#the way i perked up at the instant recognition

[donutghoul-a]

👫

( send a 👫 and I’ll write four headcanons I have about our muse’s relationship. )

001. bound to each other as it is, there's a fixed anchor inside both of them: their souls just slot together oh-so nicely. they complement each other, despite their shared differences, flaws, and all. it almost feels like both of them belong to each other -- it's an instant recognition when they first meet even before bonding via ingesting the mermaid scales ( it's a "matchmaking charm": a curse that ties two individuals together through space and time. )

002. Hanako does a good job of distracting her frequently; especially while she's in class. you can always find Hanako skulking around just out of her field of vision -- frowning at students' textbooks, looking over half-hearted notes from her classmates, or moving the pens on the teacher's desk just so. Nene attempts to fight to keep her attention on her lessons and off him, but he's always looking proud every time when he looks up and finds her already looking at him.

003. they're able to communicate silently with each other. it's a unique way of exchanging thoughts like when they're knocking each other's knees when sitting to point something out. or making eye contact and knowing exactly what the other is thinking without saying a word. neither of them is sure if it has to do with their bond, if it the two of them just spend too much time together, but Hanako always seems to know what Nene means with nonverbal cues.

004. he loves to listen to her ramble. even if he has no idea what she's talking about -- his ears perk up to the sound of her and she has his undivided attention on her. he listens to her when she has a list of things to do, or when Nene talks about her love for her hamsters, or whenever she's full of excuses against her own inner criticisms. even when she talks about boys, he still teases her lightly over it ( which she does a lot of ... and she does it, A LOT. jealousy always manages to rip through him in a gust, settling in a low, seething hum ) -- but other times, he doesn't say anything about it. he knows she'd stop talking completely if he points out that she's been going at it for hours.

(BONUS) 005. if it were up to him, it would be decidedly hard for Nene to maintain friendships outside of Hanako and whomever he seems fit to be her friend due to his own selfish/possessive behavior. not that that’s the case. still, he likes to remind her ( constantly, desperately, whispered quietly in the space between her shoulder blade ) that no human could treat her better than he could. no one could know her better than he could.

[bxldrsdraumar]

Sigurd couldn't help laughing when Fenris shook his head – not with any malicious spirit, of course, and he held a hand down to young Leonardo to heave him back to his feet. But he did laugh nonetheless, the absurdity of the situation beginning to catch up. 

"Poor boy must have needed a scritch," he chuckled, clearing his throat. "All right, then, lad? Let's dust you off, and we shall try again. I can go first, if that's your preference." 

Facing the dog down now, no larger than a thumb, he could have seen why the boy might have been intimidated, unsure – if Sigurd had not counted the dog as a companion during his convalescence, he might only have been able to see the slathering maw, rather than the pup whose belly needed rubbed and who chased butterflies. 

"Now Fenris," Sigurd adopted a faux stern tone, holding a finger up to get the dog's attention – the dog's ears perked, and its head canted this way and that for a moment as Sigurd continued, "We really do need your assistance. It's very important, so I need you to sit like a good boy – there we go." 

Either by recognition of the command, or the understanding that the action preceded treats, Fenris plopped his backside onto the ground and stared at Sigurd, tongue lolling for a moment before he yipped excitedly. The sound was sharp, rumbling through Sigurd's chest, but he laughed off the odd sensation, and approached the animal from the side, slinging his leg over smoothly. With a gentle dig to his heels, Fenris stood, and for the briefest instant Sigurd had forgotten that he was in miniature, and felt quite the same as anytime he had mounted his steed for battle, hair blowing careless in the wind. 

He smiled down at Leonardo, and extended his hand to tug the young man up behind him. "There we are! Nothing to it – and so, we ride!" 

Most Valiant Steed || Sigurd & Leonardo

[sungbeam]

𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞.

wolf shifter!jeno x human!reader x vampire!jaemin

▷ yes, this is a twilight au

▷ word count: 1k only of this trash

a/n: i'm sorry, this is so cursed 🤧 i was in my writing class and we were doing parodies, and i came up with this CRINGE drabble/idea 🤡 it also switches povs like twice so that's cool 💀💀

The air around you froze, as if all of time was physically frozen from a gust of wind. You rubbed your bare arms in a poor attempt for warmth. A chill ran up your spine just as a presence filled the space behind you. You had come into the woods behind the school alone, a mistake you would do well not to make again. 

"Why did you follow me?"

There was a bout of silence that you feared to fill. Na Jaemin said, perhaps about 20 paces behind you, "To see what you know."

You swallowed, pulse pounding in your ears. "I know what you are, if that's what you're referring to."

Instead of acknowledging your statement, Jaemin crooned, "There's no need to be afraid, sweets." His tone was sweet, not like the dry sarcasm that you usually overheard from him in the hallways. You felt him come closer, the leaves on the forest floor crunching beneath his heavy soles. 

"I know what you are," you repeated. Even if you tried to force some kind of confidence into your voice, the words came out quiet. 

And then you felt the warmth of your breath on the nape of your neck, barely reeling in your gasp. "Then say it," he prompted gently. "Go on, darling. Say it aloud."

"You're a vampire."

The world seemed to unfreeze as soon as the words left your tongue, as if the secret had put pressure on a pause button and was suddenly lifted. At that instant, you both perked up at the sound of someone calling your name. Jaemin groaned under his breath, already knowing who it was—scented him. 

"YN! Yn, where are you?"

Recognition lit your features. "Jeno?"

As you bounded off in the direction of Jeno's voice, Jaemin lingered behind, so you didn't hear him mutter "Damn dog" under his breath before following after you. He could hardly wait to interact with the Alpha pup after so long… but if he knew you? Jaemin did little to suppress his smirk. This should be fun. 

He found you and Lee Jeno in a clearing, the latter of which was frantically searching your body for injury while you assured him that you were completely fine. Jeno froze abruptly, trailing his eyes all the way up to Jaemin's smug face. 

A low growl erupted from Jeno's throat. Jaemin frowned at how you jerked in surprise and scanned the surrounding forest for stray wolves; he could scent your fear. The way that Jeno had scared you like that? That didn't sit well with Jaemin, and Jeno was so focused on Jaemin's presence that he didn't even notice what he'd done. You poor thing, you didn't even know the predators were right in front of you. 

"Demon," Jeno snarled. 

Jaemin smiled tightly. "Mutt." He mocked a bow. "What do I owe the distinct displeasure of seeing you on this fine morning, Alpha?"

If Jaemin wasn't so worried about you (read: if he didn't care about you so damn much), Jaemin would have found your confusion amusing. 

Jeno stepped in front of you, placing his body directly between you and Jaemin. Jaemin stiffened; the monster inside of him did not like this—at all. "Stay the hell away from her."

"Don't be such an alphahole, Jen," Jaemin crooned. This time, his crooning was less sweet, and tinted with a venomous bite. He feigned boredom, examining his meticulously manicured fingernails. "Darling can make decisions for herself—" his gaze shot to you expectedly, "—can't you, sweets?"

You were so confused, but you were almost compelled to believe the feeling of safety radiating from Jaemin. Come with me, it seemed to purr, you'll be safe with me. "I just want answers," you said lowly. 

The tension was palpable; hostility rolled off of both men in waves, like watching heat radiate from a roasted sidewalk. Jeno clenched his jaw and fists. "Don't talk to her. And don't call her that."

Jaemin blinked. "Oh, I'm sorry. Should I call her 'your mate' instead?"

What the hell—

"Shut up." A vein pulsed from Jeno's muscled neck, and you had a sudden, itching feeling that you knew what was about to happen. You had seen it happen countless times before: Jeno getting angry, Jeno beating someone to a pulp, Jeno coming to you afterwards to patch himself up. You couldn't stand the sight; you were beyond sick of seeing him covered in someone else's blood, knuckles bruised to the bone. 

"Oh? Touchy subject… okay," Jaemin taunted with a laugh, clearly amused by the situation. "Well let me put it this way, Fur-For-Brains, at least I don't hide what I really am." Jaemin's smile as he said this was armed with teeth—fangs that peered out from his mouth before they disappeared. Like a reminder of the threat he posed. 

"Jeno." You grabbed his bicep, yanking him backward, too afraid of what might occur if you let go. "You cannot get into another fight."

Instead, Jeno said to you, "Yn-ie, please go back to campus. I'll meet you there."

The blood drained from your face. "Jeno, no! You said—"

"Yn," voice hardened, "go."

Jaemin chuckled humorlessly, the sound grating on Jeno's nerves. "What's the matter, pup? Don't want her to watch me wipe the floor with you?"

"Lee Jeno, don't listen to him; he's provoking you. You promised me you wouldn't!" You snarled at him, forcing Jeno to turn around and look you in the eyes. "Tell me you won't—swear to me you won't, damn it."

Jeno's eyes had gone wide, dilated so far you could hardly see the whites. Your body shook, from fear, anger or adrenaline, you did not know. But as soon as he connected gazes with you, his eyes slowly returned to normal, as if shaking himself from a daze. He swallowed. "I'm sorry, Yn."

You shook your head. You knew there was nothing you could do at this point, nothing to change his mind. "No—no, you're not."

As he tried to reach for you, and you backed away. He winced while the wolf inside him whimpered. 

"Don't come crawling back to me to patch you up," you spat at him, then turned your back to both creatures. You couldn't care less anymore about what happened. No, you didn't want to care, but you did. 

As soon as both of the males scented that you were far enough away, they sized each other up. Jeno, hyped on pure fury; Jaemin running on pride. Both had a reputation to uphold with you at the center. 

"Must hurt," Jaemin said blandly. Though toneless, he knew exactly what buttons he pushed on the rejected Alpha. 

Jeno gritted his teeth. He couldn't get your disappointment, Jaemin's scent on your body, out of his head. "Shut the fuck up, bloodsucker." 

Then they launched at each other: fangs and claws gnashing. This would not end well for either of them.

nct m.list

read "stay away from him" out now!

read the follow-up oneshot "i will always tell you the truth"

read the most recent drabble "doesn't he own a shirt?"

[nctsworld]

spin me right ‘round

✩‌ johnny ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ record store owner!johnny | fluff | smut | 4k‌ ‌

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ buying from the local records shop leads you to eventually bed the hot owner on the night of your first date.   WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌smut (in the second half), oral s*x (f and m receiving), f*ngering, johnny has a big d*ck and f*cks you hard???, office s*x in the epilogue (kind of) RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen​ @sehunniepot​ (thought you might be interested in this nikki 👀) 

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t share or repost without credit! 

Opening the store’s door, the ringing of the bell above you signals your entrance. 

You moved into the neighbourhood recently and since someone gifted you a record player for your last birthday, you thought it’d be a quaint idea to drop by the local records shop that you always pass by on your way home.  

Rows and rows of vinyl records, organized both alphabetically and by genre, welcome you with open arms, along with a faint musty smell, likely due to the faded, vintage records hanging between the posters on the cream walls. 

The outside of the store is misleading to its size; there’s enough space here for at least thirty people easily. However, besides you, it looks like there’s only one other customer in the shop.  

Although your surroundings captivate your senses, the striking blond man bent over the rock section in the middle of the shop is the true cynosure of your eyes. 

His long fingers flutter seamlessly over the records, seeming to be on a dedicated search to find one in particular. He towers high over the low stacks and oozes coolness with a thumb stuffed in his front pocket and donning a stylish green beanie atop his medium cut locks. 

Not to mention that his jeans tug perfectly over the curvature of his prominent ass, but you merely steal a glance or two at his backside as you stroll towards the pop section. 

Okay, maybe three glances.

With your back facing the man, several minutes pass as you rummage through the sea of mainstream music, ranging from recent to old, but all the while pleasing to your tastes.  

“See anything you like?” 

Your eyes meet the figure standing nearby with a hand on the edge of one of the stack dividers. His smooth voice matches his strong aura and his gorgeous face, which you’re now blessed to be viewing up-close. 

Your gaze pursues downward, soaking up his sturdy frame hidden behind his flattering clothes. Darting your eyes up his lengthy body back to his face, you lick your lips and swallow, in hopes to dampen the sudden dryness in your throat, and naturally raise the corners of your mouth.        

“Yeah—” You, you think in the back of your head and execute a nod, “—there are a few things.” 

He smiles endearingly towards the floor before glancing back up to you. You wonder if he can read your thoughts, or maybe it’s simply written all over your face.

Releasing his grip, he says, “Take all the time you need. If you need any assistance, let me know." 

Your eyebrows perk up in realization. “Do you work here?”

“Yeah.” Bobbing his head, he runs a hand over his beanie. “I’m the owner of the store.”

“Oh, wow,” you exclaim, jaw hanging slightly. “You’re so young, I wouldn’t think someone in their 20s would have their own store, especially one like this." 

A frown falls over his face, and in that moment, you knew you fucked up any chance you had with him.  

“Yeah, 26 to be exact,” he shrugs, tight-lipped, prior to the folding of his arms. His eyes become slits of bitterness. “Thanks for the ageism."

Immediately shaking your head at the misunderstanding, you stammer, “I didn't mean it like that—"

The owner’s expression melts in an instant and a warmness emanates from him once more. The knot in your chest loosens at the sight and relief waves over.  

“I'm just playing with you, don’t worry." 

He opens his mouth, about to continue, but his attention is interrupted by the ringing at the door, and you turn to see another customer over your shoulder. The attractive individual begins to stroll over, but still faces your direction, beaming. 

“Well, if you decide to get anything, you know where to find me, and I'll ring it up for you." 

With puffed cheeks, you nod and watch him greet the incoming patron. Trying to leave the embarrassment behind you, you shift toward the records again and browse for a little longer. 

Finally deciding on a few choices, you walk toward the front register and peer over at the beanied blond. In the classical section, he’s listening intently to the bumbling customer. Not wanting to disturb them, you lay the vinyls on the counter and thankfully find a pen and a stack of sticky notes upon it. 

After sticking the following note on the top vinyl cover, you head out of the store:

“Put these on hold for me?  I'll be back for them.  Thanks!  -Miss Ageist” 

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Judgmental."

A couple of days later, you drop by the store again and find the spirited owner at the front counter. Today, he’s channeling his inner grunge style, adorning a half-up, half-down ponytail and a loose white t-shirt over a tight, long black sleeve shirt. Is it possible for him to look even cuter than he did last time? 

“Sorry again for that,” you scrunch your nose at the memory. He grabs your records from beneath the counter and rings them through. “You just look so young to own a store.”

The blond airily laughs, “I'm gonna take that as a compliment." 

He spots you twisting your mouth to one side and nodding shyly. “It is." 

As you pay for the items, he gestures to your vinyls on the counter. “Good choices, by the way.”

“Are there bad ones?” From the pay pad, you glance up at him and he’s feigning a hurt look. 

“Oh, most definitely.” 

You banter with a tilt of your head, “Isn't music subjective though?” 

“Not to me. I am the king of music taste." 

Both parties exchange laughter while you wait for the transaction to process. Once it finishes, he rips the receipt and places it into the bag with the records. 

“I mean, I do own a records store, so I think I should know." 

Flashing you his pearly whites, he hands the filled bag over to you. 

“Here you go, Miss Judgy Pants.” 

“Actually, you can call me—” You properly introduce yourself.

He leans back a little, straightening himself and tucking his thumbs into his pockets. 

“I'm John, but you can call me Johnny." 

With a glimmer in your eye, you question, “Is Johnny exclusive to me, or does everyone else also call you Johnny?”

His eyebrows raise, impressed by your straightforwardness. “I only let the pretty girls call me Johnny, if that’s what you’re asking.”  

The wink he gives is short-lived, but it’s enough to cause heat to blossom over your cheeks. You brush some hair behind your ear. 

“So, Johnny,” you enunciate, indulging in his name. “When does the store close?” 

You lift up your bag and cheekily add, “Gotta know when to break in to steal more vinyls." 

Johnny chuckles, and your heart bursts knowing you’re the reason behind it. Looking aside, his hand rubs the counter casually and you can’t help but stare at his large palm dominating the surface, along with his elongated fingers. Eyes blinking rapidly, you attempt to break the fantasy assembling in your brain—his hands are the guest stars alongside (and within) your body in the leading role. 

“I can close whenever I want to, but thanks for the heads up; I'll make sure to keep you away from the store,” he jokes.  

Catching your gaze, one of the sides of his mouth lifts. “Why do you ask?” 

Shrugging nonchalantly as you play with the handles of your dangling plastic bag, you reply, “Just wanted to know when the cute worker got off so I can potentially go on a date with him.” 

You scan around as if someone else is there in the empty store besides the two of you and point your thumb to one side, whispering teasingly, “Not you, but the other guy.” 

His tongue grazes against his bottom teeth, nodding understandingly with a deeper smirk. “The store closes at nine usually, but I can make an exception for him to get off earlier." 

Satisfied with Johnny’s answer, you bounce your head and make your way backwards toward the door.

“Sounds good, I'll be here at eight for him tomorrow night. Maybe I'll see you around then, too.” 

Granting him a wink of your own, you turn on your heels and leave. Intrigued, Johnny watches you disappear down the street through the store window. 

At 7:58 the next evening, you show up to the store. 

A customer is at the front counter finishing a purchase. As they pay for the products, the worker takes notice of you, smiling in recognition. You return the same, beaming back at him, and casually stride over to a random section to wait until they’re done. They make some small talk, so you delve in the opportunity to admire Johnny’s outfit for tonight—a tight black t-shirt that showcases his blatant pecs and a loose red plaid shirt overtop of it. 

When the customer exits, you make your way over to him as he puts on a light jacket. You lean your elbows onto the counter. 

“Surprised to see you here.” 

“Likewise," he jests back, snaking out of the counter to be in front of you. You glance at him, consuming the tall drink of water.   

Nodding to the door, you ask, “Ready to blow this popsicle stand?” 

Johnny hums affirmatively and you follow behind him outside as he flips the open sign and locks up the store.

“So, where we heading off to?” 

Informing him of what you had in mind, the two of you decide to take his car to the downtown pier. Once there, both of you grab take-out and eat together at a bench table under the clear sky and dazzling stars. Conversation comes easy, making the night fly by fast. 

While talking with him, since his hair flows freely today, he sometimes shyly brushes some of it behind his ear. Although you’re listening intently, you also ponder how it’d be if you ran your fingers through his soft, silky locks. 

Dinner eases into dessert, with the two of you having ice cream side by side on the pier railing, looking out towards the twinkling water. By the time you’re halfway finished with your cone, you hint at not wanting to end the night just yet. Agreeing with your sentiments, Johnny makes the suggestion of going back to the store. 

After finishing the ice cream, you head together back to his car. The back of your hand brushes up against his. Taking a chance, you curl the tips of your fingers around his, half-holding his hand.  

Pressing up against his arm, you whisper, “Thought you said you gotta keep me away from the store."  

He peers down at the partial hand holding and the grin he gives you reaches his eyes. He gives your hand a small squeeze, ensuring the burgeoning attraction is mutual. 

He whispers in reply, “At least this way I can keep an eye on you." 

At the shop, Johnny locks the door from inside, in case of any wandering bodies, and blasts some upbeat, electronic music onto the store speakers. Intercepting your hand, he guides you to the back corner of the store and starts to dance with you. 

At first, your bodies are separate vessels, grooving to the beat of the music, but as the songs play on, you gradually gravitate towards each other. Soon enough, one hand settles comfortably upon your waist, the other on your hip, while yours are hooked around the nape of his neck. Before you know it, you merge together as one with parted lips, finally satisfying the tension in the air and within your bodies.       

The kissing is intense, electrically charged and sending currents to the tips of your fingers. Although you’re barely acquainted, you two kiss like you’ve been deprived of each other your whole life—every kiss and every touch quenching your thirst for one another.  

Wanting to change it up, you step over to an empty counter and hop onto it. Johnny steps in the space between your legs and his lips meet yours again. You cup his face, clutching onto his strong features, and occasionally run a hand through his hair to caress his head. 

You answer inwardly to your previous thoughts, confirming the silky texture of his hair, and your touch relishes in his golden locks.  

Suddenly, his mouth channels hunger onto your neck and the electric currents divert directly to your rising arousal. At the sensation, you rashly grind your hips into Johnny’s body, and he groans heavily in the crook of your neck.  

He mumbles into your skin, “Do you wanna take this further? My place is nearby." 

Sighing further into his embrace, you half-jokingly reply, “You know, I was really looking forward to getting fucked in a records store." 

He easily breathes, “We can do that next time, I promise." 

You snicker. “Aren’t you a little presumptuous?” 

Tugging his shirt by the neckline, you force him to leave your neck and to greet your mouth instead. Pressing the top of your forehead against his, you match his gaze.   

“And what if I don't like you after tonight?”  

Something in you already knows that won’t be true, but you mischievously ask regardless. 

The simper Johnny flickers is enough to send another wave of bolts downward to your core. 

He peels his head away to bring it beside your ear. His thumb on your thigh may be gently rubbing you, but his following assurance is hoarse, absolutely drenched in pure lust.  

“Oh, you're definitely going to like me after all the things I do to you tonight." 

You barely have an opportunity to scan around his bachelor pad because his lips capture yours upon arrival. In his entryway, Johnny entangles with you, pushing you up against the wall. Impatiently, he drags you to his bedroom for the long-awaited spectacle of the night. 

After hurrying to turn on his bedside lamp, Johnny presses his weight against yours on his bed, embracing the full body contact. His lips continue to attack the terrain of your skin as he denudes you. You hum softly as he pursues south to your aching desire. Hoisting your backside and with his assistance, you’re finally completely bare. 

Sitting up at the edge of the bed, Johnny pulls his top layers off, revealing a sculpted physique, the kind that artists muse and obsess over. You knew he was fit from how his clothes constantly hugged his body, but this was just insane. 

“Holy fuck,” you murmur, staring blankly. 

Chuckling, he does the same bashful gesture from dinner—tucking some of his hair behind his ear. The gentleness is a contrast that nicely compliments his Adonis qualities. His soft side is flipped onto its backside in a second as he begins to creep his way over between your legs, his eyes darkening. 

Upon resting on his chest, you didn’t notice it before, but there’s a hair tie on his wrist, which he uses to effortlessly make himself a quick ponytail. 

With anticipation, you sigh into the kisses he leaves on your inner thigh, making his way toward your pulsing sex. When his tongue issues the first swipe, you inhale sharply with fluttering eyes. Johnny isn’t in a rush, taking his sweet time to lazily lap up your slick and learning what incites you.           

Once he has a better understanding of your desire, he dives in and devours you whole. 

Realization sweeps over as to why he has to put his hair up.

In accompaniment to the painting of your folds, Johnny spreads them gently and ensures he dunks his tongue in your wetness. One of your hands drift away from the bed sheets to one of his snaked around your upper thigh, clutching onto his fingertips in reaction to the swift rotational swirls on your raw flesh.   

He draws back, lips lustrous from your nectar, and hastily replaces his mouth with two fingers.

Your half-lidded eyes shoot wide open. His long, thick fingers fill you greatly, scissor you so far in your sex, so much that you fear what his cock is like if this is how his digits feel. 

You’re overcome with bursts of pleasure. Further bursts ensue as Johnny tongues your clit alongside the fingering. Your throaty cries and the squelches of your pussy is melodious to his ears, better than playing his favourite vinyls on the best record player he owns. The lewdness of it all overwhelms his jean-bound arousal, so Johnny retaliates by grinding against the bed.  

After Johnny retreats, he stands by the foot of the bed and starts unbuckling his belt and pants. You crawl your way over, still panting and reeling from the rush of your high. As you reach him, he drags his pants and boxer-briefs towards the floor in one-go, freeing his unsurprising lengthy girth.    

On your knees, hunched over his cock, you chuckle in disbelief. “Now that’s unfair.” 

He watches in amusement as you examine his desire with delight, before taking it into your hand, pumping it languidly. “What is?” 

You peer up, cocking an eyebrow. “Seriously? You’re hot, own a record store, really funny, and you’re packing. God really has his favourites.” 

Johnny’s about to respond, but his brain short-circuits momentarily at the pad of your thumb rubbing his precome over the tip of his blunt head. He cranes his neck back, exhaling a groan. 

“Well, what can I say? Guess I’m just-fuck—” 

You suck the words out of him. Literally. 

Your warm embrace encompasses his entirety, possessing a strong hold over him. Since you can’t possibly take him fully into your mouth, your fist solves your problem by stroking him by the base. Aiming to please, especially after his oral act from earlier, you slurp and bob your head mercilessly, disregarding the saliva leaking down the sides of your mouth. 

One of Johnny’s hands arranges your hair in a make-shift ponytail to get a clearer view of the obscene display. His hazy eyes skim over the gorgeous curves of your bent back and ass jutting high up in the air. His breathing turns heavier and he’s about to tug on your hair, motioning for you to slow down, but you thankfully come up for air just in time. 

The stately figure attacks your lips with urgency. The kiss is wet and messy from going down on one another, but it merely adds to the intensity. While lip-locked, he lowers you into his pillow once more, then stretches an arm out to his bedside stand to fish out a condom. 

He nimbly rolls on the cover, but is confused to find you back on your knees instead of laying on the bed. You grasp him by the wrist and press your fingers against his firm pecs, indicating to him to recline backward. In awe, he obediently obliges. 

Hovering over him, you suck in a breath as you line your sex up with his, cognizant that you need to acclimatize to his size. You steadily sit onto his length and when it finally reaches the end, you release a piercing groan at the deep sensation.

For a bit, you don’t move too much to get used to his great desire. In the meantime, your fingers wander over the chiseled flesh in front of you—his defined, veiny arms; his solid chest; and the valleys of his abs. 

Once you think it’s been enough, you transfer more weight onto your knees and slide on his cock with more vigor. You throw your head back in pleasure. 

On the other end, Johnny’s gaze wavers between the main action, your bouncing breasts, and your supple neck. He can’t see your face clearly, but he knows you must be enjoying this as much as him by the breathy moans that follow each thrust.    

When your legs start to tire, Johnny tries to hold you close and roll you over onto your backside. You both giggle at the unsuccessful attempt to keep himself still inside of you, but that’s an easy fix. Despite just having him within you, you gasp again at the penetration. Him being on top hits you at a different angle and you truly feel the length of his inches. 

Johnny reaches down to meet your lips. You brush your fingers over his pulled back hair as he consumes your existence. In addition to each passing drive of his body into yours, you also grip harder onto his hair in ecstasy, which leads to the unraveling of his long locks upon your face. The gold ocean of silkiness drowns your senses, the strands stroking your skin like extra caresses. 

Retreating back onto his knees and raking a hand through his tousled mane, his hands then attach to the flanks of your body and he pounds you breathless, leaving you heaving for air. 

In your dazed state, you desperately grab on to whatever you can—the sheets, his upper frame, his ass, anything. Throughout it all, your core contracts even tighter over the way his clavicle, tendons, and muscles protrude and flex like they’re about to break through his skin.  

At this point, you’re beyond delirious and definitely beyond gratified. You assume he’s about to finish when he decreases his pace and bends closer to you, but instead, he continues to still move inside of you.  

“Jesus. Fucking. Christ,” you gasp and grunt between his rough, buried thrusts. “How are you not close?” 

“I’m not ready to be done with you yet, beautiful,” Johnny rasps into your ear. You catch a glimpse of his cocked eyebrow and smirk. “Unless you can’t handle me?” 

Denying his accusation, you haul his cheeks to yours and kiss him fiercely.  

And with that, Johnny’s weight is on his knees again and he fucks you like there’s no tomorrow. 

However, Johnny might’ve been right because it doesn’t take long for you to beg repeatedly for him to come.  

“So, what’s the verdict? Still like me after that?” 

Both individuals are still nude on the bed, but now covered by a blanket. Resting on his chest, you drum your fingers over his skin in thought (as if you need to even think about an answer besides the obvious). 

Pouting up at Johnny, you say, “I’ll only like you if you keep your promise on fucking me in the store next time.” 

“Of course.” He palms your cheek and inches forward, preparing to kiss you tenderly. 

“A gentleman never breaks his promise.”  

EPILOGUE 

One month later, the record store’s business has been growing, so Johnny decides to hire one of his friends, Mark, to be a part-time worker.

Which means that Johnny has more spare time to do other things... like taking you from behind in the back office over his desk. 

“Shit, fuck,” you grip harshly onto the edges of the worn-out wooden desk as he thrusts endlessly. Even after a month of dating, your pussy still isn’t fully accustomed to the size of his girth. You’re unsure if it ever will be. 

No matter, it always feels amazing. 

“Johnny, Johnny—” 

“Johnny!” Mark’s voice suddenly cuts in and calls from outside of the office door. You immediately bite down on your lower lip to shut yourself up. “Someone’s asking me about a limited edition vinyl and I don’t know how to answer.” 

“Uhhh,” Johnny drones absentmindedly, yet jabs into you with more rigor. You bite down harder, but you can’t control the rising volume of your stifled moans. “Give me five minutes.” 

A silent beat passes. 

“Dude, are you fucking in the office again?!” the part-timer exclaims. You can practically see him shaking his head in disgust. “Ugh, I’ll give them the store’s card. Hurry up, though.”

As he walks away, you hear him faintly say, “Sometimes I think this is why you hired me...” 

Simultaneously, you both giggle heartily. Your lover pecks you lovingly on your shoulder prior to diving again into the wanton moment. 

In the end, Johnny actually spends ten more minutes with you. But he can afford the extra minutes—he is the owner of the shop, after all. 

[rek1s-headband]

Hello may i request reki angst taking place after episode 7 with a fluff ending?

➯ A/N: Thank you for the request! I’m sure after episode 7 we all need a little bit of Reki comfort. Let’s all give this boy some much needed loving:)

A question for those of you who watched the recent episode: how are we feeling?

➯ Character: Reki Kyan x Reader

➯ Warnings: Shouting, implications of a panic attack

➯Word count:1.7K

“Someone who deserves you”

You could feel yourself struggling to keep your balance on your skateboard, the rain beating down on your figure. Reki hasn’t been answering any of your texts, and had been very distant with you in school, so you’d decided to ride up to his house to see what was wrong. Any time you asked him if he was alright in school, any time you’d beg him to tell you what was making him look so upset, he’d simply ruffle your hair and tell you not to worry your pretty little head about it, that there was nothing wrong. You were his s/o, surely he’d tell you if something was wrong? You’d asked Langa if he knew what was up with Reki, and he’d simply shrug, telling you reki had been kind of off with him as well.

Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted as you hit a stray pebble, sending you flying over your board and hitting the floor with a thud. You heard your board roll away, heard someone stop it and pick it up. Looking up, you saw none other than Langa Hasegawa himself walking over to you. He looked concerned, but as he got closer to you, he was wearing what could only be described as a look of pure despair. He put your board down beside you, tears quickly collecting around his eyes.

You were off the floor in an instant, pulling him into your chest, swaying the two of you as langa quietly sobbed into your shoulder. You could feel your hoodie begin to get soaked with rain and his tears, holding him impossibly tighter and playing with his hair in an attempt to calm him down. When his shoulders stopped shaking, you pulled his head out of your shoulder, holding his face in your hands and using your thumbs to swipe away his tears that were beginning to gather again.

“Langa,” you say it gently, but there’s a firmness in your voice that holds enough importance for him to hold in his third hiccup within a minute. “What happened?” The question was barely out of your mouth before his grip on your arms tightened, and he began talking 90 miles a minute.

“It’s Reki, he—I went to his house because he seemed off today and I wanted to know what was wrong, but he wasn’t there so I waited until he came home, but he didn’t show up for ages and I thought maybe he was busy but then it started raining and he came back and he looked so sad, I just wanted to figure out was wrong, but he started shouting a me, saying I was gonna break our promise to not skate against Adam. And I know I told him I wouldn’t skate against him, but its just so exciting and I know I need to beat him if I’m gonna get better, y/n, I need to. But Reki doesnt see that, he just thinks I’m gonn get hurt and-“ you placed a careful hand over his mouth, effectively shutting him up.

“Langa,” you repeated yourself, urgency prevalent in your voice this time. “Where is Reki now?”

“At his house. His mom thought he was with me, can you believe that? He wouldn’t tell me where he was, though. He looked all roughed up and hurt, I just wanted to make sure he was-“ once again, poor Langa’s rambling was cut off, this time by you getting on your skateboard and riding off to Reki’s house. You could tell both boys were clearly hurting, but Reki was all that seemed to fill your mind as you sped down the road to his house. As you began to approach his house, you could make out a small figure leaning against the wall, head in his hands, and soaking wet. Why wasn’t he inside? You saw his head perk up a bit when you got off your skateboard, only to hide his face when he realised it was you, tears also streaming down his face. You knew something was wrong, so why the hell did he try and keep it from you?

Reki didn’t have much time to compose himself or try to explain what was going on before you were marching up to him and flinging your arms around his neck. He stumbled back slightly from the impact, tensing up a bit, before finally letting go and wrapping his arms around you, burying his face in your neck. You kept him there for a little bit, before he was slowly pushing you off him, not daring to look you in the eyes. You looked him over, seeing his multiple bruises and rips in his clothing. For once it was him who couldn’t seem to get a word out, and you who couldn’t seem to stop talking.

“What the hell was that? Why did I run into Langa on my way here, and why was he so upset? Why are you so upset? What’s been going on the past coupe of days, you’ve seemed so sad, and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay, but you’ve been so distant and you keep telling me you’re okay, when you’re clearly not okay, so why the hell would you keep it from me? And your clothes, did you fall? Why would you...Reki?” Your questions slowly faded out as you watched Reki slump against the wall, refusing to say a word or look you in the eyes. You got closer to him, a quiet “Reki..?” passing your lips. As you got closer, you heard how quickly he was breathing, heard him quietly repeating “I’m sorry” over and over. You placed your hands on his face, forcing him to look at you. “Hey, Reki, look at me. Its okay. It’s me. I’m not mad at you, I could never be mad at you, no one is.” You could feel his breathing slow down a bit, but he didn’t stop shaking. “Please, talk to me.”

He stood up straighter, taking one of your hands in his, looking away from you once again. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” When you gave him a look of curiosity and concern, he let out a shaky breath, continuing to speak. “I didn’t mean to worry you, I just—I didn’t want to hold you back, any of you. Maybe,” he looked at you for the first time in what felt like forever, “maybe you’d be better of if we weren’t together.” He gave you the fakest smile you’ve ever seen as you felt your heart fall into your stomach. “You should find someone who can keep up with you. Someone who deserves you”

Oh.

So that’s what it was....

“Reki....” you pulled his chin up to look at you, tears pooling in both of your eyes at this point. “Is that how you really feel?” You thought he was having a hard time after Langa had gotten better at skateboarding, but any time you questioned him he simply perked up, claiming he was delighted with Langa’s “newfound fame.” But now you were certain of it. “You know we’d never, ever leave you behind, right? We love you, all of us do!” You stopped to wipe a tear away from his face, feeling his shuddering breath on your face.

“It’s just that,” he pulled away from your hold, pulling his arms in around himself. He took a step or two back, tilting his head back to look up into the sky, rain pouring onto his face. “It was me who started skating first, he’s barely even started! And now he’s beaten two of the top competitors, and he wants to go against the founder of the whole thing? It’s not fair, it was my thing, and now he’s got all the recognition! I dont even care that he’s gotten good, I couldn’t be happier. I just dont want this to all get to his head and leave me! Or worse,” he made his way back over to you, putting his hands on your shoulders, “what if he gets hurt, and he quits skateboarding and I’m alone again? I can’t do it again, y/n, I cant lose another friend.” He collapsed into your arms, and you could feel him begin to cry again. For someone who was always such a ball of enthusiasm, this was heartbreaking to watch unfold. You held him close to you, pushing your hands through his sopping wet hair, making a mental note to force him to take a warm bath later.

You began to trace patterns on his back as you felt him calm down a little, poking his head out from where it was hiding. “There’s no one in this world I’d rather be with than you, Reki, so you can cut the ‘someone who deserves you’ shit. I’m yours, and you’re stuck with me whether you like it or not” you gave him a soft smile as he began to wrap you in an embrace, the persistent rain still beating down on the pair of you. He placed his hands on your hips, looking down on you with what could only be described as a look of pure adoration.

“What the hell did I do to deserve someone like you”, he gave you a soft smile, before leaning down to give you a desperate, passionate kiss. You reciprocated immediately, running your hands through his hair once again. You stayed like that for a while, pressing long, open mouthed kisses to each other’s lips. You felt him let out a quiet sigh, pulling you even closer to him and gripping onto the back of your hoodie. When you finally pulled away, he kept his hands on your waist, yours still playing with the ends of his hair at the back of his neck. He looked down at you, a dopey grin plastered on his face.

“I’m not going anywhere, Reki Kyan. None of us are. You’ll never be alone as long as we’re by your side.” You kept your face close to his, your breath mingling in the middle. You pressed one last kiss to his forehead, pulling away from him. “Now lets get out of the rain, you’re gonna get sick.” He followed you down the path to his house like a puppy, a fond smile never leaving his face. “And you better talk to Langa as soon as you get out of that damn shower, I’ve never seen that guy look worse than he did than he did leaving your house.”

“Shit”

[babybluebex]

sincerity [bucky barnes x reader]

➽ pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 1.2k ➽ summary: bucky surprises you by coming home early from a mission, and you surprise him right back. ➽ warnings: pregnancy, alpine being a brat ➽ a/n: alpine alpine alPINE ALPINE. that is all.

When I walked into the kitchen, the sight before me was a welcome one. My big Bucky, gone on a mission for the last four months, was standing at the stove. His sleeves were pulled up to his elbows, his brow furrowed as he concentrated on the pancakes. That was a ritual for us at this point; whenever Bucky returned from a mission, he made me breakfast. He said that it helped him decompress after the anxiety-inducing situation, and I never minded too much. 

I came to associate the smell of pancakes with my Bucky. They were the only thing he really knew how to cook that I was willing to eat (I love him, but I refuse to eat the boiled cabbage that he liked so much, probably because he had grown up in the Depression). A shudder ran down my body, and I wrapped my arms tight around myself. “Hi, Buck,” I said, my voice at a croaking whisper. “When’d you get in?”

“About an hour ago,” Bucky said easily. He didn’t seem startled by my presence, and I assumed that he had probably sensed me walk into the room, as he often did. He was vigilant of everything and, while the protection was welcome, it hurt my heart. He pulled me into the side of his body and buried a kiss in my messy hair, and I let out a little squeak of comfort. His arm was cold against my back, but the soft clicking of it as he held me tightly put me at ease. Bucky was home. “You seem like you slept well.” 

“Not really,” I shrugged and played with the hem of his dark red henley shirt. “I was worried about you.”

“You don’t need to worry about me, doll,” Bucky told me, and he abandoned the pancakes for just a moment in order to fully hug me. My arms went around his neck and he lifted me off the floor with the force of his hug. “I can hold my own.”

“I know,” I mumbled, and Bucky set me back down. His left hand came up and captured my chin between his forefinger and thumb, and he pressed his mouth to mine. His stubble stung my skin, but I just kept kissing him. Four months was an awful long time to be separated from someone, especially someone in Bucky’s place. He couldn’t call me, lest his enemy trace it and find me. It was a total communication blackout every time he left for a mission, but that only made our reunions that much sweeter. “I can’t help it, though, Buck. When your boyfriend’s an Avenger, you tend to worry.” 

“I’m not--” Bucky began and gently nipped at my bottom lip. “An Avenger. It’s a miracle I’m not in jail.”

I nodded in agreement and kissed him again, and then a soft murp came from behind us. I turned to see Alpine perched next to the sink, her yellow eyes blinking slowly at Bucky. Even though Alpine was technically our cat, everyone knew that Bucky and Alpine were an inseparable duo. He was her papa and, whenever Bucky was home, Alpine was sure to be close behind. “Oh, there she is,” Bucky cooed. “Hello, Alpine.” He gave Alpine a soft scratch behind her perked, pink ears and placed a soft kiss on his nose, and he said, “How’s my princess doing?”

Alpine murped at Bucky again and rammed her head into his palm in demand of more loving. In an instant, Bucky had Alpine in his arms, and she was wriggling her way up to perch on one of his broad shoulders. “Gonna help cook Momma’s breakfast?” Bucky asked, his eyes twinkling as he looked at his cat. “We’re almost done, baby-cat.” 

Alpine’s tail twitched as Bucky dipped a finger in the leftover pancake batter, and she licked it greedily when he offered it to her. I could hear her purring, and I gently ran my fingers along her tail. 

“You’re such a sweetheart with her,” I remarked. “The Winter Soldier has a heart; who knew?”

“Not that big of a heart,” Bucky said as he rolled his eyes. “Just enough room for you and Alpine.” 

“And Steve?” 

“And Steve,” Bucky concurred with a nod. 

“And Sam?”

“That’s pushing it,” Bucky said quickly. “You, Steve, and Alpine only.” 

“I’m in good company, then,” I said, and I pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth. “I… I, uh, actually really hope that you can find room in your heart for one more.”

“What do you mean?” Bucky asked. Four eyes were on me, two yellow and two blue; Alpine already knew what I meant, of course, and I was sure that Bucky was catching on. 

Quietly, I took his left hand in mine. The vibranium was cold, hard, and unforgiving, but I had never been afraid of it or him. He had to have known how much I loved him. If he didn’t, he was about to find out. “Bucky…” I started. “James Barnes…” Then, I pressed his hand to my stomach. After four months, there was the slightest bump under my shirt that usually went unnoticed, and his metal fingers twitched with recognition. 

When he spoke, his voice was a whisper. “How long have you known?” Bucky asked. 

“Two weeks after you left,” I told him. 

Bucky pulled Alpine off of his shoulder and hugged me tightly, his face finding home in my neck. “Oh, my girl,” he whispered. “My best girl. My best girls!” He grabbed my waist and kissed me with a nearly visible excitement, and a laugh bubbled from his chest. 

“You think it’s a girl?” I asked. 

“I do,” Bucky nodded quickly. “Yeah… Beatrice.”

“Beatrice Barnes,” I said softly. “Bea Barnes. Oh, she sounds lovely, Bucky. But what if it’s a boy?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky said. He brushed a lock of hair off of my forehead and kissed my skin gently, and he whispered, “Any ideas?” 

“Yeah,” I said gently. “I think… James Buchanen Barnes Jr. JJ.” 

“You…” Bucky started, and his words died in his throat. “You’d wanna name him after me?” 

“Yeah,” I said softly. “I mean, at the very least, so we can get some use out of the name James.”

Bucky laughed, and Alpine jumped onto the counter next to us. Before we could stop her, she was dipping her whiskers in the pancake batter, and Bucky pulled away from me to wipe her face clean. His face was pink and his eyes were glowing, and he ran a hand over his forehead, like he was trying to push his hair back. Speaking of… 

“What happened to your hair, love?” I asked. 

“Oh, our targets had recognized me with it,” Bucky said. “I… I had to cut it.” 

I pouted and tried to fluff up his shorn hair. “Try to grow it back for me?” I asked. 

“It’ll take a while for it to get as long as it was,” Bucky told me. 

“It’s alright, we have time,” I said. “Just as long as it happens.”

“You know I’d do anything for you,” Bucky said. “Especially now that you’re…” He gave a content sigh, and he practically melted into me. “Now that you’re pregnant, doll. God, I love you.” 

“I love you too,” I whispered. There was a nudge at my ankle and dissatisfied beep from the floor, and I said, “I love you too, Alpine.” 

[serpent-ofthe-void]

I often wonder what type of goth you identify yourself with? You seem to be a corporate goth to me.

(Hi uhhh quick Mun note: I’m adding a treat in here specifically mentioning something from your blog, as an apology for making you wait so long for this answer OTL)

Dark perks up from his desk the very instant he senses a presence in his void. Subtle as he wasn’t with the body language, the demon’s movement still has an uncanny sort of precision about it. He takes the question in with- what should be, by mortal perceptions, an enthused attentiveness. On the monochrome man, however, it simply appears as unbridled scrutiny, like he’s studying his poor inquirer under a magnifying glass. He does finally soften it a bit with a smooth smile, though, as he steps around to lean his lower back on the front of the desk in a gesture of reception.

“Welcome to my humble void. Ah, and what an engaging question you have me pondering, lovely.’”The demon makes a little performance of his mull, scratching a little at his head in contemplation, before he continues on to the answer.

“You’re right, in a way, but in another you’ll find I’m quite the other side of the coin. You see, I have a knack for the compound, and the contradictory, my dear. Goth fashion is where you’re correct. I do conduct myself, in manners and dress, as a proper business man, yet I am always drawn to the- often dramatic, appeal of black and white fabric with silver or crimson accents. Oh, and I don’t like to ruin the fun, so you may let this stay just between us, since it’s related to your question, but the eyes thing? Yeah, that’s just a ….naturally occurring coincidence.

Anywho~ Goth philosophy however, is a different story. I’m far more of a- I’ll call it, Vampiric Romantic. Maybe I just desperately want to see it in myself, who knows. Whatever the case: I just can’t help but be engrossed in the broken-is-beauty principles of romantic goth subculture. I find such comfort and inspiration in this… adoration of the unhealed, and the perpetually mourning. Ugh, and the expressions of these things! The books, paintings, and so on! My word, they’re just so beautiful, I get short of bre-“

Suddenly, Darkiplier cuts himself off, and stares for a moment. A bright glint of recognition lights up his features. He snaps his fingers, and then points directly at his asker.

“Ah! Poetry too! I’ve seen some of your work. It’s wonderful! …Oh look at me what am I doing. Forgive me, I do get carried away sometimes..” After clearing his throat, and adjusting his tie, Dark swiftly drops his hands back to the desk. Then, he … simply carries on with confidence, like he didn’t just rudely point. Whoops.

“Returning to the rest of my Goth philosophy: while I am no human being, I’m not actually a vampire either, but I do share one extremely similar characteristic with each. I’m no stranger to the human-like desire to allow those utterly charming creatures to sink their fangs into my neck, and I do technically have fangs of my own, but mine aren’t effective in that sort of “feeding,” capacity. That doesn’t mean I won’t taste blood for myself by other means, though.

The reason I called myself vampiric is: like the vampire, I have an insatiable bloodlust, but of course I’m still not one, so unlike the vampire, I can’t just taste blood and be done with it. I need to feel it. To watch it spatter, run, pool, and settle into stains. I have to know it’s drained, and has left a hollow husk of what used to be.. alive.. behind. And I have to be the cause of all the above. Then, and only then, am I satisfied. Until another… “craving,” comes along, of course.”

The more he explains this … “vampiric philosophy,” of his, the more little crackles sound at Dark’s sides. What were typical- except for the monochrome of course, human-like hands are now sharp claws and an uncanny black marking of sorts creeping up blanched knuckles. The demon’s aura begins to distort, as his passionate little smile morphs into something…. unnaturally sinister. He seems to recognize it as well, because he pushes off his desk, and returns to his seat, just before his claws can do any real damage to the wood.

“Oh, and it’s beautiful too. I’ve made magnificent masterpieces, you know! It’s such a shame they aren’t the type that can be admired in a gallery. Oh well, I’ll just have to keep the memories alllll to myself.~ Hah! Ahhahahah! Silly me, I’ve rambled on and on, haven’t I? I do hope I at least answered your question, lovely!”

[starshipsofstarlord]

Drop off Point | SPN Brothers

Warnings; language, anger, arguing

There was no place like home, but the thing was, that you didn’t have one. Each day, you went from motel room to motel room, sometimes you would even sleep in the back of the impala, whist your brothers sat in the front, somehow gaining rest in those uncomfortable, upright positions.

Dad was gone, and left you primarily in Dean’s custody, and with having Sam back, he managed to get your brother to cut you some slack. Dean was a wreck without John, he was desperate to discover your father’s whereabouts, and his decisions made you feel as though you were not as desperate to find where he had gone.

Being a Winchester came with plenty of perks, you got to see so many places in a short span of time, it made it feel as though the world was underneath your fingertip. However, having the attributes of being a teenager, and a girl, didn’t mix well with your suggestions or desires to hunt for the parent that had raised you.

And that left you here, cruising in the backseat of Dean’s beloved vehicle, taking the turns to reach Bobby’s. The elder of your brother had said he needed to stock up on supplies, such as dead man’s blood and so on, in case he picked up on any monsters on his journey.

But the travel was not just his, you and Sam were there too. He had even gone to nab Samuel from his escape, and drag him into the putridness of this life once more, all for the man that spawned you all.

“Hey kid.” Bobby stepped down from his porch, his shoes crinkling upon the gravel. He greeted the boys with hugs, and a set smile occupied his face as he looked at you, it almost screamed relief. “I got everything you boys need, come on.”

The lot of you trailed after the elder hunter, who adjusted his baseball cap as he escorted the three of you into the main room, the devil’s trap brandishing the floor, and scurried piles of books taking up the rest of the space.

“Cool, you got the good stuff.” Dean clapped his hands together as he dug through the small arsenal, dragging out a small blade.

“That there was smelted with dead man’s blood, it’ll murder those suckers straight away.” Bobby spoke, watching as Dean pocketed some items. Sam dropped a bag on the floor, a guilty, disobedient dog expression clouding his face.

It wasn’t any bag, it belonged to you. The satchel contained a few articles of clothing that were clean and a couple of books that you had nabbed from libraries that you had passed through. “Why’d you bring that in?” You asked suspiciously, having an inkling of a feeling as to the reason.

“Sorry.” Sam muttered, he had truly missed you whilst he had been away, and he hated the idea of being subdued into saying goodbye. But this wasn’t his complete choice, your other sibling had entirely taken control of the decision.

“You’re staying here (Y/N/N), at least until we find dad.” Dean admitted, coming to walk closer to you to strangle you in an embrace, however, you were keen to take a step back, denying his request.

“This is ridiculous.” You scoffed, face red from hurt and anger. He had no right to swerve you from the path that you were hellbent on, it was not up to him. “I want to go with you!”

Perhaps it was a peculiar ambition, but in this life, family was everything. It was the code that you had been raised to, and you’d be damned if you were to insult it by giving it nothing but disregard. If it were you that were missing, everyone would be searching, Dean would send everyone out to enquire and look, no matter their gender or age.

And just because you were his sister, he thought that he could put his foot down. It never changed, he was continuously overprotective, it felt as though you were consistently travelling in a cage, a child lock on in the back seats of Baby, rather than being giving a sense of free will. Instead there was no freedom, only constricting bars that kept you in the line of sight and knowledge of your brothers.

“Well too bad sweetheart, you’re staying put here under Bobby’s supervision.” He retorted sufficiently pressing the sole of his shoe upon the wooden flooring on this matter. Dean wised not to argue, but it was where his conspiring opinion ended up taking the pair of you, Bobby scratched his head agitatedly, understanding the reasons for Dean’s red anger, however it was inevitable that one day, you’d be old enough to make your own decisions, and no doubt you would go head first into these dangerous situations. It was how he could tell how related you were to your brothers, even if you had a different mother from the infamous sons of John Winchester.

“Screw you Dean! You’re supposed to be the one looking after me, and here you are, loading me off to someone else. I hate you so much right now.” The words couldn’t be restrained, they tumbled out, and currently you couldn’t care less. Anger was taking the driver’s seat, and it was veering into a crash, one that Sam could see without his ‘psychic’ abilities.

“Don’t say that (Y/N).” Another order, how Dean like. It was such a typical trait that he reverberated from his chest, as though he was constantly the one in charge. The way he bossed people about was far too familiar, and it repulsed you. He was acting as another man in your life, the one that dragged the lot of you around like dogs, pulling on the leashes to keep you all in line.

“You’re not dad, so stop trying to be him!” Dean could only freeze upon receiving your words, as you heavily breathed, wound up from the spitting of conflicting interests. Another instant spewing of hurtful comments were attempting to be catapulted from the void of your mouth, but Sam hissed as he came to stand in front of you, clearly disappointed in your behaviour.

“You know (Y/N), I told Dean that he should give you a chance, although you deserve a life better than we got. Not because it could raise our chances and hopes of finding dad, but because it was what you wanted. But I’ve changed my mind, and I think you should stay here a while, until you are grown up enough to be on the road with us.”

His scolding made you bow your head down, almost ashamed of yourself, before you glanced at the trio of men in the room one last time, grabbing your man and escalating upstairs to a spare room. Sam gulped, knowing that he had silenced the poison in the blood you all shared, however he could only hope that you would understand why he was so inclined to get involved.

It caused him pain, knowing that you, his baby sister wanted to be neck deep in this chaotic life, when he had wanted out. The logic of it didn’t feel right, it only showed as evidence that you too had been brought up loved, yet in a toxic childhood. The inclination, the loyalty you had for fighting was a flaw, it was not something that hunters wanted to do, but instead rather something that they had to.

Sam sighed as he put the phone down in his lap, Dean was in the driver’s seat, his jaw clenched. “No answer?” He asked expectedly, to which the eldest received an affirmative nod. It was frustrating to know that this all uprose from them wanting to keep her safe.

“Bobby said that she’s okay.” Sam spoke in the music of the air con. “She’s actually getting pretty good at combat, hell it’s been six months. Her head is on straight, she knows that she’s good at what she’s doing. But-“

“She still refuses to speak to us.” Dean completed his sentence, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. His knuckles grew white from the pressure he held onto the remote with, his tongue clicking as he pushed away the guilt. That was only permitted recognition when he was alone, he’d never admit to anyone that he may have made a bad decision, all because his sister was alive and breathing, (Y/N) was okay, even if she refused contact with them.

“We should see her Dean.” Sam stated. He had wanted to for so long, he hated how absent the backseat was, and how there seemed to be a lack of the scent of female deodorant.

“Next stop, Bobby’s.”

[wanderinginksplot]

Warriors in Red Armor

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Chapter Three

Warning: This chapter features a highly sanitized and idealized version of a protest. A protest that would take place in a galaxy far, far away with a functional government and officers held to an incredibly high standard. In short, this is not meant to be a reflection in any way, shape, or form of any of the protests that have taken place over the last few years, especially in regards to racial prejudice in the United States. If you think this could be a trigger for you, please skip this chapter and send me a message! I would be thrilled to summarize the chapter's contents for you.

---

Fox I

"These men fight and die for the sake of a Republic that cares nothing for them!"

Fox winced, dialing down the volume on the channel that connected the audio intake to the interior of his helmet. Whoever had given that woman a device to amplify her voice had never been forced to listen to how loud she was all on her own.

"They were bred to fight in wars they did not create, used to protect a society from which they do not benefit, and given no chance to choose a different life!"

A different life. Fox didn't even know what he would do if he wasn't a soldier. Not that it had ever mattered. The woman had gotten that right, at least: the troopers had been bred for ultimate reflexes and battle efficiency. Using them in any other capacity would be a waste.

"They have no rights, receive no recognition, and barely earn a paycheck!"

"Hey, Commander," a trooper's voice said in his ear. Fox's HUD identified the speaker as Jek.

"What is it, Jek?" Fox asked, on instant alert and scanning the crowd with increased fervor.

"Do you think we could get a pay raise out of this?"

Fox bit back an irritated sigh. It wasn't Jek's fault that he had never experienced a riot. He didn't know the devastating speed at which crowds could turn, that you couldn't take your eyes off them for a moment. He didn't know how dangerous people like Nora Czajak could be.

"Keep your focus, trooper," he admonished. "If this crowd gets out of control, you won't deserve a pay raise anyway."

"Yes, sir," Jek agreed, sounding disappointed.

"We must stand for sake of these men who are forbidden to stand," Czajak was lecturing. "We must speak for them, because their voices have been ignored. Come, my fellow Coruscanti citizens! Lend your legs, lend your voice, lend your time! Help us show the Galactic Senate that we will not rest until these men have received all they deserve!"

"Someone must have kriffed up hard if listening to this is what we deserve," Rhys complained through the inter-HUD comm system.

It was only the second complaint, but that was two too many in Fox's opinion. With a short motion of his eyes, Fox had activated the communications system that connected all trooper helmets. It allowed him to make a sweeping announcement.

"Stay on alert, men," Fox ordered. "They have permission to march for another twenty minutes before we can break this whole thing up. Keep your seals tight."

But it was not to be. Groups of civilians thronged to the demonstration, convinced by Czajak's passionate speech to join the Clone Rights cause. At the exact time Clone Rights was to end their march, the Coruscant Guard stepped up to urge civilians off the street. It didn't matter - Czajak took up her amplifier once more.

"See, citizens? Do you see how the troopers are forced to work counter to their own interests?" Czajak demanded. "We march on their behalf, but their commanding officers order them to silence our voices! They have no choice but to obey."

The murmur of agreement passing through the crowd put tension thrumming through Fox's shoulders. If this demonstration was going to get ugly, it would be now.

"No thinking, feeling being should have their choices removed!" Czajak cried through the amplifier. "No being should be forced to fight for those who would keep him enslaved!"

If given the chance, Fox could have guessed the first act of violence down to the second it happened.

By the time the cry of, "Don't push me!" rang through the crowd, he was well on his way to Czajak.

Before she could lift her amplifier again - to do what, he didn't stop to ask - Fox had taken it from her hand. "Sorry ma'am. I'm placing you in custody."

"Under what charges?" she asked, fixing him with an impish grin that made no sense under the circumstances.

Fox's own reaction made even less sense: the sight of that little mischievous smile set his blood boiling. He had experienced far more disrespect from civilians in the past. There was no reason she should have any effect on him at all.

Still, he had to take a deep breath before he could answer her. "Violating the terms of a special demonstration permit, inciting a riot, disturbing the peace… should I go on?"

"Why not?" Czajak asked. "You seem to be enjoying yourself."

Fox shook his head and held up a pair of regulation magnetic binders. "Are you planning to resist arrest?"

She didn't answer him immediately, instead staring into the darkness of his visor in a way that made Fox feel painfully exposed. Czajak was calm and steady while he - Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard - was off-balance. Somehow, she had gotten him at a disadvantage. Discomfited at the idea, Fox shook the cuffs at her in a rude gesture. "Well?"

"Hold on, I'm trying to decide if resisting arrest would be working for or against my cause," she pondered, still wearing a hint of her ridiculous grin. At last, she sighed and presented her wrists. "I'll go with you."

If Fox put the binders on her wrists a bit more aggressively than necessary, no one dared to ask him why.

Somehow, he ended up being the one to transport Czajak back to the Coruscant Guard precinct - mostly because the other men were busy escorting rioters to the precinct or being looked over by Ink, the Guard's medic.

After he had gotten Czajak in his transport, Fox slid into the front seat and began preparing to pilot it. She watched with interest while he removed his helmet, but it was illegal to drive with one on, so he persevered. Besides, there would be nothing of interest for her under his helmet. Fox kept his appearance strictly within grooming guidelines. His hair was regulation, his face was clean-shaven, and his tattoos were neatly hidden beneath his body glove.

He had glanced at her in the rear-facing mirror of his transport and resolved not to do so again. Still, his determination not to speak to her lasted until she spoke exactly once.

"So you don't see your required enforcement of my demonstration as a conflict of interest?" she asked conversationally despite having stared at him in silence for the first few minutes of their trip. "You don't think it's a violation of your rights? Not that you get many of those…"

"I have rights," Fox ground out before he could stop himself. "You and your group don't help any of us. You just make our lives more difficult."

"But imagine if you weren't being forced into life as a soldier," Czajak pressed. "You and your brothers could do anything you choose to do, live in the way that best pleases you."

"And we would choose to fight and die for the Republic," Fox answered stoically.

Czajak didn't answer immediately. Fox glanced into the mirror to find her staring at him in unsettled silence. When she finally found her voice, she said, "Surely you can't be so arrogant to think that all your brothers feel the same way."

"We're clones. We look the same, act the same, fight the same, and think the same," he said with a conviction he didn't feel. "Being soldiers is what we're good at, what we were made to do. It's in our genes."

Even in his peripheral vision, he could see her perk up slightly at that. "Your genes? Your genes were donated by a man who was a bounty hunter - one of the best the galaxy has ever seen. If every person sharing your genetic profile was made to be a soldier, how did he end up as a bounty hunter?"

It was a good point, Fox resentfully admitted to himself. Czajak was excellent at debate and he found himself drawn into the argument.

"Lack of opportunity," he said, mostly to give himself time to think.

"So, if given the opportunity, you believe Jango Fett would have left a successful bounty-hunting career to be a soldier fighting for the Republic?" She shook her head. "That seems unlikely, to say the least. He was a man who valued freedom and choice."

"Jango Fett was a traitor to the Republic," Fox argued. "He died at the hands of a Jedi because he was in league with the Separatists."

"Are you a traitor to the Republic?" Czajak asked, voice gentle despite the horrendous accusation she was tossing in his direction.

"Of course not!"

"Then genes don't determine personality, preferences, or choices. Your brothers may not all like the life of a soldier, regardless of how you enjoy it." With that, Czajak settled back against the seat and stared peacefully out of the transparisteel window, as if she hadn't turned Fox's idea of the world on its head.

---

Hound III

Public relations assignments were a nightmare for most troopers. Being forced to parade in front of civilians was hard enough, but the GAR wanted their troopers to do the impossible. They had to toe the line between being friendly and non-intimidating, but still remind citizens that the troopers were more than enough to defend the Triple Zero against threats.

Hound was one of the rare troopers who didn't mind PR duty - actually, he enjoyed it. Not only did it play into his love of crowds and people, but he got to spend some time showing off his best friend.

"Now, Grizzer, can you show these good people some tricks?" Hound asked, giving the massiff a subtle signal to go into alert mode.

"Sit." Grizzer sat. "Smile." Grizzer bared his fearsome teeth. "Speak." Grizzer let out a loud, yelping bark. "Good boy!"

Grizzer could not sit still as the crowd applauded his good work. The muscular massiff's body quivered as Grizzer did his best to wag his whole being in excitement.

Non-threatening image: check, Hound thought with some amusement. The sea of younglings surrounding them had wriggled closer to the pair. Okay, so they were here for Grizzer, but Hound received some reflected fame because he got to be friends with the massiff.

"Do any of you have questions for me?" Hound asked, when he saw that their time was almost over.

A young Rodian boy raised his hand and immediately told Hound, "My mama said that massiffs eat bad children who don't listen to their parents. Does Grizzer eat bad children?"

Hound chuckled a bit. This was a common question at PR events. At first, he hadn't been sure how to answer the question, not wanting to accidentally encourage children to disobey their parents. He had ended up taking the problem to his fellow Coruscant Guardsmen and they had come up with a good solution.

Hound leaned down as if he were telling the younglings a secret and all of them wiggled closer as well. Meeting the wide, galaxy-mirroring eyes of the Rodian boy, Hound said, "Grizzer doesn't really like to eat children, but that's a secret. Don't tell your parents! Do you know what he does like to eat?"

The suggestions were wild and varied, but Hound grinned wider. "All of those are right! Grizzer will eat just about anything, even if it isn't good for him. The other night, he stole my dinner…"

And, with that, they had reached the 'Grizzer stealing food' part of the event. It was always an audience favorite, especially with younglings. Hound had vague thoughts about writing a series for young audiences about the massiff's antics. However, he was broken from his reverie by Fang, another ARF trooper, pointing at his chrono.

"That's it for today, everyone! Grizzer and I have to go back to work now."

The children - and some of the adults - made sounds of disappointment while Grizzer whined and gave Hound his most pleading expression.

"Sorry, buddy," Hound apologized to Grizzer. "You know we can't stay here all day."

"Talking to the massiff again, Hound?" Fang asked with a laugh as he approached the pair.

"That's how you become the best," Hound said, shrugging in false modesty.

He was proud of his reputation as the best ARF trooper in the GAR. It had been in every performance review he had gotten in the past few years: If there is a question about massiffs or their training, it goes immediately to Sergeant Hound. He was widely considered the ultimate authority on the subject of massiffs. Even some of the nat-born officers came to ask his advice.

In fact, Fang was at the PR event to shadow Hound. Coruscant wasn't as dangerous as some other assignments, but there was still risk in the job. There was a chance that Hound would meet an unpleasant end any day. It was best to have another qualified ARF ready to take over his work if that happened.

Grizzer, who had been idly watching the crowd with the uncaring nature that only an off-duty massiff should display, brought himself to attention. Early in their partnership, Hound had learned that the massiff had an uncanny knack for spotting trouble. Grizzer's instincts were almost never wrong.

Sure enough, a human woman stumbled out of the crowd when Hound glanced over. The two made eye contact for a moment before her gaze snapped to Grizzer, standing with one leg propped on Hound's foot. Immediate terror crossed her face and she tried to scurry back into the crowd, but she ran into a passing Devaronian. She bounced backward, falling hard on the duracrete ground with a noise that didn't sound entirely like flesh hitting a solid surface.

"Miss?" Hound asked, starting forward with a worried Grizzer hot on his heels. "Are you okay?"

The woman turned to face them, swiping frantically at the blood seeping from a cut above her eyebrow, but her attention was locked on Grizzer. "Get away from me!"

"Please calm down, ma'am, Grizzer isn't going to hurt-"

"Get away!" With that shout, one of the woman's arms lit in crackling blue electricity. Webs of light traced up and down across nodes nested in the wires of an arm he could now see was mostly cybernetic.

Hound towed Grizzer back and away from the woman even as he stared at the display. The hissing buzz of the electricity was as fascinating as it was intimidating, but Hound knew without reading the alerts on his HUD that they were illegal cybernetical alterations. Illegal alterations that she had just activated - accidental or not - in the middle of a group of civilians.

There was no way around it: he was going to have to bring her into the precinct.

"Fang," he ordered, holding Grizzer's lead out to the other ARF. Grizzer was smart and well-trained enough to go to Fang without the lead, but Hound didn't think the woman would be calmed by seeing a massiff moving around uncontrolled by a handler.

Fang, stars bless him, jogged across the small distance. He took the lead and hauled Grizzer away in seconds, ordering fascinated onlookers to go about their business all the while.

Hound's attention was fixed too closely on the woman to worry about things like civilians in the area. Her close-shaved head let him see the fire in her eyes, brighter and more violent than the sparks dripping from her cybernetic arm. If she was going to attack him or the crowd, he would need all the warning he could get. Stopping her in time to keep people from getting hurt would be tricky.

Slowly, he extended a hand, palm-out. "Easy," he breathed, humming a bit when she stared at him without moving. "The massiff is gone and no one wants to hurt you. Everything is okay."

Hound wasn't aware that he was nodding gently until she mirrored the motion, her head bobbing up and down in tense jerks. The rise and fall of her chest was still too rapid for comfort. Hound took a deep breath, exaggerating the sound for her.

"Deep breaths, deep breaths," he told her. "Everything is fine. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Just- just keep it away from me," she said, voice a bit hoarse.

"Grizzer is over there and he's going to stay over there," Hound said firmly. "What else?"

She stared at him, her eyes intense and frank. "Let me go home."

Hound shook his head. "We both know I can't do that. Those are illegal alterations on your cybernetic, and you used them in a very public place. I need to take you to the station and file a report."

It was a bold thing to say, especially with the shivering light from her electricity-wreathed arm bouncing around the area, but she only sighed and flexed her fingers. The electricity died with the movement.

"I'll come with you," she stipulated, "but I won't ride with the massiff."

"I understand," Hound agreed, accepting her offer with ease. "Fang?"

"Sir?"

"Can you bring Grizzer back to the precinct?"

Fang took a moment to answer, and Hound glanced back to find the ARF staring at him in shock. "You want me to take Grizzer?"

"Yes, trooper," Hound said, an edge of exasperation entering his voice.

He felt a little bad making the request in the first place. Hound always took Grizzer with him, always. But Fang was a good soldier and a good brother, and he had a solid working relationship with Grizzer. Hound trusted Fang to get the massiff back to the precinct safely, even if he was a little guilty at leaving Grizzer behind.

Sorry, buddy, he mentally apologized to Grizzer. The massiff shook his head, tongue lolling out as if to say it was fine. Hound grinned. He had long thought that Grizzer was a little psychic.

"I'll get him there, sir," Fang agreed immediately, adding a sharp salute. Hound nodded solemnly at him and watched as the ARF and the massiff headed for Fang's cruiser.

When they were gone, Hound stood and extended a hand down to the woman, but she ignored it and stood on her own. When she was upright, she extended her wrists toward him for restraints. Hound pushed them down and gently guided her toward his own cruiser.

"You aren't going to put binders on me?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"I wasn't planning on it," Hound said honestly. "Why, are you going to make trouble?"

"I wasn't planning on it," she said with a hint of mockery in her voice. "But for someone who is arresting me for illegal cybernetic enhancements, you don't seem worried I'm going to use them on you."

"If you want binders, we can do binders," Hound said with a long-suffering attitude. "It'll be a lot more trouble on my side, though. Do you really want to make extra work for me?"

"I would never want to inconvenience someone who's arresting me," she responded, expression as dry as her tone.

"Good! No binders, then," Hound decided, steering her into the backseat of his cruiser.

They didn't say another word to each other on the way to the precinct.

---

A/N - I just realized that the chapter cut comes before Hound learns that it's Ransom he's arresting. It's an awkward splice, but that's what happens when you write a story all at once and try to cut it into chapters of similar length afterward!

I'm sorry for the late update, but between the Chauvin sentencing and the death of Ma'Khia Bryant in the last week, I couldn't even think about posting on my usual day without feeling guilty and uncomfortable. I hope the protest described here wasn't too offensive to anyone, but I wanted to get this chapter posted!

[bonjour-rainycity]

The Long Way Around ~ Chapter 2

Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/622991219538214912/the-long-way-around-ch-1

Pairing: Jasper x Reader

Word count: 2210

Warnings: None

Jasper’s POV

Before we even get close to the house, a high-pitched, agonized screaming makes Esme and I both flinch. She had insisted on coming along, though Carlisle, Edward, and I had all warned against it. Newborns can be feral and deadly, and none of us want Esme to get hurt. But she was adamant, and we all respect her too much to deny her a choice. Personally, I think Esme wants to be there so the girl can have someone less intimidating to interact with. I can’t blame her. If I had to wake up in an unfamiliar place after experiencing trauma and indescribable pain, I would much rather see Esme than me.

We enter Carlisle’s study, the smell of bleach strong. Esme tsks upon seeing the state of the girl’s outfit. The bloodied parts of her dress have been cut away and, I assume, burned. What’s left doesn’t do much to protect the girl’s modesty, but someone had the decency to cover her with a towel. Esme flits away and returns within seconds carrying clean clothes. Wordlessly, Carlisle, Edward, and I exit the room. 

The girl’s screams die into fearful whimpers, likely in response to Esme’s cold, unfamiliar touch.

“She thinks she’s in Hell,” Edward mutters, looking at the floor. “She’s terrified.”

That much I know. I can feel the waves of agony, fear, and horror rolling off of her. It makes me want to flinch away. But instead, I merely clear my throat and try to ignore these emotions. “We’ll need to be careful when she comes to. She might not be willing to listen to reason, and that will be dangerous with her newborn strength.” 

Carlisle and Edward nod. 

When Esme calls us back in we find her sitting in a chair near the girl’s head, stroking her hair. “What’s her name?”

“Y/n, Y/l/n, according to the license we found on her,” Carlisle responds, adjusting the morphine levels in the drip. Based on the girl’s--Y/n’s--screams, I doubt it’s doing much, if anything. 

Edward nods almost imperceptibly, confirming my suspicions. Of course we would never tell Carlisle. It would break his heart. As it is, I can feel his intense self-loathing. I do what I can to ease it. 

Y/n briefly opens her eyes to see who is touching her, and I can see, as well as feel, her fear. When she gives into the pain and closes her eyes once more, I move to stand on her other side, opposite Esme, and use my ability to try to calm her down. 

While she’s consumed in whatever hell she’s enduring, I study her. She’s in great distress, obviously, and it pains me to see how young she is. She can’t be more than twenty. Such a short human life. Then again, a rueful voice within me taunts, you had less. Physically, I’m frozen at nineteen, but I feel so much older...Probably because I’m actually a hundred and seventy-six years old. Inwardly, I scoff. If she’s careful, Y/n has a very long life ahead of her. 

We stay like this for many hours. Y/n alternates between writhing and screaming to whimpering pitifully. Her emotions are hard to bear, and I can only guess as to what Edward is experiencing. Esme and I do our best to make her feel better, but with little success. The transformation is a truly terrible process. Eventually, Y/n’s skin becomes too hard for the needles, and Carlisle puts away the drip. A few hours later, Edward perks up. 

“Shouldn’t be long now. The pain is starting to recede from her fingers and toes.” 

‘Shouldn’t be long’ is relative, and it takes four long hours until her heart starts beating frantically in its last effort to survive. 

“Esme, back up,” I advise, knowing that, any minute now, the seemingly harmless girl on the cot could jump up and become a deranged killing machine. 

Esme goes to stand at the back of the room with Carlisle. Edward moves to block the door, and I plant myself directly in front of the cot. Hopefully, if she does become violent, the four of us will be able to catch and subdue her. 

“No sudden movements,” I remind them. “She’s scared enough already and it’s only going to get worse. Once the thirst hits, we’ll be virtually unable to communicate with her until she feeds. It’ll be the only thing on her mind.” My voice is grim, and I can’t help the flashbacks to my many years surrounded by vicious newborns, as well as my own time as one. 

My family stills, a sure sign of stress, as Y/n’s heartrate skyrockets for five tense seconds, and then stops. 

No one breathes. 

Y/n gasps, opens her eyes, and sits up in the span of half a second. I feel her fear, shock, and confusion. 

“What…” She looks around the room, taking us in. When she sees me staring directly at her with my hands clasped tightly behind my back, I feel her fear intensify. It’s a natural reaction to both my intimidating stance and the scars covering my body, and I wish it didn’t bother me so much. 

“Where am I?” Her voice is breathy, eyes wild. I send waves of calm her way. 

Carlisle takes a slow step forward, his palms open in a show of harmlessness. “I am Dr. Carlisle Cullen. This is my wife, Esme, and two of my sons, Edward and Jasper.” He nods at each of us. 

“You’re very safe here, Y/n,” Esme reassures. 

I can tell it does little to ease Y/n’s suspicions, but it was kind of Esme to try anyway. 

Carlisle’s voice is calm and soothing when he continues. “You are at our home, which is about fifteen miles outside of the main town. Your friends brought you here three days ago. Do you remember that?”

“I…” Recognition dawns on Y/n’s face. “I was stabbed. But I was dying, I…” She gulps, a new bout of fear consuming her. “Am I in Hell?”

“No,” Carlisle says firmly. “I’m sorry for the pain. Unfortunately, it’s the only way to enter this new life.” 

Her confusion deepens. “New life, meaning…” She trails off in a question. 

“You’re a vampire,” Edward states simply. 

It’s then that she decides to bolt. 

Edward is on her in a millisecond, having heard the warning from her thoughts. 

“Edward, no!” I lunge forward, trying to all at once keep Y/n from escaping and Edward from getting hurt. 

But it’s too late. The new vampire has already given into her instincts and bitten Edward, hard, in an effort to get him to release her. 

He does, of course. Vampire venom hurts like a bitch. 

Edward howls and falls to the floor; Esme is at his side in an instant. Carlisle quickly guards the door, while I work to force the crazed newborn into the corner of the room. She snaps and throws her arms around, but I easily dodge her predictable movements. 

“Listen to me.” My voice is harsh, commanding, just like it had been all those years ago. But what can I do? It’s the only way they’ll listen. 

Y/n’s eyes dart wildly around the room. I hit her with every ounce of calm and lethargy I’ve got. Thankfully, she soon becomes much more subdued. 

I continue. “We don’t want to hurt you, but if you attack us again you’ll leave us no choice.” I let her mind fill in the blanks of what we’ll do if she does try to attack. Of course we wouldn’t actually hurt her, but she doesn’t need to know that. A little dose of fear will be useful in controlling her. 

“You say I’m a vampire.” Her voice shakes slightly, but she stands tall, defiant, almost. She’s trying to project confidence. I know her true emotions, so I know her exterior is a facade, but I have to admire the effort. She looks at me then, straight in the eye. “Is that why my throat burns? Why I’m so thirsty?” She spits the word out, and I can feel her desperation and dread. She so badly wants to be wrong. I honestly think she would feel better if we laughed at her and said no, we were just playing, that we had actually kidnapped and drugged her instead. 

But of course, we can’t say that. This is her new reality. So my voice is even and honest when I respond. “Yes. You’ll need to hunt soon.” 

Carlisle appears at my left shoulder. “Our coven is different from others. We feed only on animal blood.”

At the mention of blood, her emotions change. Suddenly, she becomes ravenous and hyper-focused. She sinks to the ground and claws at her throat. 

None of us are shocked. Esme, Edward, and Carlisle all went through this process with each other and with Rosalie and Emmett. I went through it with the myriad of newborns I helped train. But still, it’s unnerving to see how one can go from human-like to animalistic, the true predator coming out in a split second.

Having recovered, Edward joins me on my right side. I can feel his annoyance, but that won’t fade until the sting from the venom does. 

“Jasper’s right, it’s all she can think about right now. She’s starting to wonder if we’re threats standing in the way of her obtaining a meal.” 

I nod, feeling her growing suspicion. “Are there any humans nearby?” 

Edward pauses, then shakes his head. “I can’t hear anyone. I’ll let you know if that changes.” 

I steel myself. “Okay. Esme and Carlisle, you go ahead and wait in the forest. Be close once you pick up our scents, but don’t follow, just try to keep a perimeter. She could easily misinterpret us as a threat and decide to attack.” 

They nod and rush to the woods. 

Y/n is now growing restless, and I can feel her indecision. 

Edward looks at her, his gaze hard. “Patience. We’re doing this to help you, so calm down.” 

Y/n lets out a light snarl, showing her displeasure. 

She’s not going to understand that, I think at Edward. She won’t be able to listen to reason until she feeds. 

His annoyance grows, but he doesn’t push Y/n further. 

Once I’m satisfied that Carlisle and Esme have a good head start, I decide it’s time to go. “Come with us, we’ll take you somewhere with blood.” 

Y/n’s emotions flare with excitement and anticipation at my promise. 

Stay at her side but don’t get in front of or behind her unless it’s necessary. She could interpret that as a challenge. Once Edward nods, we take off. 

Y/n obediently stays between me and Edward, knowing we’ll take her to where she can satisfy her thirst. If you promise a newborn blood, you can get them to do anything, I think ruefully. I feel Edward’s sympathy for me, and I shake off my past. Right now, we have a job to do. 

Not two miles into the forest, we catch the scent of deer. Edward and I hang back, letting Y/n’s instincts guide her from here on out. 

She’s messy, but swift. Within minutes, all ten deer are drained. 

I feel Y/n’s dissatisfaction, and hold back a chuckle. Even without tasting human blood, it’s easy to be disappointed by the animal blood. Thinking of drinking from a human again stirs up temptation within me, and I crush it down. My self-control now is much better than in the past, but I’ll always remember the taste of human blood, and that makes it hard to enjoy the eternity facing me of drinking only from animals. I idly wonder if Y/n will choose to stay with us or go her own way, and if she does leave, will she continue drinking animal blood or switch to humans? But now isn’t the time to think about that. We still have to keep a close eye on the situation in front of us.

“Better,” I ask, approaching Y/n slowly. 

She purses her lips, still crouched on the ground. “Sort of.” 

Edward smiles in understanding. “You’ll get more used to it in time. It takes a lot of practice, but you can do it. We’ll be here to help you as long as you need.” 

Esme and Carlisle’s scents reach us, and Y/n crouches, a growl rising in her throat. I do my best to calm her. 

“Don’t worry, it’s just Carlisle and Esme, whom you met earlier. They won’t try to take any food from you.” 

Placated by both my words and ability, Y/n straightens, but a residual amount of suspicion remains. 

“I expect you have a lot of questions.” Carlisle’s voice is steady as he addresses Y/n from a few hundred yards away. “Come back with us to the house, we will answer them all.” 

With a sad-sounding sigh, Y/n nods. I feel for her. She’s got a long, hard road ahead. 

And so do you, a voice reminds me. I hold back a groan, knowing the next few years are going to be tough for us all.

A/n Hello, thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think and if you would like to be added to the tag list!

xx

Bjr

Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/623116614605357056/the-long-way-around-chapter-3

Tag list: @puer-de-infinitate @charliestuff @hindustani-diaspora

[25yearsofcrying]

Julie and the Phantoms

Summary: Trying my own hand at JATP novelization, using the show rather than the novel or the scripts. I’m sure it’s been done before but there’s never enough Julie and the Phantoms, right? If nothing else, I have an excuse to rewatch every single scene of the show all over again.

CHAPTER 01: we don’t get older 

Luke

This is what I’m talking about! The lights we are under are burning hot, we are half sweat and not one of us can keep a single hair in place but we’ve never sounded better. We’re amazing, playing on a proper stage. Our music and lyrics have never felt more true either.

Don't look down | 'Cause we're still rising | Up right now | And even if we | Hit the ground | We'll still fly | Keep dreaming like we'll live forever | But live it like it's now or never

I feel connected. To the guitar in my hands, to the guys in my band, to the music, to the audience.

Tonight, we’re playing the Orpheum. The energy of the place, or perhaps our own excitement, pushes our performance beyond what we’ve ever done before. Despite the sweat we’re drenched in, I feel I could do this for hours.

We ain't searching for tomorrow (tomorrow) | 'Cause we got all we need today (today) | Living on a feeling that's been running through our veins | We're the revolution that's been singing in the rain

But our song wraps up. We finish to a brief applause from the waitress cleaning tables and a few shouts from the Orpheum’s staff and our crew. Tonight, we are playing a sold out concert at the Orpheum, but that’s in two hours.

Reggie, our bass player, still pulls his mike closer and says: “Thank you! We’re Sunset Curve! Tell your friends!” He winks.

I laugh and shake my head. Bobby, the rhythmic guitar, knocks his elbow against mine before we grab our drinks. “Too bad we’ve wasted that on a sound check,” he says. “That’s the tightest we’ve ever played.”

“Wait until tonight, man,” I assure him as I turn to look over the Orpheum. “When this place gets packed with record execs.” This truly feels like the beginning of something new. It’s like I can feel the energy of everyone who’s ever played here before us and I’m living for it. This place makes legends.

Meanwhile, Reggie the eternal cheerleader, focuses his attention on our drummer. “Alex, you were smoking!” he shouts with a bright grin.

Alex, who’s emerged from behind the drums, looks humble and flustered for a moment. He instantly tries to play the compliment down. “Oh no! I was just warming up. You guys were the ones on fire.”

“Could you accept your awesomeness for once?” Reggie doesn’t give up.

“All right,” Alex agrees, red and shy but obviously pleased with himself. “I was killing it.”

It makes me grin and I rub his shoulders in excitement. Despite his insecurities, Alex really was killing it. As always. He might be one of my closest friends, but he wouldn’t be in the band if he wasn’t good. Trust me. I don’t make compromises when it comes to my music.

My names is Luke. Reggie, Alex and Bobby are my bandmates of several years and together we are Sunset Curve. And tonight, we’re going to prove why we live and breathe for music.

But first things first. “I’m thinking we fuel up before the show,” I say. I don’t know about the guys, but I’m starving. “I’m thinking street dogs.”

While Alex and Reggie answer with a chorus of approval, Bobby turns his attention elsewhere. He gets off the stage and heads straight for the waitress who’s showed her appreciation for our music.

“I’m good,” he tells us over his shoulder and to her, he says: “Vegetarian. I couldn’t hurt an animal.”

I roll my eyes but we are all drawn to the conversation. And the waitress – a very pretty Latina – turns to all of us. “You guys were really good,” she says and I beam at her.

“Thank you.” It’s always a wonderful feeling to see people connect with our music. We write all of it ourselves so up on that stage, people see and hear our souls.

“I see a lot of bands. Been in a few myself,” she continues and that makes her initial compliment all the better. “I was really feeling it.”

“That’s what we do this for. I’m Luke, by the way,” I say and the guys all introduce themselves. Bobby shoves himself in front of me when he says his name and I shove my finger in his ear. What can I say? We are brothers, even if not by blood.

“I’m Rose,” she replies, grinning at us.

She must be a little older than us, but even that doesn’t stop Reggie when his eyes light up as he senses an opportunity to promote the band. “Here is our demo…” He hands her a CD with our logo on it. “And a T-shirt. Size beautiful.” He adds a wink again. An opportunity to promote us and to flirt. Beside him, Alex groans audibly.

“Thanks?” Rose seems unimpressed but she adds: “I’ll have to make sure to not wipe the tables with this one.”

To the surprise of no one, words a little too honest tumble out of Alex’s mouth: “Oh, good call. Whenever they get wet, they just kinda fall apart in your hands.” He is not wrong. Our merch is produced on a budget.

Sensing that my awesomeness, Reggie’s forwardness and Alex’s lack of interest are ruining his game, Bobby turns to us with a pointed glare. “Don’t you guys have to go get your hot dogs?”

“Yeah.” I lean to the waitress with a conspiratorial smirk. “He had a burger for lunch.” I’m not trying to wreck things for him, just tease him a little. I don’t think he stands a chance to begin with, but it’s admirable he is trying.

With good-natured slaps to his shoulder, we leave Bobby to his flirting.

jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp  jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp jatp  jatp jatp 

We leave the Orpheum through a back door and I take a deep breath. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

The last time I felt this level of excitement was before our first ever real gig.

Alex throws me a questioning look: “The smell of Sunset Boulevard?” It makes Reggie snort and I shake my head.

“No. It’s what that girl said in there tonight. About our music, all right?” Her words affected me. Not just because she thought we were good when she’s already seen so many other bands and it would take a lot to stand out in her ears. She felt our music. “It’s like energy. Connects us with people. They can feel us when we play.” I throw my arms around Alex and Reggie both and pull them closer. We’ve always had a connection, ever since we’ve started playing together. “I want that connection with everybody.”

They laugh, but I can see that they get it. Even if Reggie replies: “Then we’re gonna need more T-shirts.”

I can’t remember when Reggie became our dedicated promoter, but it’s a role he takes extremely seriously, which makes me think it must have been his idea in the first place. I am more focused on the music itself, on what it feels like to be on stage and play for a crowd that sings back the lyrics I wrote. And Alex, if we let him, would be perfectly content to play for himself in a garage somewhere, even if he clearly enjoys people loving his performances. Reggie is the one with the business sense. He claims that if we want to play in front of crowds, we need to let people know we exist. It hurts me to think our music on its own is not enough, but perhaps he has a point.

He shoves next few T-shirts into the hands of girls waiting in line for our concert. Their excited reaction and their instant recognition of us makes us all giddy, but I pull my hood over my head. No matter what anyone thinks, I don’t do this to be followed around by fangirls. It’s nice, sure, and one of the perks, but it’s when I am on stage that I want attention. Right now, I just want a street dog.

Though, I can’t help but think that Bobby is missing out by staying behind.

Establishments like Sam n’ Ella’s, which serves hot dogs from the back of a rusted car, are our main source of food these days. Most of our money goes into the equipment, transportation between gigs, creation of demos and merch. Between us, there’s not a single set of supportive parents and so the funds are tight to begin with. One’d think we’d be used to our food options by now, but Alex still frowns. “Man… I can’t wait until we eat someplace where the condiments aren’t served out of the back of an Oldsmobile.” We fill our hot dogs ourselves and he is dripping pickle juice all over the car’s insides as he speaks. He goes to apologize to the owner, but the man dismisses Alex’s fears with a laugh. “No problem, it’ll help with the rust!”

I can’t bring myself to care about the quality of food. My heart is still at the Orpheum. It doesn’t matter that we’re sitting on a questionable couch in the street and eating even more questionable hot dogs. “This is awesome, you guys. We’re playing the Orpheum. I can’t even count how many bands have played here and then ended up being huge. We’re gonna be legends!” I rise my street dog like it’s a toast. “Eat up boys. Cause after tonight, everything changes.” We won’t have to choose between food and paying for merch production anymore.

I take a bite and almost shudder. Any food is good enough for Reggie, so he eats his hot dog with gusto, but Alex pulls a face when he tastes his. “That’s a new flavor?”

“Chill, man. Street dogs haven’t killed us yet.”

Trust Reggie to provide the perfect last words.

[amaranthkick]

A Therapy Werewolf, part 10

(ao3) 

“You should have seen it, Pidge! Shiro threw his head back, a noble howl resonating around the area catching the attention of the space wolves. All Shiro had to do was growl, showing off those pearly whites and they were cowering with their tail between their legs. Ah, as a fellow lupine, it brings a tear to my eye.” Lance dramatically wiped a non-existent tear from his eye.

Shiro knocked Lance down, laying on top of him and trapping him underneath. “You know that is not what happened in the slightest.”

“Mmm, yeah, I’m sure that’s what happened.” Pidge said to Lance, voice dripping with sarcasm. She raised an eyebrow. “What really happened?”

Lance hid his flushed face behind his hands while Shiro whined softly and put a paw on top of his muzzle. Hunk tilted his head at their reactions and gasped as an idea popped into his head. “Oh! Is it like on TV where dogs sniff--”

Everyone froze as the alarm blared throughout the castle and in an instant they rushed to the bridge.

“It's as I feared.” Allura informed them as she pulled up the map, showing an enemy marker heading towards their location. “The Galra are sending a warship to our position. Fortunately, it's not a robeast. ...Not this time yet. But this means we don’t have the leisure to wait here for a way to change Shiro back to normal. Never mind, we’ll talk afterwards. Paladins to your Lions!”

Shiro huffed as he waited on the bridge as the others worked together to take down the warship. He could feel the Black Lion purring in apology in the back of his mind but as otherworldly and advanced as these Lions were, the controls proved difficult in his current state.

Though he wasn’t able to fight with his team, he perked up in pride as they managed to take it down. They have really grown from the first time they piloted the Lions to be able to work together even with one Lion missing.

---

Even though they were victorious it was tense when the paladins returned to the bridge. Keith was tense with anger, of course the Galra wouldn’t let them catch their breath. It’s just a matter of time until they keep sending stronger and stronger reinforcements. Pidge was fiercely staring at a screen as if her glare can make a cure form faster. Everyone else was frowning thinking of what they could do.

Lance started when he felt Shiro nudge his hand with a wet nose. “You said you had a plan B, in case things don’t pan out. Well… things aren’t panning out. Can I hear what it is?”

Hearing Shiro bark made everyone turn their heads in their direction. Lance rubbed the back of his head. “Uh, there is something I’d like to try. I think it’ll be able to help Shiro.”

Lance explained that he wanted to turn Shiro, give him the bite and turn him into a werewolf. He got the idea thinking about Coran’s remarks about his body rejecting the space wolf chemical. The turn would also pretty much be instantaneous. The idea surprised them and certainly piqued Coran’s interest in how the turning works but more importantly brought a spark of hope back in their eyes.

“How interesting, is it magic based or perhaps it works like an infection passed through a bite wound?” Coran was holding a magnifying glass too close to Lance’s mouth for his liking.

“I have no idea.” Lance leaned away from Coran’s good-natured prodding. “I’ve never tried it but it does involve a bite, which obviously hurts. Not sure how I feel about biting our leader. Are you sure you want to try it?” He asked Shiro.

“I’m willing to give it a try.” Shiro nodded, appreciating his concern.

“Are you sure this will work?” Keith asked, highly concerned for Shiro’s safety.

“I don’t know how this’ll work on a space wolf but uh… ok, something like this happened before. They say that no one has turned anyone in a while but my dad or his friends might have done it but don’t you guys tell a soul! My family might get in trouble.”

At their agreement, Lance continued. “A long time ago, when my dad and a few of his friends were young and dumb and unafraid, they asked the age old question ‘can you turn a wolf into a werewolf?’ But unlike normal people and just imagining what would happen, they tried it out. Long story short they ended up adopting a very confused and slightly feral human. Ah, Uncle Jim Jam… the life of the party.” Lance ended with a nostalgic tinge in his voice.

“You guys named him Jim Jam?” Hunk asked incredulously.

Lance gasped, a hand on his chest. “Don’t be mean! He’s doing his best! But anyway, they started a wolf and ended with a werewolf that can turn into a human or wolf. Which is what we’ll end up with, hopefully.”

---

It wasn’t night yet but the moon had entered the sky from the eastern horizon. Lance said he needed some time to concentrate and see if the moon was willing to help. Apparently he had to get the moon’s blessing to be able to turn someone. Shiro found Lance in the usual hall, the moon visible in the window. His eyes were closed and he breathed in deeply, soaking up the moonlight. Once Lance noticed his presence he sat down next to him.

“This moon is happy to help, she feels friendly and kinda curious about me and werewolves since this planet doesn’t have any. ...How are you feeling about all this? Like getting drugged and uh, getting experimented again by the galra?” Lance winced as he asked. There wasn’t exactly a subtler way to ask that.

Shiro was surprised then he deflated with a sigh. It was hard to keep the dependable leader front with all this trauma piling up. “It certainly is not helping that it happened again. Feels like everytime they get their dirty hands on me, I’m changed beyond recognition from who I used to be.” He felt like he could breathe a little easier, having admitted that.

Lance started to gently stroke his fur, he felt Shiro relaxing slightly at his touch. “How about this though? If turning you is successful, you won’t exactly be fully human again.”

“Hmm, but this feels different. Maybe because you offered it and I chose to try it rather than another galran experiment being forced on me.” But still… being a werewolf, it’ll definitely be a new experience, Shiro thought.

“Oh! That kinda reminds me of some werewolf legends, want to hear them?” Lance looked eager to tell him a bit of werewolf culture, his culture. Shiro wagged his tail once, happy to listen.

“Well, they say the first turning was actually a curse.” Lance smiled sheepishly as he started. “Humans were afraid of werewolves so they hunted them. The moon was angry at the many innocent lives lost to the hunters. So she cursed the bite a werewolf had inflicted in self defence and caused the hunter to become a werewolf and thus the hunter becomes the hunted by his own people.

“Oh! But then there’s another legend that makes turning look like a blessing! So there was this werewolf woman whose lover was terribly injured. Since werewolves boasted great regenerative abilities she begged the moon to be able to turn her love so she can save them. And once she did they lived happily ever after and all that jazz. They tell these stories to get pups to not judge things at first glance since something was a curse in once case turned out to be a blessing in another. Ah, I remember when grandma told me these stories...”

Shiro's eyes softened fondly as Lance started to reminisce, happily talking about his family. A blessing, huh? Shiro felt lighter as his nuzzling caused Lance to laugh.

“Haha! Alright, alright. Enough of that, I think I’m good to go. Let’s get everyone and see this through.”

---

Pain.

Shiro was ready to accept that. Sharp teeth sinking into his flesh. But that spike of pain only lasted for a moment.

Then it felt like lava coursed through his veins spreading from the bite to every part of his body. He felt something… in the back of his mind, a gentle pull. Was this how the moon felt to Lance?  Lance told him if he felt it, he should go against the pull as it guided them towards their wolf form. He concentrated on doing so. Shiro gritted his teeth as muscles spasmed and bones started to shift. He could vaguely hear yells of concern from the others.

He remembers Lance trying to tell him to not fight against the change before he blacked out.

---

It was a chaotic few minutes full of screaming, cursing, yelling, honestly, just another day out here in space, Lance thought to himself. But everyone calmed down once Shiro had changed back into a human even though he promptly passed out. They quickly dressed him up in the silky, black pajamas stored in the castle. He was still missing his arm but with Pidge, Hunk, and Coran on the case, Lance doubts it would be that much of an issue for long.

Lance suggested a sleepover, getting everyone bringing their blankets and pillows to fill that circle of couches area in the common room. This way with Shiro’s brand new stronger sense of smell, he’d be surrounded by familiar scents when he wakes up.

Allura took Coran with her to chart their next course to their next destination, taking care to mark some safe spots to give the paladins much needed rest. Coran assured Lance that he would make her join the sleepover so she could rest as well.

As they slept in the soft nest waiting for Shiro to wake, Lance settled in and he let his mind wander. It’s been a wild ride out here in space. Becoming paladins, helping Shiro like he helped his uncle, everyone accepting him even if he was a werewolf and him fully accepting them as a pack. Lance knew this war would be tough but he’ll do what he could for his pack.

[dawnsedits]

Bumbling Babbling

It's been three days since Chuck was taken. Three days of fruitless searching. Three days since John had heard that idiot babbling on about something.

He didn't expect to miss it - to miss him - this much.

A/N: Set vaguely in late s2 or beyond bc I’ve only seen through 2x20

Casey & Chuck, Casey & Sarah ~ 1.6k ~ AO3

John prowled the pristine corridors of the Fulcrum facility, grip taut on his gun, sweeping around corners with as much haste as he could manage while maintaining caution. Urgency vibrated through his veins, pushing him to run, to crash through every locked door he passed, and it took every ounce of training and control he possessed not to become like the blundering, overeager idiot he was currently searching for.

Chuck.

An unwanted pang of worry shot through him, his earpiece seeming all too eerily quiet without his awkward, panicked babbling crackling through it.

Four days ago, with the moron safely tucked away in the van, he would’ve cracked a sarcastic comment about enjoying that peace.

Three days ago, with his protectee’s screams echoing in his ears, he had vowed – silently – to try appreciating the rambling even a tiny bit if they could just get him back.

“Come on, Bartowski,” he muttered, slipping into a staircase after clearing another floor. “Where are you?”

On the next floor, a guard waited for him on the other side of the door. John dispatched him an instant, slamming his gun into his face, having no patience today for any delays in his mission. Leaving the body in the stairwell, he continued on his way, gritting his teeth as time ticked away and he still found no clues as to Chuck’s whereabouts.

This was our last lead. If he’s not here…

He shook his head sharply, banishing the thought. Failure is not an option. He’s here.

He has to be.

He shoved down memories of the last three days, of the shimmering tears Sarah tried to hide, of the midnight sobs she thought he couldn’t hear, and stepped around another corner.

A dead end with a single door guarded by four very large men greeted him.

In the split second they were caught unawares, he ducked back into the shelter of the wall, firing off several shots in rapid succession, the gunfire accentuated by the sound of two bodies dropping to the floor. “Bartowski!” he yelled. “You in there?”

No one answered him.

If they killed him…

No. He’s too valuable.

But if they hurt him-

A well-aimed shot blasted his gun out of his hand. He jerked back with a hiss, shaking out the stunned appendage, but before he could take a breath, a meaty fist wrapped around his arm and yanked him around the corner, hurling him to the ground. He skidded, his breath knocked out of him in a rush of air, his shoulder banging into the door to stop him.

Ow.

The second remaining guard aimed his gun at John’s head, the ominous click of it cocking echoing around him. “Awww, you almost got to your friend,” he mocked. “Too bad all he’ll get to see is your dead body.”

John surged to his feet with a roar, tackling the guard, the gun flying out of his grip and down the corridor. “I don’t think so,” he snarled.

The second guard lunged for him, and John reacted on instinct, flipping instantly into battle mode. He let loose his pent-up rage and frustration, finally channeling it into something more useful than punching bags and sparring with Sarah, launching into the fight with every hour of dwindling hope and growing desperation fueling his every move, every punch and kick, every violent twist and dodge, every grunt of effort and snarl of fury.

As quickly as it had begun, the fight ended, leaving the two guards lying unconscious on the ground.

He swiped his sleeve across his bloodied mouth. “No one,” he growled, “messes with my nerd.”

That… sounded better in my head.

Whatever. Nobody heard it, at least.

He stole a ring of keys off one guard’s belt, jabbing them one by one into the lock until the door swung open.

Revealing Chuck, unconscious, hanging from his wrists in the middle of the dim cell, blood oozing from a gash in his forehead to trail across dark bruises along his cheek and jaw, dripping down to stain his dirty, ripped Buy More shirt.

I’m going to kill them.

“I’ve got the asset,” he reported, pressing a finger to his ear. “Walker, I’ve got Chuck.”

If she said anything in response – and he assumed she said something – he didn’t hear it, busy darting across the room, holstering his gun in exchange for a knife, wrapping a careful arm around Chuck’s waist to catch him as he sliced through the rope tying him to the ceiling. He grunted as the other man’s weight dropped onto him, fumbling to steady him as best he could, half dragging him over to the wall to lean him against it. “Come on, Bartowski, wake up,” he muttered, checking for a pulse, letting out a breath when he found it weak but steady. “Wake up, kid. Wake up. Chuck!”

Chuck bolted awake with a gasp, eyes flying open. “I’m awa- I’m a- I’m- wh- Casey? Casey!”

Recognition lighting up pain-dulled eyes, Chuck surged forward, throwing his arms around him, very nearly bowling him over, all but collapsing against John. “Oh, thank God,” he rasped. “Thank God, thank God, thank God, I thought- I th- I mean, I knew you were coming, but- but I- oh, thank God.”

His back to the unconscious guards, his face hidden by the hug, John let his eyes close, let his guard drop. In the hysteria bubbling up around Chuck’s relief, he heard the what-ifs, the scenarios he knew they’d both been imagining, and with images of Chuck’s broken, lifeless body finally, blessedly sent packing by that incessant babbling he would never admit to missing and his surprisingly tight grip, he couldn’t help it.

He returned the hug.

He brought his arms up, holding Chuck close, and for a moment, his walls came down, washed away by the relief of having him back, by all of the stress and fear reaching a monumental peak and crashing down to nothing, assuaged by the presence of this one stupid nerd he would break all the rules in the world for.

Not that he would admit it.

“Not, um- not- not to ruin the- the moment, but, um… Casey, are you- are you hugging me?”

And just like that, his walls went right back up.

“Of course not,” he mumbled, struggling to muster up even a vaguely indignant tone, pushing him away.

And yet, he couldn’t quite make himself let go, keeping one hand on Chuck’s shoulder.

A loopy smile positively glowed on his bloody face. “You hugged me.”

“I did not.”

“You did.”

John narrowed his eyes. “If you breathe a word of it to anyone, I will kill you.”

Somehow, he only grew even more gleeful. “That wasn’t a denial! You hugged me.”

He drew his gun, cocking it pointedly. “Shut up if you wanna live,” he said gruffly, pulling him to his feet.

“Admit it,” Chuck pressed, blanching at the movement, wobbling against him. “You like me.”

“No amount of torture,” John shot back, pulling his arm over his shoulders, “could make me tell such a blatant lie.”

Chuck clung to him, swallowing noticeably, clenching his eyes shut. “Sure,” he rasped. “You like me.”

John growled, deciding to try a different tactic. “Come on. Sarah’s waiting.”

Just as he had hoped, Chuck perked up and let the subject slide, sufficiently distracted, and he moved out, leading the wounded protectee to safety.

And if he happened to stomp on a guard or two for a little extra retribution, well, Chuck was too busy trying to skitter past them to notice.

-----

Safely away from the Fulcrum facility, John watched from a slight distance as medics settled Chuck on a stretcher, Sarah stepping in to greet him with a lingering kiss to the forehead, careful to avoid his injuries. He crossed his arms, clearing his throat as he looked away, giving them whatever privacy he could considering they were, well, surrounded by people.

Until he heard what Chuck was saying.

“Sarah, he hugged me. Casey hugged me. Me!”

Hands clenching into fists beneath his arms, he turned a fiery glare on the other man. Why did I want to rescue you?

Her hand resting in his hair, Sarah glanced dubiously between them, one eyebrow arching.

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.

“Yeah,” she said slowly, taking a step back, trailing her fingers through his hair. “It’s time for you to go to the hospital.”

“No, he hugged me!” Chuck protested as the medics began loading him into the ambulance. “Sarah, he hugged me! Really!”

“Whatever you say, Chuck,” she said obligingly as the doors closed. “I’ll meet you at the hospital, ok?”

Still protesting, he grudgingly flashed a thumbs up through the window as they ambulance started to drive off.

Sarah retreated to John’s side, tucking her hands into her pockets. “Must’ve been some hit to the head,” he commented. “As if I’d ever hug him.”

“Mhm,” Sarah hummed.

“Come on, you can’t really believe him.”

“I know what your growls mean by now,” she said, “and you hated every second we couldn’t find him. I know you care. Even if you won’t say it.”

“I do not-”

She knocked him lightly with her shoulder, flashing a mischievous smile at him. “Whatever you say, you big softie.”

John bristled. “Softie?”

“Softie,” she confirmed, utterly unapologetic.

He would blame it on exhaustion later, or perhaps his own convenient blow to the head, but suddenly, he just didn’t care to fight anymore. Chuck was safe, Sarah was smiling, and his life, baffled as he still was by the fact that he had grown to like this assignment, could continue on unmarred by any further loss. In the moment, he didn’t care much about anything else.

Except, perhaps, maintaining his reputation. Sort of.

“…I’m not gonna win this one, am I?”

“Nope,” she said cheerfully.

He let it go with a sigh. “Just don’t tell him.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” She leaned against him, resting her head against his shoulder. “Softie.”

His half-hearted growl only made her chuckle.

[infinite-xerath]

Runeterra Retcons: Ruination Episode (Ionia)

Ionia Part I

After discussing it heavily with your comrades, you all agree that your next destination should be Ionia. The light of the Wayfinder encompasses you all as it carries you across the sea to the Ionian Sentinel outpost, where you are surprised to find that nothing seems amiss on the shores.

“Looks like the Black Mist hasn’t gotten here yet.”

“Wow, so this is Ionia? It’s beautiful!”

Riven response 1: “I can’t say I’m surprised. Ionia’s always been resistant to invaders…”

Riven response 2: “Yeah… But it wasn’t always like this…”

Gwen: “Oh what an absolutely splendid place! I’ve never been anywhere this majestic before!”

Senna: “They call Ionia the First Lands, and some say it’s the birthplace of magic itself. I guess it’s no surprise that this place is a sort of safe haven against the Harrowing.”

Olaf: “Wait! Look there!”

Olaf points further inland, where you see a great cloud of Black Mist descending onto a vibrant forest.

Vayne: “So much for a safe haven…”

Senna: “No time to stand around and gawk! Let’s move, Sentinels!”

Senna takes the lead as you all charge ahead, ascending the winding mountain path. All around you, wild animals scatter and flee as the Black Mist pours through the forest. The once-vibrant flora withers and distorts around you while the very air seems to linger with malice.

Suddenly, you feel a gnarled tree root spring to life and wrap around your leg, pulling you down. A shrill scream fills the air as you hit the ground and feel yourself being dragged back down the path. Before you vanish completely into the brush, however, Lucian frees your leg with a well-timed shot.

Lucian: “You alright, rookie? That was, uh, quite a scream just now.”

“Thanks, I owe you.”

“That, uh, wasn’t me.”

Lucian response 1: “Don’t mention it. Now let’s keep moving.”

Lucian response 2: “Heh, sure it wasn’t...”

Before you can say anything more, another identical scream cuts through the air. You all turn to see a peculiar figure bounding through the forest. Her upper half resembles that of a young woman, but her lower body is that of a fawn. She holds in her possession a branch with a peculiar bloom attached to it.

???: “Oh dear, oh dear!”

“Is that a person?”

“Is that an animal?”

Vayne: “Whatever it is, it’s heading right for us.”

Sure enough, the strange figure is bounding toward you at an alarming rate, looking back over her shoulder. She turns her head just in time to see the Sentinels and comes skidding to a stop.

???: “Eep!”

“Eep!”

“Woah, that was close!”

“She… Is… Adorable!”

Lillia: “W-Who are you!? Ah, wait, no! Just… Pretend you can’t see them, Lillia! If you can’t see them, they can’t see you.”

Vayne: “Sorry to lay this on you, but that’s not how it works.”

Riven: “Hang on, something else is coming!”

You look up to see the Black Mist descending toward you, carrying with it a swarm of wraiths.

Lillia: “Oh no! They’ve followed me!”

Gwen: “Please, stand behind us, funny fawn person! We will make short work of these fiends!”

Ionia Part II

The Sentinels charge into the fray, cutting and blasting their way through the swarm of wraiths. As they fight, however, you notice more of the local wildlife succumbing to the Black Mist, warping the surrounding forests beyond recognition.

Lillia: “No… Stop! Please stop!”

“Are you OK?”

“Hey, everything’s going to be alright.”

Lillia: “No… Can’t you feel it? The dreams of the trees, the animals… It’s like… One very bad dream is blocking out all the others!”

Lucian: “Rookie, what’s she talking about?”

Senna: “Nevermind, just stay focused! We need push deeper into this forest and find that fetter!”

The Sentinels quickly resume their fight, though Lillia’s ears perk up when she hears Senna’s words.

Lillia: “What? You’re… Going DEEPER into the forest? B-But it’s dangerous!”

Vayne: “Exactly! Where monsters go, so do we!”

Riven: “If the Black Mist is here, that must mean another one of these fetters is too, right? Then we have to find it and get it out of here, or all of Ionia will be in danger! That’s… Not something I want to see again!”

Gwen: “Quite right! Fear not, funny fawn girl! We shan’t let a few wraiths impede us!”

Lillia: “But… Why?”

“We’re Sentinels. Fighting ghosts is what we do!”

“We’re here to save Ionia, and the world, from the Black Mist!”

Lillia: “You… You aren’t afraid?”

“Not in the slightest!”

“Quite a bit, actually, but I can’t turn back now!”

Lillia: “That’s… That’s quite brave of you. …Alright. Everyone, please follow me! I think I know what the ghouls are after!”

Lillia suddenly darts off into the forest, waving her branch to clean a path through the Mist.

Riven: “Should we follow her?”

Senna: “Well… If she can lead us to the fetter, it’s a risk I’m willing to take! Move out, Sentinels!”

Ionia Part III

Lillia guides you through the forest, using the branch in her hands to keep the hostile wildlife at bay. You follow her into a cave, where your only source of light comes from Lillia’s bloom. Though it’s dark and damp, you’re surprised to find that the Black Mist seems to linger about the entrance, refusing to step inside.

Vayne: “Are we sure about this isn’t a trap?”

“We’ve already come all this way…”

“Hey, she’s cute! How can you say no to those big eyes?”

Olaf: “Hmph. If this is a trap, there had better be a worth foe at this tunnel’s end!”

Lillia: “...”

Lucian: “Hey, fawn girl!”

Lillia: “Eep! O-Oh, you mean me?”

Lucian: “Yeah. Are you sure there’s a fetter in here?”

Lillia: “Uh, well… I’m not sure what sort of ‘fetter’ you mean, but I think… I know that the ghouls want what’s up ahead.”

Vayne: “And just how do you know that?”

“Come on guys, have some faith in her.”

“The Mist didn’t want to come in here, so there’s gotta be something special about this place.”

Riven: “Wait, do you see that?”

Up ahead, the path widens out into a grotto illuminated by giant crystals in the cave wall.

“What is this place?”

“It’s breathtaking…”

Riven: “Yeah, Ionia really is beautiful. It’s a shame that some people would destroy that beauty just to take it for themselves…”

Up ahead, you see that the cave floor turns from stone to grass. Somehow, a small meadow has bloomed in the heart of the mountain, illuminated by the glow of the crystals.

Gwen: “Goodness, these gems would make for a marvelous addition to a dress! Oh, but I suppose that would ruin their natural beauty. A shame.”

Lucian: “It’s pretty, alright, but where’s the fetter?”

As if on cue, the light in Senna’s chest starts to glow, as does Gwen’s. Nearby, you see a single flower near the heart of the grotto begin to glow with the same calming light.

Senna: “There it is! That’s the fetter!”

“A rose? How can a rose be a fetter?”

“So Isolde’s soul has been hiding in a flower for centuries?”

Lillia: “This flower is very old. It was brought here long ago from a far-away land. I can see its dreams too, you know. Dreams so pure, full of love and light… Happy memories. It dreams of man and woman who cherished each other more than anything. Isn’t that… Such… A lovely dream?”

You watch in horror as a ghastly crown forms around Lillia’s head. Suddenly, Black Mist fills the cave, engulfing Lillia and transforming her in an instant.

Lillia: “Such a lovely dream, and you all are trying to ruin it! How… How could you!?”

“Lillia, wait! Let’s talk this out!”

“Aw man! Why is it always the cute ones!?”

Vayne: “I knew we couldn’t trust her!”

Vayne takes aim with her crossbow, but before she can fire a single shot, Lillia waves her branch in a wide arc. A mysterious, glittering dust washes over you and the other Sentinels, as does a strange sense of drowsiness.

Olaf: “Argh! What… Is this…?”

Gwen: “Oh my. Suddenly… So… Tired…”

“So… Sleepy.”

“Can’t… Stay… Awake.”

Despite your best efforts, you soon succumb to the effects of Lillia’s dream dust. Soon, you and the other Sentinels fall onto the floor of the cave and descend into a deep slumber…

Ionia Part IV

You find yourself wandering the streets of your hometown, alone. Wherever you go, the people have locked their doors and refuse to open up. You are cold and scared, and those feelings only grow as you notice the ominous Black Mist coursing toward you.

You try to run, but the Mist is faster. You hear inhuman screams behind you, and look back to see vaguely humanoid figures emerging from the haze. You force your legs into overdrive, only to wind up tripping and following on a loose stone. Your cry out in pain as you hit the ground, but your scream is drowned out by the wails of the undead behind you.

Dread hangs over you a like a pall. Death seems inevitable, though you know that death is not the end if these creatures take you. You will become one of them, hunting other poor souls to join the ranks of the undead. You close your eyes and wait, only for the sound of gunfire to fill your ears.

You open your eyes and look up. The wraiths cry out in pain as bolts of light pierce them, driving them back. You find yourself surrounded by figures in strange uniforms, carrying weapons unlike any you’ve every seen.

“W-Who are you?”

“Where did you come from?”

Though their face is hazy, you see one of the figures turn to look at you.

???: “We’re the Sentinels of Light. Don’t worry, we’ll handle the undead. You just find a safe place to hide and wake up.”

“Huh?”

“What do you mean?”

???: “Wake up. Come on, Rookie, nap time is over!”

Your eyes slowly open as you regain consciousness. You see Lucian and Senna standing over you.

Senna: “Good to see you’re still with us.”

“How long was I out?”

“What happened?”

Lucian response 1: “Too damn long. That deer girl made off with fetter while we are all dozin’ off.”

Lucian response 2: “That deer girl put us all to sleep then nabbed the fetter, that’s what.”

Gwen: “And she seemed so nice! What an awful turn things have taken.”

???: “Indeed. The future of the realms hangs in the balance.”

“Uh, who is this?”

“Is that a freaking ninja!?”

Shen: “Apologies if I have startled you, child. I am the Eye of Twilight, but you may call me Shen.”

Vayne: “After Deer Girl put us all to sleep, this ninja’s the one who came to wake us up. I don’t like being in debt, but I guess we owe you now.”

Shen: “You owe me nothing. I acted as needed to maintain balance, nothing more.”

Riven: “Apparently, he’s part of the Kinkou. I’ve heard of them. They’re a group devoted to maintaining order in Ionia, though from what I understand, they didn’t do much when Noxus invaded these shores.”

Shen: “The Kinkou protect the balance between the material and immaterial realms. Mortal wars are not our concern… But this Harrowing threatens to consume Ionia itself.”

Shen gestures outside and, to your horror, you see that the Black Mist has nearly complete covered the forest. The once-vibrant colors of the trees are now faded and lifeless and the sounds of nature are replaced by the cries of wraiths.

“It’s awful…”

“How did this happen so fast?”

Shen: “The spirit of Ionia is tainted, and the land is a reflection of that spirit. What’s more, azakana will feed on the negativity brought forth by this, granting demons more power than ever.”

Senna: “This is what’ll happen to the entire world if we don’t stop Viego. That’s why we need to find that fetter, and quickly!”

Gwen: “But… That Not-so-Funny Faun took it! How are we supposed to find her amidst all of that?”

Vayne: “Hate to say it, but she’s right. If we have to fight through all of that, then Deer Girl will be long-gone by the time we catch her trail.”

Shen: “Fear not, for the Eye of Twilight sees all, even through the darkest shadows. The Dream Faun makes for the coast, though I sense an even greater darkness approaching. You, who are sword to defend the light, will you accompany me to confront this darkness?”

Gwen: “A greater darkness? You couldn’t possibly mean...”

Lucian: “Viego! We gotta get the beach, now!”

Riven: “But how are we going to get there through all this Mist?”

Shen: “Fret not, for I walk the space between world. Gather close to me.”

Though uncertain of his meaning, you and the other Sentinels do as asked, stepping close to Shen as he makes unusual gestures with his hands. Suddenly, you are all engulfed in violet light as Shen whisks you through the spirit realm.

Ionia Part V

You feel formless. Weightless. All around you are sights and colors your mind can scarcely comprehend. Some set your mind at ease, while others terrify you. This sensation lasts for only a moment before you reemerge in the physical realm, surrounded once more by your comrades.

“Hey, long-distance teleporting is my thing!”

“That… Was awesome!”

“That was… Bizarre!”

Riven: “Ugh… I think I’ll stick to the Wayfinder from now on, thanks.”

Shen: “Gather yourselves! The Dream Fawn is just ahead!”

Sure enough, you see Lillia standing on the beach, staring out at the ocean. She clutches the fetter tightly in one hand and her branch in the other.

Lucian: “She doesn’t know we’re here. I say we take her by surprise and-”

Olaf: “RETRIBUTION AWAITS!”

Suddenly, Olaf rushes ahead, screaming at the top of his lungs. Lillia leaps in surprise and turns around to see the berserker rushing at her. Instinctively, she launches a seed from her branch that rolls along the sand, growing large in size as it travels.

“Olaf, look out!”

“Don’t let it hit you!”

Olaf utterly ignores your warning and runs into the seed head-on. To your amazement, he just keeps running even as the seed explodes into dream dust.

Lillia: “W-What!? T-That’s not possible!”

Lucian: “That’s a berserker for ya. Once they get riled up, nobody can stop them.”

Olaf is just about to reach Lillia when, suddenly, the tide behind her swells to life and comes ashore. Olaf is swept back in a massive wave of darkened away, though Lillia somehow remains completely dry.

Lucian: “The ocean, on the other hand…”

Shen: “The Spirit of Ionia is tainted. The trees, the air, the waters… They now bend to HIS will.”

You look ahead to see a familiar figure emerging from the Black Mist, the sea itself parting to make way for him.

“Viego!”

“The Ruined King!”

Olaf: “Pfft! Pah! So, he’s the one who bested the Barbarian King? I thought he would be… Bigger.”

Viego: “Ah, what a pleasant surprise! I travel all this way to find that my prize is already waiting for me.”

Lillia: “Y-Yes, sir. I am here to help your dream bloom.”

Shen: “Stop! You have desecrated the balance, and now you shall pay for your transgressions!”

Viego: “Balance? Fool. Without her, there is no balance. She is the light to my darkness, the joy to my anguish. If you would stand against me, then YOU are the one who shall pay the price!”

Shen and Viego dash across the beach toward each other, their blades ringing out as they clash.

Senna: “Let’s back him up, Sentinels!”

You and the other Sentinels quickly rush to aid Shen, but find yourself impeded by the corrupted Spirit of Ionia. Fierce bursts of wind repeatedly knock you off your feat while rocks along the beach form together into twisted constructs.

Riven: “Ngh…”

“Are you alright?”

“Riven, what’s wrong?”

Riven: “Fighting on the beaches of Ionia, pushing back against the will of the land itself… This whole scenario is bringing back a lot of unhappy memories.”

Senna: “Shake it off, Riven! We need to push past this!”

The Sentinels continue to struggle against the will of the land, but only Shen seems undeterred by it. The Eye of Twlight engages the Ruined King in a fierce battle, both of them vanishing and reappearing all over the beach.

“I can barely keep track of them!”

“This isn’t working!”

Viego: “See how your homeland bends to my will, Ionian! Your allies can lend you no aid. Mine, on the other hand…”

Lillia leaps into the air behind Shen, slamming her branch down on the beach. Shen staggers as Lillia’s dream dust washes over him, falling to one knee as he struggles to stay awake. Meanwhile, Viego turns his attention to your group, his gaze fixing itself upon Senna and Gwen. They fail to notice, too busy fending off the endlessly-regenerating stone constructs on the beach.

“Gwen, look out!”

“Senna, look out!”

Option 1: Viego rushes toward Gwen, but thanks to your warning, she manages to parry the blow and push Viego back her Hallowed Mist.

Option 2: Viego rushes toward Senna, but thanks to your warning, she manages to evade his strike and fire a back in retaliation.

Viego grunts in annoyance and vanishes into the Black Mist once more. To your surprise, he reappears before you, lifting you up by the throat.

Viego: “Such a peculiar child. Your little band is strange enough, but you… You do not even carry a weapon. Still, you seek to defy me, all the same.”

Vayne: “Put the kid down, creep!”

The Sentinels all rush to your aid, but soon find themselves impeded by a wall of sand rising up around you.

Viego: “Many choose to stand against me and my noble quest. Some do it to ‘save’ this cruel world. Others merely resent me, though their hearts are as dark as my own. So tell me, child: why do you oppose me? Justice? Righteousness? Contempt?”

“…”

“What you’re doing is wrong!”

Viego: “Hmph. A predictable response. No matter. Whatever your reasons, you will serve as an example!”

Viego raises his sword to impale you, but another blade suddenly manifests above your head: an ephemeral weapon that lingers in the air. A pulse of spirit magic frees you from Viego’s grasp and destroys the sand barrier. Viego vanishes into the Mist once more, and in his place stands Shen, grasping the shimmering blade.

Shen: “Stand up. Your role is far from over.”

The other Sentinels quickly reconvene around you as you climb to your feet.

Gwen: “Rookie! Goodness, are you alright?”

“I’m alright, thanks to Shen.”

“Still shaking, but otherwise fine.”

Viego: “You think you are safe? None of you shall escape my grasp!”

Suddenly, you notice several giant crabs erupting the sand around you, their eyes flickering with the ghastly light of Ruination.

Senna: “This isn’t working! Sentinels, I’m calling a tactical retreat! We can’t fight Viego AND the damn beach at the same time! Rookie, get us out of here!”

Without a moment’s hesitation, you raise the Wayfinder and let its light wash over you just as the crabs begin to close in. In an instant, you and your allies vanish, leaving Viego alone with Lillia on the harrowed beach.

Lillia: “Oh dear. They got away, sir…”

Viego takes the flower from her grasp and sniffs it longingly.

Viego: “No matter. I am one step closer to realizing my dream, little fawn. Come, let us resume our search elsewhere.”

Viego turns and walks away into the Black Mist with Lillia behind him, leaving a Ruined Ionia in his wake.

Back as Sentinel headquarters, you breath a sigh of relief to have narrowly escaped the Ruined King.

Senna and Olaf: “DAMN IT!”

Senna: “We almost had him!”

Olaf: “I almost had my glorious death!”

Riven: So that was the Ruined King… I can’t believe he has that much power.”

Vayne: “He didn’t the last time we faced him. Somehow, that monster’s gotten even stronger.”

Gwen: “Goodness, are you alright, Rookie? That was quite fright!”

“Honestly, I’m still shaking a little.”

“Y-yeah, I’m t-totally fine!”

Shen: “Overcoming fear is the first step to attaining inner balance.”

Everyone: “…”

Senna: “Hang on, how do you get here?”

Shen: “The same way you all did, naturally.”

Shen gestures to the Wayfinder.

“Oh, guess he got caught in the light too. My bad.”

“Huh. I, uh, totally meant to bring you back with us too.”

Shen: “I am here because Balance wills it.”

Riven: “Hang on, are you saying that…”

Shen: “I… Was not strong enough to defeat this imbalance on my own. Ionia has been consumed by darkness, but its spirit has not yet been wholly subsumed. I will do all that I must to preserve it, even allying with your order.”

Vayne: “You want to be a Sentinel? I guess we could do worse, though I don’t know if one ninja will make that much of a difference.”

Gwen: “Oh, another new addition to the team! How wonderful! Please, come with me, and we’ll get you fitted right away!”

You all watch as Shen departs with Gwen, emerging moments later with his new Sentinel attire.

Gwen: “Tadaa! I present to you: Sentinel Shen!”

You can’t help but note that her display lacks the same level of enthusiasm as usual, but opt not to comment on it.

Shen: “It is an honor to fight alongside you.”

Lucian: “Right… Well, let’s get you sworn in, I guess.” (But after that, we’re all gonna need to rethink our plan.)

[missymallow]

Drarry: Alternate Universe

---

"That's Damianos?" 

Merlin's beard, but the sight of the Crown Prince of Akielos managed to make Draco’s jaw hung loose; he can't help but gaped in an unattractive way, far from his aristocratic mannerism. Damianos was a big, strong man with broad shoulders, and a muscular body that Draco was certain they were not only for display. He just knows this man possessed inhuman strength. Salazar, just look at those thighs! 

Draco dragged his eyes hungrily all over the exposed olive skin. It was not his fault for taking advantage when the man was literally wearing a drape of cloth to cover his body. A chiton, was what Laurent has told him earlier.

Speaking of the said man, Draco immediately turned his head to the left, unfazed when he received a venomous glare from the beautiful pair of blue eyes. Instead, he gave the man a sly grin of his own; pleased that he managed to rile up the cold-blooded beauty. Even so, if he must say, the golden haired Prince was actually a pleasant company to be with - once they have managed to put their differences behind, that is. Not that they were any to begin with, it was rather gratifying to know that they were alike in many aspects.

"Hit a nerve?" asked Draco. 

"I'd rather not having you devour him with your eyes." answered Laurent coolly.

Draco can't help it, he laughed. "Ah, but you see, I don't mind if he wants to maul me. I am sure he's a beast in bed."

"Draco." Laurent warned.

"Laurent." said Draco, amused.

He would like to tease more, but the Crown Prince and his troops have already stopped right in front of them and Draco immediately put up his own Malfoy mask; back straightened up to make him taller, chin lifted to show his long pale neck, face devoid of emotions at the same time he made sure that he looked approachable yet reserved.

He stood next to Laurent, observed as Damianos greeted King Aleron and Crown Prince Auguste with warmth and politeness. They talked, and shared a few smiles and hugs before the man move and stand in front of Laurent with an easy grin and Draco has to suppressed an excited grin from forming.

"My Prince." Damianos greeted, bowing down as he took Laurent's hand in his and kiss his knuckles softly.

Draco discreetly sneaked a hand to clutch on Laurent's free hand, squeezing the life out of him to show his excitement and almost giggles when he received an equally strong squeeze back.

"Damianos." said Laurent, aloof. Draco would rolled his eyes if not for the mask he has put on. This man was just as bad as he was when it comes to the man they harboured feelings with. Alas, at least Laurent was betrothed to the man he was in love with, while Draco? Not even a recognition was received on his part.

He casted down his eyes to calm down, forcing out the grief that was creeping in his heart. It was ridiculous, but he really miss him. As pathetic as it sounds. 

When he dragged his eyes back up, he almost yelped in surprise to see the brown eyes of the Crown Prince was already bore to him. He covered it up by offering a polite smile and a small bow of his head.

Damianos blinked, running his eyes up to Draco’s hair down to his Veretian shoes and up to meet his eyes before he changed his gaze to Laurent, appraising him with the same manner. He formed a small frown as his eyes moved back and forth between the two of them, as if not sure as how to comprehend the situation. It took a few moments when Damianos settled on Laurent, tilting his head a bit as he asked; "Your… pet?"

Draco narrowed his eyes in an instant, noticed how Laurent's corner lips quirk up to form a smirk from his peripheral view. He pressed his lips together, holding back as not to hex this enormous man in front of him to the next Sunday. How dare he equated Draco with a slave? Unforgivable.

"How eloquent." said Draco, words burst out his mouth before he can even stopped it. Laurent was openly smirking now, apparently entertained to see the astonishment look upon Damianos' face.

"He is a distant cousin of mine." said Laurent, easily. "Draco of Vere."

"D-Draco?" Damianos took a step back, as if he was slapped and Draco shared a look with Laurent. 

"Are you by any chance, Draco Malfoy?" asked Damianos, nonplussed. 

Draco immediately perk up at that, as he unconsciously took a step forward to matched Damianos. "How in Merlin's beard did you know my name?" 

Aristocratic mannerisms put aside, but apart from Laurent, no one knows that he was accidentally travelled to another universe. Therefore, how?

Damianos eyes widened with a wonderment before he abruptly turned around and waved his hand up as he called, "Nikandros!"

Said man immediately nodded in understatement when Damianos gave him a signal, and pointed out to far down their troops. Damianos grinned, turning back to them only to grabbed Draco’s hand and pulled him forward. 

Draco yelped, other hand automatically grasped on Laurent's finger to drag him along.

Damianos lead them to their troops, much to everyone's confusion but he marched forward in determination and his men quickly parted their way when they got closer. The ruckus was loud enough to catch the attention of a man who currently engrossed in the foreign view of Arles, and Draco gasped, heart pounding hard against his ribcage because right there; with his unmistakable lighting scar and green eyes, complete with his own chiton,

Was Harry Potter himself.

---

Honestly, I have never read Captive Prince but I can't help but saw the resemblance. I just need a crossover? lmao cheers x

[tartagilicious]

my title for this doc is ‘this is for hypnos you big fat white nasty smellin fat bitch’ // w.c: 1091 // requested by @jewelwayne101​:

I discovered you through the oneshot of victor comforting MC when she doesnt want to cry and it was amazing! Im relatively late to MLQC and had went on youtube watching everything and in the newest chapters my heart is heavy and dead from my two favourite bois (Gavin and Victor) not remembering MC. Could you do a scenario of MC with Gav and Vic (separately) her trying to jog their memories desperately and says a certain word or line that makes them remember something about them? Sorry it's long. 

[rewrite… if I can by ailee] 

—

i don’t want us to be strangers again.

the people I cherish, holding such a dear place in my memory, will never be cast aside. I had thought the decision was unanimous, obvious, even, but with the way they look at me now — I know something went wrong along the way.

But, that’s just how it is. There are no traces of my existence in this winter world; not in my company, not in my friends, not even in them. I have to force myself to be wary of familiar faces — of the people who’d done nothing but help me in the past, yet know nothing of me now.

Victor was one of the first people I encountered. The cold-hearted man I’d grown to entrust my life to remained mostly unchanged not minding my existence. But I could see the way he looked at me. I knew it was different, but I had no idea it would affect me so much.

I miss the warm affection in his eyes, how ever much it may have contradicted his fiery tongue. Just knowing I may never see it again saddens me.

“...You aren’t being serious are you?”

I remember the words that came out of my mouth clear as day in that intersection. Said with every ounce of emotion I could fit into them, I was sure that it would resonate with something inside him.

My chest deflated when he only struck me with a confused look.

“You don’t recognise me? My name is ___, you’re my boss and one of the best friends I have. You were there with me during the HBS scandal. You went ten years into the future and stopped that version of yourself from killing me!” I’m cut off by a sob rising in my throat, but hoarsely, I stubbornly keep going.

“You sat by me, holding me back while I tried to piece together a broken glass, all while whispering some of the most thoughtful things anyone’s ever told me. Does none of that sound familiar?”

Victor looked uncharacteristically cool watching my tears begin to spill over, doing nothing more than offering me a few words and a pat of encouragement.

I raised my eyes to meet his, lip quivering as I said, “I would do anything for you to call me a dummy right now. For falling for such a... stupid, and childish prank.”

Victor was silent as I wiped away my tears, but even then, I didn’t miss the way his eyes flashed. Whether with recognition or annoyance, I was afraid to know, but then he finally spoke.

“I should call you a dummy.” He nodded, seemingly in agreement with my out of pocket statement. “That somehow.. feels right for you.”

Things have changed.

The concept finally settled in my brain, though albeit uncomfortably, when I found myself pinned to a wall of an alleyway some days later.

I cried out as Gavin applied more pressure to my wrists, an inch away from moulding them into the concrete. Unlike Victor, I could barely garner the courage to look Gavin in the eye -- he was acting nothing like I’ve seen, defensive and unrestrained as opposed to his usual friendly yet diligent personality.

“Why are you following me?”

I winced and squeezed my eyes shut when his grip tightened in my silence, a meek sound escaping me that surely meant nothing to that Gavin.

“...How could you ask me that?” I whispered hesitantly, not daring to open my eyes to his reaction. “Please stop… you’re hurting me.”

He didn’t move any further, but I knew it didn’t go over his head.

“Don’t make me ask twice. Who are you, and why are you following me?”

I realised I had a decision to make. Victor was a special case, but say anything out of line around Gavin or the rest, and I could very well end up either captured or dead. I could still offer them a bit to jog their memory-I could never skip attempting-but I would have to be smart about it.

So, I took a deep breath and forced one eye open. Gavin was very close to me, but his eyes have no semblance of the affection this distance would normally require. He looked unharacteristically impatient.

“...My name is ___.” I start slowly, gauging his reaction carefully before looking him in the eye.

“I went to highschool with you -- I was the year below you. I met you again when you applied with the STF to oversee me and transferred back to Loveland.”

Gavin only listened, so I took that as my opportunity to pepper in some more recent things.

“We used to look after Perry together. You always fly over to my apartment to pick up the meals I make you. You saved me from falling from a building, from being shot in the head, bleeding out on the side of the road, and god knows how many other things--”

“Stop.” He commanded. The dangerous look in his eyes had diminished considerably, but was not gone. Part of me wanted to say that I noticed a reminiscent look swimming around somewhere, but I didn’t want to hurt myself with anymore lies.

“Do you happen to work in the media?”

I perked up, suddenly hopeful. “Yes! I’m a producer, but how did you know? Do you remember me?”

“No. You just talk a lot.”

I resisted a groan. That definitely isn’t something I’m used to hearing come out of Gavin’s mouth.

“Just let me go, then.” I said bitterly, wiggling without thinking too hard about it. “If you don’t know me, then please, don’t waste any more of my time.”

I have other people to find.

Gavin eyed me curiously. I stopped moving for a second and couldn’t help but give him an exasperated look.

“Gavin--”

He interjects. “I’m not wasting your time. Don’t you think I’m here for a reason? Don’t give up so easily.”

“..What?” My brows knit delicately, confusion evident in my gaze.

Gavin blinks, and in an instant, he seems just as caught off guard as I am.

“It… just seemed like the right thing to say.”

Fate works in mysterious ways. From ending up in a world where I don’t exist to flipped personalities, I still prefer to think that everything is happening for a reason rather than the alternative. But, whether or not destruction is imminent, that isn’t up to fate, and that will never change. With my own hand, I will rewrite this world.