at the moment, he might have even found this angle refreshing.

“Wh-Why would I think about that?” Kageyama huffed, eyes flittering between looking at the low table beside them and Hinata’s earnest face.

“I do.” Hinata’s eyes landed on Kageyama’s lips. “It only started recently, but I think about it all the time. I know it’s weird, but I just—”

“It’s not weird,” Kageyama said as he met Hinata’s eyes once more, this time with determination of his own. “At least…not to me.”

Hinata’s face melted into a smile that was both a bit playful and also relieved. “Then, can I kiss you?” Hinata said as he let go of Kageyama’s arms to lower himself onto his elbows at either side of Kageyama’s head.

Kageyama brought his right hand to Hinata’s face, index finger slowly running against his cheek and then to his ear. “Yeah,” he managed to say despite his pounding heart and headrush.

Hinata dipped his head further, his full body pressed against Kageyama’s. Softly, their lips met in a curious peck. Hinata smiled against Kageyama’s lips, withdrawing for a moment to look at the flushed expression Kageyama was sure he was sporting, and then pressed their lips together again. This time their mouths gently glided against each other and though Kageyama was a bit stiff and unsure of what to do, he eased into Hinata’s lead.

Kageyama disliked how the floor restricted his head movement so he pushed himself up with his left arm, right arm snaking around Hinata’s lower back to keep him on his lap as he sat up. Hinata laughed—maybe at Kageyama’s eagerness or maybe at the general clumsiness of this all—and wrapped his arms around Kageyama’s neck, hips flushed against Kageyama’s.

“I like this better,” Hinata whispered into Kageyama’s ear.

A shiver ran up Kageyama’s spine and he let out a shaky, strained breath. His left hand hesitantly rested across his right hand on the small of Hinata’s back, itching to dip fingers below the hem of his shirt. “We’re never getting our homework done.” Kageyama said without real conviction.

Hinata leaned a bit back so they could see each other’s faces. “You want to stop kissing?” he asked with his lips twisting into smirk.

“No.” Kageyama grumbled, leaning down to take Hinata’s lips once more. The warmth of Hinata’s mouth and body against his own, and the comfort it brought his heart. He was sure would be perfectly content kissing Hinata until the end of time.

And, if only for this sweet moment, there was no space in his mind for volleyball.

________________ 

By the end of their 3rd year, they had lost count of everything. They’d kiss too often—stolen in between classes and even in dusty closets—and had gone much, much further than just exchanging breaths and clothing.

The large majority of borrowed clothes were shirts: some that fit too big and some that fit too small, some held on to on purpose, and too few returned. Come graduation there was very little that they hadn’t shared with each other, but at the same time, there was so much they were keeping tucked inside their hearts—much like the other’s clothing they kept in a corner of their closets for no better reason than it bringing them comfort.

Hinata was going to take a year to prepare for Brazil and then live there for two years.

Kageyama was staying in Japan but leaving Miyagi to join the V. League.

Those were facts they both had let silently sink in for the last few months, reaching more often for each other’s lips and bodies to fend off the sadness that came with thinking they’d be so far apart. They’d be fine. Three years was nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Afterall, the most important thing they shared was a promise.

“Hey…” Kageyama muffled around Hinata’s lips, pulling himself away for a second to look into those honeyed eyes he’d grown to love so much. “Instead of making out outside the gym, want to practice a bit for the last time?”

Hinata sighed, giving Kageyama a tender smile. “We said we wouldn’t do that, Kageyama.”

Kageyama pressed his lips to Hinata’s forehead, hand diving into his now longer nest of hair. Kageyama didn’t want to admit he was anxious, but he knew that the strain in his voice would betray him.  “I know. I promise, just one final time…”

Yet, no matter how big the lump in his throat was becoming, he was determined to see Hinata off with a smile.

They threw their bags, diplomas and gakurans in a corner—the removal of the gakuran being particularly easy since they had given away all their buttons to their admirers and gifted each other the 2nd button. It was unbearably cheesy, and their embarrassment mixed with all the other emotions swirling in their stomachs was what prompted their earlier make out session.

“I want to receive your serve,” Hinata loudly stated inside the storage closet.

“That’s it?” Kageyama asked as they pulled the net outside.

“That’s it.”

After they set up the net, Kageyama walked to the corner of his side of the court with the ball in hand. He felt happy holding any volleyball he could get his hands on, but something about holding this one on this court and across from this beautiful person in this very moment, was a feeling he probably wouldn’t ever be able to perfectly replicate.

He spun the ball like he usually did and served it at full power. In a split second Hinata had position himself right in front of the ball and perfectly received it, bouncing it to where the setter would stand. The echoes of the ball bouncing on the floor reverberated in the air and Kageyama felt his heart contract painfully.

“See you later, Kageyama” Hinata said with that bright smile of his. Even though they had agreed on this, it felt sudden, as if he wanted to run away.

“Yeah. See you later,” Kageyama replied with an attempt at a smile. “And hurry up and cut your hair. You look like a bush.”

Hinata grabbed his belongings with a chuckle, though the end of it died in his throat. “I was just going to do that, okay?! Geez.”

And that was supposed to be that.

But with every step Hinata took toward that open gym door, the stronger the prick in Kageyama’s heart. As if there was just one more thing to do—just one more thing to say.

“…Wait!” Kageyama yelled.

Hinata spun around, eyes wide and glossy. “Y-Yeah?”

Kageyama rushed to his bag and took out his black Karasuno jersey. He marched up to Hinata and shoved it in his hands. “Here. Keep this.”

Hinata grabbed the jersey and slowly brought it to his chest to hug it. “…I’ll borrow it.” He searched his own bag and passed Kageyama his Karasuno jersey. “As long as you borrow mine.”

Kageyama squeezed the fabric of Hinata’s jersey in his hands and tried to keep his voice steady. “I’ll hand it back next time I see you on the court.”

Hinata gave a soft laugh while rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “It’s a promise.”

What does someone say to the person they’ve loved from a distance for the past three years? A person who was their best friend, their best teammate, and their first love. A person who never stepped down from a challenge, who was competitive to a fault yet warmhearted, and whose sleeping face he had countlessly kissed across his phone screen on a video call.

Kageyama had always pictured how their reunion would turn out but actually running into Hinata on his way to the bathroom certainly wasn’t it. And he’d never planned what to say either. So, he just spat out whatever his wired mind produced.

“Not going to have any bowel issues today, are you?” Kageyama yelled out. Not the most romantic first line for a reunion, but whatever.

Hinata stopped in his tracks and turned to face Kageyama with a grin. They shared a short-lived moment of silence which was interrupted with Hinata rushing to Kageyama and giving him—well, the part of his torso he could reach—a bear hug.

“Woah,” Kageyama said in surprise, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You sure have gotten strong.”

“I can probably lift you,” Hinata bragged as he squeezed a bit harder and then let go. “But I don’t want to risk doing anything stupid before our match. I don’t want to give you an excuse when we beat your team fair and square.”

Kageyama smirked and looked to the right and left of them. He then swiftly dipped down to give Hinata the shortest of kisses, left hand sliding down to link their pinkies as he pulled away to set some distance between them. “I missed you so much I’m not even annoyed by that statement. Even though it’s obvious my team is going to win.”

Hinata laughed, his cheeks blushing faintly as he met Kageyama’s eyes. “Who knew you’d be so ballsy…I missed you too. More than I thought possible.”

Kageyama squeezed Hinata’s pinky with his own. “You kept our promise.”

“Of course. Did you keep yours?”

“As if it was hard to keep…” Kageyama looked off to the side, his free hand rubbing the back of his reddening neck. “Your jersey practically lives in my sports bag.”

Hinata’s lips pulled up into a toothy smile. “I did the same. Let’s switch after the match?”

“Okay.” Kageyama let go of Hinata’s finger. “See you after the match. Go use the bathroom.”

“Oh, yeah!” Hinata turned to walk to the bathroom but turned right back around, catching Kageyama’s arm. “Ah, hold up.”

“What?”

Hinata lowered his voice so only Kageyama could hear him. “If I win this match, I’m going to propose to you.”

“H-Hah? Wait, Hinata—”

“If you hate the idea, just don’t lose,” Hinata said with a playful salute before rushing into the bathroom.

Kageyama stood frozen in place. In his mind he had no doubt that his team would win.

…But for the first time in Kageyama’s life, he didn’t completely detest the idea of losing a match.

[smolbeandrabbles]

The Outdoor Type - Malcolm Bench x Reader (Vertical Limit)

Author’s Note: I kinda hope you forget you ever gave me this idea and that I asked if I could write it... What can I say, I like surprising you from time to time - as much as I love telling you what I’m currently working on and sending snippets 🤷‍♀️

I literally found this song googling “Songs about mountains / hiking” when I was trying to make him a playlist. So, all of this is just really perfect timing. The Stars Aligned-!

Disclaimer: Vertical Limit Characters not mine - as the idea to put Ben in brown contacts wasn’t, but brilliant job guys! 🙏 / Gif not mine / lyrics not mine 

Premise: Malcolm wants to take you on a nice summer hike in the Great Outdoors... There’s only one flaw with his plan, you’re afraid of heights. And you haven’t told him yet.

Words: 1483

Warnings: N/A 

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Always had a roof above me Always paid the rent But I've never set foot inside a tent Can't build a fire to save my life I lied about being the outdoor type I've never slept out underneath the stars, The closest that I came to that was one time my car Broke down for an hour in the suburbs at night I lied about being the outdoor type. Too scared to let you know you knew what you were looking for I lied until I fit the bill god bless the great indoors I lied about being the outdoor type I've never owned a sleeping bag let alone a mountain bike I can't go away with you on a rock climbing weekend What if somethings on tv and its never shown again Its just as well I'm not invited I'm afraid of heights I lied about being the outdoor type ---

You probably should have said something to him long before now. Maybe you’d even wondered to yourself many times how the heck you’d even ended up dating Malcolm. He lived his life scaling the world’s tallest mountains and hiking outside. You were much more the ‘stay at home on a Saturday night cuddling on the couch and watching movies’ type. Also, and perhaps the most pressing issue right now, you were afraid of heights. But when Malcolm had so enthusiastically mentioned that the weather was supposed to be lovely this weekend, and he’d found the perfect place to take you walking, (Notice he said ‘walking’ not hiking) Malcolm was so excited. And you guessed that even hiking wasn’t mountaineering, so you’d agreed to go with him. Especially as it was the first time he’d ever really suggested it, you felt you owed him that much. When you started the hike it wasn’t too bad, the incline wasn’t steep, and Malcolm walked beside you – idly chatting to pass the time - and you felt comfortable and safe. There were a bunch of reasons you’d never told him of your fears; mostly because he had a brother and the two of them were usually going on wild and crazy adventures together, you never really thought you’d factor into it. Also, because you were partially scared that it might effect your relationship and he wouldn’t want to be with someone who wouldn’t enjoy the same things as him. You didn’t always believe the phrase opposites attract.

Although as the paths got thinner and he had to walk in front of you, and you continued up the trail without a sign anywhere of descending again – you got decidedly more nervous. And you couldn’t really ignore the fact that you could see nearly all the way to the bottom of the valley if you stepped just ever so slightly to the side. Malcolm was still talking to you over his shoulder, but carrying on as normal – nothing was phasing him, obviously. And you wanted to be brave for his sake; it wasn’t like there was any quick way back down to ground level either. But eventually you got shaky and had to pause, taking deep breaths. Because the last thing either of you needed up here was you to have a panic attack. Malcolm breezed on, still calling cheerfully behind him – until he realised you weren’t responding back, when he turned around to check on you. Now about 100 meters behind him, squatting and breathing hard. “…Wh…Y/N!” He called back, “You okay-!?!” When you only responded with a head shake, he was suddenly alert; “Oh shit!” and jogged back down the path to you; “Babe! Talk to me-! What’s wrong-!?” He knew all the dangers and guessed up here, if you weren’t used to it, there could be slight altitude sickness. You covered your face embarrassed; “You’ll hate me…” “What? Are you kidding-!? Me!? Hate you?!” He scoffed, knowing that just wasn’t possible, “Babe, come on – what’s wrong? Cuz I’m not gonna stop nagging ya until you tell me!” You could feel yourself going bright red under your fingers; and you mumbled it – “I’m scared of heights.” There was a few seconds silence, before he laughed, and hard. And kept on laughing - until he realised you were serious; “Wait-! Shit really!?! Why didn’t you SAY so you idiot--!!” Malcolm crouched down and then sat, taking your hands away from your incredibly flushed cheeks; “Why did you let me bring you up here-!?! I know I’M stupid, but you’re the smart one!” You bit your lip; “You were so excited and happy I just… I wanted you to be happy.” He sent his eyes heavenward for a minute; “And risk your health-!? No, no, no!!” but he chuckled again at the irony; “Oh god! Scared of heights! This is… Oh god!” He wiped tears from his eyes; “Wait until I tell Cyril-!” “DON’T YOU DARE!!” You pushed his arm, making him laugh more at your embarrassment; “Aha! It doesn’t stop you being feisty-! That’s good to see-!” “It’s not funny!” Malcolm grinned, “No, maybe not. But if I can get you to focus on anything else, you’ll feel a little better… look you’re shaking less already…” He took your hands in his; “I’m not mad at you – and I certainly don’t hate ya. Hell, you’re probably the only girl in the world that’s gonna put up with my lunacy.” You weren’t going to let him know you’d agree, but you couldn’t help but grin. “AHHHHH!!! That’s a smile!” Then you laughed, “HA! I knew it!” “Mal-! Stop!” But he’d brightened your mood by just sitting on the pathway with you to calm you down, and you couldn’t do much more than thank him for that. He grinned, threading your fingers before leaning forward to kiss you. You accepted his sweet kiss, before pulling him closer by his jacket. “Oh?” He raised an eyebrow smirking, “Even when you’re panicking about being so high you can’t resist me?” You shook your head; “God, you’re infuriating-!” “I know!” Malcolm winked cheekily, “But at least I don’t pretend to be anything else!” You giggled again and brushed your lips to his again. “Well, you are right there.” He let you sit with him and hold his hands until you’d calmed a little, and then Malcolm stood – pulling you gently from the floor. You kept your eyes focused on his, voice calm. And suddenly he was a guide on the side of a technical mountain – not a sunny summer hike. “It’s okay to be scared. Come on… take my hand, we’ll make it back together okay, keep your focus on me…  I’ve done this 100 times… Nice and slow. One step at a time.” You gave a nod, squeezing his hand tight. He was strong and steady, and you let him lead you slowly to a shortcut, where he could get you back down in the shortest possible time. But every so often he’d stop and turn back to you to make sure that you were doing alright. And sometimes it all went to your head again, and you would pull him back to pause for respite. But Malcolm was, for once, a saint – and he stood looking out over the gorgeous scenery for as long as you needed to rest for, the way the sun glittered over greenery and lakes stretching for miles before you. Even if you couldn’t exactly ‘enjoy’ it with him, he was glad you were there and holding his hand. But still, he couldn’t help teasing and joking with you; “This is just a ploy to stay with me out here longer isn’t it?!” “Oh absolutely. Yeah. Can’t get enough of this mountaineering thing-!” “OH!? K2 next?! Or Everest, I mean it’s less technical-!” “MALCOLM!” You weren’t exactly impressed, but he only grinned “Oh, I think I could kiss that annoyance away-!” “Will you just get me down first-!” He indicated to the path; “What do you think I’m doing-!?” As you continued to make your way down the trail, and you were closer to the valley you’d started in, you allowed yourself to admire the view. It was sure beautiful, even you had to admit. Of course this made you dawdle, and had Malcolm turning back to see why you were tugging on his hand this time. “Oh. You can admire it now, huh?!” You scoffed, turning to him; “I don’t know if that’s really the view…” He was taken aback, and almost blushed himself “M-Me-!?” Malcolm’s eyes flew wide, and then he blinked; “OH GOD! It’s made you delusional-! Oh! There’s no hope!!” He pretended to lament and pulled you to him, so your face was buried in his neck, and he embraced you tight; “Don’t look-! Don’t look-!” “MAL-! I’m gonna push you OFF this damn trail in a minute, LET ME GO!”

His laughter filled the air again as he pulled back, but keeping his arms around you; “You are okay though, right?” “Better. Thank you.” “Oh. You’re welcome, anytime. I mean I would say that I-” You clamped a hand over his mouth, “Hush. Don’t ruin it.” His brown eyes widened in humour, but he didn’t even mumble into your hand. Holding his own hands up to appease you. You removed your hand, and replaced it with your lips; “I love you Malcolm, but God help me you’re an idiot-!” He laughed at your compliment; “Really? I think you should be thanking him! After all, imagine being stranded out here without me-!” You sighed; “Without you I wouldn’t be here.” “Oh no. That’s on you, for not telling me!” You tipped your head, musing your predicament for a second “Maybe you’re right.” Malcolm placed his hand over his heart in shock; “Oh, certainly delusional-!” “Oy!” You pushed him again, “I said maybe!”

---

Thank You For Reading! 😘

@menndelsohn​ @3134045126​​ @happyskywhale​ @wltz-bby​ #MendoTagSquad

[pocket-luv101]

Across Time || Chapter 7

Fandom: Servamp Ships: KuroMahi (main), LawLicht (side) Characters: Kuro, Mahiru, Hyde, Licht

Summary: Mahiru falls into a well and is taken to a new, fantasy world. He comes across a half-blooded cat demon trapped in a tree. After he frees Kuro, he helps him collect the shards of the sacred jewel. (KuroMahi, InuYasha AU)

Ch.1 || Ch.2 || Ch.3 || Ch.4 || Ch.5 || Ch.6 || (Ch.7) ||

“Do you have a sheath that will match this knife, Sir?” Mahiru asked the merchant and showed him the knife Kuro made for him. He hoped he wouldn’t need to use it but he wanted to keep it close to him. The weapon was a considerate gift from Kuro, after all. The merchant showed him a few sheaths and scabbards. He examined each one until he settled on a simple, black sheath.

Kuro stood behind him and waited for Mahiru to finish speaking with the vendor. He could feel people’s stares stab his back and he flattened his ears as much as he could. Mahiru treated him kindly and he could almost forget that he was half demon. Yet, it was always in the back of his mind and the distrust people showed him reminded him of that.

“Should we buy a scabbard for your tessaiga as well?” He asked Kuro and looked over his shoulder to him. Mahiru noticed his ears and wondered why he appeared so tense. After he paid the merchant, he walked to Kuro. He reached up to lightly pet his ears. “What’s wrong, Kuro? If you’re hungry, we can get something to eat right now. Oh, this is for you.”

“You didn’t need to buy me a scabbard.” Kuro took the gift into his hand.

“This is to thank you for protecting me. Also, it’s dangerous to wear a blade without a sheath. You should use this or you might cut yourself. We can always exchange it if it doesn’t fit.” He insisted but it was his smile that made Kuro accept the scabbard. His sword reverted to a thin blade when he wasn’t fighting and he easily slid into sheath. “It looks like it fits.”

“Thank you.” He said and a small blush appeared on his cheeks. Kuro couldn’t remember the last time he received a gift. He vowed never to use the sword again but the scabbard would help him carry it easier. He tied the sword to his waist and then asked, “Where should we go now? I doubt any of these merchants can sell us a jewel shard.”

“The merchant told me that he heard about a pair of strong demons who can use thunder. They attacked the valley nearby and destroyed most of the landscape. For two demons to do that, they must be using the power of the shards. Let’s head north and see if we can run into them. There are two demons so we’ll have to work together. We should plan how to combine our attacks on the way.”

“I’ll punch them while you hide in a tree with your arrows.” Kuro’s suggestion made Mahiru pout. While they fought the frog prince together, Kuro didn’t know how well they would fare against two demons. He thought it would be better if Mahiru hid while he fought alone. He would worry about him and become distracted if he did join the battle.

“Give me more credit, Kuro. We collected five jewel shards together.” Mahiru reminded him as he swung the pouch around his finger. He tucked it back under his shirt before he returned to where he left his bike leaning against a stall. He gasped when he found a boy sitting on his bike and rummaging through his bag. “Hey! Get out of my bag.”

The boy jumped off his bike but Mahiru saw that he was clutching his knife. He was quick and Mahiru had to use his bike to keep up with him. He also had a wolf tail so he knew that he was a demon. Mahiru yelled for him to stop but that only made him run faster. Kuro ran beside Mahiru and groaned, “Troublesome kid. I know you just bought that sheath but do we have to chase that kid?”

“He took the knife you gave me! When we catch him, I’m going to give him a very long lecture. Run ahead of him so we can corner him.” He ordered but Kuro was too surprised to react for a moment. He didn’t think he would find the knife he gave him so important. “Kuro, hurry before he gets away.”

“You like to order me around a lot.” He was faster than the child and he was easily able to catch him. Kuro grabbed his collar and lifted him off the ground. Mahiru stopped his bike next to them and paused to catch his breath. He stepped off his bike with a huff and held out his hand. With a guilty expression, the boy returned the knife.

Seeing his remorse, Mahiru’s anger disappeared and his expression softened. He carefully placed him on the ground. He knelt on the ground and patted his head. Mahiru lightly lectured him. “It’s not right to steal from others. I’m sure you had your reasons but there should be other options you can try first. Now, what is your name and where are your parents?”

“I’m Takuto Kurumamori of the Wolf Demon Tribe. I got separated from them when our home was attacked.” He told them and Mahiru frowned. “A terrible demon has been chasing my family because he wants the pretty jewels my dad found. Dad says his name is Touma and that he’s a spider demon. If I want to get back to my family and stop Touma, I need that knife to fight.”

“Takuto, do remember what I said earlier? There are other solutions that you should consider first. In this case, you should’ve approached us and told us about your situation. We will be happy to help you back to your family and fight that spider demon. Kuro is very strong so I know he’ll be able to defeat them.” Mahiru told him.

He wasn’t surprised to hear that others were collecting the shards as well. From what Kuro and his uncle told him, many demons would want its power. He wondered how much others had. It would be more difficult to defeat the demon if they had a lot. That was only more reason for them to collect the shards quickly. “Can you tell us where your family might be?”

“You’re good with kids, Mahiru.” Others would be too angry to offer their help after someone stole from them. Yet, Mahiru had a kind heart. Kuro knelt next to him and said: “We’re collecting the shards too so this will be good for all of us. We can defeat that demon and take Touma’s jewel shard. Then, they won’t be able to attack your family.”

“You’re searching for the jewel shards too?” Takuto asked and Mahiru nodded.

“I want to reform the jewel and keep demons from using its power. Let’s go find your dad now. I’m sure he must be worried about you. Lead the way and we’ll follow you.” He held out his hand to him. Mahiru was taken by surprised when he transformed into a large, pink balloon. He fell backwards and tried to wave aside the smoke. “What is this Takuto?”

“I won’t let you take Dad’s jewel shard. We need it more than you humans!” Takuto grabbed the pouch with his jewel shards and dashed away. While Mahiru chased him, Kuro followed them at a languid pace. The boy was a demon but he was still a mere child. He doubted his powers had fully developed so he only had small attacks like the balloon. He thought Mahiru would be able to take back the shards easily.

“Stop, Takuto! What did we just discussed about stealing? Give those shards back.” Mahiru called after him. He didn’t want to fight a child but he had to restrain him. He caught the boy’s wrist and gave him a stern look. Takuto wasn’t intimidated and he created another ball of smoke around him. Mahiru kept a firm grip so he couldn’t escape yet he quickly discovered that he wasn’t trying to.

Kuro stepped through the bushes with the thought that Mahiru had already taken back the shards. He was shocked to discover Mahiru wrestling with himself. He knew demons could take on other’s appearance so he guessed one was Takuto. But which one? One saw him and reached out to him. “Help me, Kuro. Please, get Takuto off me.”

“No, I’m the real Mahiru!” The other insisted. “Kuro, you should know it’s me.”

“Oh, don’t even try that trick, Takuto!” Their argument made Kuro dizzy and he tried to think of how to tell them apart. He thought it would be easy enough to ask them something only Mahiru would know. Before he could speak, Mahiru’s eyes met his. The way he looked at him with determination sparked his memory and Kuro held his hand towards him.

Then, Mahiru said: “I’m sorry, Kuro, but this is the only way. Sit, boy!”

“Mahiru, no!” He wanted to tell him he already knew but it was too late. The bell jingled as it was pulled to the ground. Mahiru walked back to Kuro and knelt next to him. He tenderly stroked his ear as an apology for using the enchantment on him. Kuro groaned, “Can’t deal.”

“I’m sorry, Kuro. I couldn’t think of another way to prove who I am.” He said. He turned to Takuro and lightly lectured him. “Takuto, you should apologize to Kuro as well. You took the shards from us. We went through a lot to collect them.”

Takuto walked to Kuro with his head lowered. He looked guilty and remorseful so Mahiru thought he would apologize. Instead, the boy placed a small, stone statue on Kuro’s palm. The statue grew and pinned his hands to the ground. He slapped a spell tag onto the statue so he wouldn’t be able to lift it. Then, he ran away and Mahiru let out a frustrated breath.

“Again?” He yelled. While he was growing irritated with his behaviour, he reminded himself that Takuto was only a child. He was separated from his family and desperate to return to them. He hoped talking to him again would make him trust them.

“Don’t go, Mahiru! At least peel off the spell tag before you run off!” He called after him yet Mahiru was already gone.

“Dad? Can you hear me? I’m here.” Takuto yelled into the forest but no one answered him. His family had been chased from their cave in the mountain and he tried to find the direction they ran. He held the pouch of jewel shards in his tiny fist. He overheard his father tell Tsurugi that they could grant the wielder power. With the jewel, his family would be safe from the demons chasing them.

The bushes in front of him started to rustle and he walked towards it cautiously. “Dad? I found more jewel shards for our family.”

“Well, what do we have here? It looks like a lost, little wolf.” Takuto stiffened when a man stepped out of the bushes. He didn’t recognize the man yet his glare made a shiver run through him. His appearance was human but Takuto could smell his demon blood. “You have a few shards with you too. Give ‘em to me or else.”

“Step away from that child!” A shout made them pause and they turned towards the voice. Mahiru stood a few feet from then with his arrow drawn. He never took his eyes off the demon as he spoke to Takuto. “Takuto, take the jewel shards and run back to Kuro. I’ll hold him back while you bring him here.”

Takuto stood frozen with fear.

“You think you can defeat us?” The Demon laughed and ignored his threat. He demon reached towards Takuto and Mahiru released his arrow. He managed to graze his arm and that allowed Takuto to scurry to his side. As he raised his second arrow, he noticed that there were two jewel shards embedded in his forehead. He wasn’t expecting to fight a powerful demon and Kuro was waiting by the road.

He decided that it was best to flee and he quickly picked Takuto up. Mahiru tried to run back to where Kuro was but a bolt of lightning blocked his path. The attack was powerful enough to destroy the ground and he stumbled backwards. He hugged Takuto tight so he wouldn’t be hurt as they fell to the ground. Two pairs of feet stopped beside them. “You’re a very foolish human.”

“You two must be the Thunder Twins.” Mahiru remembered the two demons the merchant told him about earlier. Takuto was shaking behind him so Mahiru did his best to appear brave for his sake. He wished Kuro was with him so they could fight together. Even if the demons both had several shards, he was confident that they could defeat them together.

“We don’t want to fight. The only thing you want is the jewel shards so take them. They’re in this bag so go get them.” His mind raced to think of a way to escape. Mahiru took his coin purse and tied it to his arrow. He didn’t aim the arrow at them but shot it into the distance. While the Thunder Brothers were debating if it was a trick, Mahiru took Takuto and fled.

He ran as fast as he could until he found a large rock they could hide behind. He hoped the brothers would pass them without finding them. Mahiru looked down at Takuto and knew that their best option now was for him to defeat them. He didn’t know if he would agree though. “Why didn’t you run back to Kuro when I told you to? If you’re afraid, I understand. But you can trust Kuro to help you.”

“Why would you two want to help me when I took your jewel shards from you?” He whispered back. “You want to take Dad’s shards too! The demon collecting shards have been chasing us for days and they destroyed our home. I won’t let you hurt my family too.”

“There are bad demons gathering the shards but we’re not like them.” Mahiru promised. He could see how much Takuto cared about his family. He only stole from them when they mentioned the jewel shards. “We want to keep bad demons from becoming more powerful. Your family sounds nice and they’re only using it for protection. I feel comfortable allowing you to keep the shards you already have.”

“Really?” His eyes widened. “Can we have your shards too?”

“Kuro and I worked hard to get them so we can’t give them away so easily.” He shook his head. “I would like to meet your parents and speak with them. I just want to see that they’re as kind as think they are. Eventually, we’ll have to reform the jewel though. We have to contain its power for everyone’s safety. I promise, I’ll ask for your family’s shards last.”

“What will you do after you collect all the shards?” He asked. The simple answer was to give the jewel to someone who could protect it and then return to his own time. Yet, Kuro’s face appeared in his mind. They had grown close and Mahiru would miss him. He could only travel through time with the jewel so they wouldn’t be able to see each other again.

He became lost in thought and he didn’t hear someone approach them. Thunder split the boulder behind them and the shock made Mahiru scream. The force pushed them forward but he managed to catch a branch before he hit the ground. The Thunder Brothers surrounded them and he couldn’t think of another way to escape. “You tricked us!”

“It wasn’t hard.” Mahiru retorted. He wanted to keep their focus on him so they wouldn’t hurt Takuto. He gripped the hilt of his knife and waited for an opening. It was difficult since there were two of them. If he attacked one, the other would simply counter it. Takuto was too young to help fight even if he was a demon. The tricks he used earlier weren’t powerful.

“You’ll regret angering us!” The elder brother lifted his spear to attack them and Mahiru instinctively raised his hands to defend himself. Light gathered in his hands and became a solid shield in front of them. He was shocked by the light but it reminded him of the first time he faced the centipede demon. A similar light protected him but he didn’t know what it was or how he summoned it. “What is this?”

“Mahiru!” He heard Kuro’s voice and became distracted for a moment. His shield faltered yet he wasn’t hurt. Kuro jumped between them and punched the demon. Mahiru saw the other brother try to attack Kuro so he stabbed his arm with his knife. He returned to his side and felt his racing heart become calmer. “Are you hurt, Mahiru?”

“I’m fine. Wait, what happened to your forehead?” Mahiru asked worriedly. There was a large mark on his forehead. He wanted to look closer at the mark to make sure he wasn’t hurt. They were in the middle of a fight so he knew it wasn’t the right time.

“I was trying to tell you about the seal but you ran away too fast.” At first, he intended to wait for him to return. But then he heard him scream and desperately escaped the seal. “It was almost impossible to lift the statue unless you peel off the seal. I had to break the statue itself to get free. Since I couldn’t use my hands, I had to use my head. Next time, don’t run off without me. We both end up in troublesome situations when you do.”

“I won’t.” Mahiru promised. “Let’s defeat these two together.”

Mahiru tucked a blanket over a sleeping Takuto later that night. After everything that happened that night, he must’ve been tired. He walked to Kuro who was sitting against the tree. His eyes were closed but he knew that he was still awake. As he sat down, Kuro asked him: “Do you think it’s a good idea to let the wolf tribe keep the shards they already have?”

“Takuto may be brash but he’s a good kid who cares about his family. It’s a sign that he was raised well. I think we can trust them. We will know for sure once we meet them.” Mahiru reasoned. He placed his hand on his cheek and turned his face towards him. “Can I see your forehead? You broke the statue and that must’ve hurt.”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about.” He said but Mahiru It was dark so he couldn’t see very well. He leaned closer and gently ran his fingers over his forehead. “Will I survive, Doctor?”

“There isn’t a bump so you’ll make a full recovery.” Mahiru played along and they both laughed softly. He quickly placed his finger over Kuro’s lips when he heard Takuto start to stir. He didn’t want to wake him when he was so tired. Kuro couldn’t help but notice how warm his finger was. “I’m going to sleep but wake me up when it’s my turn to keep watch.”

“Not if I fall asleep first.” Mahiru rolled his eyes. He knew that he was joking so he slipped into his sleeping bag. He crawled onto his side and his eyes fell onto Kuro. He felt comfortable and safe with him sleeping nearby. Briefly, he closed his eyes but then he sensed someone next to him. Opening his eyes, he found Takuto.

“Can I sleep in your nest? I would always sleep next to Dad. But that was only because he needed me to protect him! I can protect you too.” He said. Mahiru realized that this would be his first night away from his father. He could only imagine how lonely he felt. He lifted the blanket and Takuto laid down next to him. “Goodnight, Mahiru.”

“Goodnight.” He said back to him. “You don’t have to worry about protecting me. We have Kuro here to watch over us. The only thing you need to do is get a good night’s rest so you can take us to your family.” He told him and he settled into the sleeping bag. He eventually drifted off to sleep.

Kuro watched over Mahiru. From his even breathing, he knew that he was sleeping deeply. He was also tired and he closed his eyes. He listened to the sounds of the forest for anyone approaching them though. The night was peaceful and he thought of when he was pinned to the tree. He had a fretful sleep throughout the enchantment. Now, he was able to sleep soundly.

He heard someone approach them and he jumped to his feet. Kuro rushed to wake Mahiru but someone tackled him to the ground before he could him. He tried to fight the men but the two held his arms to the ground. In the corner of his eyes, he saw a third man grab Mahiru’s sleeping bag.

The sleeping bag was lifted off the ground and the motion woke Mahiru. He heard Kuro call his name and he frantically looked around him. He tilted his head up and saw a man carrying him away. His sleeping bag made it difficult for him to fight back. Takuto woke as well and held onto his shoulder to not fall.

“Dad? Dad, you found me!” Takuto cheered when he saw who was taking them away.

“Your dad? Tell him to put us down.” Mahiru told him. Yet, Takuto happily scrambled out of the bag and hugged his father. He hanged onto his shoulder while they ran through the forest. He saw Kuro disappear in the night.

[ducksarebetter]

I haven’t written anything in sooo long but I was feeling inspired

*WINK* @sayijo​

So here’s my 1461 word... thing. I guess. Sorry about grammar errors and stuff if there is any, this isn’t really anything too fancy, just me scraping some braincells together during my writing block. (((Also not sure what to call this, fluff + angst)))

______________________________________

     Nighttime is known to be a serene and peaceful time of the day. That’s what it symbolizes, right? That’s how it appeared to be. The dark sky, a pool of inky blackness, a splash of stars scattered across it in the same way white crests appear on waves in the sea. The way dead twigs and leaves are sprawled around on the floor of a forest. Stars, small sparkling dots, hovering in the sky as if an artist had dipped a paintbrush into metallic paint and whipped it through the air. The moon being the biggest of them all. Like the way a general stands over his troops, being the biggest and brightest of them all.

  The way he used to be.

    Cryptor drew in a shaky breath of air. A breath of clean, crystal clear oxygen. Maybe that would help him focus. Lately, Cryptor just couldn't get it out of his head… the thought of what he once was. The thought of being a leader… he didn't really miss it, did he? He was part of a team now. Teams don't need generals. They work together. He had learned a lot over the past few months, but it was still hard. The guys were great, but still, it was hard… he was made to be a leader, not a follower. It wasn't like he didn't respect the others or anything. Cryptor just wished there was more he could do. What had he done so far to be useful? It seemed like he was just an inconvenience most of the time… getting in the way.

    Cryptor just felt useless. He hated that feeling.

    Seemed like everyone was just saving him. And he wasn't able to repay them for anything… no, for everything they had done for him.

    And they had done so much.

    Jay… he was annoying as hell, but he had a way of being a light in the darkness. Cryptor would never admit it of course, but he owed him one. It felt good to laugh, and he needed it sometimes.

    Then there was Zane. Zane had really helped him out. Zane had helped him realize that he wasn't alone, that it was too late to change, proved to him that even nindroids fit in. Zane helped him realize that he wasn't so different.

    Even Nya. She really had done a lot for him. He loved that girl. He loved being able to hang with her, talk about bikes. She had impressed him with her knowledge of engineering and was even able to teach him a thing or two. Big respect for that one.

    Then there was Lloyd. Cryptor couldn't help but have mixed feelings for him. He was the little brother, that was obvious. Still, it was an odd relationship. He was a leader, which of course, Cryptor respected. Still, he was… a little bit less experienced than the others. He was still learning. Cryptor couldn't help but find his methods of leading… interesting. A little different, but effective. Not like a general or chief. Like… as if they had mutual respect and he led merely by example. Still though. The kid had a way of always looking on the bright side of life, which he supposed was nice. He loved the kiddo and was glad that Lloyd was so patient with him.

    And then there was Cole. God, talk about moral support. Cole was like a walking stress ball. Just being in the presence of the guy was relaxing. Talking to Cole was just so easy. He was a great listener and was always ready to give his advice. Which was always good advice too. Guy also gave great hugs. There were few people Cryptor would allow to touch him, and Cole was defiantly one of them

    And Kai. Oh god… Cryptor knew never in a thousand years would he be able to repay the fire ninja for everything he had done for him. He owed Kai his life… he owed him everything.

    Cryptor sucked in a deep breath of air, thinking about all this. His team. His friends. His brothers. His family. His home.

    This is where he belonged.

    He could feel it. Better, he could feel. Never before had he felt the things he felt with the guys… not under the Overlord’s rule, not with the Sons of Garmadon. He wasn't quite sure what it was. A bubbly warm feeling in his chest. He felt important. He just wished there was a way he could thank them for it… show them how he felt.

    He watched the sky, the stars slowly swimming through it. Leaning on the railing of the ship, the feeling of the sturdy wood under his hands. He stood there for a long time, all night really. He wasn't even sure what time it was anymore. He just stood and stared at the sky, not ready to let go of the feeling yet.

    He didn't even turn when he heard the creaking of wood behind him. He could tell who it was from the sounds of the board, by the sound of their footsteps.

    “Hey.” Kai’s face appeared next to him, his ambery brown eyes not meeting Cryptor’s, but following his gaze up into the glowing night sky.

    “Hey.” Cryptor could barely recognize the sound of his own voice. It sounded so soft and gentle, almost like a purr.

    Neither of them said anything for a long time. They just stood together, side by side, watching the stars. Simply enjoying each other’s company.

    Cryptor watched Kai from the corner of his eye. He clearly had just rolled out of bed. His hair was a mess, a mass of fluff floating around his face. He was wearing a pair of shorts and a white tank top, which exposed his arms. Of course, the cold night air was no issue for him. Cryptor could feel the heat radiating off his skin, warming the air around him. Kai’s skin was covered in light scars, which stood out from his bronze skin.

    Cryptor turned back to the black empty space before them. He looked down… down at the white mountains, cresting up from the thick clouds that concealed them. Like they were trying to reach up and be higher than the clouds that covered them.

    Finally, Cryptor opened his mouth. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

    Kai turned to him, looking a little surprised. “For what?”

    Cryptor had no idea how to phrase it. “Everything. I just… I know it doesn't mean much. Look at everything you've done… for me. You didn't have to do any of it. You didn't have to take me into the team. You didn't have to… do any of it.”

    He looked at the mountains below, feeling a little embarrassed. He probably sounded stupid. He just wasn't sure what else to say. There were no words to explain the way he felt.

    Kai didn't respond for a long time. Cryptor kept his eyes glued to the same spot, feeling too overwhelmed to make eye contact.

    “You don’t have to say anything. I understand.”

    Cryptor didn’t move. No, he didn't. He didn't get it. He didn't understand anything. Where would Cryptor be without Kai? Dead, in a ditch, alone and forgotten.

    “We’re not all that different. Everyone on this team is fighting the same battles every day, just different demons. It's not any easier on the rest of us. It sucks dude, it really does. Take my sister for example. She’s always trying to be more than just Nya. She’s spent hours and hours training. She never quits. She just fights and fights and fights. She wants to be just like everyone else, but you know what? She doesn't realize that she already is. Look at her: Samurai X, the water ninja. Cry, she unlocked her full potential, not even a full month after she began training to become a water ninja. It took the rest of us years to do what she could do in days. And she's not so different from you.” Kai poked Cryptor in the arm.

    “Cry, you would've done the same for us. I’ll throw hands for you any day of the week, and knowing you would do the same for me is enough. You don't need to thank me.”

    Cryptor stood there for a long time, letting Kai’s words sink in. He was right. He looked up and stared at Kai. He wasn't sure what to do with himself now.

    Before he knew it he was standing with his arms wrapped around a very surprised Kai. Even Cryptor himself was surprised. He never voluntarily hugged people. Still, it just felt necessary. He squeezed his friend tightly.

    “Thanks Kai.” He said

    Kai hugged him back. “I said don’t thank me.”

[ikesenhell]

GLITTER & GOLD

GLITTER & GOLD, CHAPTER 1. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTES: HOLY FUCK THIS HAS BEEN A LONG TIME COMING. I’d like to thank @velociraptor-detective, @mikablazen, @kerriescreativecorner, and @selenecrawford for hanging out with me, line editing, and helping me find music to vibe with. TIME TO KICK THIS PARTY OFF AGAIN. 

They said if you saw the ship, you didn't live to tell the tale. That didn't stop some from claiming they did. You had a matter of hours, the legend said--and then came the accident. Funny; as with all tall tales, no one could really pin truth to it.

No one even knew where the ship came from. It certainly didn't belong out there in the wastes. The radiated oceans were hundreds of miles away. The closest bodies of water were the Great Lakes (still pure, still freezing, still a graveyard--not even the apocalypse could change their reputation). Those certainly hadn’t borne the kind of vessel that skimmed across the sands. Not even the ancient husks of the silos long ago filled with rainwater were large enough to justify a boat.

It always came the same way, they said: silently. First came the sandstorm, blowing wild drifts across the landscape. Then came the sails--bronze from dirt, streaked with the white it once was. No colors flew on that mast. It hovered like a mirage just beyond reach. No crew mustered at its sides. It just hung there, suspended and desolate, like the rest of the wild places they said it sailed now.

And then--gone.

But it was just a legend. No one seemed to see it first hand to know. The skeptics wrote it off as a folklore. No one had seen it because it didn't exist.

No one--no one except for Masamune Date.

And he’d paid for it.

---

The motorcycle snarled over the plains, the engine echoing. Dirt swirled behind the tires--a self-made hurricane of dust. He liked it that way. It felt fitting somehow. The past hung always a little too close to him--the more miles he put on, the more he put behind him, the farther away he could keep it.

His job helped. Society was only just getting its legs after the bombs so long ago. They’d revived the old railways and worked out some of the kinks in the engines, but the damn things still broke. That was where he came in. From the far-flung reaches of the east and the untamed edges of the north and the irradiated south, he brought the most urgent correspondence.

Hell. It paid the bills and kept him moving. That was good enough.

Usually.

Admittedly, he hadn’t wanted to take this job. It brought him right back to the scene of an old crime: his childhood home. How could he come back? Somewhere out there, somewhere on the wilderness, the ship still lingered--

“Fuck,” he muttered, putting his head down for the thousandth time. “Don’t think about it.”

Another bend in the road. The mountains and buttes around him curved and parted like water, the saplings dotting them just budding in the spring, and there--there was Waŋblí Hoȟpi. Home. He almost shivered at the thought.

“It’s just a ghost story,” Masamune reminded himself. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

That was small comfort.

Waŋblí Hoȟpi--the Golden Eagle Nest, as the Lakota called it--was a settlement poised on the cross of two main highways and between two silo wells. One of them had never gone off in the Fallout; centuries later, someone had exploited the clean one and filled it with precious rainwater. It was a rare luxury most towns didn't have. Crops grew well in the fertile ground, and the climate was perfect for staving off rust--well, until the bitter winter came. Until then, they were a trade depot.

And under Nobunaga Oda’s control, no doubt it would be more.

Masamune didn't need to even reach the town to see the influence his old friends exercised. The ancient fencing erected so long ago was replaced with something studier (trampling buffalo were always a problem in the old days). A water tower hovered under construction. As he puttered into town, bringing the motorcycle down to a reasonable speed, Masamune even spotted a new brick library.

“Well,” he whistled softly to himself. “I’ll be damned. Mitsunari convinced ‘em.”

The wide streets of Waŋblí Hoȟpi were clean and spacious. Painted patterns decorated the buildings in bright colors. The beautiful blend of modern structures and traditional art soothed him. God. He’d missed this place more than he’d thought, no matter how uneasy it made him. Flowers bloomed wild along the porches and splayed out into the streets, other small bikes parked around. Swinging off his bike, Masamune parked alongside the Town Hall and dusted himself down.

“Masa!”

He grinned and braced himself. Just in time; a pair of familiar arms snapped around him, pulling him back. Masamune bellowed a laugh and struggled free.

“That’s the most excited you’ve been to see me in ages!”

“It’s been ages!” Hideyoshi’s grin was infectious. All too soon, it turned serious. “How’ve you been? Are you eating enough? Are you keeping yourself safe on the road? You haven’t gotten radiation sickness out there, have you--”

“Shut up.” From the shadows of the porch, Ieyasu emerged, his face set into a hard scowl. Masamune almost laughed at that alone. The blonde always looked grumpier when he was trying not to smile. “C’mere and let me use the geiger counter on you.”

“I’m clean.”

“Like hell you are. You sent me a postcard from the outskirts of West Virginia. That’s close enough to the Fallout Epicenter for me to be nervous. Arms up.”

It was two against one. Masamune released a long sigh and swung off his leather duster, draping it over the seat of the bike and lifting his arms. Ieyasu gave him a sweep with a faded yellow device; it crackled, but didn't screech the way he’d heard it do in some places.

“Not perfect,” Ieyasu sniffed, checking the numbers. “So you’re a liar.”

“But pretty good!” Hideyoshi granted a smile anyway. “At least you’ve been watching yourself.”

“I’ve got half my eyes, not half my brain.” Masamune grinned and tossed his coat over his shoulder. “Where’s the rest of the crew?”

“Meeting upstairs. They’re getting ready to have a bit of a, err, business meeting in a few hours.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“You mean obnoxious,” Ieyasu grumbled. “It’s with the other settlement down south. The new one.”

“Oh.” Masamune paused. “I’m outta the loop. You mean the one with the Uesugi, or the one with the Takeda? I thought the Takeda one got wiped out in a raid?”

“It did. Apparently enough people survived from Kai that they migrated over to Echigo. As for them, they’re holding strong still.”

Masamune didn't say anything to that. Their township was too far out into the mountains for his liking. Instead he stretched out his legs. “Okay, what do they want?”

“The usual shit: railroad business, trade. They’ve got better access to fresh water, though.” Hideyoshi sighed and rubbed his face. “But you know how I feel about this mess. Anyway, it’s been forever. What brings you back? Come on in, take a load off!”

“Oh. You know.” Together, the three of them pushed open the door into the town hall, the familiar scent of pine filling his nostrils. Something about the smell never got old. He took a second and inhaled deeply, letting it settle in his chest like a comforting weight. “The old ‘Pony Express’.”

Ieyasu stared at him. “You’re not seriously calling it that.”

“I mean, I’m not, but Mitsunari said it was a good historic reference.”

“It’s not a great brand name.”

“So, a package?” Hideyoshi rubbed his hands. “Who from? We haven’t gotten any mail that didn't come off the train for a while.”

Masamune patted himself down, producing the letter. “Mitsuhide, apparently. Ask him what he’s doing that merits express delivery.”

The other two just shook their heads.

“I don’t want to know,” Hideyoshi groaned.

“Me either,” Ieyasu huffed. “He’s probably upstairs.”

“Great! Then I’ll just hop on in.”

“Wh--Masamune, no--”

“Masamune, yes!” Laughing, he sprinted through the hallways, dancing just beyond Hideyoshi’s chastising grasp. Up the stairs he bounded, taking them two at a time, the warm sunlight streaming in the windows warming his sore muscles. The past be damned: he’d missed this. He’d missed his friends and the gentle smell of the plains. He’d missed the sound of Hideyoshi scolding him and Ieyasu’s long, ragged sigh. And--as he burst into the office of the mayor and flung himself into a chair--he collapsed in a fit of laughter as he realized how much he’d missed everyone else.

“Well, well,” Nobunaga announced, unflappable as ever. “Look who the cat dragged in.”

“Not what I was expecting, if I’m quite honest,” Mitsuhide chuckled. “But I suppose it will do.”

“Masamune!” Mitsunari clutched his chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

Hideyoshi dashed into the doorway a beat too late, a thoroughly disappointed looking Ieyasu following a half second later. Masamune draped himself over the armchair and grinned cheekily at them.

“Delivery.” And he brandished the letter. “For one ‘Akechi’.”

“For me?” Mitsuhide smoothed down his jeans with a snakey smile. “You shouldn’t have. I daresay you’ve come a long way with that.”

“Damn straight. Was it your bright idea to make sure and request me, specifically?”

“My. You’ve caught on to my ruse.”

“Wasn’t that subtle. You just missed me.”

Nobunaga settled back down into his chair. The desk before him was littered with a thousand stacks of paper, each as vital to Waŋblí Hoȟpi’s success as the last. “I did wonder how you were going to lure. Well done.”

Out of all the things he expected, Masamune didn't anticipate Mitsuhide to take the letter--and promptly drop it in the trash. “It was too easy.”

“Wait.” He frowned. “Wait! You didn't even--you shipped yourself a letter just to get me back here?”

“Is that so strange?” Nobunaga fished through his desk and poured out a handful of sugar candies, ignoring Hideyoshi’s frustrated groan. “You make yourself scarce otherwise.”

“You know why.”

“Indeed we do.” Mitsuhide brushed down his stark white sleeves. How the man kept his button up and vest so pristine in all the dust, Masamune had no clue. “We’ll have to beg your forgiveness after this.”

That didn't sound promising. Narrowing his eye, Masamune rapped against the armchair. “Why, exactly?”

“We’ve had a rash of disappearances.” Nobunaga brushed aside a number of papers. “They’re all in the same proximity. We’ve reason to believe it has something to do with--”

No.

Masamune didn't even wait for confirmation. He jumped to his feet and immediately charged for the door. Hideyoshi slammed it shut and wrestled his arms into place.

“Let go of me--!”

“No! At least just listen--”

“You don’t--you don’t get it--I’m not doing this again--!”

“Masamune--!”

The two of them toppled over, tangled together on the floor. Mitsunari squeaked in surprise and backed up as they tussled. Mitsuhide just laughed.

“It’s not fucking funny,” Ieyasu snapped. “Hideyoshi, stop. Masamune, will you relax for a second? They’ve got a good reason.”

Masamune wrenched himself free of the headlock he’d been put in. “No fucking way. There’s no good reason you got.”

“Oh, but we do.” Mitsuhide’s yellow eyes glittered in the sunlight. “The ghost ship appears before each disappearance. Your old friend is the latest to spy it. If the pattern holds, she’ll be gone before the week is out.”

Finally he stilled, his heart thumping loud in his chest. “Are you fucking with me?”

“Not in the least.”

Silence. Masamune watched motes of dust flutter in the light, each of them a small world all its own. Maybe this was a bad dream. That was it--this was a bad dream, and if he just focused hard enough--

“Earth to Masamune.” Ieyasu snapped his fingers for attention. “Come back.”

He swallowed, his throat dry. “Are you sure she saw it?”

Hideyoshi looked ashamed. “We wouldn’t have called you otherwise. We all know you had a thing for her--”

“Yeah.” Masamune choked. “Yeah. Where is she now? Anyone keeping an eye on her?”

“Down at the general store, same as always. She runs it now, since her old man passed.”

He hopped onto his feet. “I’m going down there. You need someone to put their eyes--eye--on her. Otherwise--”

No one said a word. They didn't have to. Even Ieyasu averted his gaze from Masamune’s bad eye, as if the whole chasm of the space around them echoed in that one spot. He realized he was clutching his eyepatch; immediately he snapped his hand away.

“She needs eyes on her,” he repeated. “Or shit can happen.”

“Understood.” Nobunaga replied calmly. “But we need to get to the bottom of this. I don’t believe in the supernatural. Whatever it is that causes these disappearances, we must track it down.”

“Gotcha.” Masamune shrugged his duster back on. “Yeah. Well, I guess I’m back in the gang.”

---

The general store smelled like bergamot and old memories. Overhead, the horn bells clanked together, the hollow sound a familiar backdrop against the soft creak of wood. The geometric murals on the beams and the framed beadwork glowed with color. Dense shelves stocked with essentials lined the small building: flour, sugar, yeast, firewood… Masamune hesitated in the doorway and just inhaled it all.

Once upon a time--and it felt like a lifetime ago--the six of them would lounge in the cramped spaces of the general store and sip on lemonade and tea her father made them. More than once he’d clambered on top of the shelving and listened to her hiss protests (he’d only broken one), swinging down only once he’d gotten good and tired of the heat. Now it all came back to him in a gentle tide, like the soft current of the southern rivers at his feet, like the way he imagined the ocean did, were it not so polluted.

“Hello?”

He didn't answer at first. Her voice was the same as ever, and that warmed him all the way through. How did he even confront her? It had been so long, so, so long since they’d last seen each other. Thinking fast, Masamune dipped behind a shelf and rattled a tin of expensive coffee to attract her attention.

“Mitsuhide? If that’s you, it isn’t funny. You can’t scare me again.”

Masamune nearly laughed. Somehow he stifled himself. After a prolonged silence she got tired of waiting, her footsteps creaking over the worn boards.

“If you jump out at me, I will punch you in the face. You’ve been warned.”

He chanced it and did anyway. She shrieked and punched him square in the chest; he staggered backwards and fell, too winded to laugh properly and too entertained to do anything else.

“Fucking hell! You weren’t kidding!”

“Masamune?” She appeared over him like a vision, all dark eyes and dark hair. When had she gotten this beautiful? Of course, she always had been--he remembered that all too well--but somewhere in his absence she’d grown into something almost beyond his heart. “Masa, is that you?”

“That wasn’t my face, you know,” he wheezed. “My face is up here. So you missed a little.”

“Cut it out. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Mitsuhide is taller than me. You wouldn’t have gotten his face, either.”

“You’re right. That was, what, Ieyasu height?”

Masamune choked another laugh, bracing his stomach. “God, you didn't hold back.”

“No, I didn't!” But she bent over anyway, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Her hair draped thick and lovely around her shoulders, the sweet scent of ylang-ylang and lavender surrounding her, and without thinking he pulled her tight to him. “I missed you, you big lunk.”

“Of course you did,” he chuckled, rocking her. “Who wouldn’t?”

“Oh! Listen to the ego on you! Did that bike make it swell? I’ve got ice for that!”

“Shit, if I wanted ice, I’d just go drive up to the mountains. You can keep it. That’s expensive stuff to use on me.”

At last she released him. Together they climbed to their feet and picked their way through the aisles. He watched her hands as she pushed product back, practiced fingers straightening labels with casual glances. “I thought you weren’t ever coming back.”

Masamune shrugged. “Mitsuhide had other plans, I guess.”

She cast him a look. “He certainly has a way of making them, doesn’t he?”

“Don’t he, though.”

Her gaze flitted over his bad eye. Right. She’d barely seen him without it. He pressed a hand to the eyepatch and grinned despite himself. “Does it work for me?”

“Does--are you seriously referring to that like it’s a fucking accessory?”

Masamune roared. “Gotta live with it somehow! Does it make me look dashing? C’mon. Do you want me to say like, ‘arr’ or something? I could be a pirate!”

She snapped a towel at him. “We’re not near the coast, and you can’t sail.”

“I could learn! Or I’ll just be a sand pirate--”

“Masa,” she chided. “You came here cause they told you I saw it, didn't they? The ship.”

He paused. “Yeah. Yeah, they did.”

Silence fell between them. He watched her pick her way behind the counter, wiping a hand over the spotless top. What was there to say? A sharp pang of melancholy surged through his stomach as he watched her expression shutter and fold. It had been so many years--so many without her that he suddenly felt the absence float between them.

“Look.” Masamune cleared his throat. “It isn’t gonna take you. That’s just a story.”

She cast him a dubious glance. “It took your father.”

What could he say to that? He ran his thumb over a rough patch of countertop and tried to measure out his words again. “He took him.”

“Are--” Her words caught in her throat. For a second, he was afraid she would ask--but then she didn't. “I guess you’re still here.”

“Damn right.” He shot her a wink, doffing an imaginary hat and bowing before her. “And you’re gonna be here, too. Ain’t nothing gonna take you, not on my watch.”

“Oh? What do you plan on doing, sleeping in my bed to make sure?”

“Sexy. Is that an invitation?”

She flung the towel at him. He caught it with a laugh, shaking it back. “So violent! First you punch me, now you throw things--”

“I warned you with the punch! Do you want some lemonade or something? I’ve got some tea brewing…”

“Tea works, thanks.”

Brushing aside the blanket that covered the doorway, she vanished into the back. For a split second, Masamune was afraid she wouldn’t come back out--that somehow, some way, the ship would appear outside of the general store and ghost her away from him. He cast a wary glance out the window and over the plains, the thick prairie grass bending and swaying in the wind, the dirt swirling like a dancing dervish. All that comforted him was the sweet scent of bergamot and the gentle clink of glasses in the back.

“Honey?” She called out.

“Sure. Not too much, I know it’s expensive.”

Quiet again. Masamune strained for the faint sounds of spoons and pouring water. It was better than the bad memories of his father threatening to break through, better than the archaic smell of gunpowder pervading everything, better than losing himself into the past and dissociating into his worst nightmare again--

She emerged and he almost breathed a sigh of relief.

“Here.” She passed over the cup with a smile. “It’s a little hot.”

“That’s alright.” He wrapped his fingers tight around it and let the scald bring him back to earth. “I like it hot sometimes.”

[toumakibangs]

Spring Fever - by spider-maki

THE SUBMISSIONS HAVE FINALLY APPEARED IN MY INBOX!

THANK YOU, @spider-maki and @grimelius FOR PARTICIPATING IN THIS!

HAPPY BELATED TOUMAKI EASTER, EVERYONE!

AUTHOR NOTE: @spider-maki here! This fic is loosely based on #18 from the prompt list about a fictional “spring fever” illness (emphasis on ‘loosely’ because it honestly doesn’t have much to do with the plot lol.) Hope you enjoy it, and happy Easter!! :D

“I’m dying.”

Makishima lowers his phone and stares at it in incredulous silence. After several seconds of seriously contemplating throwing the device out his bedroom window, he jams it back against his ear.

“You’re not dying, Toudou,” he says tersely. “And next time, can you not start a conversation like that?”

Toudou makes an offended noise. “That’s rude, Maki-chan! What if I really was dying?!”

“If you were really dying, I hope you’d call someone who can actually help you instead of someone living two continents away,” says Makishima. “Do you even know what time it is here?”

“One o’clock in the morning,” Toudou says promptly.

Makishima blinks. “How did - wait, if you know then why did you call me? What if I was sleeping?”

Toudou scoffs. “Unless you underwent a personality change in England, you never go to sleep before three in the morning unless you’re dying.”

Makishima has to admit that’s a valid point, but he’s not going to tell that to Toudou. “But it’s nine A.M. where you are,” he presses. “What’s so important that you had to wake up so early on a Sunday morning just to call me?”

“I already told you, Maki-chan! I’m dying!”

“…I’m hanging up.”

“Wait! No! I -” There’s a brief thump followed by rustling noises, and he pictures Toudou fumbling his phone and scrambling to catch it. “Are you still there?”

“For now, but if you so much as mention the word ‘dying’ one more time -”

“Ok, fine!” Toudou yelps. “I’m not - about to pass away. But I am sick!”

This gives Makishima pause. Now that he thinks about it, Toudou’s voice does sound a bit off, as if his vocal swords are scraping against sandpaper every time he opens his mouth, and his breathing sounds harsher in his ear than usual. Could Toudou actually be sick? He doesn’t recall Toudou ever falling ill in all the years he’s known him, likely due to him obsessing over health and nutrition and being in perfect racing condition at all times, but he supposes no one can be immune to everything forever.

“What, did you catch a cold or something?” Makishima leans back on his bed, sinking into the soft mattress, and smirks at the ceiling. “I bet you went cycling in the snow without your jacket again.”

Predictably, Toudou blows up. “I told you, that time was because I gave my jacket to Megane-kun! And it was him and Manami who were cycling, not me!”

“Right.”

“I’m serious! I would never ride in the snow and risk my physical condition like that! Do you really think I would ever jeopardize my good looks and flawless complexion?”

“Then how did you catch this cold?”

“I don’t have a cold, Maki-chan,” Toudou says disdainfully, as if the very idea of falling victim to such a common ailment is insulting to him. “I have spring fever.”

“…Spring fever.”

“Yes.”

Makishima waits for the punchline. It doesn’t come.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He huffs out a breath and resists the urge to start tearing out his own hair. “Spring fever isn’t an actual illness! You can’t get sick with it!”

“Well it must be an illness, because I’m sick with spring fever!” Toudou argues, sniffing audibly. “I have a runny nose -”

“That could be your allergies.”

“- I’ve been coughing all morning –”

“You must’ve let dust gather everywhere again. Open your bedroom window or better yet, get a vacuum cleaner.”

“- and I can’t sleep,” Toudou finishes with a whine, which would have possibly evoked some sympathy from Makishima if he wasn’t so used to this sort of behaviour from him. “I only got about four hours of sleep.”

Makishima presses his fingers to his temple. “I hate to break it to you but it sounds like you just have a regular cold, Toudou. Not spring fever which, again, doesn’t exist.”

“But I can’t have a cold!” Toudou wails. “The Mountain God never gets colds!”

“There’s a first for everything, even for the Mountain God,” Makishima says dryly. “Go back to sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

Toudou whines again, the familiarity of the high-pitched sound grating on Makishima’s nerves. “I told you already, I can’t sleep!”

“You can’t, or you don’t want to?”

“Both!” Makishima hears the creak of springs as Toudou sits up in bed. “The sun’s already up, so there’s no point in going back to sleep now. I might as well start my day. After I eat breakfast, I’ll go out for a short bike ride and –”

There’s a crash, and Toudou’s voice abruptly cuts off.

“Toudou?” No response. “Toudou!”

“Ow,” Toudou complains loudly.

Makishima breathes a sigh of relief and immediately hopes Toudou didn’t hear it. “What happened?”

“Eh, I may have - tripped getting out of bed?“

“…You’re dizzy, aren’t you.” A spark of genuine concern flares in Makishima’s chest. “If you can’t even get out of bed properly, there’s no way you’ll be able to ride a bike without crashing.”

“But -” Toudou interrupts himself with a series of three rapid sneezes.

“Go to sleep, Toudou,” he says, exasperation bleeding into his voice. “If you push yourself it’ll just take that much longer for you to recover to full health, and I swear I’ll fly to Japan and throttle you if that happens.”

“You can’t come to Japan, Maki-chan. You’re busy with school and homework,” says Toudou, his words slurring slightly, but Makishima can hear him obediently crawling back into bed and pulling the bedsheets back over his body. “And cycling. Don’t you have a race in five days?”

Makishima pauses briefly before barking a laugh. He should be surprised Toudou remembers that, considering he mentioned it only once several months ago, but oddly enough, he’s not. “I do, but that won’t stop me from kicking your ass in person if you do something stupid like overexert yourself while you’re sick. Why do you suddenly want to bike so much, anyway? You’ve never had a problem with taking breaks before.”

Toudou hums thoughtfully. “I’ve been restless, lately,” he says. “Since the racing season started not that long ago I haven’t competed in any races in a while, and I keep wanting to just - hop on my bike and ride up the nearest slope. Yet when I do, I’m not satisfied. I climb and climb and climb, but what I’m searching for isn’t at the top of a mountain. It’s not something I can win by reaching the peak in record time. So I ended up cycling for too long for too many days, these endless rotations in an endless pursuit, until I caught spring fever.”

“You can’t catch spring fever,” Makishima says for what feels like the hundredth time, because that’s easier than trying to unpack everything that Toudou’s just told him.

“Maybe I’m the first to catch it,” says Toudou. “I am the Mountain God, after all.”

“That makes zero sense,” Makishima says flatly. “I think you’re delirious.”

Toudou snorts. “You’re probably right. Still,” his tone turns quiet, wistful, “I wish I could go biking right now. It’s a nice day.”

Makishima turns to look out his own window. The night sky is mostly clear, pinprick stars visible even through the hazy glow of thousands of building lights similar to his own, but he can spot small storm clouds dappled with grey and white gathering on the horizon and looming over the city. The weather forecast promised heavy rain for the next few days, news that upset his cycling teammates but sent thrills of anticipation down his spine.

He knows Toudou well enough to recognize it definitely wouldn’t fit his proper definition of a ‘nice day.’ He also knows Toudou well enough to know he wouldn’t care, as long as it fit Makishima’s own.

“Hey, Toudou,” he says.

“Yeah, Maki-chan?”

“When I come back to Japan, let’s race again,” he says. “I’ll call you, and wherever the nearest hill is - we’ll see who can climb the fastest to the peak.”

Toudou’s sudden, bright laughter rings in his ear like musical chimes. “Okay, but you should know I’m going to win.”

“Kuha! Not if I beat you.”

He doesn’t need to be able to see Toudou to know his greatest rival and friend is grinning. “It’s a promise.”