#the whole piece wiggled while carving the eyes but! it stayed together

[pine-arten]

slug pumpkin carving :)

[winchesterxxi]

Urges of the Subconscious (Din Djarin x Reader) | PART 1

Gif by @keanurevees​

Rating: E (Explicit)

Type: Smut

Pairing: Din Djarin x AFAB!Reader

Summary: Stationed in Tatooine for the night, courtesy of Peli Motto, you and Din are forced to share a room. Thinking that it was more than obvious that the two of you weren’t together, you both expected to find two separate beds - that didn’t quite happen. Sleeping next to the person you’ve been having dreams about for a while now leads to some unconscious shuffling closer to each other - culminating in quite the interesting morning.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: One bed trope, SMUT (wet dream, rubbing, blindfold, nipple play/breast play, fingering)

A/N: I haven’t written for Din in so long, god, I missed my favorite bucket-head. This is also a long one because my gears are oiled and working, so bear with me. Also, part 2? 👀

Buy me a Kofi!

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When Din had told you that there was a fault in the differential and exhaust manifold of the Razor, you knew that meant a trip down to Tattooine. You weren’t particularly excited about it – the scorching hot weather mixed with the sandy landscape always made you feel gross and heavy, sensations that you weren’t particularly fond of.

The child on the other hand, at the mention of a need for repairs, cooed in excitement, eager to encounter his adored Peli Motto, who he seems to have absolutely smitten. Nothing wrong with that, in fact, it was nice to see the kid being in someone else’s arms without fearing for his life.

Down on the rocky ground in front of her secluded shop, Peli looks up at the shadow that suddenly allocated itself in front of the sun, only to adjust her vision and catch the Razor Crest slowly descending closer, until its landing skids contacted the red ground and the large cargo ramp started to lower itself.

Into her vision came what she secretly nicknamed as “The Space Family”: You, with the baby in your left arm, and the imponent Mandalorian just a couple of feet behind, a gothic painting, some would say one that was slowly making their way towards her.

“We brought the Child!” You amusingly exclaimed, grinning as her smile immediately grew and the child was already trying to wiggle out of your embrace.

“Easy there!” she exclaimed as the child cooed and babbled in her arms, content with the reunion

“How much do you want for it?” she asks you “Just kidding. But not really.”

“The kid’s still not for sale. But I have a few repairs that need to be done.” Din intervenes. You know he isn’t being purposefully stern, but the man could sure use some lessons on loosening up and being able to understand a joke.

“Always a pleasure to talk with you, Mandalorian.” Peli greets with an expressionlessly sarcastic face that falls upon her as soon as she looks up from the child  “Point me in the direction.”

After a close inspection alongside the Mandalorian, they both returned to where you and the child stood before he reached for Peli once again and you laughed at his tiny attachment problem.

“ I can get you out of here tomorrow at around noon.”

“Noon? Peli, we can’t stay overnight. People need us.”

“People can wait. Can’t they?” She asks the question in a higher-pitched voice directed towards the kid who she bops in the nose before turning back to you and Din. “And sure you can! There’s a small holsterly just a few miles down the sand, an hour walk and you’ll be fine.”

“We only have credits for the maintenance.” Says Din from your right side.

Peli is about to throw a quick answer, as she always does, but something stops her. She closes her mouth and looks down at Grogu, who happily jiggles the tiny ball between his fingers. She smirks and looks up at you two again, adjusting the kid in her embrace.

“Tell you what. You let me take care of the kid for the night, you two go and have some rest, Maker knows you need it… and the maintenance is on me.”

“We’re not leaving –“ the Mandalorian starts but you quickly cut him off, placing a firm hand on his whistling bird, settling him.

“Deal.”

“Wh- What?” He shakes his helmet in your direction.

“Come on.” You tug him along your side, heavy beskar boots reluctant to move, as you wave back at Grogu and Peli who is smiling like two children who will, more than definitely, be up to no good in the following hours.

But he knows better than to make a scene with you when you are playing nice. So he waits until the pair that was left behind to be out of sight to pull you by your elbow to face him.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“No, but we are almost out of credits.” You reason with him, picking up on his sentence. “Din, she did a nice thing… not all people are out to get you.” Your voice is calm, and it takes all of your strength not to reach out and touch him, maybe caress the helmet of his cheek, or his hand. But he’s who he is, and you don’t want to cross any lines.

His towering figure lets go of your elbow and he walks ahead through the sand, talking over his shoulder.

“This is the first and last time we’re doing this.”

You grin and bit your bottom lip behind him, feeling victorious from having him wrapped around your finger in situations like this, before speeding your own stride to catch up to him, feeling the heat reflected on his beskar hit your skin.

It was a small inn, there was no doubt, more like a one night resting home for the looks of it, the offer ranging little above a few sleeping quarters along a hall and a shared bathroom at the end of it.

Once unlocking the wooden door, you and Din stepped into the now moonlit room, which ended up being more spacious than anticipated.

With Din closing the door and locking it once again, your eyes scan around the carved walls and the big window, the tapestry on the floor and then – the bed. The only bed. Not even a couch on the other end of the room. Only a bed.

Din seems to have noticed it too as you feel him come to a halt right behind you, helmet turning to scan the room.

“Why would they give us only one bed? I specifically said it was a two people bedroom.” You can feel his aggrieved tone sip through the helmet, frustrated with the situation.

“Two people. Not two beds.” You scoff and he looks at you, causing you to look away and avert your smile from his field of vision – how unskilled Din was with such mundane tasks always amused you. “I’m afraid this one’s on you Din Djarin.”

You walk over to the bed and start to peel the layers of your leather uniform, down to your undershirt and panties.

“Woah, what are you doing?” Din asks you, turning his helmet away once his helmet falls upon your bare legs.

“Getting to bed. You should too.” You state in a deadpan voice, before sliding your legs underneath the cotton sheet and laying your head in the fluffy pillow – something you haven’t had in months.

“No, yeah, I can see that! But I-… do you… Are you…?” he stumbles over his words, awkwardly still standing in the middle of the room at the bottom of the bed.

“Din, rest. Come on, it’s not every day you have a real bed to lay on.” The man huffs and walks over to your opposite side of the bed, before pulling the covers back, getting ready to seat down, before you shoot up on your elbow.

“Aren’t you going to take the armour off?”

“Why would I? Hostile planet, unknown people sleeping next door. Peli might contact us at any minute.” He has a big list of reasons, and he could more than definitely go on, but something in the way you are looking at him through the visor stops him.

“Din. Nothing bad is going to happen for one night.” Your eyes were honest and they pierced his soul melting his insides and kicking his usual hunter instinct out the window.

Not being able to resist, he drops his shoulders and sighs, before reaching for his chest pauldron and unclasping it while you grin victoriously.

“The helmet stays on.” He warns you, while pieces upon pieces of beskar and leather fall to the ground, placed against the foot of the bed until he is in nothing besides his fitted undersuit and beskar helmet.

Reaching for the covers once again, Din finally sleeps into the bed and as soon as his back hits the mattress he releases a quiet grown and you chuckle.

“Better?” you ask him, face turned his way and cocking your eyebrow up.

“Better.” This time, to your surprise, he’s the one that chuckles, the vibration of the modulated sound going straight to your stomach.

“Goodnight Din.” You whisper, turning your back to him and placing your body in your preferred position to sleep. With one look at you, the only nothing he can now see is the moonlit outline of your curves as your ribcage rises and falls at the rhythm of your quiet breath.

He’d be damned if anything happened to you. For as paranoid as he was the possibility of someone breaking in at the dead of the night and harming you, stopped him from turning his back to you and instead, settling with his chest up to the ceiling, helmet turned in your direction.

“Goodnight.”

For the first time in Maker knows how long, both you and Din managed to sleep during a full night with no sudden wake up calls or alarms beeping around. It was nice, he had to admit. So nice, that his body got a little too comfortable, his hands in his slumber reaching for your body and your own figure, unconsciously draw to his embrace let itself be held by him during the long hours of the dark – none of you being aware of such.

But somewhere along that time, in the wee small hours of the morning, your body rotated in his arms, back to his slowly moving chest and his hands, unbothered, had to keep touching you, they had to make sure you were there, hence gently palming your right boob.

It wasn’t until you felt an involuntary squeeze of his bare hands against your tunic, a definite sleep spasm that you were pulled awake and made aware of the situation.

Heat flooded your whole body once you realized the compromising position you both found yourselves in. Gently humming Din’s name, you don’t dare to move his arm, being very aware of his hunter instincts.

“Din.” You repeat again, this time louder and the man behind you hums. At the same time as the sound leaves his lungs, his fingers squeeze yet again. You suck in a breath and bite your bottom lip, preventing any sort of moan from escaping.

Din groans once, the sleep still gripping his system but he must’ve soon realized where his hand was, forearm trapped beneath your weight as he quickly pulls it away, sitting up straight in the bed.

“Kriff. I’m so sorry, I didn’t intend to-“ His chest is rising and lowering heavy, and you can see a hint of the red skin that heats on his neck and upper chest.

“It’s alright, I know.”

A heavy silence hangs in the air, you having since sat up in bed, back against the headboard, only your breathings and and heavy tension floating in the air. You were pretty sure your cheeks were still pink, as they still felt hot.

“I don’t want you to think that I wanted to do anything to you. I would never.” He says, coming off harsher than intended. It’s not that he didn’t want to be with you, Maker, he did, he had fallen head over heels a long time ago… But, maybe you didn’t feel that way. You were too good for him, anyway. A puddle of light in his life that he didn’t want to corrupt with his own being.

“Would it be so bad?” You whisper, afraid that he really didn’t want anything to do with you, slightly hurt by the words he’d just said.

Silence remains and you look to your side only to find the beskar helmet turning in your direction, your hopeful eyes and hung mouth pleading for a genuine answer.

Feeling bold, you reach for his bare hand that rested against the mattress and hold it up to where it was before and he is silently following your actions, but you can feel his muscles tensing at your actions.

“What are you doing, Y/N?” His voice is strained as he looks away but dares not to move his hand.

“Din. Please.” You whisper in a broken voice and that’s all it takes for his helmet to return to face you.

“If I start, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop.”

“I don’t want you to.”

There is a moment there. One of silence, but that was heavy with unsaid words. A look into your eyes was all it took him to pull your hips gently down and lay you back on the soft mattress while his body shifted to be above you.

His rough fingers gently tugged at one of the straps of your tunic before pulling it down and off your arm, same as with the other one that followed, leaving the thin fabric still splayed over your chest, from where he could now see the hard buds straining through.

Your breathing deepened and you could feel heat pool at your core, shifting your thighs closer together, an action that didn’t go unnoticed to the masked man above you as your knees brushed his crotch.

“Mesh’la.” He whispers, looking down your body, his erection pressing against the fabric of his confined pants.

Putting all of his weight on his elbows, the Mandalorian slides the fabric of your tunic down, revealing your swollen breasts, courtesy of the arousal he was fabricating in you. His fists curled at the sudden need that he had, one that he couldn’t fulfil if there was the possibility of you seeing his face.

Sitting back on his knees, he reaches out to the floor on his side of the bed, where he remembers to have discarded his armour and other layers the night before. When he sits back up, you can see that he is holding one of his undershirts, the one that went directly under the leather layer, made of a soft black fabric.

He motions it towards your head as if asking for permission to put it around your head and all you can do is nod while bitting your bottom lip, eager to give in to the pleasure he intended to deliver.

You lift your head from where it was resting against the pillow and his gentle hands tie the fabric around your eyes, making sure that it was tight enough for it not to slip, but not too much so that it would hurt you.

In the darkness that you found yourself surrounded by, all your other senses tingled in anticipation, especially your touch and hearing as from somewhere lower above you, a hissing sound filled the air, followed by that of metal being placed on wood.

Still sitting on his knees, his eyes could now see you in all of your glory, without the darkening of the helmet. And you were a sight to behold. Hair splayed around your head on the pillow, lips parted in anticipation, breasts aching for him. To the latter he gave in first, lowering himself to attach his lips to your left nipple, his breath fanning over it for a moment before diving in.

You suck in a sharp breath and moan at his action, while one of his hands finds your free nipple, not wanting it to go unattended.

“Din, that feels so good.” Your head lifts up and then drops with a small thud against the pillow taking in shallow and quick breaths as his fingers and tongue continued to tease your sensitive buds.

His mouth and hands were equally skilled, the latter, rolling your bud between his thumb and forefinger, as quick jolts of pain and pleasure rushed through every nerve in your body.

He stayed there for a long time, switching sides every now and then, mouth sucking and tongue lapping and brushing against your nipples.

He sucked and moaned around it every time his tongue stroked the tip of your nipple and your hands fumbled between grabbing the sheets below you or his soft hair, body arching up wanting more. More of him, more of that sensation, just more.

With your tunic still draped over your torso the one hand of Din’s that wasn’t supporting his weight travels down to your core, thick fingers brushing against your clit and soon after trailing a path up your dripping slit, moaning when his digits became wet.

“Did that make you wet, cyar’ika? You like it when I play with your nipples?” his husky voice sent waves of arousal up your body.

“Yes, Din, you’re so good at it, please.” You reach your hand down to palm at his erection “I need you, please.”

Gently he grabs your hand from his crotch and places it down next to your head. “Next time. We need to get going in a few if we don’t want to burn under the midday sun. But I can still make you feel good.”

You moaned at his willingness to prioritize your pleasure over his, going as far as denying himself of an orgasm at this crucial moment, which would have him frustrated until the next time you could be alone together again.

His lips return to your nipples and, at the same time, he slides two digits inside your aching cunt, the warmth and clenching around his skin making him whimper around your nipple, making the pleasure skyrocket on your part.

The outer rim of his free hand now rested against the mound that was free from his mouth’s hold, as his middle finger flicked up and down against the tip of your nipple, making you cry out in pleasure as it synched perfectly with his ministrations against and inside your core.

It was all too much, and tears pooled at the outer corners of your eyes, leaving an eventual wet trail behind as they ran down your cheeks, until being soaked by his shirt that rested around your eyes.

Your body convulsed under his frame, arching against him as a wave of white pleasure washing over you like never before, the joined ecstasy of his two places of stimulation pushing you with full force over the edge you were chasing.

Din rode your high until he felt you could no more, never for once slowing his movement in between your legs as your cum dripped down his fingers and into his palm, and making the most of your sensitive nipples by bringing both your breasts together with his large hand, positioning them in a way that both nipples were almost touching, allowing him to lick and suck at the two simultaneously.

Once your body is spent and limp, chest rising and falling trying to catch your breath and trying to drive some oxygen up to your brain as you felt like being high, Mando finally lifts his face up to your own and, for the first time lets his lips latch onto something other than your chest. The kiss is deep and wet, his tongue roaming your lips before exploring your mouth.

Din then sits back up on his knees, chuckling as your head followed his once your lips parted, not wanting to separate just yet.

His bare hand reaches to the side table where he’d laid the helmet and puts it back on, coming away from straddling you and rather returning to his side of the bed, pulling you in by your waist to his side and sliding the shirt up from around your eyes

He watches you smile, still in the aftereffects of your orgasm.

“Hey.” You muse up at him.

“Hey.” He answers, the helmet preventing you from seeing the lopsided smile that adorned his beautiful face.

“That was…”

“I know.” He completes your thought.

“Was it so bad, after all?” You close your eyes as the question leaves your lips, the exhaustion of this morning activity starting to wash over you.

“Not even close.”

As if on cue, the first ray of sunshine makes its way through the window glass and you know that it means you need to get dressed and out of this place. Din notices it as well, patting your side before slinging his legs over the edge of the bed and standing up.

“Come one, mesh’la. We need to go.”

“I know.” You groan up to the air. “But this is so comfortable.”

“The faster we get there, the faster we can go into the Razor and the closer we are to putting Grogu asleep.” He tells you, hands on his hips, a teasing tone on his voice and damn it, he got you good.

“I hate that you know me so well.” You huff with a smile, crawling up to his side of the bed so that you’re on your knees on top of the mattress, still, he towers over you.

“Can’t wait to know all of you.” He whispers as his helmet comes closer down your face and his hands travel to your waist. He then gives it a little squeeze before patting your ass. “Come on now, let’s go. I have a feeling someone is waiting to make grabby hands at us.”

“I was about to say you have a stationed ship waiting to take off, but I’m glad to see you have your priorities straight.” You muse over your shoulder, walking to the small bathroom adjacent to the bedroom.

As you go, Din stays behind adoring the view of your hips swaying and ass jiggling as you walk.

“Oh, you have no idea.”

He really couldn’t wait to know all of you.

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TAGLISTS

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@blondekel77​  @pedrobreakmyback

DIN DJARIN TAGLIST

@niall2017​

PEDRITO TAGLIST

@weirdowithnobeardo

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[13dead-ends]

Chapter Five Bandaids

Chapter Five of Blood Bound

Henry Cavill x Named OC

Summary: When a night out ends with a few scrapes, Henry takes care of Nina.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: drinking, crowded club, scrapes, blood, pushing, grabbing violently?, (please tell me if I missed something)

A/N: This came from wanting Henry to spoil me and pick out clothes for me. That’s the dream. As always thank you to @hellcaster901 if it wasn’t for her I wouldn’t have finished this!

Enjoy! :)

“Nina are you busy?” Henry asked. My phone was on speaker on the counter while I was jamming a knife into a pumpkin.

“Uh,” I grunted as I pushed the blade the rest of the way through. “I’m carving a pumpkin, actually. But what’s up?”

“Seriously? September’s not even over yet.”

“This is the first of many.” I loved Halloween. I couldn’t wait to decorate so I wanted to carve a jack o lantern.

“Many?” Henry chuckled.

“I’m just excited.” I carved a hole in the top, pulling the piece out by the stem. “But what did you need?”

“I was wondering if you were busy tonight?” I chewed on my lip. I was really about to throw my evening plans out the window for this man.

“Uh, yeah actually.” I looked for my pen to trace my face onto the pumpkin. “I’m going out with Abbey.” When I told her I liked going out to clubs she immediately planned a night to go.

“Aw, okay.” I pressed my lips together. “I was gonna see if you wanted to come over for a little while.” I sighed. Damn it. Of course the one night I’m actually busy he invites me to his house. I hadn’t been there yet, but he had come here quite a lot.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is there another time I could?” His schedule was erratic at best. On days when I expect to see him I don’t and days I expect not to see him, he shows up out of nowhere. It seemed like the littlest thing effected filming. He sighed.

“Maybe tomorrow night? If I’m not too tired. I was thinking of showing you some video games.” I had told him I liked one video game and he had insisted on showing me some of his own.

“Okay! Just let me know.” I gave up on the pen and picked up my phone. “I’m letting you know now that I won’t be any good.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” I laughed. “Where are you going tonight?”

“I have no idea. Abbey’s picking me up and I’m letting her pick the places.” I leaned on my elbows.

“Well, be safe, okay?” My heart skipped a beat.

“I will.”

“Call me if you need a ride?” I couldn’t help but smile.

“I don’t know if you’re ready for drunk Nina yet, but I’ll keep that in mind.” He chuckled.

“That’s a sight I’d like to see.” I laughed. “I’ll leave you to your pumpkin, have fun tonight.”

“Thanks Henry. I will.” I hung up and went back to carving. I just went with a classic face with pointy teeth and triangle eyes. I set it in my windowsill and smiled. I decided to get ready after that and soon enough I was fixing my hair in the mirror, abbey on the phone with me.

“Okay, I’m here!”

“Great! I’ll just come outside now.” I ran out, the crisp air hitting me as I made it outside. It was really feeling like fall now and next week it would be October. I loved it so much. I got in Abbeys Uber with her and grinned.

“Are you excited?” She grabbed my arm as the driver pulled away from my building.

“Yes! I haven’t been out since I was in LA.” She clapped.

“Yay! You’ll have to bring to the clubs you like in LA.” I nodded.

“You’ll have to meet my friend, Irene.” We spoke the whole way to the first bar. It was a cute pub, cozy and warm.

“Now, I just love this place for its food and it’s a good place to meet up before you really get wasted.” I laughed. “And you better be getting wasted with me. We’ll walk around this area for the most part, and just Uber home.” I thought of calling Henry, but it made my heart beat faster.

“Alright, wasted it is.” She linked our arms and took us to the bar. She ordered me a fruity drink and a shot. We did the shot together and I winced at the hard taste.

“Yes, I love a girl who can take a shot.” Abbey giggled. “James is gonna meet up with us here. Let’s find a table.” We moved through the pub until finding a table for us, with enough room for James.

“I heard Henry didn’t take any new donors.” Abbey wiggled her eyebrows

“Did you?” I couldn’t help the grin spreading on my face.

“Yeah, I was at the lab yesterday and over heard Lila say Henry didn’t take her.” She smiled. “She’s pissed, but will just have to get over it.”

“Didn’t Kari day something about losing two donors because of her though?” Abbey sighed.

“Yeah, but I think you’ll be fine. She barely knows either of you. Is she gonna stalk you or something?” I laughed.

“Fuck, she hated me the second she saw me with Henry. She doesn’t need much to set her off.” I took a big drink. “I hope she doesn’t stalk me.” Abbey rolled her eyes.

“Look if she tries anything let the office know. They’re itching for another reason to fire her.” I huffed.

“Maybe they should just fire her now.” Abbey nodded.

“They should what?” James suddenly sat next to me.

“Get rid of Lila.” James rolled his eyes.

“Yes please.” We chatted for a bit, and I got a nice buzz. Soon Abbey wanted to show me another bar and they dragged me down the street. By the third bar, I was really drunk. I stumbled as James pulled me off the dance floor.

“Where’s Abbey?” I yelled over the music as we reached the bar.

“She’s over here somewhere.” James and I searched the bar a found her at the end. She was already ordering drinks.

“What do you guys want?”

“Water.” I couldn’t drink anymore or I’d be sick. She nodded and we got our drinks.

“So I’m thinking we stay here until they close? And then go home.” James nodded smiling. I smiled too, but my feet hurt and I was too drunk already.

“Guys, I’m gonna go to bathroom okay?” I tried walking properly to the bathroom but the room was spinning a little. I made it into a stall okay and just leaned on the wall, it was too hard to stand on my own right now. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and saw a text from Henry. My drunk brain couldn’t process the words so my fingers hit the call button before I could tell them not too.

“Nina?”

“Henry, hi.” He actually picked up. I grinned into the speaker.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“I’m at some bar, with Abbey.” I accidentally let out a hiccup, and Henry laughed.

“How’s that?”

“Fun, really fun.” I sighed.

“But?”

“I’m tired and she wants to stay out.” I sounded whiny, and I would probably cringe at that later.

“Are you saying you need a ride?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Where am I going?” I heard shuffling on his end.

“Yay,” I mumbled. “I can’t remember the name of the bar but I’ll send you my location.” I stood up straight and lost my balance, hitting my head on the stall. “Ow.” I rubbed my head.

“What was that? Are you okay?”

“I just lost my balance. Let me go find Abbey and tell them you’re coming.”

“Nina, how drunk are you?” I giggled.

“I’m fine. I’m switching to water now. I’ll send my location. Call me when you’re here!”

“Nina, wait-“ I hung up and went out of this bathroom. I sent my location to Henry. Abbey and James weren’t at the bar anymore so I stood on my tip toes to look for them on the dance floor. It was definitely too crowded to see them so I filtered through the people, trying not to stumble as people pushed me around. I suddenly felt a grip on my wrist. I turned around, hoping it was Abbey, but was meet with a guy I didn’t know. I flinched back and tried pulling my arm away.

“Hey do you wanna dance?” He grinned at me, but I had no desire to dance with him.

“No, thanks.” I yelled back and tried walking away but he kept his hand on my arm.

“Oh come on, it’s just dancing.”

“I said no.” He pulled me to him and it was taller than me by a lot and bigger too. “Let me go,” I tried prying his hand off with my other one.

“Don’t be like –“ I was yanked away by hands on my shoulders. I gasped and turned around, his hands no longer on me. Abbey and James looked at me with the same scrunched brow.

“Are you okay?” Abbey looked at my arms. “He was grabbing you and I didn’t think you knew him.” I shook my head.

“I’m fine and no I didn’t know him.” I looked over my shoulder and he was gone. I sighed. “Thank you guys.”

“You’re welcome, Nina.” James rubbed my shoulder.

“Hey, I called someone,” I told them. “ I’m getting a ride home.”

“You don’t wanna stay?”

“My feet are killing me and I can’t drink anymore.” Plus that guy put me off the whole crowded club anyway.

“Okay,” Abbey brought me into a hug. “Thanks for coming. Text me when you get home.”

“Thank you for showing me around. I’ll text you. You both text me okay?” They both nodded and I pushed through the rest of the crowd to the door.

Henry hadn’t gotten there yet when I stepped outside. It was cool and the street lamps casted a warm glow on the street. I leaned on the wall and waited for him. It wasn’t long before I heard the door open again, the music getting louder and going quiet again as it shut. I looked up and saw that stupid guy from inside. I rolled my eyes, but my heart beat got faster. I reached for my phone to call Henry.

“Hey, you’re the girl from inside.” He stopped right in front of me.

“Yeah,” I swallowed.

“Why didn’t you want to dance?” He raised his eyebrow.

“I was leaving, obviously.” I gestured to the sidewalk.

“It was just one dance.” He stepped closer.

“I’m sure there’s a lot of girls in there who wants to dance with you.” I mumbled.

“But I wanted to dance with you.” He came closer.

“Well, my rides almost here, sorry.” I started to walk off, before he got closer, but he caught my wrist. “Just leave me alone.”

“Stop being a bitch.” He pulled me back, but his hand slipped and I lost my balance completely, falling on my hands and knees, my phone flying out of my hand so I could catch myself. My already fuzzy brain was spinning and so was the concrete beneath me. I barely noticed the car pulling up to the curb beside us. A car door slammed and I dropped my elbows, the spinning was too much.

“You better be gone by the time I help her.” I heard quick footsteps going in the opposite way. “Nina? Are you okay?” It was Henry, thank god.

“I’m dizzy.” I mumbled into my arms.

“Come on, love.” He hooked his arm through mine and lifted me to my feet, grabbing my phone at as he did. “Are you alright?” He turned my chin to look at my face.

“I think so,” I suddenly felt the palms of my hands sting, my knees feeling similar. “My hands,” I lifted them up and saw blood and gravel in them. They were scraped up from the sidewalk.

“What happened? Do I need to find that guy?” I shook my head.

“He tried grabbing me but his hand slipped and I fell.” Henry lead me to the car door, and my knees hurt worse as I walked.

“Why was he putting his hands on you?” He opened the door for me and helped me inside.

“He wanted to dance, but I said no.” I sighed leaning my head back on the seat. Henry even buckled my seat belt before shutting my door. He got in and took no time to get the car on the road.

“Fucking prick.” I nodded. “I’ll just take you to mine. I can clean you up there.” His hands gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles and his jaw clenched and unclenched.

“Thanks for coming to get me.” I leaned my head on the window.

“Of course, Nina.” He sighed. “I don’t like you stumbling around like that alone.”

“I was literally about to call you.” My palms were face up on my thighs, the gravel feeling like little pin pricks. “I just needed to get out of the club for fresh air.” Henry’s grip loosened and his shoulders relaxed.

“It’s okay, I just got worried.” My stomach erupted into butterflies, well more like bats. I smiled. “Did you have fun though?”

“Yes, it was so fun.”

“Are you tired?”

“Yeah, there was a lot of dancing.” He chuckled.

“I’m glad you had fun at least.” My eyes shut for just a second and then I opened them to find I was in Henry’s arms being carried to his house.

“Hey, there she is.” Henry smiled down at me and my heart skipped. I took a breath and patted his shoulder.

“Put me down,” I mumbled, I was too drunk to handle that right now. He set my feet down, but kept his hand on my waist. I leaned on him as he unlocked his door.

“You’ll get to sleep soon okay? I just wanna get bandages on you.” I just nodded and he opened the door. Waiting for us in the doorway was Kal. I smiled.

“Kal! Hi cutie pie.” I couldn’t pet him with my hands so I settled for a kiss on the head. He looked up at me with bright eyes. Henry laughed and patted his head.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Henry lead me to the bathroom, there was only a small kitchen light on so I couldn’t see a lot of the house. The one time I’m at his place and it’s dark.

“I gotta text Abbey and James.” I remembered as we got to the bathroom. He turned the light on and sat me on the toilet.

“Here’s your phone,” He handed me my now cracked phone. “I’m going get the first aid kit and some clothes.” I nodded and sent the Im home text to my friends, I slowly tapped the screen with one finger so I wouldnt have to flex my hand as much. The cuts weren’t very bad, they just hurt. Henry came back, setting a pair of his shorts and a t-shirt on the counter. I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “I hope you don’t mind my clothes.” I shook my head. “Get changed, I’ll be back in a minute.” He shut the door and I slowly changed. My knees felt tender as I stepped into the shorts that were too big for me. I pulled the draw string tight and tied it. Then pulled the shirt over my head.

“Can I come in?” I pushed my arms through the sleeves.

“Yeah,” I pulled my hair out of the collar as Henry stepped in. He paused for a second, then set the kit on the counter.

“Sit,” I sat back down and he wet a cloth with warm water. He kneeled in front of me and took my hand gently. He wiped away the blood and gravel from my hand. It stung, but after it was cleaned it looked a lot better than before. “Did you text your friends?”

“Yeah,” he moved to my other hand.

“Good.” I sucked in a breath as he hit a deeper scrape, making it begin to bleed again.

“Does it bother you?” I whispered. He looked up at me.

“No,” he looked back down at my hand. “Your vampire movies have a lot of inaccuracies.”

“I bet vampires made a lot of people embarrassed when they came out.” He chuckled.

“It’s always tempting, of course, but once you get the hang of it you have control. You don’t go crazy when you see a cheeseburger, do you?” He smoothed a square bandage over my entire palm. “Plus by the way your blood smells, if I drank now I’d be as drunk as you.” I busted out laughing.

“Seriously?” He moved onto my knees.

“Well, I think I can hold my liquor better than you, but I do get effected by the alcohol in your system.” I kept giggling.

“That’s crazy, but makes sense.” He cleaned my knees up and put bandages on them. “Thank you.” I smiled at him.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled back. “I’m just pleased with the fact that I know you’re a giggle drunk now.” I covered my mouth to hide more giggles and my face warmed up. “Come on, you need to go to bed.” He grabbed my hand, but not holding it too tightly. He lead me to his bedroom instead of the living room. Kal sat on the corner of the bed.

“Oh I don’t have to sleep in here. The couch –“

“No, I’m not tired. You get the bed.” He pushed me forward. I took a deep breath. I was already in his clothes, now he wants me to sleep in his bed.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, go to bed. I’ll be out here if you need anything.” He rubbed my back. “Goodnight, Nina.”

“Goodnight Henry.” He shut the door as he left and I got into the gray sheets. He had a huge comforter as well. I pulled everything up to my chin and my eyes stayed open. Everything smelled like him and it was overwhelming. An image of Henry climbing into bed with me flooded my brain. I shut my eyes, all the possibilities… I shook my head. God don’t be creepy, you’re in his house. But if he just came into cuddle, that would be nice.

Unfortunately drunk Nina’s fantasy didn’t come true. I woke up to the moon shining on my pillow and the space next to me empty. I let out a big sigh, feeling an ache in my head settle in. My hands and knees had a dull throb as well. I rolled onto my side and jumped back when I saw Kal wagging his tail next to me. He licked my face and I scratched his ears. “Hi buddy.” I saw my phone on the bedside table and checked it. I had only been asleep for a few hours. I looked back at Kal and he looked at me with bright eyes. He walked out eventually and I rolled back onto my back. I felt goosebumps raise on my skin as I realized how cold it felt in here. I pulled the blankets up, but didn’t feel any warmer. I huffed and sat up. I heard sounds of fighting and swords coming from the open door. I wrapped the blanket around me and got up, following the sounds. Henry was playing a video game in the living room. It looked like some sort of fantasy game. I sat down next to him and he looked over at me.

“Can’t sleep?” I shook my head.

“I don’t know why I can’t. Especially since I think I’m still a little buzzed.” He paused his game, chuckling.

“How are your scrapes?” I pulled one hand out of my blanket and looked at it.

“Good I think. Still hurts a little.” He took my hand in his and looked over his handiwork. He brushed his fingers over the bandage and then just barely over my bare fingers. His skin tickled mine. “Thanks for patching me up.” I met his eyes, hoping he knew how much I meant it.

“Of course.” He smiled, tucking my hand back in my blanket and pulling it tighter around me.

“What are you playing?” He told me the premise of the game and what he was trying to do, then started playing again. I was interested in the game, but I just liked watching Henry play it.

I don’t remember falling asleep, but I woke up still on the couch, this time my cheek was smashed against Henry. I lifted my head up, eyes wide. We were both stretched out, but I was on top of him, his arms looped over my back; the blanket over both of us now. He was breathing deeply, eyes shut. He was asleep. I had my head on his chest and one hand too. My other hand was hanging off the couch completely. I couldn’t help but relax. He was very comfy. I shut my eyes, enjoying the cuddle. Then I heard Henry take a big breath. His arms tightened around me for a second, then he moved one to his hair. I looked up at him.

“Nina, you’re awake.” Seeing his eyes so close made me panic and I pushed myself up off him.

“Yeah, uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep like that.” He cleared his throat, helping me get our legs apart.

“It’s - it’s fine.” He chuckled nervously. I sighed when I was sitting up right. Sun light peaked through the window in front of us. “Good morning.” I held my warm cheeks.

“Good morning, Henry.” I rubbed my eyes. There was a headache creeping up on me now that I wasn’t sleeping with Henry.

“How are you feeling?” He looked over my face.

“Like I’m about to get a headache.” I muttered.

“I guess the buzz is gone, then?” I nodded. “How about I make some breakfast?”

“Yes please.” I grinned up at him as he stood.

“Alright, I’ll be in the kitchen.” I leaned on my elbows, rubbing my face. He was killing me, I swear. I got up and went to the bedroom to find my phone. I went back out to the kitchen to see Henry heating up a pan. I saw a kettle on his stove as well.

“Where’s your tea?” I asked. He turned and pointed to a cabinet.

“Mugs are in the one next to it.” He added. I pulled out two and put bags in. “Did you sleep okay?” I filled the kettle and set it on the stove. I turned it on and sat on the counter next to it, swinging my legs.

“Yeah, I think so.” He looked over at me, smirk on his face. “You might wanna work on your pecks though, they’re feeling a little soft.” He scoffed, pausing his hands.

“Hush, at least I wasn’t snoring all night.” My jaw dropped.

“I wasn’t, was I?” He nodded laughing at me. I smacked his shoulder.

“It’s fine, a lot of people snore.” He continued cooking putting some sausage on the pan, it sizzling instantly.

“No filming today?” I stared at my left knee, a bruise already forming at the edges of the bandage.

“Nope, I get a real weekend for once.” I smiled.

“Good, I’m glad you do.” I hopped down as the kettle started to steam, the whistle hurting my head. “Damn,” I mumbled, pulling it off the stove. I poured our tea and we added in our milk and sugar together, our elbows brushing. I sat down at the table and watched Henry cook. We talked a little bit but it was a quiet morning. I was too tired to do much else.

“Do you have any plans today?” Henry asked me as he set a full plate of food in front of me.

“Not really. I was pretty much planning on being hungover so I didn’t make any plans.”

“Do you want to come run some errands with me?” I smiled at him.

“Sure, I probably need to go home to get clothes, though.” I was still in his t-shirt. The collar was lopsided so my collar bone was showing, his shorts had been falling down all morning.

“That’s fine. We’ll stop on the way.” We finished eating and I sadly changed back into my clothes from last night. He drove us to my place, and I had to quickly get ready. I got dressed in my room while Henry waited outside. I looked in the mirror and my hair was a mess and I did look a little hungover. I huffed, I looked like this all morning? I adjusted the flannel I put on and threw my hair up. I went to my bathroom and washed my face quickly and that helped a little.

“You ready, dear?” My knees wobbled at the nickname. I leaned on the counter.

“Almost.” I checked my face one more time in the mirror and walked out. Henry stood in my living room looking at my pumpkin still in the windowsill.

“I like it.” He tapped the pumpkin.

“Thanks!” I grinned. “Shall we?” He nodded and we walked back out to his car. “Where are we going?”

“I just need to get a few things at some shops.” I nodded. Maybe I could look for a few things, I hadn’t been shopping in a while. I wasn’t paying attention to where we were going, Henry’s hand had made its way in my knee during the ride and I didn’t want to miss a second of that. As we stopped I looked out the window. It was large street, shops and stores up and down it. He turned the engine off and we got out. I stepped onto the side walk next to him.

“Where are we going?” I asked as we began walking.

“I need some new shoes, and I ordered some parts for my PC.” He explained where some of the stores were. “But I figured you’d want to do some shopping as well.”

“Sure!” I let him lead me down the sidewalk, our arm brushing every now and then.

It wasn’t long before I slowed in front of a shop, seeing a cute pair of boots in the window. “Go on inside, I need in thing in the shop over. I’ll meet you in there.” He nudged me to the door and walked off. I shrugged and went in, a bell jingling overhead. I wanted to find the shoes, but got distracted by some sweaters and then jeans. Let’s just say it took me longer to get to the shoes than normal. When Henry came back I was slipping a pair in my size on. He had a small bag from wherever he went.

“I like those.” He smiled at me. I stood from the bench, the boots had a bit of height and I didn’t have to tilt my head back as far to look at Henry as I stood in front of him.

“Me too.” I rocked in them and then took a few steps along the shelf. I saw myself in a mirror and they looked good. “I’m gonna get them.” I grinned. I sat back down and slipped them off.

“I’ll get them.” Henry placed them back in the box for me. I put my shoes back on.

“Oh you don’t have to.”

“I said I wanted to buy you things.” He looked at me as he shut the box.

“But you paid me, so technically I’m buying them with your money.” It was sweet, but I always felt weird about taking other peoples money. He shook his head.

“You did sign a contract.” His eyebrow raised and he took the box to the registers. “Was there anything else you wanted?” I shook my head and followed him. He paid, the mention of the contract made me feel less weird, but it still was. He really wanted me to shop around, though. He took me inside a clothes shop and I ended up getting a fitting room try things on. I picked a few things out and tried them on inside the stall.

I wore a pair of jeans and a cute sweater, just a little too big. I wanted a different size in the jeans though, I opened the door and peaked out to see if I could ask that employee to grab me another pair, but instead I saw a few tops and a dress hanging on the hook by my door. I furrowed my brow, I didn’t put those there. The dress was cute though. I turned it around to see more of it. The girl in the uniform came around and I called her over.

“Did you put these here?” I asked, forgetting about the jeans.

“No, your friend did.” I looked over her shoulder to see Henry leaning against the wall outside the fitting rooms, back to me.

“Oh thank you.” She took some things I didn’t want for me and I replaced them with what Henry choose. Somehow the dress fit perfectly. It hung off my hips at just the right angle and showed off just enough cleavage. I blushed at myself in the mirror. He picked this for me. I grinned. I slowly stepped out and cleared my throat. He turned around and smiled. Eyes dragging up my body.

“I knew you’d look good in that.” He smirked. “Do you like it?”

“I do.” I turned around once. “Nice choice.” I winked at him and stepped back inside. I tried a few more things on, showing him everything after the dress. He got me the dress, and pretty much anything I showed interest in. I couldn’t handle much more than that but we looked around a bit more, he got his things. Then he took me back home. Giving me a kiss on the cheek before he left.

—————

Tag list:

@xxxkatxo @omgkatinka @thatgirly81

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[babybluebex]

twelve (four!ben hardy) pt. 4

last part agh!! enjoy it! i might have a rogah taylah thing out later this week, so be on the lookout. 

song: legend by the score 

tags: @lapofthemusicgods​ @acceptingtheunacceptable​ @discodeakyhasmyheart​ @etoilesforever​ @iamscarlette22​ @mazellos​ (feel free to message me if you want to be put on a permanent tag list for all of my ben fics)

His words echoed in my ear. He loved me. Billy loved me. I kept hearing it on the plane back to California, with Billy curled up asleep next to me. It was hard for me to respond to that, even though I had in the moment, but what I had given him was far from the extent of my feelings. “I love you too,” I whispered, and I squeezed him tightly. That wasn’t close to what I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him that he showed up in my dreams at night, that he was my first thought in the mornings, that I valued the words that came out of his star-carved mouth. Billy was a dream, and, even though our time together has been short so far, I couldn’t wait to annoy him for missions to come. 

The plane touched down at our little base camp, and I roused Billy from his sleep. He had his hoodie on with the hood over his hair, his cheeks flushed with sleep and his eyes hooded with dreams. “Woah,” I said softly.

“Woah what?” Billy asked groggily, and I bit the inside of my cheek.

“Woah, morning breath,” I said quickly, and Billy smiled. He grabbed my wrist and tugged me back to him, and he leaned up from his seat to kiss me where I stood. I made sure that it was quick, because Blaine would give us all sorts of hell if he caught us snogging. 

Billy had his arm thrown around me as we walked to the main trailer, and I giggled lightly when his fingers ghosted my side. “No,” I told him. “No tickling, please.”

“Aw, why not?” Billy asked with a fake pout, and I pushed him away when he tried to kiss my cheek.

“Ew, go away,” I said with a grin, but Billy persisted and pulled me close. My strength was no match for his, and he easily kept me close to his body and attacked my face with gentle kisses. I never would have expected Billy to be this cute and silly when I initially met him, but people tend to have a habit of surprising you. 

Finally, I turned my face to him and allowed him to rightly kiss me, and I dropped my bags in favor of tugging Billy in my his belt loops. One hand resided on my waist, his fingers wiggling under my shirt to touch my stomach, and his other large hand came up and cradled my cheek as he kissed me. His body was warm and solid against mine, and, when the kiss broke, he kept himself close enough to touch me. “Billy,” I started softly, and I drew in a deep breath. “I--”

“Ooh, I won, y’all!” Blaine’s voice carried from the trailer, and Billy looked over to it. 

“Won what?” Billy asked.

“Camille and Javi had a bet on how long it would take y’all to hook up,” Blaine said. “And I got in on it. I just got me some cash!”

“We’re not hooking up,” I sighed. “Just… It’s different.” I looked back at Billy to see a crooked smile on his lips, and he kissed my head. I looked down at my hands, resting on his hips, and I noticed that the ring was still on my finger. I had never taken it off. 

“I wanna ask you something,” Billy said quickly. 

“Anything, love,” I said. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Billy said softly. “But… I want to leave. I know you do too. I want a life, a real one. Being a ghost is nice, but... “

“You miss the real world,” I supplied. “I understand.” I chewed my lip as I thought, and I said, “How about this? We finish this mission, then we all split off until One calls us again. We’ll have all the time in the world for the two of us. Just hang on until this is all done?”

“That sounds killer, babe,” Billy said, his green eyes alight, and he pulled me back to him and kissed me. 

Blaine pulled me and Billy into the “situation room”, and he told us that he had traced how the terrorists had known my name. “They got into our files,” Blaine said. “They know all of our names and why we’re here.”

“Oh, shit,” I said. “So, the mission is off?”

“No,” Blaine began. “They know who we are, but not what we’re doing. They expected us to freak out about them knowing your name, but they don’t know that we know. We’re one step ahead.”

“That’s pretty damn perfect,” I chuckled. “So, we all stay here while everyone else is off kicking arse?”

“Well, we still need a driver,” Blaine said. 

“And a thief?” Billy asked. 

Blaine shrugged. “I’m sure we can figure something out for you, man,” he said, and Billy smiled.

-

The mission went off without a hitch, and Billy and I set up in England, renting ourselves a small flat in London. It was an absolute shithole, not even offering air conditioning, but neither of us cared. The money that One gave each of us for helping with the mission sustained us. Just because we didn’t have to work, though, doesn’t mean we didn’t. I got a job as a nanny, something easy that I knew I would be good at, and I constantly watched a small girl named Adrianna. She was gorgeous, and she often accompanied me to see Billy at his job. 

I was surprised when Billy told me that he had gotten himself a job. I was less surprised when I learned that it was as an instructor at a gym, because that seemed right up his alley. Adrianna loved Billy more than she loved me, I think, and it melted my heart to see Billy play with her. He had let himself go since leaving the ghosts; he smiled more, cracked cheeky jokes more often. He was generally a happier person. I loved to see it, and he told me the same.

It was a cold December night, and I was sat on the living room floor. I had a carton of Chinese take away in my hands, eating as I watched Billy fiddle with the piece of shit telly we had, and he cheered when we finally received a static-filled feed. “Fucking finally,” I chuckled, and Billy sat down next to me. 

“Watch this,” he said and picked up the remote, and he flicked the channel to the nightly newscast. “I honestly didn’t expect that to work.”

“You’re amazing,” I said softly. 

“‘Cause I got the telly to work?” He asked. 

“No,” I laughed. “Just because you’re you. I love you, even if you are from Dorset.” 

“Back at you, love,” Billy said. Then, he clicked his tongue and mumbled, “Can’t believe I fell in love with someone from Liverpool.”

“Oi, Liverpool is amazing,” I said, gently elbowing him in the side. “What’s Dorset got to offer?”

Billy shrugged. Without a word, he took the food from my hand and set it on the coffee table, and he pulled me into his lap. His hands rested on my thighs, and he looked at me like I had placed the moon in the sky just for him. “Your hair’s getting long,” I mumbled, running my fingertips through the bit of undercut that was starting to grow out. 

“I’ll get it cut,” Billy said, placing a chaste kiss on my lips. 

“No, no, don’t do that,” I said softly. “I love it.” I took his hand and kissed the tattoo on his knuckle, and Billy smiled. 

“How the fuck did I end up with you?” he whispered. “I’m just not… I don’t deserve it.”

“Yes, you do, idiot,” I said. “Look, I’m here, I live with you. There’s no getting rid of me. Deal with it.”

Billy instantly tugged me down into a kiss, and I smiled. His smile grew, and our teeth bumped together, but it only made us laugh harder and kiss harder. That was what life was about, I guess. Laughing hard, kissing hard, loving hard, working hard. Life was hard and full of disappointment but, when you finally found the thing that made your whole life click together, life could be beautiful. I thought my life before being a ghost was a beautiful life, but I realized that I didn’t know shit about beauty. Beauty was eating take out in your apartment with your lover. It was feeling the adrenaline as you raced down Parisian streets. It was having a whole new family that would die for you at any moment. It was this. 

Our kiss broke when the phone began to ring, and I reached to answer it. Billy’s hand swept up my shirt and tickled my side, and I giggled as I answered the phone. “Hello?” I laughed. 

“Get it together, Twelve,” One’s voice came. “You two are on.”

“Twelve?” I asked.

“Four and Eight added together, get with it,” One said. “Meet us in Dubai. We’ll talk there.” He ended the call, and I tossed the phone aside. 

“Well, Four,” I said. “How does Dubai sound?” 

“Dubai sounds splendid,” Billy told me, and he kissed me. “Let’s go.”

[asrasotherbottom]

“Hands” MurielxFat!GN!MC

Summary: Muriel and a fat, gender neutral MC spend a lazy afternoon in ropes. He feels comfortable enough to tie them up, they feel comfortable enough with each other to be vulnerable. (MC has external genitalia)

(I really went gratuitous on the experience of fat bodies so like, lets go) @bazzpop

Warnings: ~Lemon~, Bad fat body feels, Bondage, Oral sex

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a lazy, cool afternoon in the forest.  Muriel had finished everything he had to do that day fairly early and was whittling away in the corner. He was making a gift for the person that he loved the most; a person that happened to be sitting in the same hut, just a few feet away. They were sitting on the edge of the bed and gently brushing Inanna’s fur, much to her delight. The world around them was loud, alive with the sounds of every creature in the forest, but inside the hut, it was quiet, peaceful. Muriel looked over at them and felt his heart swell. Despite everything in his life, finally being with them felt like home. 

They glanced at him, a smile spreading across their face. “Hmm?” Muriel’s face turned a light shade of pink. Inanna announced she was through being brushed with a whuff, and went to lay down on a fur on the other side of the hut. They turned fully towards him, and asked again. “Hmmmmm?” The vibration tickled their lips, and they stretched out lazily on the bed. 

“Did you, if you want, want to do something? We….don’t have anything to do this afternoon.” Their head perked up in interest. By the way that Muriel’s voice trailed off and the steady blush on his face, they knew exactly what he meant. 

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He started to backpedal. They gave him a wide smile to reassure him. It had taken him a long time to feel comfortable asking for any form of intimacy when he wanted it; he’s often still uncertain when he does. They were still beaming with delight, though, that he asked. If they were honest with themself, the way they felt about Muriel being able to open up to them like that was almost as good as the sex itself. Almost. 

They got up from the bed and sat down next to where he was whittling. Resting their head on his arm, they studied what he was carving. 

“It’s a mouse.” His eyes fluttered shut, as if he was still embarrassed to finish his thought. “......I know they’re your favorite.” 

“You’re my favorite.” They planted a gentle kiss on his arm and watched his face flush more. “I love it. Thank you.” He relaxed a little and put it up on the shelf with his many other carvings and carefully replaced the knife in its sheath and placed it next to the bed. 

  “What do you want to do today?” The question seemed to catch him off guard, seemingly as if he forgot he was the one who brought it up. 

“I don’t know. Whatever you want to do. I’m not good at…...this.” The words came out all in one very nervous breath. They reached out and held his hand; their hand could fit entirely in his palm, but it didn’t stop them from trying. 

“Let’s figure out something we both want to do. I’d never make you do something just because I want it.” Muriel pondered the statement for a moment and nodded his head. He knew they were right. 

“So do you have….suggestions.” Muriel was frowning slightly at the thought of having to come up with ideas, but his eyes were full of curiosity and one eyebrow was raised. 

“We could keep it simple, maybe get under some furs and be together, do whatever feels best.” He pondered the suggestion for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. It wasn’t a bad suggestion. They looked down at their hands together, and had another thought. 

“If you’re in a creative mood,” They gesture their head towards the shelf of animal carvings, “we could break out the rope again.” Muriel’s eyes were bright, staring at them with a mix of intense curiosity and nerves. For a brief moment, he considered it, before slumping down in his chair slightly. 

“What’s wrong?” Muriel lets go of them and stares at his hands. 

“What if I hurt you this time? I...I don’t always know my own strength.” The way his voice caught in his throat made their heart ache. 

“You didn’t hurt me last time. And if anything is too tight, I always tell you. But, we don’t have to do rope things if you don’t want to.” He relaxed at their words; he was given a choice that he could make. He could say no and they wouldn’t be upset. He trusted them. His moments of doubt were getting shorter and less intense. Their love for each other wore away at his reservations a little every day since they first met. Muriel took a deep breath. “No...I want to.”

He looked down at his hands again, and didn’t see blood on them. He saw the way that they caressed his partner’s cheek in the forest, the way they moved through Inanna’s fur, and the way they twisted flower crowns with Asra. He saw the way they knotted rope around his lover’s limbs. He remembered the way that his partner put their total trust in him, and how gentle he was. He remembered that they trust him, and that he trusts them, wholly, completely. 

“I trust you.” The words that came out of his mouth seemed to surprise him. They stood up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I trust you too, Muriel.” The tension eased after that, with Muriel happily looking forward to what was to come. 

Muriel was good at rigging, his hands were adept at small knots and creating intricate patterns. It was always an exercise in trust, and one that helped him, a little at a time. He had finally trusted himself to not hurt them and to trust that they’d say something if he did. It did not escape his partner the emotional weight of the fact that he felt comfortable in his own abilities, and in their relationship, to try something like this.

He looked at them now, as they started to undress. The first time they were intimate with each other was a flurry of apologies for their own bodies. They stared at their feet while he apologized for his height and his scars and his inexperience. He stared at his feet while they apologized for their weight and their rolls and their thighs. It ended in a crying embrace until they both fell asleep. He woke up in the morning with his head on their stomach and their hands in his hair. It’d gotten better since then, they talked and touched and reassured each other. He looked at them with something close to wonder in his eyes that they could ever have disliked themself. He was mesmerized and more eager than ever to pull them into his lap and wrap his arms around them. 

As they walked by, he did just that, and they let out a small surprised snort. He buried his face in their neck and wrapped his arms around them, letting his hands sink into their stomach. Their hips covered his whole lap in a soft warmth that he adored. They proudly held up a bundle of green hemp rope. Asra had gotten it for them in his travels. Muriel very nearly passed out at the thought of asking him, but his partner had whispered to the request to him after Muriel was back in the hut. 

“Are you ready?” He asked. 

“Very nearly. But you’re not!” They jumped off his lap and spun around. 

“What?” Muriel’s eyes widened in concern, but his partner smiled. 

“You’re still dressed!” Muriel turned a deep shade of pink as he started to disrobe. The light danced in their eyes as they watched each buckle open and his furs fall to the floor

“..........” He seemed like he was going to say something, but he just looked at them and let a small smile fall across his lips. 

His partner kneeled on the bed and folded their arms behind their back, waiting. Muriel started to carefully wrap the rope around their arms and chest. He stopped ever so often to ask if they were okay before continuing. He watched his hands weaving rope so gently around his lover’s body, hardly believing those hands belonged to him. Muriel stopped to run his hands over their skin, feeling the little bulges and rolls from where the ropes were tied and the ones that were always there on their back and sides. He loved how soft they were. Muriel was pulled from his thoughts by a stifled snort. 

“That tickles!” They laughed lightly. 

“Oh! Sorry.” 

“That’s okay. Want to do my legs next?” He nodded solemnly, but the gentle smile never left his face. 

They laid back on the bed as Muriel bound their calves to their thighs. There had been some trial and error to figure out how to best bind fat legs, but Muriel was more than happy to experiment. They used to sit by the fire while Muriel practiced knots on their leg instead of whittling pieces of wood. It was fun; Muriel was relaxed and at home and doing something he never thought he would do in his life, but he enjoyed it. It was intimate in a way that he had never experienced before. They reminisce in their head about all the time they spent experimenting while Muriel was carefully working on the ropes on their leg. 

“Is it okay?”

“Mmmm. It’s perfect.” They gave the ropes a test wiggle, and everything stayed put. “You’re so good at this, Muriel.” He turned beet red at the compliment. Muriel helped them onto their knees, and kneeled down on the bed with them. He towered over them, so they gave his chest a few playful kisses while trying to keep their balance. They looked up at him with big, hopeful eyes. 

“Kiss me?” Muriel obliged and put his hand on the back of their neck and bent down to kiss them. He lingered in the kiss, relishing the feel of their lips against his. He kissed them again, putting both arms around their waist and pulling them close to him. His hands sunk into their sides and he could feel their stomach press up against his. They sat back on their feet and their eyes beckoned him closer. He helped them lay back and kneeled next to them. 

“Maybe you could… tell me what you want me to do?” Muriel muttered in a low voice. Even more quietly, he said, “I…..want to make you feel good.” 

They gave him a soft smile and threw their head back. “Kiss me, all of me. Anywhere and everywhere you’d like.” Muriel turned a softer shade of pink and bent down to kiss them squarely on the lips. He trailed kisses down their neck, gently balancing himself with a hand on their stomach. His lips lingered at the base of their throat, feeling their rising pulse. Muriel kept kissing down their body, eliciting a small gasp from their partner when his lips brushed their nipples. His lips were warm and soft and they could feel his hot breath on their chest. He kissed everywhere he could, everywhere that they thought would never be kissed so lovingly and tenderly. His lips sunk into their stomach as he pressed his whole face into them for reach kiss. 

He enjoyed being told what to do to them, so he knew that he’s doing exactly what they want in the way that they want. It was never a demand, or an order, but gentle suggestions to help put him at ease. His confidence in his own actions was growing, but there was a comfort, and a certain eroticism,  to having them describe to him exactly how they’d like to be touched while they’re bound up. 

He kissed their stomach again and again and pushed his face under it to kiss the ticklish line where it folded over, making them wiggle. He ran his hands over the outside of their thighs, feeling his own handiwork before bending over to kiss their legs too. He kissed the inside of their thighs and remembered the time they were crying on this very bed, convinced he would hate the way they were darkened on the inside from rubbing together. He kissed them harder now. He noticed that he could feel how hard they were as their cock brushed his face. He trailed his kisses to their knee before pausing to admire his own ropework. 

“I want you to use your mouth, please, and make me cum.” Their voice was calm, but bristling with anticipation. 

With a low grunt he readjusted himself, and placed his hands on the outside of their thighs. He pressed his mouth to the tip of their cock and they shivered at the feeling of his warm breath. Slowly, gently, he slid his mouth over it and took them into his mouth as far as he could. They let out a gasp and arched their back at the feel of his mouth on their cock. Muriel’s mouth was as masterful and deft as his hands. They felt every intricate movement of his tongue and lips, each one eliciting a moan. When he pulled his mouth back they wanted nothing more than to run their hands through his hair and guide his mouth back onto them, but the best they could manage was to arch their back up at him and ask, “Please?” 

Muriel’s mouth curled into a smile as he obliged, once more sliding his mouth onto them and grabbing their thighs until his face was surrounded by their soft warmth. Before long they were both gasping and moaning in pleasure. Muriel was entirely focused on their partner’s pleasure and they were able to think of nothing but the feeling of his mouth on their cock. 

“Muriel…” Their voice was breathless. He paused and tilted his head up so he could see their face over their stomach. “Please, fuck, I’m so close, I’m so close.” They shut their eyes and arched their hips into him as he continued to blow them. They could feel his warm mouth on their length and they finally couldn’t wait any longer. With a loud moan, they cried out his name and came. They strained against their ropes and clawed at the sheets behind their back.  

Wiping his mouth, he sat up and smiled at them. “Let me return the favor?” They mustered up the most innocent voice they could. Muriel nodded as a pink blush crept up his cheeks. 

“A little help?” They wiggled futilly, trying to sit up. Muriel pulled them up to their knees, and reclined himself where they were, stealing a kiss from them as he did so. They noticed that he  looked so beautiful in the fading afternoon light. To see him laid out, naked, in front of them brought up so many emotions. They could hardly believe that he trusted them so much that he could be completely vulnerable in front of them. He’d come so far from when they first met.  The thought nearly brought tears of love to their eyes, but they quickly noticed that he was not only completely naked, but completely hard as well, and all other thoughts ran from their mind. 

He opened his legs and helped ease them down to a position where they could reach his cock, but still lift their head if they needed to. The skin on his hands was rough, but his touch was so gentle. He laid back with one hand behind his head, and the other resting on his stomach. He absentmindedly ran his thumb over one of his many scars with a somber look on his face, before focusing his attention back to his partner. 

“Are you okay?” They asked. 

“Yeah...I’m o-,” He paused, reconsidering, “good.” Muriel smiled at them gently. He reached down to play with their hair and turned a bright shade of red. “Said something about returning the favor?” They flashed him a wide smile and bent down to do just that. He kept playing with their hair as they started to pleasure him; his low moans reverberated through his whole body. They paused every so often to look up at him, and admire everything about the moment. They took in how he bit his lip and shut his eyes tight in pleasure, the rise and fall of his chest, and the way his muscles moved as he arched his back. He was letting himself be vulnerable in every sense of the word, and that gave his partner a sense of content in their very soul. 

They continued until, with a gasp, he finished. He flushed pink when they met his eyes next. “Th-thanks.” 

“It was my pleasure, Muriel. As always.” They gave him a reassuring smile and laid as close to on their side as they could manage. He laid there and caught his breath for a moment, before moving to get up. 

“I can get those for you.” He gestured to the ropes.

“Good, because I’m dying to wrap my arms around you now.” He made a small noise of surprise before smiling softly. 

“Me too.” It was their turn to turn pink. His hands moved swiftly to unravel the knots he had made earlier. Before long all the ropes were off and he was winding them back into a bundle for next time. They got up and stretched for a minute, his gaze sweeping over their body, before climbing back into the bed with him. They wrapped their arms around his waist and kisses his shoulder blades. They no longer noticed the way the scar tissue felt different under their lips, it was all his body and they could only feel his warmth. Their lips lingered on his skin; they closed their eyes and thought about all the times they were sure this could never happen. He started to turn towards them, and wrapped his arms around them too; they opened their eyes and were filled with joy for the fact that it had. They put a hand on his neck, caressing his cheek with their thumb. His cheeks were warm and soft, covered with the slightest amount of stubble. He wedged one of his legs in between theirs and tangled their legs together, his smooth firm muscles contrasting sharply with their soft fat thighs. Muriel smiled as he ran his fingers over faded stretch marks on their body. 

“What?” They blushed and kissed the corner of his mouth. 

“You’re...real. Here, with….me.” The words came out barely above a whisper, as if after everything, he was still surprised that they hadn’t left. 

“I am. I’m here, I’m real, and I love you.” Their words flowed like water over his soul, soothing the doubts and fears that dared to still show themselves. His eyes fluttered closed. His hands were soft, pulling their body close to his, until there was no space between them. 

“I love you too.” There was no doubt or trepidation in his voice. Together, they shared gentle kisses and gentle touches until the last light of the afternoon faded to dusk. Muriel was happy, and in love, and his hands would only ever know soft touches on soft bodies with soft hearts from now on.

[winterscaptain]

wish me one more day to stay.

It's spring in the Big Valley. The Marstons visit an old friend. Contains spoilers for RDR2. 

originally posted on ao3 here

AO3 | Masterlist | Requests Open!

The mountaintop was cold that day, the wind freezing and curling around John’s neck, and weaving up his coat sleeve as he held Abigail close to his chest. The noon sun was high in the sky, reflecting off the snow that clung stubbornly to the rocks around them. 

It was Arthur’s birthday, and the turn of the new century.

“I think we should do this every year,” Abigail said, her words lost quickly to the wind. Her thick hooded shawl fought off the wind, but she was thankful nevertheless for the weight she had put on since moving onto the ranch. Good insulation, John called it.

“Me too. Important to remember.” John wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Next time we should bring Jack.”

Abigail nodded and tapped his arm before she released herself from his hold. She walked carefully toward the marker, her cold-weather skirt and boots shuffling on the rocks. Kneeling, she took her gloves off and touched the earth were Arthur lay. Grass was poking stubbornly through the cracks in the rocks. The grey sky pressed in on her, this rocky outcrop perilous on the best of days, but felt more dangerous in the cold. 

She looked out. The Big Valley stretched before her for miles. She could see the ocean, barely, above the horizon. Sunlight broke through the clouds about a mile out, and the greys and blues gave way to warm ochre and green over the valley, where spring was creeping in, persistent against the snow melt.

When John mentioned returning to the place Arthur held the line and let him go, Abigail’s heart leapt into her throat. What if they were waiting for him? It was irrational, but her fear was overwhelming. Beyond Pinkertons, Dutch scared her more than anything.

“I have to go back for him, Abby darlin’. He’s my brother.” John stared at the ceiling.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” She laced her fingers in his, squeezing twice.

“I have to.”

She went with him after he finished, marveling at the simplicity of the place. The rocks jutted out into the air from the side of the mountain, a natural place for Arthur to rest. The mountainside was secluded, accessible by a path from both sides. Grass grew there in the late summer.

Abigail had carved the marker herself, with one of the beatitudes haloing his name. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. She’d always been interested in woodwork, but she was immensely proud of this piece.

ARTHUR MORGAN, it read, surrounded by carefully painted flowers. She and Jack had crushed berries and sieved oil to make the paint, and Abby was happy she was able to involve her son in something so precious. The snowstorms of the past month had barely weathered the carving, but she suspected she would have to build another before the next rainy season. Maybe out of stone this time. Something more permanent. Stable.

The wind bit at her cheeks and nose as she thought of the gift Arthur had given her. Practically everything important to her – the things she couldn’t replace – was kept safe or rescued by Arthur at one point or another. Memories poured over her, and she hung her head, her eyes trained on the dirt between her fingers.

He rescued Jack from the Braithwaites…I could never repay him. She could easily recall her panic when she couldn’t find her boy. She remembered the burning that consumed her body as she searched camp, the way his hand felt securing her arm and soothing her ragged breath.

John held her tight, his black-and-white striped prison uniform coarse against her cheek. She clung to him and wept, certain before this moment that he was ripped from her forever.

Arthur saved John – again and again. She knew much of the time he’d only bent to her because he loved her so much. Sure, he loved John as his own blood, but since John’s year away they’d been feuding more often than not.

“You know you deserve more than that fool Marston.” Arthur watched her from his place by the fire as she finally managed to snag Jack’s chubby little arm. John had gone into town the night prior, but he was nowhere to be found now. Arthur noticed Abigail’s eyes, like a periscope, tracking the entrance to camp as people came and left. John’s year-long absence left her jumpy on long outings, even a year later

Abigail exhaled sharply through her nose, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear, struggling with her slippery son. Her bun was falling apart. Jack was just starting to walk, and half her time was spent chasing him around camp, keeping him out of Pearson’s way and out of reach of the ammo wagon attached to Arthur’s tent. “I know it. But I’ll be damned if I don’t love him to death.” She hauled Jack into her arms as he wiggled and laughed, reaching for Arthur. “It is a cross I must bear, so it seems.”

" I’d’ve married you myself and spared you from this nonsense, but I suppose shacking up with Marston isn’t the worst thing you could do.” He looked up at her and smiled.

She pressed her lips together tightly before she realized he was joking. She sighed, resigned. “I know it.”

Arthur stood and reached for Jack. “Go grab something to eat and take a few minutes to rest. I can entertain the boy for a little while.”

Abigail shifted her hold, her arms tightening around Jack. “Are you sure?”

“Sure,” Arthur replied. He saw her tight grip on Jack, and her eyes jumped around, landing on Bill and Javier before returning to Arthur, wide and shaky. “I’ll keep an eye on him. I’ll bring him out by the horses or down by the water if we need a little space.” He looked significantly at the other men in camp.

Her shoulders dropped from her ears and she cracked a smile, thin and tired. “Thank you.”

Abigail smiled. She wouldn’t have minded marrying Arthur, not in the least. But now she had John to be a father to her boy. They had their own home, and John tried his best to settle in. The transition to farmer from outlaw couldn’t be easy, and as much as the transition had been difficult on her, she couldn’t imagine the difference for John.

She looked down at her left hand, where the gold band cradled the little red stone. Even as she’d married John, she was still wearing Arthur’s ring. She shared a private laugh with herself. God did have a sense of humor, and Arthur gave her his whole world so she could live in hers.

“I’ll be in debt to him as long as I live.” John’s voice traveled to her over the wind, voicing her own thoughts exactly.

“We didn’t deserve him.” She looked over her shoulder, smiling at him.

“Maybe not me.” He winked at her, his arms crossed against the cold.

Abigail’s grin turned with her as she pressed her fingers to her lips and pressed them to Arthur’s marker. …hunger and thirst for righteousness. She desperately hoped that he was resting easy. Somewhere.

“What do you think happens when you die?” Abigail asked.

It was fall, and John had been gone for nearly three months. Abigail’s eyes were puffy and red much of the time, raw from crying. She was on her back in the grassy meadow, Arthur entertaining Jack beside her. Hosea and Lenny had built a couple of irregular blocks for the boy to play with. He was smacking them together, babbling and laughing.

“Couldn’t rightly tell you. All I know is I want to be buried facing west, so I can remember all the good times we had out that way when I’m gone.” Arthur was introspective. Unusual. Jack babbled alongside him and he nodded, making sure the boy knew he was listening to him.

“That’s nice. I hope that’s a long way yet.” Abigail reached toward him, pressing the tips of her fingers into the back of his shirt. She felt his smile more than saw it.

“Me too.”

She stood, pocketing a stone from the grave and brushing the nature off her skirt. She rounded toward John and took his arm. “Ready?”

“Give me a moment, would ya? I’ll meet you by the horses.”

“Of course.” She stood up straight and pressed a kiss to his scarred cheek. As she walked away, his throat closed, thick with emotion. He couldn’t afford tears with the cold. He was sure they would stick to his face and stay there forever, revealing to the western sky that he wasn’t as strong as he thought.

 John deliberated for a moment before approaching the marker. Like his wife, he knelt. Unlike his wife, he spoke.

“I gave the ring to Abigail. She loved it.”

“Would you get up? We are married!”

“No, I know. But I want to do this proper. In front of God.”

“You were right. It looks at home with her.” He chuckled. Lately, he’d been laughing at himself over this. The only time he cared about the law is when it came to Abigail, but he would also raise hell and high water – law be damned – for her too.

“Where on earth did you get this ring? It’s beautiful but I’m sure we can’t afford –“ she paused, squinting at him. “Did you steal it?”

John rolled his eyes. “Of course not. I’m supposed to be doing right by the law now, remember?”

“I know, but…where’d you get it?”

They were in bed together, and she was admiring her new ring in the dim light of the lamp.

“It was Arthur’s. He gave it to me on the mountain, with his hat and everything. Here.” John rolled over and reached under the bed, where he kept the satchel. He searched for a moment before finding a letter. Mary’s letter. He read aloud. “I enclose a ring you gave me many years ago, when we were both young, not because I don’t like it, but because I care for it far too much and it reminds me too much of you. I hope, one day you will find some people in love who can use this, for it kept me thinking of you all these years…” John finished reading and folded the letter, gently placing it where it was before.

He looked up when he’d returned the satchel to its home under the bed. Abigail had tears in her eyes, and they tracked down her cheeks as she tried to blink them away. John kissed her then, and turned off the light.

John was wrapped around her finger, and he knew she wore Arthur’s heart around her hands for years as well.

“Well, God and Uncle and Jack, anyway. Nobody much else to see it. No –“

A gasp. “Oh Lord. I didn’t expect anyone else up here.”

John’s adrenaline spiked and he bounded to his feet, his hand on his gun. Mary Linton. As soon as he could process it, he took his hand off his revolver.

“Mary?” John rasped. He swiped quickly at his eyes with a sleeve. He was touched and sobered by the presence of someone else, here, to honor Arthur, less than a year after he’d died.

“Yes, er, John? Is it?” She looked unsure as she clasped her hands at her chest. He saw they were shaking. It couldn’t be from the cold, as she wore velvet, fur lined gloves.

“It is, ma’am.” He came to his senses and removed his – Arthur’s – hat. He watched Mary. Her eyes tracked the hat as it hung gently in his hand

She smiled shakily at him. “I came to pay my respects for Arthur’s birthday.”

John nodded. “Me too. My wife, Abigail is here as well.” He gestured toward the horses, out of sight around the corner. “I can’t remember if you’ve met her or not.”

“I have,” she answered quickly. John held back a laugh. It wasn’t hard to imagine Abigail’s feelings toward Mary. The women in camp weren’t ever shy.

“You have a letter from a Mrs. Linton, Arthur.” John watched as Tilly crossed the meadow with an envelope. “If you ask me, she ain’t worth the time.”

Arthur smiled thinly at her. “Thanks, Tilly.”

“I’m gonna go read over his shoulder.” Abigail stood and gathered her skirts. John reached out but couldn’t stop her as she marched herself across the yard. Karen tried to follow, but Abigail waved her off.

John sighed and kept an eye on her. When Arthur reached his tent, Abigail was waiting for him, her head tilted to the side and hands folded, leaning on his bedside table. He deflated and set the letter aside to listen to what she had to say.

From his place in their tent, John couldn’t hear, but he could see enough. Arthur had softened significantly as Abigail spoke. She was using all her maternal wisdom, patting and fretting over him as she likely told him how much he mattered and how much he was worth. He was worth so much for both of them.

It was like Abigail was reading his mind. She glanced back and gestured to John, who gave a small wave and a warm smile with the half of his mouth that wasn’t open and raw. Arthur returned it but focused quickly on Abby.

They talked for a long time, and Arthur landed with his head in his hands. Abigail stood, popped his hat off, and stuck a kiss to the crown of his head. She squeezed his shoulder and turned, floating back to John.

“He’s alright.” She sighed. “Women have a way of twisting him up, poor thing.”

John laughed loudly. “You’re one to talk.”

She winked at him.

Mary smoothed her shaking hands down her black coat. Now that John was really looking at her, he noticed she was wearing all black, with a black mourning veil pushed back on the crown of her head. Her wide, floppy black hat was pushed back, held to her with a ribbon that pressed against her throat.

She was in full mourning. John wondered what he had missed. He was under the impression that Arthur and Mary had ended things, bittersweetly, in Valentine. That’s why he had her ring. Why Abigail displayed it so proudly on her left hand.

“I can give you a minute.” John smiled warmly at her and started to walk toward Abigail.

“Thank you.” Her voice barely touched him as he rounded the corner.

Mary took a shaky breath and stepped toward the marker. It had been a few months since her last visit when the fall had started to grip the Big Valley, and the fog in Saint Denis became crippling and cold. It was shortly after she'd received a letter from Miss Tilly, one of the girls that ran with the gang, telling her of Arthur's passing.

At this point, she was more than allowed to present herself in half-mourning, introducing purples and dark blues into her wardrobe after a season of black, but she just added more petticoats to her mourning clothes as the winter grew colder. She’d failed him. She failed herself. A lack of faith. She laughed at the irony.

“I miss you, Arthur. I feel as if I miss you more every day.” Her hands trembled and her nose ran, affected both by the cold and the depth to which the words were true. “I was thinking about our time together, camping and traveling and finding all sort of wild adventures.”

She clung to his back, Boadicea galloping underneath them. They were hauling across New Austin, back to Blackwater, where they’d set up camp for the week.

Mary threw her head back and laughed, gasping for the wind that ripped her hair out of its plait and into her face. She could feel Arthur’s breath under her arms, and his free hand holding hers.

“Havin’ fun back there?” Arthur had to shout over the wind, and he pulled Boadicea back to a brisk canter. The wind died and Mary tucked herself into Arthur’s back.

“Always with you.” She was only half joking as she squeezed around his middle. He raised on of her hands in his and kissed it, his three-day beard scuffing the soft skin of her palm.

“I love you, Mary.” She felt rather than heard the murmur into her hand.

She smiled and leaned as close to his ear as she could. “I love you too.” She pressed a kiss to his leather-clad shoulder. “So much,” she said to herself.

“Do you remember that? We were on the road for two and a half days. I’d never seen Daddy so mad.”

Mary smoothed her hands down her long black coat, reaching into the pocket on her left side. “I brought this for you. It’s a letter I wrote but didn’t send from a long time ago.”

She placed it under a rock at the base of his grave marker. “Happy birthday, my dear Arthur. Rest easy. I’ll see you soon.”

As he rounded the corner, John met his wife’s warm eyes and she smiled at him. His heart leaped, and he kicked himself for ever thinking he could live without her. 

“You’ll never guess who I just ran into.” He kissed her temple and breathed her in. Campfire and strawberries. She never changed.

“Was it Arthur? Because I’m sure if it was you woulda told me by now and screamed like a little girl.” She poked him in the ribs and he laughed.

“No not at all.” He made sure he had her rapt attention before he continued. Her brown eyes wide and cheeks flushed with the cold. He loved her. “Mary Linton is up there around the corner.”

“Mary? I thought she left him.” Abigail’s joy quickly fell into furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips.

“Me too, but she’s wearing full mourning blacks and a veil.” John shrugged. “I guess they made up somewhere along the way.” He looked toward where Mary was, around the corner. The wind had died down some, and he could hear her speaking, murmuring really, to Arthur.

“Maybe we’ll never know,” offered Abigail. She shrugged, turning to pat one of the horses that nosed into the bag at her hip.

“I could probably find something in his journal. He wrote about her often.”

Abigail squinted at him. “Is that really right?”

John shrugged but was warmed by her moral concern. “Maybe not. But he left it to me with his satchel. I’ve been reading bits and pieces every once and a while.”

Just then, they heard footsteps. Abigail raised her eyebrows as Mary appeared.

“Thank you both. I’ll be leaving from here, if you want to return to him.” She smiled at them shyly, nodding politely at Abigail.

Something warm suddenly possessed Abigail as she looked at this grieving woman, who she never liked but always understood. “Mrs. Linton?”

Mary turned, startled and surprised. “Yes?”

“Would you like to have dinner with my family?” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them, and she could feel John’s shocked eyes boring holes into the side of her head. What was the harm? It couldn’t hurt to have her with them. Who could she tell about their little home, nestled in the west as it was. Abigail soothed herself. Arthur would like that. His family, all together under one roof. Maybe he wouldn’t like the attention so much, but all of his people? That’s where he was always happiest. Either that or outside in the rain somewhere.

Mary cracked a smile. “If you’d have me, I would be honored.” She looked around. “Though I’m afraid I’ve no horse. I came by stagecoach and foot.”

“No worries there, ma’am.” John stepped up, placing a hand on Abigail’s hip. “I would gladly take you on mine. He’s an easier ride than Abigail’s mare.”

Abigail rolled her eyes. “Shall we get going then?”

Mary nodded and ducked fully around the corner toward John’s horse. He helped Mary onto Old Boy and settled himself into the saddle. Once he was certain Mary was comfortable sidesaddle with all her skirts, he checked on his wife.

Abigail was taking stock of her saddlebags, adjusting the weight so it could rest easy on her mare. He watched her focus, appreciating the strong line of her arms, the concentration on her brow, and the way her eyes bounced from one point to another, analyzing and checking and double checking. 

The horse wasn’t perfect, sure, but it was a ride. She hauled herself up, settling in and winking at John.

They prompted the horses down the mountain and began the trek back to the farm.

“I’m afraid it’s a bit of a ways, Mrs. Linton, but it gets warmer after the pass up ahead.” John raised his voice over the rhythm of the horses’ trot, Abigail leading.

“That’s fine.” He thought he heard a light laugh, but he wasn’t sure. “It’s not like I have anywhere to go anyways.”

 John felt a flash of…something. Grief? Pity? Whatever it was, it wasn’t comfortable. “What about your little brother? Jamie, was it?”

“Yes, Jamie. He’s off working on a farm in Nevada. I’ll see him again once the planting season is over.” Her voice was careful, opaque.

“You living by yourself now?” John didn’t mean to pry, but he was concerned. If Arthur loved this woman (he was absolutely checking the journal as soon as he returned), he would do his best to take care of her. It’s what any good brother would do, he reasoned.

“I live in a women’s apartment in Saint Denis, run by nuns, I think. We don't see them often. I was there when…well.”

John understood. He nodded, and placed a reassuring hand over hers, holding tight to his waist. “That was a difficult time for us all. Arthur saved my life, and now I’m here.”

“He always talked about you like a brother.” Her voice changed then, pensive and quiet. “He was always a good man.”

John nodded. “I always thought so. I’m glad he was able to prove it to himself, in the end. 

“It would really mean a lot to me.” Arthur stuffed his hat onto John’s head, looping his saddlebag around the younger man’s shoulders and reaching for his gun. “ Please.” He passed the revolver to John, loaded. “ Get the hell outta here.”

Mary lapsed into silence then. John really had to dig through Arthur’s journal now. He found himself liking her, which didn’t seem right at all. She’d broken his heart, right?

The rest of their journey, about two hours of riding, was uneventful save for some rabbits John shot on a whim. Dinner tomorrow, perhaps. It was enough to get them through the week if they were frugal, but then again they could have unexpected company, like Mary. More mouths to feed wasn’t a problem for the first time in their lives. 

Abigail kept looking over her shoulder to where John and Mary rode. They were terribly quiet. Though, on such a day of mourning, she could not blame either one of them. She knew her husband would be brooding quietly all day, but she would wiggle something out of him before he fell asleep – she was sure of it.

Jack was at the gate waiting for them when they arrived. John could see his son’s grin from miles away, it seemed like, and the ride home suddenly didn’t feel so long or weary.

They dismounted at the stables, and Jack threw himself into Abigail’s arms. John watched her as she laughed and kissed him all over, only a little jealous.

“Go say hello to your Pa before he turns to stone.” Abigail deposited Jack on the ground and turned his shoulders toward John, who smiled at him.

Jack bounded up toward John and was caught in a pair of strong arms and swung around and around until he was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. John’s chest warmed, and he brought his son close, taking notes from his wife and peppering Jack’s dark hair with kisses. “How was your day with Uncle?”

“Pretty fun. We shoveled hay.” Jack’s eyes were bright. The boy resembled Abigail more and more every day. The wide, dark eyes. Sloped, delicate nose.

“Tell me he’s mine.” John tried to keep his voice down, but his fists were clenched and his jaw was tight. Jack was sleeping in a makeshift cradle by Abigail’s bed. His mouth was slack and his cheeks were flushed and soft.

“Let’s have this conversation in the morning. Everyone’s asleep and you’ll wake the baby.” Abigail’s voice was tense and tired, an aggravated whisper.

“Just tell me and be done with it.” John stood and grabbed his bag, preparing to go. Abigail heard Karen stir in the next tent over, recognizing the interruption in her snore.

“John, please.” Abigail reached for him in the dark, but couldn’t find purchase on his arm.

“Just tell me.” His shoulders tensed by the minute, and his knuckles were white where they held the straps of his bag to his chest.  

“He’s yours. I’d swear it.” Abigail’s whisper was furtive, desperate.

“I don’t believe you.”

John kicked himself with the memory. Unbelievable. He’d been such a stupid ass. He looked to Abigail for a moment. She was minding the horses – scratching their ears and speaking quietly to them. Mary was by her side, patting Old Boy on the neck.

“Careful with him,” John heard Abigail warn. “He’s fond of women and might follow you home.”

John smiled. “Did Uncle shovel hay with you, or did he just watch?”

“Oh, he just watched.” Jack’s attention was beginning to drift, as young children were wont to do, and John redirected, ruffling Jack’s hair and steering him in the house.

Abigail let out a snort. “C’mon Mrs. Linton. Let’s get you inside by the fire.” A generous arm was offered to Mary, from Abigail, and they crossed the yard together.

Mary followed Abigail into their house and settled down by the fire. John tended to it, brought it back to a roaring blaze before sitting down on the carved log currently serving as their couch. Jack stood at the edge of the room, watching and waiting for an invitation from the adults. John waved him over, and took Jack in his arms, holding him close. Abigail was busy in the kitchen, setting the table and finding bowls for her family and the guests

John so rarely found an excuse to be physically close to his son. The day away, however, and the emotional exhaustion of the journey provided a clear path to Jack. He looked to Mary, who was watching them with a small, mournful smile. He smiled back.

“Where did you say you were settled down these days, Mrs. Linton?” Abigail returned, a rag in her hand.

“I’m in a women’s place down in Saint Denis, still. I miss the west, but it’s a good place to settle for a while yet, until things out here get a little more…organized,” Mary confessed.

“We’d be happy to take you to the nearest train station as soon as you’re ready to head home. You’re welcome as long as you’d like to stay. We can make up a bedroom for you tonight, even.” Abigail waved to Jack, who leapt off the couch and trotted to her side. Before Mary had a chance to answer, Abigail turned her attention to Jack. “Will you help me set the table sweetheart?”

Jack nodded and bounded toward the kitchen. How on earth did this boy have so much energy? John was certain he was far more lazy as a child.

“That’s very generous of you, but I would like to get back tonight. I would hate for our matron to grow worried,” Mary said, after Abigail had turned back.

“Just fine, then. Dinner’s ready now and then John can take you back.”

“Thank you.”

The Marston home was warm, the soup hearty, and the memories bittersweet. They would sing, later, around the fire. A song that Kieran taught them from his home, meant for goodbyes.

 Oh all the comrades that e'er I've had Are sorry for my going away And all the sweethearts that e'er I've had Would wish me one more day to stay But since it falls unto my lot That I should rise and you should not I'll gently rise and I'll softly call Good night and joy be with you all

[ravenvsfox]

I'd be so down for some klance! How about Lance jumps in and takes a bullet for Keith when they're separated from the group and it seems like a fairly minor wound but the bullet was poisoned and now Keith has to get Lance back to the castle and feels a lot of feelings.

PREMIUM prompt, here’s another 7k

The city is built like a labyrinth, high, sprawling concrete walls with uniform homes and shops built into them, everything coiled tightly around the shining city centre.

It’s a genius kind of protection, Coran tells them. No ship is small enough to land in the heart of the maze, and by the time foot-soldiers are lost in its twists and turns, defence has already sprung into action, soldiers who have been solving the puzzle since childhood.

Allura deploys the paladins to three different entry points — her and Hunk to the East, Pidge and Shiro to the North, and Keith and Lance down South. She gives them each a rough holo-map of how to navigate to the centre, where they think refugees have been hiding with dwindling supplies.

A Galra ship is suspended in nearby territory, close enough to appear in the sky like a moon from the face of Griathen. The implicit threat has kept the citizens behind a barricade for weeks, firing distress signals out into space.

The paladins already ambushed the ship and subdued their forces, so this rescue mission is like a victory lap.

When they ease down onto the windswept surface of the planet, Lance cranes out of his seat, as close as he can get to the window. The capital city rises up out of the dust to meet them, like a beast from the sea. 

“Well that’s ominous,” Lance says.

Keith follows his gaze to the slender, dusty mouth of the Southern entry point, the imperfect slabs of concrete pitched slightly inwards like bared teeth.

“It’s a maze,” he says, shrugging.

Lance scoffs, undoing his harness busily. “Your observational skills have really been honed by your time with the blades.”

“Shut up,” Keith says.

“Wow, snappier comebacks too? Will the wonders never cease,” Lance teases, ducking out of his seat to grab their gear. He flicks Keith in the cheek on his way past.

“We don’t have time for this,” Keith tells him, tracking Lance’s movement across the cockpit, studying the tapering, exaggerated lines of his armour. “We’re losing daylight.” When Lance glances back at him he looks quickly away, securing his bayard against his hip and reaching up to push the release on red’s jaw.

Lance spends a beat too long looking backwards towards the haze around those fortress-like walls, and Keith reaches out with a foot to kick him in the calf.

His leg gives out and he yelps, barely catching himself on a low hanging rafter. He looks back at Keith, disbelieving. “What the hell?”

“Get out of my lion,” Keith says flatly.

“Alright bossy,” Lance replies, “a man can’t even stop and enjoy the scenery when you’re around, huh?”

Keith rolls his eyes. “It’s not scenery, and you’re barely a man. Come on.” They stride down the long stretch of Red’s gangway, and the grimy air hits them hard.

“Says the dude with no chest hair,” Lance grumbles.

“I’m not doing this with you.”

“Oh, but you want to do something with me?” he asks suggestively. He cuts ahead to walk backwards in front of Keith, who speeds up so that Lance almost trips, jogging the wrong way down an incline. He grabs at Keith’s forearms to keep his balance.

Keith can’t figure out why he’s been doing this lately, trying to throw Keith off guard by flipping the switch between fighting and flirting, like some messed up tactic to get ahead.

“Yeah,” Keith says, stubbornly unaffected. “I want to do this mission.”

“Boo, okay,” Lance says, and they hop one by one out onto a barren stretch of sand.

The whole planet is a vortex of grey so light it almost looks like it’s blizzarding, except Keith is already sweating in his armour. The panel of shade cradled in the mouth of the city is sorely tempting. They cross the chasm of the desert slowly, struggling to stay upright in the swirl of sand and debris.

When they finally duck between the walls, backs to the stone, they’re both breathing hard, their visors fogging up.

“Why would the Galra,” Lance pants, “even want to take this shithole?”

“Maybe they want it because it’s so hard to take,” Keith says, squinting into the lukewarm light and open space. Every line of every wall is clean, plain, and nearly identical to the last one.

“That does sound like Galra logic,” Lance groans. “Someone needs to have the ‘consent is sexy’ talk with Sendak.”

“Are you volunteering?” Keith asks, playing along, one hand on his weapon.

“Oh, definitely. I’m going to single-handedly defeat the Galra empire by teaching them sex ed.”

Keith laughs, startled.

Lance grins. “And I could start right here with you, if you want,” he teases, stupid and salacious.

He knocks their shoulders together and Keith’s mind goes blank. “Uhhh. Do you have the map?” he asks quickly.

“Um,” Lance falters. “Yeah dude, one second.” He fumbles for the tablet in their pouch of supplies, and when he pulls the two halves apart, a hologram springs up, glitchy and silvery blue. “Okay so… left up here, and then we hang two rights in a row and go straight for a while. Got it?”

“Got it,” Keith confirms.

They tramp through the barren corridors of the maze, ducking their heads into shallow rooms with destroyed tables and canvas awning out front, passing cubicles that look like they’re built as single-person sleeping quarters, tiny pockets carved out of the walls.

“Tell me this doesn’t remind you of the old west,” Lance says, hip-checking a low swinging door and hopping away when it comes back at him. “The abandoned town, the whistling wind, the heat, the dust.” He says it like he’s narrating a movie trailer. “I keep expecting John Wayne to round the corner with a pistol, ya know?” His face changes, and he looks a little uneasy.

“There’s no one here,” Keith reminds him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance says, and then he gasps, slapping a hand to his weapon. Keith’s heart makes a dive for it, but Lance just says, “maybe I’m the John Wayne in this town.” He wiggles his bayard.

“Don’t do that,” Keith says, punching Lance hard on the arm, but he’s undeterred.

“A more handsome, Latino John Wayne, who like, respects women and stuff.”

They round a corner and face three diverting hallways, and Lance spreads the map open again. Keith glances at it and walks straight forward, but Lance catches him by the arm. When he looks back, Lance’s face is serious, and his gaze is trailing along the tops of the walls.

“This would be a pretty sweet place for an ambush, actually,” Lance says softly. Keith follows his gaze, squinting at the mass of dust that reaches almost to the walls, like a roiling, smoky ceiling.

“We already scanned the place, and it’s a ghost town,” Keith says, slipping free of Lance’s grip and forging ahead. “Plus we’re nowhere near the Griathenian base yet.”

“Right,” Lance says, but he’s tapping his helmet and opening up communications anyway, following Keith at a distance. “Hey guys, anyone else feelin’ that warm and fuzzy ‘I’m being watched” feeling?”

The comms hiss. The wind wails. Lance’s eyes flicker anxiously to Keith’s, and he stops walking.

Finally, there’s a spritz of sound like a hose being turned on, and Shiro’s voice stutters through. “L—ce? —hear me? Comms aren’t—ing—well. Pidge thinks—in the walls.”

Lance holds his helmet over top of his ears like he’s trying to block out background noise.

“Something in the walls? Wait, what? Like something jamming communication?”

“Y—exactly.”

Lance shares another look with Keith, who shakes his head.

“We won’t bother you then,” Lance says. “Nothing to report, just a squiffy feeling. And hey, last one to the middle has to clean out kaltenecker’s pen.”

Disrupted air that might be Shiro scoffing, and then “—ger that. Try—ay focused.”

“Aye aye captain. Over and out.”

“You’re disgusting,” Keith points out as soon as Lance hits mute.

“I’m providing the team with incentive,” Lance says, “it’s called leadership.”

“Stick to the map. It’s called navigation.” They trudge through an archway, and come out into a tiny courtyard, with woody looking flora and spindly hallways outstretched in all directions.

“Is that all I am to you?” Lance asks from behind him. “A hot piece with an eye for directions?”

“Please. You’re just the guy holding the tablet,” Keith says, and he doubles back, striding to the middle of the little room and reaching out to grab the map for himself.

“You just don’t want to admit how badly you need—“ Lance’s teasing smile slips halfway off his face, and he lurches forward like he’s going to tackle him. Keith staggers a couple of steps backward in shock, but Lance grabs him hard around the shoulders and swings him around.

He has a second to register Lance shoving him against the wall with the full weight of his body, his arms folding around Keith’s head so tightly that he can’t see anything. Then there’s a sound like breaking wood, and something impacts Lance’s torso so hard that he rams into Keith with the force of a running start.

He makes a choked sound, and then his whole body slips down Keith’s. He catches him heavily by the elbows, looking down, bewildered, at Lance’s hanging head. When he looks up again, he sees the shape of a Galra sniper across from them taking fresh aim.

Keith forces them both into a duck exactly as a bullet zings into the concrete behind them, and Lance’s legs give out. His knees wag against the ground, but his hands are vice-like on Keith’s shoulders.

“Shit, Lance, come on,” Keith says frantically. His brain is a broken circuit, a twitchy lightbulb that won’t stay lit. He realizes too late, in terrified pieces, that Lance has been shot in the back.

“I’m trying,” Lance says, sounding annoyed. Keith sidesteps another bullet, dragging Lance to his side almost too late. “Controls aren’t working.”

He gets them both behind the nearest wall, watching the flash of the soldier following their movements, and then it’s a mad, adrenaline-fuelled sprint around as many corners as possible. Lance gets his feet under him for a few stray steps, but it’s mostly Keith keeping them two steps ahead of the gunfire.

They duck into an alcove, and Lance finally has long enough to activate his bayard. A blaster unfolds gracefully along the line of his arm as he swings it towards the doorway, and as soon as the sniper enters Keith’s field of vision, Lance has shot him down. He collapses off the side of the wall, and Keith sinks gratefully back, catching his breath.

“Oh fuck,” he says, laughing inappropriately and holding his mouth with the back of a gloved hand. He thinks of Lance’s tight expression when he’d looked up at something Keith couldn’t see or sense. “Sweet place for an ambush.”

“Right?” Lance says, wheezing. “I don’t know why you distrust the gut. It has all our most important organs.”

“Speaking of important organs,” Keith says, scanning Lance’s crumpled body, those long long legs akimbo, his hand clutched over his own side.

“Yeah, about that,” Lance says, reaching up to slide off his helmet. “I’m definitely going to die.”That’s how Keith knows he’s okay; if the dramatics are intact, then so is he.

“Let me see.”

Lance nods tightly, reaching around to unfasten his chest plate and then crying out. “Goddamn,” he curses, “the bastard really got me.”

“I felt it,” Keith says hollowly. He keeps reliving the thunk of it, the way Lance was all around him and then he was dead weight. He crouches down to reach around Lance’s body for him, and he can feel his uneven breaths on his neck. “Since when do they use projectiles and not lasers,” he mutters, peeling Lance’s under-suit down.

“Maybe they—“ Lance pants, “heard my old western idea.”

Keith ignores him, busily detaching pieces and feeling overwhelmed, sweat beading at his brow and inexplicable tears clogging his throat. He shakes his head against all of that feeling.

“Why did you have to do that?” he asks tightly. There’s nothing on his front, so Keith manhandles him into turning over.

His hands go stiff on Lance’s sides when he sees the blood slicking most of his back, but the wound itself is unassuming, tucked to the side, nowhere near his spine.

“Was I supposed to let him get you?”

“You could’ve used your words,” Keith says angrily. “Given me a chance to fight back. Not left me completely powerless.” Tears threaten hotly, so he screws his eyes shut.

“You mean safe?” Lance counters.

He stretches the skin around Lance’s wound, but it’s not bleeding very much. He makes this choking noise though, and it sounds so much like the one he made when he was hit that Keith takes his hands away altogether.

Lance rolls gingerly onto his back, looking up at Keith and then away again. “I wasn’t thinking,” he admits, probably delirious from the pain. “I saw him pointing at you and I—“ he shakes his head, looking disturbed. “I wasn’t thinking. And anyway it doesn’t matter, I’m fine.”

“You’re shot,” Keith snaps. “You made yourself into a human shield.”“Well excuse me for thinking you’re worth protecting.”

Keith clenches his jaw. His whole head is full of fire, and nothing in it is recognizable anymore. He can’t tell his anger from his fear from his love.

“More of them will be coming,” Keith says slowly. “We need to warn the others.” Lance nods distractedly, brow furrowed. His top half is bare, and it makes Keith uncomfortable to look at, crushed into the dirt and streaked with blood.

He taps his comms open, and calls out into the void. “Anyone there? Guys? It’s a Galra trap. I repeat, it’s a trap. We were ambushed in the third sector of the Southern quadrant. Lance is hurt, and more Galra sentries will be nearby.”

They both wait through the static. Keith watches Lance close his eyes with a dawning sort of panic. He kicks him awake, nodding meaningfully to his torso when Lance gives him a perturbed look.“I’m not concussed, idiot.”

Keith shushes him. The comms continue to modulate and hiss, but no voices come through.

“Great,” Keith says.

“Hate to say it Keith-o, but we’ve gotta keep moving. We’re still close to where that dude was last stationed, and when they find us we’ll be fish in a barrel.”

“Can you even walk?” he asks doubtfully.

“Can I walk,” Lance mocks. “My legs aren’t the part of me that got shot.”

“Clearly neither is your mouth, because that’s still running.”

“Oh, wordplay, that’s sexy. I didn’t know danger could bring out this side of you, Keith.”

“And we’re standing up,” Keith says, sliding an arm around Lance’s blood-slick waist and hoisting him upright. They overbalance and Lance has to catch himself on the lip of the doorway.

“Jesus mary, this hurts. Why did no one tell me gunshots were gonna hurt this bad?”

“Every piece of media you’ve ever consumed has told you gunshots hurt.” He holds up pieces of armour for Lance to shrug back on, wincing whenever Lance makes a pained noise.

“I’m just saying that you should feel sorry for me,” Lance tells him frankly, and Keith scoffs.

“You jumped in front of the bullet!”

“Yeah!” Lance agrees loudly. “You should be gratefully weeping and embracing me ‘we almost died’ style.”

“You’re delirious,” Keith says through gritted teeth.

“You’re ungrateful,” he replies matter-of-factly. “Let’s get out of here.” Lance stumbles over his own feet on the way out, but he doesn’t need Keith to balance him, and his gait looks almost normal.

He trains his rifle on the grey rectangles of open space above them, and Keith follows close behind in case he falls backwards. They fall silent, listening for footsteps in the constant whispering of the sandstorm.

He’s impressed by Lance’s constant vigilance, his dead-serious eyes and unfaltering grip on the trigger. He’s only a little unsteady as he tracks both sides of the wall, turning slowly, checking the tablet with the gun cocked on his hip.

 Keith almost forgets that there’s a bullet lost somewhere inside of him, that the Galra most likely outnumber them and have the advantage of height and invisibility.

“I don’t like this,” Keith says quietly.

Lance doesn’t stop squinting down the barrel of his rifle. “Oh yeah?”

“Why are they using different weapons? Why didn’t our sensors pick them up?”

“The Galra work in mysterious ways,” Lance says. “Don’t worry too much about it right now. We’re still in the staying alive part of the mission.”

“You didn’t seem to care too much about staying alive before,” he says bitterly.

“Keith, seriously,” Lance says, exasperated, dropping the arm holding his gun to his side. “Are you mad at me for that?”

“Forget I said anything.” He fiddles with his own bayard uneasily.

“I keep trying to, and you keep sighing like some—wronged boyfriend.”

“I’m worried about you,” Keith blurts. “I hate that you’re hurt, and I let it happen.”

“Well—I mean. Okay,” Lance says, flustered. “But it’s not…”

He looks down at his abdomen, looking surprised, and then he drops like a stone.

“Lance?” Keith just stands there for a second, looking at where he’s crumpled and unmoving, not really understanding what he’s seeing. And then he’s rushing forward all at once, dropping his weapon in the sand and skidding to his knees.

Lance’s face is wan, and his head is thrown back like he’s too weak to lift it.

“What the hell,” Keith says. He can hear how reedy and panicked his voice is, and he barely recognizes it. He props Lance’s head up with his hand and struggles to take his helmet off again. His hair is drenched in sweat.

His eyes slit open. “I don’t feel so hot,” he murmurs.

“Is the shock wearing off? Is that what this is?” Keith feels quickly for more blood, for fever, for anything.

“Don’t think so,” Lance says, eyes opening properly. His pupils are twin pinpricks in unbelievable blue. “It hurt before, but now it’s worse. Way worse. I don’t know why my body isn’t—“ he tries to make a fist, but his fingers don’t close all the way.

Keith looks up at the empty walls, the stretch in front and behind them that look completely the same. They’re so exposed that it’s like a physical burning on his skin.

“Can you move?”

“Uh. Gimme a sec.” He breathes in and out a couple of times, laboured, and then he seems to use most of his energy to get halfway to sitting. “Keith,” he levels him with a serious look, and he thinks for a second that he’s going to tell him to leave him behind, or something equally ridiculous, but he just says: “we can do this.”

He catches at Keith’s neck, and leverages himself the rest of the way to sitting.

“Hey, not so bad from this angle.” He cracks his neck and shakes his hands out, obviously for Keith’s benefit.

“Let me,” Keith starts, and he shifts into a crouch so that he can lift Lance up off the ground by the armpits. As soon as he’s up he teeters into the nearest wall, and Keith hands him his helmet first, then his bayard.

“Lean against me, okay? We’re taking this maze side by side.”

“Neck and neck,” Lance says sort of hazily, rolling his head to look at him and smile, open-mouthed. “Okay.”

They move as an eight-limbed thing, and side by side they cover almost the full span of some of the passageways. Keith fumbles with the map and his bayard, sometimes leaning over to adjust Lance’s grip when his own bayard slips and the gun wobbles and ceases to exist.

“As far as missions go, this isn’t in our greatest hits, Keith, gotta say.”

“Whose fault is that, huh?” Keith asks, but he can’t tease the gentleness out of his voice. Lance looks so weak, and his helmet keeps knocking against Keith’s when his head droops.

“It’s your fault for not listening to my wise and beautiful guts.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Keith says, holding him tighter, trying to keep Lance together first and himself second.

“Hey, nah, you gotta argue with me,” Lance says. His voice is starting to slur.

“What do you want me to say?” Keith asks, blinking through tears and sweat.

“I dunno. Blah blah blah, I’m a dick. Blah blah, I ignore Lance’s golden instincts, and—and…”

“And what?” The next step Keith takes, Lance’s feet drag underneath him. “Lance? And what?” He reels around and feels for Lance’s pulse, finding it absolutely hammering. He remembers Lance’s pupils, the weakness of his grip, and the strange bullets, and he sobs with realization. “Fuck. The fucking— they poisoned you. Do you hear me?” He props him up against the wall, and keeps him in place with his own body, tapping at his helmet and trying to radio the team again.

“Anyone? Is anyone out there? Anywhere? Please. Please. It’s me, it’s Keith,” he says, choking, looking at Lance’s closed eyes and the dark freckles sprayed down his cheeks, the two that overlap on the tip of his nose. He holds his drooping jaw to keep his face forward. “We need help. Badly.”

There’s no reply, and Keith starts to cry in earnest. Lance’s brow furrows, and he sort of moans, hands lifting weakly to Keith’s forearms.

“Hurts,” he whispers.

“I know,” Keith whispers back. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Lance sighs. “Keith. Are you still running for your life?” He squints. His mouth is so pale.

“I’m running for ours,” Keith corrects, petting at Lance’s helmet stupidly, just trying to stay present. “Do you want to join me?”

“Hell yeah,” Lance says, but when he tries to stand, his body jackknifes and cracks back against the concrete. “Oh.” He coughs, and shakes his head. “My body says no.”

“I’m gonna carry you on my back, okay?” Keith says, already arranging his limbs.

Lance nods, face screwed up in pain. “Okay.”

He clips Lance’s bayard to his hip and wedges himself low against Lance’s body, easing him over so that he’s sprawled out on his back. He straightens slowly, keenly aware of how terrible it must be to have all your pain manhandled like this. 

He hikes him up by the thighs, and Lance turns his face into the back of Keith’s neck. He’s burning up even through his armour, and Keith tries to focus on the heat as a sign that he’s alive.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on Hunk and Pidge when they’re trying to—to make engineering into a game, or whatever. They’re just trying to feel normal.”

“What?”

“Pidge has the best the best head I’ve ever seen, man, and—“ his voice goes tense, shocked through with pain. “Hunk has the best heart. And tell Shiro how great he’s doing, would you? How much we love him. He always keeps everyone together but—but he really needs to hear it.”

Keith shakes his head. “What are you doing.”

“Allura needs someone to be family for her, so be her family, okay? You have a whole lost species to make up for but you’re… you’re pretty good.”

“I’m so mad at you,” Keith says, shaking with rage that he can’t do anything with. He squeezes Lance’s thighs. He hasn’t even looked up in the last seven turns.

“Coran reminds me of my dad, a little,” Lance muses. “Really loud because he really cares. You gotta tell him how much it meant to me… that he took me in. Like a dad.”

“I’m never going to forgive you if you die,” Keith says hoarsely.

“Keith, I really, really wish we had more time.” He’s so lanky and slippery on his back, he feels like he could pop off like an elastic. “Hey, guess what?”

“What?” It’s getting hard to keep walking. The map keeps flickering, Lance keeps sliding down, and the sand underfoot is clingy like mud.

“You’re gonna be okay.” He sounds so lucid. It’s weird how he perked up to deliver this weird, verbal will to him, like he had a backup generator of energy for exactly this purpose, like he was saving it for everyone else, never for himself.

“I’m not,” Keith says thickly.

“You are,” Lance insists. “Even if the end of the maze is a Galra base and our team is all taken hostage and you walk in carrying a dead body as your only weapon—“

“Shut up,” he interrupts viciously.

“You’ll do great. You’re the top of your class. You’re my favourite person in the universe.”

Keith closes his eyes, and slowly stops moving. The gusting wind is starting to sound like constant, mournful crying. He hears a smudge of sound against rock, and he goes absolutely still.

“I really… loved being a part of your team,” Lance says, sounding drunk and sincere. “You make me feel….” his words go soft and broken, and he passes out. 

Keith bites his lip hard, hearing footsteps come nearer, then stop, farther, then stop. Someone is circling, searching for them. Lance is dying, and Keith can’t make a sound.

He creeps a single step forward, and sand crunches beneath his boot. He curses silently, over and over, his heart in his mouth right behind his clenched teeth. Footsteps come faster, and Keith lifts his bayard.

Nothing happens for a heart-stopping second, and then the bayard shimmers into a sleek red blaster. Keith gapes at it, tears drying on his face, and when the two galra soldiers find him, they look as surprised as he feels.

“Hey! He’s over—“

Keith shoots the first one in the chest and he topples off the wall. The other one takes aim, and Keith runs with renewed strength, firing off inaccurate rounds behind him. Lance bounces against his back, and Keith keeps him away from the line of fire as best he can, pulling him awkwardly around to his side, cradling him on his hip like an overgrown child.

He makes an erratic run for it, trying to remember what was on the map and trusting his gut. It’s impossible to run very fast with the whole weight of a body balanced against the socket of his leg, and he’s not a marksmen like lance is.

He can hear the soldier radioing for help, but he’s obviously struggling to multi-task, and Keith takes advantage of his lag, making a couple of wrong turns and then doubling back and plastering himself to the wall around the last corner they took.

He can hear the stutter of feet. He kisses the helmet above Lance’s temple, and prays.

After a terrible minute, the footsteps pick up again, tracking farther and farther away from their hiding spot.

When he’s certain they’re alone, he jostles Lance to his back again, feeling an ache down the entirety of his body. He walks slowly this time, down the centre of each path, keeping his eyes on the grey overhead.

“Hey Lance,” he whispers, “we’re close.” No response. “You gonna let me save your life too?”

The paths are getting wider now, opening up a little. He can hear the faint sound of activity somewhere nearby, the bustle of a city. It doesn’t sound like a Galra base.

“You were right, about everything. As usual.” He peers ahead and tries to imagine seeing anything but grey. He squeezes Lance’s fingers where they’re dangling around his neck.

“Don’t you wanna say I told you so?”

He doesn’t take the bait. His hands are cold.

“Hey guess what,” Keith says. Lance hangs like a dead thing from his body, and he isn’t completely sure that that isn’t what he is, anymore. “I’ve always, always loved you.”

He can hear laughter, somewhere. It seems like some sort of scientific impossibility that someone could laugh, right now, at the end of the world.

He sinks to the ground, laying Lance out on the sand and following him down, like they’re going to bed. The wind cries and cries and cries.

“Keith?”

He looks up.

Hunk is staring at them, horrified, bayard deactivating in his grip. “Help,” he whispers. Then louder, “help! Get help, Pidge, get supplies over here, Lance and Keith are hurt.”

Keith looks into Lance’s face. He can feel Hunk coming over to them, manhandling Lance’s body, listening for breath and feeling for a pulse, asking Keith questions.

“He’s cold,” Keith tells him.

“You’re in shock,” Hunk says.

“Not shock,” He says, memory fluttering like tattered curtains. “It hurt before. Now it’s worse.”

Moments pass. His body aches badly. Someone else is there, and Hunk’s talking to them in hushed tones. “—happened to them?”

“—the same poison.”

“How did they—“

“—must’ve been exhausting.”

“His pulse is really, really weak, Pidge—“

“Someone should get Keith out of here.”

“No,” he hears himself say. “I carried him all the way here.”

“I know,” someone says gently. Shiro, he thinks, from far away. “We need to carry you the rest of the way.”

“The Galra—“ he starts.

“Are taken care of.”

“It never should have happened.”

“They have new tech,” Pidge says. “Some sort of cloaking device and those— those fucking bullets—“

“We captured most of them. Had a few casualties, but none of ours.“

“Lance is one of ours,” he says, confused. He feels like he’s talking through taffy. There’s an uneasy pause.

“He’s not dead, Keith,” Hunk says softly.

“Where is he?”

He’s not holding onto him anymore. He can’t imagine having let him go, but he’s not in his arms or on his back. They’re not even in the labyrinth, he realizes. The grey and the wind are tempered by colour and movement.

He looks up and the paladins are all nearby, looking grim and exhausted. He’s sitting down outside one of the little structures that litter what he can see of the town, and he can tell that he’s lost time. He can smell something burning nearby.

“He’s getting help.”

“I need to see him,” he says, wheeling to his feet. Four sets of hands fly out to stop him.

“You need to see a doctor first,” Shiro says. “I know you’re gonna be stubborn about this, but you’re in shock, and you’ll be helping Lance by helping yourself.”

“Can’t we let him go? What’s he gonna do, un-heal him?” Pidge says.

“It’s not Lance who would be suffering from this encounter,” Allura says tightly.

Keith shakes his head to clear it. “I’m okay,” he says, almost convincing. Time is starting to make a little more obvious sense. They told him Lance was alive, and he knows they wouldn’t lie about that. “I’m okay, but I have to--I told him I would save him, but I must’ve--must’ve passed out.”

“You did save him,” Hunk tells him, squeezing both of his shoulders, eyes glassy.

“He took the bullet for me,” Keith feels compelled to say, like he’s leaving out a crucial part of a confession.

“Idiot,” Pidge mutters.

“Hero,” Shiro corrects.

Keith shakes his head. He’s tired of talking about it like it’s some objective event, like he didn’t just wake up from living it. “I need to see him,” he repeats.

“Okay,” Allura says tiredly. “Okay. I get the feeling we’re only making things worse by keeping you apart.”

The gentle hands barring his way disappear. Hunk hooks a sad smile at him, and leads him by the elbow into the nearest building, stopping just inside the doorway, maybe to give them privacy. His arms cross and his lip wobbles, but he stays fixed at the door. Keith’s guard lets down a little for the first time in hours.

The interior is shadowy, panelled with pale wood but completely windowless. There are walls full of vials, wax tablets covered in writing, and those same woody plants from before.

The burning, Keith realizes, eyeing a collection of glowing instruments, was the physician cauterizing Lance’s wound. He can’t linger on the thought for too long without his eyes watering.

He walks, trance-like, towards the platform where Lance is face-down and stripped to the waist. He doesn’t even look at the doctor working quietly at his side, hanging bags of fluid and mixing herbs into pastes.

Keith’s eyes fix on a little coppery bowl, part of a tray full of frightening looking instruments. When he peers inside he finds the bullet that had been collapsing Lance’s body piece by piece, dragging him unconscious through an endless grey. It’s a tiny, blood-soaked thing crackling with purple energy, some kind of rotten quintessence.

The wound is ugly, infected, and bigger than the last time he saw it. His whole back looks like its contorted around the impact of the gunshot, and his skin seems too dusky to belong to living flesh. The doctor packs the wound with paste and gauze, and Keith swallows uneasily, looking away.

His gaze finds Lance’s upturned face instead, his parted mouth and slicked back hair, still dark with sweat. Keith puts his hand to the pieces that always stick up at the crown of his head, and he exhales all the terror he’s been keeping in his spine, the paralyzing stillness and feral anger.

He kneels quietly, hand sliding from his head to the curve of his jaw.

“You’re my favourite person too,” Keith tells him. His thumb slides against the hollow of his cheek. “Idiot.”

The doctor taps gently on Keith’s hand. Their skin is sun-bleached, with navy patterns running down their arms to their hands, which look almost like they’re dipped in paint. Their face is apologetic, tender with sympathy. “So sorry, paladin. I need to move him, if you’ll let me.”

“Where?” Keith asks sharply. “Why? Right now?”

“Just,” they say, holding out placating hands, “up high enough to wrap his wound.”

“Oh.” He steps awkwardly back and watches the doctor grip Lance’s biceps, maneuvering his upper body so that his head droops heavily forward.

“Wait, let— just let me do it.” He doesn’t know why he feels so protective over every bend and dip in Lance’s body. He wasn’t exactly being gentle with him when they were running and sweating and thumping against the earth and each other.

He reaches out and gathers Lance’s weight onto the front of his body, his head fitting neatly against Keith’s neck. He allows himself to rest his cheek in his hair and breathe.

The doctor wraps silky looking gauze around Lance’s waist, and when he runs his thumb along the seam, it seals against his skin like tape.

“Is he going to be okay?” Keith asks quietly.

“Oh yes,” the doctor says, helping Keith to lower him gently back onto the table. The way they’re looking down at him is pleased, fond. Lance had been unconscious the entire time he was in the room with this person, but he still managed to charm them. “He’s blue, right? Good with water?”

Keith nods jerkily, crossing his arms over his chest so he doesn’t have to focus on the way his heart is racing for no reason, and his arms feel empty without the weight of a body to support.

“Water is creative, healing, resilient. He’s smarter than this galra poison.”

Keith snorts. “I beg to differ.”

“Fire,” the doctor says sagely, eyeing his scuffed red armour. “Stubborn.”

Keith look skeptically to Hunk in the doorway, but he just shrugs, half-smiling.

“I’ve done all I can. And so have you.” They pat Lance’s calf firmly, then cross to the doorway. “Don’t let him move around too much, alright?” They smile warmly and disappear out into the celebration outside, the after-party of a liberation.

“He’s not gonna like that,” Hunk says, and Keith’s mouth twists, amused.

“No. It’s amazing how lazy he is until someone tells him to sit still.”

“Yeah, and then he’s trying to teach us salsa, right?” Hunk grins at him, eyes bright and knowing. Keith isn’t used to it, the way loving someone can become this whole community experience. His expression must be wrong, because Hunk’s smile fades. “What happened out there, man?”

Keith’s teeth grit. He remembers that first impact of Lance’s body, the coil of his arms protecting Keith’s face, the endless slip to the ground. He can still taste the sweat from the exertion of running. He can feel the soreness of the muscles that Lance’s weight tested when he’d been swung around his side, gangly but heavy. He remembers his voice, drizzling over Keith’s neck with the last of his consciousness, you make me feel…

“We were ambushed.”

“How many?” Hunk asks gravely. Keith faces Lance, touching the clean lines of his shoulder blades, ghosting his fingers over the bandaging.

“Just one. One soldier, one bullet.” His hand reaches the spot where the gauze is thickest, and he can’t bring himself to move any farther.

“How exactly did they outdo a sharpshooter and a former blade of marmora?” Shiro asks from where he’s ducking into the doorway. Pidge follows, going all the way up to Lance’s bedside and plopping down cross-legged in the side chair. Allura leans up against the doorframe opposite Hunk, the pair of them look like some kind of mismatched security team.

“They took him out early,” Keith replies, swallowing hard. “He just kept getting sicker and sicker, and we couldn’t figure it out. He tried to keep walking, but his body was shutting down, and the Galra knew where we were, so--so we had to move as quickly as possible.” He shakes his head. “You don’t realize how loud it is, carrying someone.”

He catches Shiro and Allura exchanging a loaded glance out of the corner of his eye.

“Then my bayard turned into a gun, and I kept firing until I hit something.”

Allura gets this troubled look on her face, and Keith ignores it. He can’t even fathom trying to deal with the mysteries and magic and fear of something bigger than one foot in front of another, or the next ash-grey wall in a maze.

“That’s cool,” Pidge says, thoughtful. “Do you think your bayard transformed based on the range of your target? Maybe it’s equipped to adapt to your needs?”

“I don’t care,” Keith says simply.

“I think it’s like Harry Potter, and his patronus changed to match the person he’s in love with,” Hunk says, sly.

“Are we talking hp?” Lance asks faintly.

“Lance,” Keith chokes before he can stop himself. He drops to his knees at his bedside, and he’s the first person to see those eyes open, deep summer blue.

Lance smiles slowly. “I told you you’d be okay.”

“Fuck you,” Keith says, his voice raw. “I’ve never been that scared. Not for myself. Not for anything.”

“You’re okay,” Lance repeats, scanning his friend’s faces, corners of his eyes crinkling and then drifting closed again.

Keith shakes his shoulder. “You’re not allowed to go to sleep.”

“I was almost fatally poisoned,” he says irritably.

“A choice that you made,” Keith reiterates. “We’ve already had this fight.”

“And I told you it wasn’t, like, a conscious choice that I made,” Lance says, shifting in place and hissing at the pain. “I mean. You said — said I was just the guy with the tablet.”

“Jesus,” Keith says, closing his eyes. “I didn’t mean it. I never mean it.”

“It’s cool,” Lance says evenly. “It’s just, like. I didn’t want to be the dude who brought a map to a gunfight. I didn’t think about it for even a second. Your back was exposed. You were smiling. I couldn’t just… I mean I really couldn’t just…”

“Yeah,” Keith says weakly. He would’ve done it too, to save his life. No thinking, no hesitation.

“Is everyone else okay? The Griathenians?”

“Everyone’s been freed,” Allura tells him, beaming.

“Thank god,” Lance says. “This isn’t some kind of prison hospital. I don’t think I’m ready to be some Galra’s slave.” His gaze finds Keith and his mouth turns up wickedly at the corners. “With one important exception.”

Keith flushes, and Lance laughs until his voice stumbles into hurt. He holds perfectly still and breathes through it.

“I’m glad it was me and you though,” Lance says, looking up at Keith from his pillowed arms. “You—were a shithead. Distracted me. Didn’t hurt so much.”

“Romance,” someone says behind them.

“And now?” Keith asks.

Lance shakes his head. “I’m good. Hurts like a gunshot should hurt, I think. Less like I’m being burned alive than before.”

Keith bows his head, forehead to Lance’s hands. They turn over against his scalp and comb through his hair. “No more missions until you’ve spent a week in a healing pod.”

“You don’t have the authority to do that, bucko.”

“No more missions until you’ve spent a week in a healing pod,” Allura echoes, and Lance curses.

“How about no more mazes,” Shiro offers. “Ever.”

“Deal,” Lance says.

“Deal,” they all chorus.

“How about you never get hurt again,” Keith says quietly, small and serious.

“I dunno,” Lance says, mouth twitching. “I’m pretty sure if I do, you’ll carry me anywhere I want.”

It’s a joke, Keith knows it’s a joke, but he still looks up to say, “I’d do that anyway.”

Lance face goes as still and flushed as steamed-up glass, and he says, “I’m gonna kiss you.”

Keith’s chest throbs, a lash of heat, and he nods jerkily.

“I wish you wouldn’t,” Pidge says.

“We should give them a minute,” Shiro announces, backing up in the direction of the doorway, dragging Pidge with him. “Not too rough, Keith,” he says, like he’s trying not to laugh.

Keith glares at him. The team files all the way outside, letting the curtain swish over the doorway, and then they’re alone in the shadows, and everything feels so real, and close together. 

Lance presses up into him, and pulls his head down. He remembers hitting the sand, thinking that he’d lost everything, and now he can’t wrap his head around the proof of him, the heat from his body and the tenderness of his hands. 

Lance presses a kiss close to the corner of his mouth, and holds the place that he just kissed like he’s pinning it there for safe-keeping. His mouth ghosts over Keith’s and touches down on the other corner, holding there, lush.

Their noses slide alongside each other, and their warm, tacky skin catches together. Lance’s eyelashes feather over his cheek, and It’s so intimate that Keith’s breath comes out choppy against Lance’s lips, and he reaches up to hold his damaged back as close as he dares.

Lance kisses him properly, his lips chapped and warm, and Keith feels so much for him that it’s like a whole second pulse, shaking him and leading him to the very edge of tears.

It’s so quiet now that he can hear the haunted sound of the wind again, only this time it fits right in between the sound of their shared breaths, and Keith isn’t afraid.

[yeshawrites]

4.

AGENCY, CHAPTER 4. You can find all other works of mine here. NOTES: This story is not always friendly. It contains some graphic content, brief mentions of non-sexual nudity, murder, death, and plenty of language. Please be advised before you read it. Some upsetting content is in this chapter.

Dahlia sat perched on the edge of her bathroom counter, teasing her bubblegum pink, short hair just so. Peering intently into the mirror, she dragged a finger slowly downward under her eye, poking at the skin. Bags? Oh no. That would simply not do. She turned to the left, unlatching a multi-tiered box and sliding the trays out one by one. Pots and pump bottles and lotions of all sorts sat in the bottom, eyeshadows stacked neatly on the second row and more lipsticks, mascaras, and eyeliners than were necessary piled together in the third. Teasing her favorite face cream out, she pumped a dollop onto her finger and set to massaging it in. Exactly two minutes, she reminded herself, then let sit for two minutes. That was what the sales rep said. Makeup had come so far.

Technology as a whole, she mused absently, had come even farther. How long ago was it that they were using telegrams? Now you took a picture on your phone and it was global in mere seconds. It excited her something terribly, but even her exuberance at the newness was tempered with caution. Better technology meant better cameras and heat sensors and traps and communication. She supposed even Jason Voorhees might have been stymied by kids who thought to SnapChat him. But that was where knowledge came in. As quickly as technology had sprung up, her knowledge was still a vast pool, a shark in the water. Cameras were fallible, and heat sensors could be tricked. People made mistakes. Traps sprang without their prey. It was just a matter of patience, caution, and knowledge. Dahlia inspected her skin tone and spread a light color correcting creme over her face, applying a layer of foundation after. Touching up with a hint of blush, she combed her wayward brows and plucked them to perfection. Out came her eyeliner. Oh how she loved eyeliner; back in the day she used so much that these modern sticks would never have lasted her. Now she preferred to keep it simple. She coated her eyelashes with a layer of mascara and applied her lipstick: bright, vibrant pink. Too much pink? She asked herself. No. Never too much pink. She hopped from the counter and pranced through her sunny pink-and-white bedroom, candy cane stripes on her wall and plush pillows on her bed and billowy, pink curtains drawn over long windows. Delving into her closet, Dahlia pried out a pair of jeans and a white top, throwing on a pink necklace to match her sparkly pink nails. She appraised herself in the mirror and blew herself a kiss. How she had ever thought to go out in public before makeup was a continual source of wonder and embarrassment for her. “I’m lovely.” She smiled broadly at herself and did an experimental twirl. Now for shoes. Reaching under her bed, Dahlia pulled out a steamer trunk overflowing with them. She positively, absolutely adored the things. Heels, flats, boots, platforms, wedges--anything was good by Dahlia so long as they were cute. She’d once picked a fight with a Seraph after he broke one of her favorite heels. It had not gone well for her--but it had not gone well for him either, the smug, suit-wearing bastard. Rifling through the packed case, she pulled out a pair of three inch, strappy bubblegum heels with a large stone set on the front of them. How perfect--a perfect outfit for a perfect day. She pulled on her purse and hopped down the stairs two at a time, never afraid of falling. Jangling her keys about in a hand, Dahlia stepped into her living room (also decorated mainly in pink, grey the compliment this time) and peered through the French doors into her dining room. “I’ll be back!” Wiggling her fingers in a wave, she gave a sad smile to the man duct taped to her dining room chair. His eyes were huge with horror, sweat rolling in beads down his forehead. “Now now, don’t sweat all over that chair. It’s an antique, I’ll have you know, straight from Russia. You stay put right there until I get back.” The man had no choice. He tried to say something, but it came through the tape as only a muffled mmmmmmph. “What was that? Oh, I’m sure you can tell me all about it once I come home and deal with you. Toodles!” Popping her pastel pink earbuds into her ears, she turned up her music and bounced out the door, locking it securely behind her. --- Click click click click click click click click click-- Tiffany rested her head against the window, staring directly at Jeremy, wondering when he would turn the damn blinker off. It had been on for the better part of two miles and no sign of stopping yet. Midlothian Turnpike was hell enough without the infernal noise. Click click click click click click click--He hummed something absently and she wondered if he even knew it was on. “Blinker’s on,” she announced finally. He gasped as if shot and smacked it down. “Well that’s embarrassing. I’m becoming an old man.” “You’re twenty-two.” “I’m aaaaancient.” She rocked her head back against the window and stared outside at the yellow street lights flickering by. The sky was an inky black bleeding into blue, the headlights carving a path through the deserted streets. Night shifts sucked, especially in the Midlothian area. At least there was something to look at in Richmond; up in the suburbs, there was nothing but fast food and grocery stores and banks and dentists. They passed a 7-11 converted into a pizza place and Tiffany wondered why it was that the convenience store did so poorly around here. She assumed it had something to do with all the rich people. “You aren’t mad at me or something, are you, girl?” Jeremy asked anxiously. “Huh? No. No, why?” He heaved relief. “Oh, good. You were just quiet is all. I was worried you were annoyed with me or something.” “Over the blinker? Sure,” she joked. “But no. We’re solid. I’m just tired.” “Yeah.” Nodding sympathetically, he took a turn past the gym. “You work hard, lady. You should take a break from that restaurant every once in a while.” “Nah, ‘cause then my parents will really think I’m not doing anything.” “Oh God. Are they still hounding you about college?” “Yep,” she sighed. “I tried to tell them I wanted a year off before I committed.” “Didn’t listen?” “Nope.” “Aw. I’m sure they’ll come around. They love you no matter what.” Tiffany side-eyed Jeremy and wondered what he meant by that. His parents no longer spoke to him. Apparently accepting their daughter as a son was not possible.

“Do you want to play some music?” He offered. “Oh, come on. We never agree on music.” He wrinkled his nose. “Yeah. That’s right. I mean, maybe you’ll like The--” “--If you say ‘Decemberists’, I’ll kindly remind you we listened to that the last six times you were trying to come up with a compromise.” “Two times.” “Two times,” she admitted. “You get what I’m saying.” “Well,” he started slowly. There was a cop ahead of them. Even though their plates would come up with special privileges, Jeremy slowed on instinct. “We could just pop on the radio. It gets dull if no one is talking.” Tiffany thought about it and mentally agreed. They needed something going. Once midnight hit it would be twenty hours awake for her, and she was ready for bed. She punched the radio on and ‘Toxic’ by Britney Spears filled the cab. Her laughter intersected with Jeremy’s squeal of delight. “Oh come ON. You, the hipster king, like Britney Spears?” “I don’t think you understand.” He held up a finger while taking the u-turn near the YMCA, heading right back the way they came. “This was my middle school-slash-high school jam.” “Jer, could you get more stereotypically gay right now?” “I’m pretty sure ‘Toxic’ is a baby gay rite of passage,” He joked. “Anyone who says they didn’t like ‘Toxic’ but still like it up the butt is lying to you.” “Jeremy David--!” The sensor box mounted on the dash glowed fiercely blue, warped into purple, tried to force its way back to green and began squealing. Jeremy stomped on the brakes, the Lincoln screeching to a halt the same time that the sensor outright exploded, bits of wire and plastic casing spraying them. Tiffany screamed and shielded her face, drawing her knees up protectively as Jeremy dove for cover. A moment of silence as the pieces rattled to the floor like hail, and they both surfaced tentatively to inspect the damage. “What the hell was that?” She asked shakily. “No fuckin’ clue,” Jeremy managed. Together they stared out the windows at their surroundings, nearly forgotten in their conversation. To the left, a lake on the edge of an apartment complex lapped silently at walking trails. As one, their gaze shifted slowly to the right and to the mass of trees, a parking lot to a series of pathways leading into pitch blackness under the boughs. “Not the Coal Mines?” Tiffany moaned softly. “Might be.” He reached unsteadily for the radio mounted on the dash. “I’m calling this in.”

[smashbuddies]

Souvenirs by the Salty Sea: Pt. 4

Daniel and Snail kept up with their daily visits fairly regularly- well, for the most part. Sometimes Snail would skip a day, but they’d be the bright and early the next morning with some french fries and a new little trinket for him. And those- plus a good explanation- were enough to keep him from being too mad. Especially since all those gifts were an interesting look into human culture.

For example, they would make a lot of things out of shells. Not unlike how mermaids could. While he would only make the occasional necklace if he managed to get some good string, humans would make art out of them. Whole scenes that mermaids couldn’t even dream of.

He had several little pieces that Snail gave him. And he cherished every last one of them. Each morning he’d get up and look them over, maybe rearrange them around his cave to spruce things up a bit. It was a little bit of a ritual to help calm the flutters in his stomach.

Yesterday was one of those days that they didn’t show up. And that was fine. He spent the afternoon relaxing in shallow waters, playing with whatever fish came near him and watching surfers. Someone went overboard, and of course he saved them, but he didn’t stick around long enough to be seen. After that incident, he just went home and did the usual and very lonely nothing.

The next day, as expected, Snail was there. He dragged himself to the very edge of the water, fin already flapping eagerly as he said in a playfully angry tone, “Where were you yesterday?”

They snorted and handed him his fries. “I had to work all day. Sorry.”

He took the fries, but instead of digging in right away, he let a small frown slip onto his face. “You’ve been having to work more often lately. It really sucks.”

Sitting next to him, they sighed deeply. “I know. I’ll figure something out, don’t worry.”

“You better,” Daniel huffed out, popping a few fries into his mouth. “Or I might have to find another human to keep me company.”

They stared at him for a long moment, expression unreadable except for the slightest hint of anger. It quickly went away, and he payed them no more mind until they dropped a small gift onto his lap. It was small, metal, and it looked like the giant double-sided hooks that were often close to shipwrecks.

He looked closely, noticing something carved onto it. L… O… But what did the rest say?

Snail’s face was completely red. In their hand was another trinket, made out of the same metal and with the same carving on it. They watched him, almost expectantly.

“I can’t really read human,” he admitted, somewhat shamefully. “I tried learning, but I got bored and gave up. What does it say?”

More confusing looks. Disappointment? Relief? They quickly stuttered out, “Oh, uh, it says luck. They’re charms. I got us matching ones ‘cause we’re friends.”

That… Made a little sense. But it still didn’t seem quite right. Still, he just shrugged and thanked them for the gift, holding onto it tight so he wouldn't lose it. Luck. He'd be sure to keep this charm on him at all times.

Then he noticed something odd hanging from Snail’s neck. He scooted over and wiggled his way onto their lap. Ignoring their gasp, he took a hold of their necklace and looked it every which way, eyebrows furrowed together.

“What's this?”

“Uh…” For some reason, they seemed really out of it. After blinking several times, they managed to answer in a somewhat strained voice, “A shark tooth necklace.”

He frowned. “That’s not a shark tooth.”

They looked at him like he was an idiot. “Yeah, it is.”

“It’s not,” he insisted, running his thumb over the alleged shark tooth. “They don’t feel like this. Whoever told you that was either stupid or a damn liar.”

The look they gave him was only half-believing. Like they didn’t want to trust him.

He bristled and glared at them. “I live in the ocean. I’ve seen my fair share of shark teeth. Are you going to trust me, or some stupid human who probably hasn’t even spent a single damn minute in the water?”

“...I can’t believe I got scammed,” they huffed, resting their hand on his hip. Their touch was warm, almost gentle. “That’s bullshit.”

Well, now he felt bad. He leaned back against them and offered, “I could get you a real one, if you want.”

They grew tense against his back. “I don’t need you fighting a shark just to get me a tooth.”

“The only ones dumb enough to get too close to sharks are humans,” he said with a huff. “Their teeth fall out on their own all the time, I can just pick one up off the ground in pretty good condition.”

“Alright…”

They still didn’t sound too comfortable with the idea. Oh well. He was going to find a shark tooth for them whether they liked it or not.

“Anyway, what did you do yesterday?” they asked after a brief silence. “Anything fun?”

“Just the usual,” he answered casually. For a moment he thought about getting off their lap, but they were far too comfortable for him to do that. “Sat here. Watched some surfers. One of them almost died, so I had to save his sorry ass, of course.”

The hand on his hip tightened. “Oh yeah? How did that go?”

“I mean, the guy’s still alive,” he answered bluntly. Thinking about the incident made his fin swish through the water. “Really, I’m just glad I didn’t have to give him mouth to mouth. He was particularly ugly for a human. I would’ve been fine with that if he was one of the better looking ones.”

“Hey, I have an idea,” Snail said not even a second after he was done talking, fingers almost bruising Daniel’s hip. “How about I bring you to my house?”

He turned so he could give them a suspicious look. “Why would you want to do that?”

“I’m not trying to pull anything funny,” they assured him with a wince. “I just thought, maybe… You could see where I live and just hang out. I can show you more things. And you’d be able to see me even if I have to work. I’ll bring you back whenever you want, I swear.”

Something still seemed a bit off. He narrowed his eyes at them, his hunch only being proven by the stressed look on their face. After a long moment, it clicked.

“You’re jealous!”

“What?” they asked, as if it was the most ridiculous thing. It didn’t help their case that their face was red. “Me? No, why would I be jealous?”

“Because I’m rescuing other humans,” he said while poking at their nose. “You think I’ll start being friends with someone else, and that I’ll hang out with them more than you. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Well…” Clearly embarrassed, they looked anywhere but at him. “I guess you’re right. But I wanted to invite you over anyway, I swear. That’s just what friends do, you know?”

No, he didn’t. But he repressed that bitter thought and tucked it away with his intense feelings of loneliness and touch-starvation.

“Sure,” he answered, crossing his arms. “I’ll stay at your house for a bit. If you can figure out how to keep me in some kind of water. Or else, I’ll… You know...”

“I get it,” they said. Almost protectively, they circled their arm around his waist. “I’ve got a bathtub you can stay in. Should be big enough. You’ll probably have to be in a cooler while I take you there, though. Is that okay?”

If only he knew what either of those things were.

“Yeah, that sounds fine. Whatever works.” But thinking about it more made him worried. There were so many things that could go wrong, and there was a very big one that needed to be addressed. “Except… Someone could see us.”

They hummed, fingers tapping against his skin. “Not if I come get you at night.”

Fair enough.

“Alright, so when should we meet?” he asked. As much as he wanted to play cool, his flapping tail showed his excitement.

“Just after sunset,” they answered, sounding about as eager as he was. “The beach will be closed, so we’ll have to be sneaky about it.”

“Closed!?” What kind of human nonsense was that? “You can’t close a beach. It’s nature, not one of your stupid human stores with your seashell art and your suv-eh-ners.”

They stared at him blankly. “...A souvenir shop?”

“Sure.”

As soon as the sun fell completely over the horizon, Daniel brought himself up to the surface. It was a little difficult navigating at night, especially with his arms full of his gifts from Snail, but he still managed to reach the alcove just fine. Now it was just a matter of waiting. 

But boy, did he hate it.

Every little shuffle put him on edge. Was it Snail? Someone else? The noises grew closer and closer, and he prepared himself for a quick take-off.

“Hey, fish-stick!”

The whisper made him jump, but the nickname just as quickly put him at ease. He turned and saw Snail grinning at him with a huge… Box in their hands. The kind he’d seen people take food out of while lounging about on the beach. So that’s what a cooler was.

They raised an eyebrow up at him, setting the cooler down in the sand so they could wave a hand at him. “What’s with all that?”

“I didn’t wanna risk losing them,” he said, tightening his hold on his little treasures. “Leave stuff alone for too long and it could get swept away or stolen. And I don’t know how long I’ll be at your house, so…”

Their face softened just a bit. “Alright, fine by me.” They put crossed their arms, looking over him for a second before perking up like they just remembered something. “But anyway, I kinda forgot to ask, can you survive in, like, fresh water? Or is it only salt water?”

“What the hell is a fresh water?”

“Alright, well, let's just test this out, then.”

Without warning, they picked him up and dropped him into the cooler. Some of the water inside splashed out, and he felt a little wedged in, but overall, he didn’t get that innate feeling of oh no, I’m going to die, get me back to water now that usually came about from being away from the ocean. And after a couple minutes, he didn’t feel like his body was begging for death, so that was a good sign, right?

“Everything okay?” Snail asked as they looked him over with a worried frown.

“Yeah,” he answered, wiggling just a bit. “The cooler could be bigger, but I don’t think I’ll die. Whatever this fresh water is should be good enough.”

“Cool, now hold on tight.”

Snail easily hefted up the cooler, letting out just the tiniest oof. Daniel’s fin, which hung out over the end, twitched just a bit, but he kept it still with a lot of concentration.

“You’re really strong,” he casually commented, glad the moonlight wasn’t bright enough to show the blush on his face. “Didn’t think you had it in you, honestly.”

They grinned at him. “Just trying to make your dick hard.”

That immediately shut him up. See if he ever complimented them again.

Slowly and carefully, they carried him through the night. Every so often, they’d stop and listen out for… Something. But eventually they got him to where they clearly wanted to be, judging from their whispered “here we are”.

And, well, Daniel had no idea what to make of it. Sand gave away to solid, midnight-black rock. And in the middle of the rock was what could only be described as a baby whale. But it was made of metal and a little horrific looking. He wracked his brain for what it could be, but absolutely nothing came to mind.

“Calm down, it’s just my car.” Snail set him down and open up the side. “It’s how we’re gonna get to my place.”

Now that it was lit up, he could see it was hollow inside, with little ledges that looks soft and plush. Snail placed the cooler on one of the ledges, and after a moment of thought, slid a strange strip over him and clicked it in place somewhere. Then they closed the car, only to open a section further up front and hop in too. After a minute of mutters and curses filling the air, the car purred to life and began to move.

Daniel hugged his gifts closely to his chest in the hopes of calming his heart. Every few seconds, a light would pass from the outside, and he could just barely see buildings pass by.

The movement was almost like swimming, honestly. Smooth and in a straight line. Very different from the small taste of walking he got from being carried. Rough, with ups and downs and random stops. That hint of familiarity soothed him a bit. But not a whole lot, apparently.

“Something wrong?” Snail asked, looking at him from the small mirror up front. “You look nervous.”

“I’ve never been in a-” damn, what was the word?- “carl before. It’s a bit weird. Why don’t humans just walk everywhere? You all were given the gift of legs, but I guess you’re just too damn lazy to use them.”

They snorted, and he could see their shoulders shaking from not-so-stifled laughter. Jerk. “First of all, it’s car. No ‘L’ at the end. Secondly, I’m not carrying you for the three hours it would take to walk to my house. I’m buff, but not that buff.”

“Alright, well,” he quickly defended, “I just know I'd use my legs a lot if I had them.”

Silence washed over the two of them for the rest of the trip. After a little bit, the car stopped, and Snail got out to grab him once more.

It looked like their destination was… A giant box? A house. That’s what Snail had called it. They brought him inside and almost immediately Daniel heard a yowl. Right underneath Snail’s feet was a large creature made entirely of hair. It stretched up, and showed a flash of sharp teeth.

“Ow!”

Snail immediately stopped and looked at him with wide eyes. “What happened?”

Daniel tried lifting his tail up as much as he could, glaring at the hell beast below. “That stupid thing bit me!”

“What, Soup?” they asked as they brought him in a room and effectively shut the monster out. “I guess it kinda makes sense, with you being part fish…”

“That’s a Soup?” he hissed. “You said it was sweet and lovable! Not bloodthirsty!”

“Soup is her name. She’s a cat. And she just got confused. Probably...”

Snail set the cooler down, then moved him over to an even bigger cooler. It was empty, and immediately he got tensed. But with a laughed out “calm down”, they worked some human magic and got water to start filling it up. Unlike the ocean, it was warm and a lot more clear. He instantly relaxed into it with a soft sigh.

“You want me to put those somewhere?” Snail asked, pointing at his treasures.

Reluctantly, he let them do just that, watching them carefully to make sure they didn’t drop anything. Every last trinket was put on a nearby shelf- except for the luck charm. He held onto that one tightly. Along with the little surprise he had for Snail.

After stopping the water from flowing, they sat down next to him and glanced over at his fin. “Still hurt?”

“No, it’s fine now.” His face grew warm, but he didn’t know why. He held up a shark tooth- a real one- for them. “Anyway, I got you this. I can make you a necklace if you get me string and something to attach it with.”

“Holy shit,” they breathed out, taking it from him and looking it over on all sides. “That’s so cool.”

Daniel grinned with pride. When they handed it back to him, he carefully set it off to the side with his charm, so he wouldn’t lose them.

“So, uh,” Snail started off, eyes glued to the charm. After a second, their cheeks went pink and they looked more at him. “I’m pretty tired, so I’m gonna go to bed now. Anything you need?”

A twinge of fear hit him. Were they going to leave him all alone here? What if something happened while they were gone?

“Actually,” he mumbled, sitting up just a bit and trying his best not to look scared, “can you sleep in here with me? I don’t wanna have to yell if I end up needing french fries later.”

Their nose crinkled up, as if that was the last thing they wanted to do. Still, they let out a sigh and kinda slumped their shoulders in defeat. “Yeah, sure, just let me get my blankets and shit.”

Good. He waited patiently while they were gone, maybe shooting a glare at Soup, who skulked by menacingly. Once Snail got back, he immediately perked up and eyed the blankets. They looked like beach towels. Only bigger.

They made a little nest on the floor, then laid down with the blanket on top of them. Yawning, they said, “'Night.”

“...Goodnight.”

That word felt foreign in his mouth. The last time he got the chance to say that to someone, he was just a kid living with his parents. But now he had Snail to sleep with. And it was pretty nice.

[shimayufanfiction]

The Stray Shikigami Accident Or Making a Wrong Seem Right

Prompt: "hot spring ff"

Universe: Sousei no Onmyouji (manga)

Pairing: Shimon x Mayura

Rated K +

Author: lovingtimetravelexpert

Originally posted in the One-shot collection “A Flight towards our Future”

The Stray Shikigami Accident Or Making a Wrong Seem Right

Why had he to go through this? He should have just went home. Should have said, he had something to do, instead of coming along. This wasn't, how he would have imagined things to turn out, when he accompanied Mayura to visit Rokuro.

Why had he done it anyway? He had more important things to do. Actually not right now, he had planned for a free afternoon, on which he could tend to his plants. His newest bonsai needed to be cut to grow more branches. But then she had stood in front of the door of the Ikaruga main house, asking him to tag along. And Shimon just couldn't force himself to say "No".

It was all thanks to this infatuation he had with her.

And now? Now he found himself in the streaming, hot water off a hot spring with Rokuro next to him.

Which wouldn't be a problem at all, if he didn't know Mayura was on the other side of the hot spring. Naked and all.

Only a wooden wall separated them.

One simple wall.

Just wood.

It was making him so damn nervous.

And all the while he tried to cover this uneasiness he felt.

Granted, it wasn't as bad as the time on the isle, when he had to guard her taking a bath in a hot spring with nothing being between them. But that time had left some marks on him. Some awkward and embarrassing feeling every time he thought about it because he couldn't forget the accident that occurred on that day.

So now even that wall, opposite of him, was making him nervous, making him wonder, how sturdy its structure was, how much weight it could hold and what it would take to tear it down.

It wasn't like he was a pervert.

Far from it. Shimon didn't want the wall to go down. Not in any way. He would be glad, if it would be made out of stone. Nor did he think about her body in lecherous ways. But the very idea that not much divided them, was making him breaking out in cold sweat, as his body was cooked in the streaming water of the hot spring.

And if he was honest, he feared about some accident to happen. It wasn't like he had been fortunate so far. Her breasts had been pressed against him way too many times by now. And each time it had been worse than the time before.

First time had been just pressing – with him loosing his balance in the air for a while, second time wiggling against him, as she had used him as a cushion to her fall and the third time...

He swallowed hard at the thought, while embarrassment rose within him like water into a sinking ship.

Just thinking about the time they had been on the isle, when Mayura jumped at the sudden appearance of a stray shikigami right into his arms bare to the skin made him blush furiously. He had tried so hard to forget the feeling of her naked breasts pressed against him, but it had been burned into his memory. A big fat stamp of awkwardness.

Fortunately Shimon had been able back then not to look at her once. Desperately trying to stay a gentleman, he had suffered through her following wrath, threatening to pummel him to mousse with a bolder, without blinking an eye at her.

Had it been a trick of fate, that had been throwing him into these inappropriate situations with her?

It was almost, as if someone or something pushed them together – literally.

It would be so much easier, if she was just some girl. Just a girl he was faintly acquainted with or that meant nothing to him. But truth was, even if he'd like to, he couldn't deny the pull towards her. He hadn't understood these feelings at first. He couldn't grasp everything about them either.

Yet, he felt a tremble in his heart, when he looked at her, a tickling on his skin, when they touched and the need for air in his lungs, when she smiled at him.

He got it bad.

And it had gotten worse day by day.

At first it was just some stirring of interest, he couldn't explain and wasn't sure. He worried about her so much it left him wondering about this. Then it was a warmth spreading through him and his heart clenching, when he looked at her in moments she looked so – so pretty?

Before he knew what was happening to him, these feelings had multiplied themselves.

He really got it bad.

And so he surely wasn't obstinate about the chance to repeat something like the last time.

"Oi, Shimon, is the water too hot for you? Your face looks like it's burning," Rokuro asked next to him, bringing Shimon back to the here and now. A situation, in which he was sitting in the hot water of a public bath with Rokuro next to him, a towel resting on his brown, unruly hair and a worried expression being carved into his face.

"I'm fine," Shimon shot back with some rage in his voice. It was Rokuro's fault after all that had brought him into this uncomfortable predicament. If he hadn't suggested that all three of them could go to a hot spring because it was to cold outside, he wouldn't be here.

Of course he would have declined, if Mayura hadn't looked so – so cute – in excitement about the proposal. It made him swallow hard thinking about the happy glint in her eyes and the bright smile topped with a small blush, yet again. Instead he had said nothing and both of them, Mayua and Rokuro, had taken it as a sign of approval and dragged him along. If just Tsuchimikado Arimori would have been there then he could have gone with the other two, giving Shimon the opportunity to escape this situation and go home to tend to his plants. But he had been running some errands.

"Are you sure? Maybe you should rest for a while." Rokuro leaned over to him and watched him with his red eyes squinted half way closed.

"I am fine." Shimon muttered and frowned at Rokuro.

In response that one started sulking and looked away, mumbling he uttered, "Sorry for worrying about you."

The feeling of guilt that rushed over him, made Shimon forget about his anger about the situation. Actually he didn't want to blame Rokuro for this. Anger was easier than embarrassment but it was uncalled-for. He had no idea, what he had dragged Shimon into. The only ones who had an idea about his feelings for Mayura were his siblings. And he had paid deeply for them not to say a word to anybody else. Which reminded him, that he still needed to shoot a photo of Rokuro in secret for Chiiko. His little sister was too good in bribing. It made him wonder, where she had learned this.

He sighed and leaned his back onto the stones surrounding the basin. Trying to lift the mood, he murmured, "I'm sorry. I feel better now."

Talking to Rokuro eased off some of his anxiety. Perhaps he shouldn't give it too much of a thought. With the wall between them, it was not like the incident from last time would repeat itself. Even if stray shikigami loved to take baths and were known for their sudden appearances in hot springs, it would be fine, if it happened on one side of the bath.

Besides Mayura wasn't alone there. Shizuru was with her and would probably help getting rid of any intruder or other unforeseeable circumstance easily. They had met her on the way to the hot spring and Mayura had instantly asked her, if she wanted to accompany them. Since they both were in the same class at the Seiyouin training institute, they had grown closer, something Shimon hadn't been blind to. It seemed like Mayura was easy at making friends. He himself did not know much about this one of Narumi-san's daughters, yet he noticed the blush forming on the dark skinned girl's face, when Rokuro insisted on her coming along. 'Another one,' he had thought with some sort of revolting dismay. Not because of Ioroi Shizuru but because of Mayura being one of the girls, that looked at Rokuro like that, his sister included. It almost made him feel like a fifth wheel. Nevertheless he had choked down the tiny prick of jealousy and let himself be dragged here.

Anyway, Shizuru being with Mayura was another method preventing something awkward to happen. Plus there was the wall between them.

After all a wooden wall separated them.

One large wall.

Solid wood.

These thought helped him to calm down.

It helped him relax and finally savor the feeling of the hot bath, pouring warmth into his body and loosening up his muscles. Beads of transpiration formed on his forehead and temples, running over his face, down his chin. With slow breaths he lay in the water feeling rested and centered. He even thought about thanking Rokuro for his idea. It actually wasn't so bad, to let yourself rest once in a while.

And so Shimon stopped thinking about accidents with Mayura and closed his eyes.

He appreciated the silence, that was only disturbed by the calm music of water pouring to the sides whenever Rokuro beside him moved.

All of a sudden he heard a loud splash and a even louder scream. Alarmed he immediately rose to his feet. Hadn't it been Mayura screaming? Was it again a stray shikigami?

A few seconds later, a dark voice of a girl barked, "You perverted shikigami. Go to the men, for a change!"

It was Shizuru, if he wasn't mistaken.

Then something crashed into the wooden wall in front of him.

In slow motion Shimon watched something fluffy and round breaking through the slats of the wall. Pieces of wood were flung around.

The fluffy thing flew over the water, splitting its surface into two heaving waves and crashed into the wall behind Rokuro and Shimon.

Shimon did not pay it any attention because his gaze was glued to the wooden wall, which now had a big whole in it

A whole through which he saw her. Mayura.

She looked into the other direction surprised and worried, with a towel wrapped around her.

A towel that threatened to fall.

And it did.

One second he blinked, while the towel slowly slid down her body.

The next he stopped breathing.

Utterly thunderstruck he stared at her. His eyes tried to behold the beauty they looked at, rushing over the figure. The angelic face, a long neck, creamy colored shoulders, perfectly round shaped breasts above a flat stomach, framed by round hips ending in long, flawless legs.

Words weren't enough to capture the beauty of her being.

In all his life never had he been moved by something like he was now.

Greedy his eyes took in the smooth lines and round shapes of her body.

An image of seconds was saved for an eternity inside his heart and mind.

It was only, when he noticed Rokuro's yelp, that he broke the stare and was brought back to reality.

He gasped, shocked at what he had just done.

Then he saw her turn around.

Ashamed and embarrassed he sunk to his feet and took cover in the water. He didn't want for her to notice, that he had stared. From under the surface he could hear the contorted sound of another one of her yells.

He waited until the commotion died down.

He waited for, what felt like a few minutes.

He waited until his lungs burned and the muscles of his mouth fighting his will to be opened.

When he rose to the surface again, he was alone, with an angry owner glaring at him.

Only later did he learn from Rokuro, that Shizuru had kicked a stray shikigami into the wall and went home with Mayura after Rokuro had accidentally seen them both. Shimon opted to kill him but figured he was as much scum as Rokuro for having looked at Mayura.

And for weeks he had argued with himself, if he should tell her about this or not. And when he finally had built up the courage to tell her, he was surprised at her reaction.

She turned away her burning red head and mumbled, "We're even."

[kinetic-elaboration]

My Whole Expanse I Cannot See

Miller/Jackson, ~3400 words

Miller and Jackson share a room on Science Island and start to grow closer as they contemplate the end of the world.

Read below or on AO3.

*

The reason for bringing a member of the Guard on the mission to Becca’s island was to ensure that the party arrived at the lab in one piece. Miller likes to think he was in fact instrumental to that happening. But now that they have arrived, and the drones are disabled, and everyone is safely indoors, there isn’t a lot for him to do. Raven, Abby, Jackson, and Luna are doing their science thing. Murphy and Emori have each other (often, and sometimes loudly). And Miller…is left to himself, mostly to stew in morose thoughts about his boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend, or whatever Bryan is to him now. 

After a couple of days, Jackson joins him in the spare bedroom he’s turned into his home base, because, he says, “Abby’s lost her mind, maybe literally, and Raven is even worse.” 

That sounds dire, but Miller just arches an eyebrow and asks, “What does that mean?” 

Jackson’s so stiff with coiled up tension that his fist could turn coal into a diamond, and as he takes a deep breath Miller knows he’s gearing himself up to explain it all, a disastrous vomit of words and feelings, all at once. But then he bites down, bites it all back, and just says, “Nothing.” 

Miller doesn’t press because he knows what Jackson means. Whatever’s happening down in that lab, it's not a problem either of them can solve. They could talk it out, but talking won’t change anything. It'll just draw away energy until one or both of them is hollow and so it’s better, easier, safer, just to let it drop. 

“Yeah,” he answers. “I got a lot of nothing going on myself.” 

* 

They start spending a lot of time lying next to each other in bed, because the spare bedroom isn’t very big and the bed’s the only real piece of furniture in it, besides a hardbacked chair and an empty chest of drawers. The space is soft and comfortable and intimate, and they find themselves asking each other the sort of probing, personal questions that should be barred to them, that should be far beyond the bit of friendship they’ve only started to carve out.   

"I gotta know,” Miller says, as they lie side by side on their backs, staring up at the ceiling, “have you and Abby ever...?" He wiggles his eyebrows, which maybe isn't very mature, but this is Dr. Griffin he's talking about. He's not actually going to say the word "sex" in the same sentence as her name. But he’s too curious not to say anything at all. Everyone knows how close she and Jackson are, and he's sure he's not the only one who's wondered. 

The idea is apparently shocking to Jackson himself, though. "What? No—gross, and no." He shakes his head and tries to explain, "She’s my boss. My...mentor. Like a second mom. So no, that would never happen." 

"Okay, okay."  

They're both silent for a few moments, and it should be awkward, especially after that misstep, but somehow it's not that bad.  

"Did you have someone else, then? On the Ark?" Miller asks. 

“No. I mean—I used to. A while ago.” Jackson’s silent for a while, as if that were the end of the story. And maybe it is, and that would be okay. Then he starts talking again, faster this time, like he planned out these words in advance, lined them up in his mouth and now he’s just letting them go. “I was dating another apprentice. But we were both too busy, and we never put each other first. We broke up before the Ark came down. He was originally from Factory, so I think he—he was on that station when we launched." 

Bellamy told Miller, after Mount Weather, about finding Factory smashed to bits on the rocks and only one survivor, so he knows what must have happened to Jackson's ex. All he can say is “I'm sorry.”

Jackson just shrugs. "I'm sorry, too," he says. "About Bryan." 

Bryan isn't dead but Miller understands what he means: Jackson is sorry that they broke up; that they loved each other, but not enough; that the Earth hardened them both, broke and reshaped them so they didn't fit together anymore. He's sorry that theirs was a young love and that, after everything that’s happened to them both, neither of them is young anymore.  

"Thanks," he mumbles. And then, "I don't want to talk about it." 

"Me neither. I mean—"

“Yeah. Let’s not talk about any of it.” 

The room is very quiet, no Earth sounds from outside, no sounds from the other rooms, either. Unnatural, almost. Disturbing. 

Jackson starts to move, like he’s thinking of turning on his side, maybe, and looking at Miller face to face. But he doesn’t.

“Good idea,” he agrees.

*

Miller stops by the lab once, but its unnatural bright sheen and the pinched desperate look on Raven's face both turn his stomach, and he can't bring himself to stay. Jackson still needs to put in his hours, though, running his calculations and his simulations, being a voice of reason as the world crumbles, which is why Miller ends up wasting away hours in the spare bedroom, alone. He spends the time sleeping, mostly, because they're up late most nights watching the moonlight shine in like it used to on the Ark and talking, or not talking, according to some inner calculation, or some innate knowledge of each other, which Miller doesn't really want to name.

One late morning, he wakes up and tries to gauge from the angle of the sun what hour it is, and can't, and doesn't care. Jackson's sitting in the window seat with his knees up against his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. He’s staring out at the slope of grass and ancient trees leading down to the water's edge. 

Miller watches him for a long time. Wonders what he's thinking. The way he's sitting makes him look like a little boy, lost and alone, which would touch something in Miller's heart if he hadn't already seen too many real kids just pretending to be adults, dead before they made it past pretending, to still be moved by such moments of quiet fear.

Still. He does want to get up and put his hands on Jackson's shoulders and ask him what's on his mind. He does want to know. He does care. But he can't bring himself to move so he just closes his eyes, and only later, when he hears Jackson moving again, does he open them and pretend to just be waking.

*

At night they always start their discussions with "Are you awake?"

The first night, it seems like a stupid question. Jackson's voice murmuring low and uncertain next to him is almost a joke, because he's been moving restlessly and sighing and pulling at the blankets for a half an hour now—he's most obviously not asleep—and he doesn't recognize yet that this to become a refrain, or a code.

"Yeah."

"Can't sleep or don't want to sleep?"

"Both. You?"

He's lying with his back to Jackson but from the movements next to him, the quiet sounds of limbs rearranging, the shifting of weight against the bed, Miller can picture him moving from his side onto his back.

"It just seems like a waste of time, when we don't have that much left."

They've never talked before about the radiation. In this room, sometimes, it's like it doesn't even exist. Nothing that has ever happened exists, nor anything that ever will. Outside, the leaves are still because there's never any breeze. Inside, water flows from the taps and cupboards open without squeaking because nothing ever rusts. 

"If you're going to think like that, you'll never sleep. And then tomorrow you won't be rested. You won't be able to do your work, you'll make a mistake, and we really will all be fucked."

He wanted the words to be a joke, didn't even sound mean when he spoke, but the long silence makes him wonder if maybe he should have just kept his mouth shut. Maybe the middle of the night is only for quiet voices and quiet thoughts. 

But then he hears an unexpected snort and, "I'm so glad you're not putting any pressure on me," and he smiles, because it's all right.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Miller lies still for a long time after that, daring himself to be quiet, counting his breaths so he won't be too tempted to speak. But he's picturing Jackson lying next to him, maybe watching him. Staring at the shadow outline of him on the other side of the bed. They could continue joking. Except too much time has passed for that, they’ve dug down too deep into the silence, and now they can only sleep, or pretend to sleep, or start to talk about something else, something quiet and serious that he won't want to remember in the morning. Those are the options left and the third is too real and too close, like the heat of another body next to him or the itch in his fingers, which want to grab on to fingers or arms or shoulders or hips.

"Do you believe we're going to find a solution?" Jackson asks, finally, and just like that the three options narrow down to one and Miller takes in a sharp breath and closes his eyes tight and wills himself somewhere else.

But answers anyway.

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Maybe that's enough. Maybe his belief, which needs no explanation, which needs no defense, such is its strength, is enough.

"I want to believe it," Jackson answers. 

A pause, the space of two careful breaths, follows. 

Then Miller half-jerks to the side like he's going to turn around, but he doesn't, because he feels the mattress depress again and hears the sounds of Jackson's body turning, too, away from him this time. He feels the blanket they share being pulled up. And he knows that Jackson's curled in on himself with the blanket right up around his shoulders and his back to Miller, and he knows they aren't going to talk anymore, tonight.

*

Twenty seconds into their staring contest, Miller wishes he'd argued for an arm-wrestling match instead, because he's never lost a contest of strength yet. He's pretty sure he's going to lose this. The rules are no blinking and no laughing and no looking away. It sounds simple but he can't stand it, the burn at the edge of his eyes, the utterly straight face Jackson is making as he stares, matching Miller straight gaze for straight gaze.

Jackson's lying on his back and Miller's next to him, propped up on one elbow, looking down. The whole world has narrowed down to Jackson's eyes, which are brown with flecks of gold; and his eyebrows, how the right one arches up just a little more than the left; and his cheekbones, and the hollow beneath his eyes, and his nose. From this distance, Miller can make out each eyelash. He stares at them and knows he won’t last long. He hates the idea of blinking, not because it means losing, but because then their game, their moment’s distraction, will be over and he’ll have to sit up and look away, and he’s not sure when he’ll next get the chance to watch the afternoon shadows play over Jackson’s skin. 

He needs to break. He needs distance. But he wants—

"You're cheating."

The corners of Jackson's lips are starting to twitch. 

"You're cheating," Miller counters. "You're smiling."

"You're looking at my mouth. Eyes only. That's the rule."

"No smiling, that's the rule."

It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter; they're both grinning. They’re both staring to laugh a little, that type of laughter that bubbles up when you’re trying your hardest just to keep it down.

If he were younger, and this was the Ark, and they were just out of class, in Miller's quarters with his dad off on patrol and on his narrow one-person-wide bed, and every bit of closeness with another boy was still enough to set his heart off like a racehorse with amorphous adolescent desire and deep stomach-rattling nerves, he might find some excuse to poke at Jackson's side or pin his wrists, might try to turn this into some overwrought bit of wrestling, like boys can get away with, like he used to get away with all the time. But this is different. He’s lived through that; he’s felt that way. This is something else. 

So he just looks down and smiles and Jackson looks up at him and smiles, for so long that the expression fades from each of their faces and then they're just staring, as intently as if they were stuck in their contest still. Except that one or the other will blink, every now and again. Each waiting for the other to really break, this time, in a way that counts.

*

Miller is not afraid. He's never been afraid of anything. He wasn't afraid of kissing Bryan outside the Alpha Station door, for the first time, ever in his life, and he wasn't afraid of the Sky Box, and he wasn't afraid of going to Earth. He wasn't cowed by the Grounders or the Mountain Men. And he won't be broken by heartache either, or beaten low by radiation, by this last betrayal of the Earth herself.

He survives and he sheds the past like an old skin, and he moves on.

*

Jackson's been quiet all evening, which is how Miller knows it was a bad day, a set-back day, but he doesn't ask for the details. They don't talk about the lab in here. Except for that one night, they don't talk about the future either.

Miller sits on the bed, hunched over his knees. He rubs his palms together, slowly, back and forth, and listens to the paper-thin sound of skin on skin. Jackson's standing by the window, shoulders square and arms crossed and his back to the room, watching the sun sink lower and lower toward the ground. Another day ending.

"If this really is the end," he says quietly, and then fast, before Miller can even open his mouth, "and don't say you know it's not, I just want to ask you this. If this is the end, what do you want to be doing, in your very last moments?"

"You're assuming there will be some sort of choice, besides just 'dying painfully'?"

"If you could choose. Anything at all."

It doesn't seem like it should be a hard question, but it is. He stops the movements of his hands and just stares down at them, where palm touches palm, where fingertip touches fingertip. Like he’s staring down the line of his life as it stretches on, no longer into the far distance, but toward some fixed and immovable point beyond which is nothing at all. He doesn't answer for a long while, and Jackson doesn't ask him again. Still the question hangs in the air, waiting for its resolution with the patience of an eternity they don't have.

"I'd be fucking," Miller says, at last.

Jackson glances at him over his shoulder. He looks like he's about to argue, annoyance starting to shade across his features—like he thinks Miller isn't taking this seriously, except really he's serious as death itself. 

When Jackson sees the unfiltered, fearless honesty in his face, he turns away again.

"Really?"

"Yeah. The way sex makes me feel, that’s how I’d want to feel at the end. That's how I'd want to go out."

"You just want to feel good? That’s all?” His tone is so neutral, Miller knows he's judging, or trying to hide his disappointment, like he was expecting something deep but he shouldn’t have been. This is all he should have counted on, a shallow answer from a prisoner, a shooter, a guard. “Through some mindless animal fucking?”

"No. It's not mindless. It's—beyond the mind." He waits, licking his lips to gather the words there, then holding them steady in the pocket of his mouth until he knows they've formed just like he wants them to. "And it's not animal. It's human. It’s…it’s knowing you’re as close as you can possibly be, like you’ve reached that peak, you know? And it should be terrifying to be that exposed and raw and honest with him—” He’s never honest. He never lies but he’s never honest. Not with most people. His voice cracks up but he pretends that it didn’t. “But it’s—not. It feels right. Somehow. Being connected to someone else. So that amazement overwhelms you." He pauses. His mouth is dry; he swallows and runs his tongue across his lips again but it does no good. "It’s the most alive I’ve ever been.”

The words feel inadequate and shallow, mere syllables stretching to give form to memories of such intensity they shiver like ghosts along his skin. He stares at Jackson and wonders if he feels it, too. An empty ache in his chest like longing and regret.

“I’ve wasted so much time,” he continues, his voice lower now, like this is the real secret he’s been trying to share all along. “I’ve wasted so much time just waiting.”

“You were hopeful.”

“I’m just stubborn.”

Jackson shoves his hands in his pockets and hunches his shoulders up to his ears. Miller can almost hear the words he starts to say, but cannot form. The silence stretches on until what's left is, “When I asked you—it’s not that I’ve given up.”

I should hope not, Miller thinks, but out loud, he just says, “I know.”

*

Some mornings he patrols the perimeter, just to feel like he has something to do. But the drones do not return, nothing moves behind the tree line, and the waves lap up against the shore with a hypnotic regularity that makes even Miller, forever on his guard, want to sit right at the edge of the grass and stare out at them. Slowly losing all sense of time itself.

He expects that when he returns to the guest bedroom, Jackson will be there. Waiting, and ready to say he’s tired of waiting. But the room is empty so Miller only lies down on his side of the bed and looks up at the ceiling. He tries not to think about how long he spent, last night, listening to Jackson’s breathing and wondering why he never turned his question back at him.

When the door slams open with no warning, only a clattering of tripped up footsteps rushing down the hall, a sound he did not even register above the hum of his own silence, he’s startled. Of course he’s startled. He sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed but before he can say a word or even make a sound of surprise, Jackson’s pulled him up to his feet.

This is new. They don’t do this. Miller has memorized the shape of Jackson’s upper lip and heard the thoughts that keep him awake at night but he’s never felt Jackson’s hands gripping his arms or seen him smile, bright and excited, this close up. He’s never seen him smile like this before at all.

“I take it you have good news—?” he asks, with a slight rise of his eyebrows, pretending he’s not confused and like his palms aren’t beginning to sweat.

Jackson opens his mouth to answer and again Miller finds himself waiting for a cascade of words to come. And again they don’t. Instead Jackson’s hand grabs him by the back of the neck and yanks him forward without any grace at all, before he can take a breath, before he can prepare himself to kiss back. Still he does. They crash together, lips and teeth and then tongue, breathless, open-mouthed, fingers getting caught in each other’s clothes and feet almost tripping over each other as they pull and pull back, grabbing for each other and for balance and because they do not dare to let go.

When they pull away, at last, breathing hard, Miller lets his forehead rest against Jackson’s and his own eyes close, just for a moment.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said," Jackson murmurs. "About your last moments.” 

Miller blinks his eyes open again. His fingers are tangled up in the fabric of Jackson’s shirt. “Is this you telling me that we’re all going to die?”

“No.” He shakes his head slowly. The tremors in his voice sound like the beginning of giddy, delirious tears. “I’m telling you we’re going to live.”

[rcisehcll]

touch a, touch a, touch a, touch me || simon && raphael

with @rsantiago also known as ‘what happened after saphael left the living room after rhps’

Simon wrapped his legs securely around raphael’s waist as they moved away from the couch, lips ghosting over the hollow of his neck as he fought to reclaim rule over his breathing. his lungs were burning and his head was spinning, leaving a heady, dizzy, feeling behind in its wake. kissing raphael had been as electrifying as he’d thought it would be and he wanted to do it again. his lips found their way back to raphael’s as they moved down the hall and into the spare room, his back hitting the bed first as he pulled raphael down on top of him. the angle was awkward, noses bumping and teeth clacking into the kiss - but it didn’t matter. he only pulled away when the need to breathe was too great, a trembling hand pressed against raphael’s chest as he gulped for breath. “so movie night,” he managed out, wreathed in smiles that he couldn’t hide away even if he’d wanted to. “not ​so​ terrible.”

Raphael didn't waste his time to settle on top of the other, between his legs, and let his hands explore Simon's body again, hungry for touch and warmth that kept attracting him like a magnet. He responded to the kiss and hummed in delight, dragging his tongue across Simon's lower lip and even sinking his teeth into it carefully to get a reaction out of him, eyes slipped shut though he tried to keep them open - Raphael needed to observe the other, examine his beautiful features and expressions when the dancer kept teasing him with kisses ​&&​ bites everywhere he had access to. When they finally pulled away, the older boy couldn't help but laugh, nose scrunching up in amusement. “Do you always feel the need to say something?” he replied to Simon's comment, teasing tone intact as he rolled his eyes, aware of the fond way he was staring at the other. “I guess it wasn't too bad after all.” Raphael mouthed against the younger's boys jaw, feeling hot and dizzy in his presence.

Simon wanted to point out that he’d managed to keep from saying something for awhile now, thank you very much, but the only thing he managed to get out in response was a strangled moan as raphael’s teeth continued teasing him. it wasn’t fair, really - his cards had been out on the table before they’d even started to ​play/​ he’d never stood a chance. “maybe.” he finally strangled out as his fingers tangled in raphael’s hair again, a sharp tug accompanying his words when the other’s lips found a particularly [insensitive​ spot on his neck. while there were plenty of things he wanted to say the hazy feeling that had settled over him was keeping him quiet. or rather, quiet per his standards - all things considered. “nope, not bad,” he parroted, pivoting his hips to pull raphael in closer to him. in that moment he’d never wanted someone as badly as he wanted raphael ; his chest heaving, body quavering, but he also knew that it wasn’t right. not now, at least. as badly as he wanted to tug him down and lose themselves in the moment - he wanted it to be more. wanted it to ​mean​ more. with reluctance he hooked his fingers underneath raphael’s chin and nudged him back upwards so that he could meet his gaze again. “we should stop.” he explained, words barely above a whisper as he swallowed thickly. “i mean - not that i don’t ​want​ to,” he quickly added, “but i mean...” words weren’t coming easy but he had to hope that raphael could make sense of what he was trying to say. the words all muddled within his mind getting stuck on the tip of his tongue as he fought to make sense of them.

Raphael tried not to growl at the tug of his hair, making him shift inbetween Simon's legs, but somehow he had managed not to break the trail of kisses he was peppering down across the other's jaw, and rolled his eyes when Simon continued talking, promptly shutting him up with another sweet kiss, this time even more gentle than before. Hearing a slightly insecure tone in the younger boy's voice, the dancer pulled away and waited for him to finish, although the rest of his sentence never happened to be delivered, so his eyes started searching for the answer in Simon's gaze. “Yeah, okay,” he acquiesced, offering a short nod before breaking into a small smile. Raphael was on the same page with the other - although he wanted to be consumed and swallowed whole by the tension that was lingering in the air, this wasn't the time, especially not when there were ​other​ people in rooms next to theirs, separated by thin walls. He'd gotten too caught up in the whirlwind of ​passion​ to even care about their friends, and now that he was slowly coming down from this high, Raphael could think of more ways to do this properly. And he wanted to - to do this properly - because he hadn't felt that way about someone in a very long time and it was important for him to make everything right. “Wouldn't want to make you sacrifice your lungs,” he added quickly, grinning sheepishly before rolling off of Simon to lay down next to him, wrapping his arm around his shoulders to pull him closer. Cuddling had already become their ​thing​ and it only felt natural, with them being pressed against each other, soft ​&&​ intimate.

Simon had to take a moment’s pause to reconsider his stance when raphael growled low under his breath at the tug in his hair - a fact that simon took note of to store in his mind for the next time. ​if​ there was a next time, which he truly hoped there would be. he wasn’t sure exactly how they could go back to a seemingly platonic relationship, not when he knew how ​wonderful​ it felt to have those dulcet lips pressed upon his own. “my lungs are eternally gratefully.” he wheezed out with a fond roll of his eyes, shifting to nestle up against him as their legs tangled together. his heart was still pounding a mile a minute and he was reeling from the emotions of the night but he couldn’t help but feel grounded when he gazed into raphael’s eyes. “but speaking of sacrifices, that reminds me. i got you something.” he gestured towards the night stand closest to raphael’s side of the bed, where he’d abandoned his bag earlier in the night. “left side pocket, in the bottom.” there, enclosed in a little drawstring bag, was the replica one ring from ​lord of the rings monopoly​ game that he had at home. he’d thought it would be funny, an inside joke between the two of them, but now the idea of raphael finding the ring made his stomach flip in ways that should have been uncomfortable but oddly wasn’t. maybe it was because they fit together like puzzle pieces, or that he was still riding out the high their kisses had gifted, but the ​anxiety​ that usually plagued him when was outside of his comfort zone was gone. it was a nice feeling, one that left him feeling sated and light in ways he’d forgotten he could feel. he could chalk that up to the man curled beside him.

Raphael raised an eyebrow at the other's words that raised his curiosity, and soon enough he reached out for the accounting student's bag, shifting on the bed to make it easier for himself to grasp it. It didn't take him long to open one of the pockets and curious fingers started wiggling inside of it in hopes to find something. “What's this?” he questioned out loud as soon as he retrieved a ring from the pocket of Simon's bag, holding it up in front of the light to inspect the shiny jewelry that bore a striking resemblance to the ring from The Lord of the Rings. Oh. “​Oh,​” he answered quietly, surprise evident in his voice. Of course, Raphael was only kidding when they were talking about getting married - ​obviously​, given the fact that they weren't even dating - but there was something about receiving this ring that made his heart flip in a way he'd never experienced it before, bringing a genuine smile to his face. “Seems like we should start planning our wedding now. Get Chewbacca's costume and everything,” the dancer joked as he slipped the ring on his pinky since it was too small to fit one of the other ones, staring at it for a bit too long before averting his gaze back to Simon. Falling for someone had never been ​this​ easy, and while it should've been frightening, Raphael finally accepted his own feelings for the other as he was happily stuck in the trap Simon had built with his smile and kindness.

Simon hadn’t realized that he’d been holding his breath until he watched raphael pull the ring out of his bag. it was a game piece so it was no surprise it didn’t fit, but he couldn’t fight off the smile that spread across his features when raphael slid it onto his pink anyway. “hey look, it fits.” he teased, reaching over to let his fingers trace the carvings on the ring before curling his fingers around raphael’s. maybe it was cheesy, curling up in bed together, holding hands like they were fifteen again and stealing moments in between home room and first period, but he craved the simplicity of the contact. how easy it was to fit against him. ​and how easy it would be to stay there forever.​ “now the question is - who gets to be chewbacca?” he asked, a chuckle emitting from low in his throat. “clary is the obvious choice but she’s a little too short. magnus will probably insist, but only if he could bedazzle crossbow. now ​that’s​ an idea.”

Raphael subconsciously reached for the cross hanging around his neck, tugging at it lightly, as he thought of making a necklace out of this ring to have it with himself at all times and, truth be told, he had no idea where this had come from; it was just a playful joke and this ring wasn't even real, but carrying it around seemed like something that'd always make him feel warm ​&&​ safe. He'd always been a pretty lucky guy, but maybe this would become his ​lucky charm​. Glancing down at their fingers laced together, Raphael let his mouth quirk at the corners and tilted his head to the side, pretending to contemplate the other's words. “Well, if Clary borrows Isabelle's heels, then she'll make a great Chewbacca.” A nod followed his words. “I know it's a Star Wars themed wedding, but I feel like having Shrek is a necessity.” Raphael said seriously though his eyes were sparkling with amusement.

Simon "Is it even possible to wear heels with a wookie costume?” simon had to ask, noting that it sounded just as ridiculous out loud as it did in his head. “you can’t have a wookie walking me down the aisle without, i dunno, wookie feet.” he frowned. “wouldn’t it be part of the costume? like a onesie.” his eyes brightened, swallowing back a smile. “hey, we could get married in ​star wars​ onesies instead. then we wouldn’t have to worry about feet, or shoes. it’s a win/win for everyone.” it didn’t matter that it was a hypothetical conversation about a wedding that might not ever happened - it lifted his spirits in ways that he didn’t know how to put into words. raphael was the kind of person he hadn’t known could exist - a little rough around the edges, sure, but inherently good. the kind of person you could entrust with your life and ​be assured​ that they wouldn’t gamble with it. “shrek is a given.” he agreed. “maybe we can walk down the aisle to a remix of the imperial march and i’m a believer. wouldn’t that be nice?”

Raphael “I don't know about that,” he hummed in response to Simon's comment about wearing onesies. “I'd like to see you wearing a suit for once. Which reminds me that we still haven't gone shopping for them.” Raphael sighed, running a hand through his hair as he frowned at the thought of spending hours to find a good tailored suit while being surrounded by ​people​ and annoying advertisements everywhere. “I'm actually kind of looking forward to it. The wedding. I haven't been to one in years, and I like it when families gather around and chaos happens,” he said, looking down to their fingers once again, softly rubbing circles with his thumb on the other's hand. It was really ​nice​ - being next to him, talking about anything that was on their mind and being content; it was one of the most genuine feelings he'd experience in a while and the older boy kept craving more.

Simon frowned when he realized raphael was right. ​shit.​ the wedding was in less than three weeks and it would take at least a week to get alterations made - he never managed to find a suit jacket that fit properly, he was always left looking like a child playing dress-up, or a member of an 80's rock band. neither look really worked for him. "ugh, don't remind me." he groaned, pressing his face into the crook of raphael's shoulder. "i hate going to the tailor. i get poked every single time, and they stay stop complaining, that it doesn't hurt, but it ​does​ hurt. whoever says it doesn't is lying." he brought his free hand up to run through his hair, the nerves surrounding the wedding fading into the background as raphael's fingers traced curles against his hand. it was the reassuring motion he hadn't known he'd needed, and he couldn't help but think that maybe the wedding ​could​ be something great. even if they'd broken the cardinal relationship rule - if this even ​was​ a relationship - by making plans so early into things. but that was something for future simon to worry about, in the moment he just wanted to focus on being wrapped up together and being happy. was that so wrong? "i can't promise there'll be any chaos at rebecca's wedding, but there'll be an open bar. josh's parents own a winery so," he shrugged, "there's a good chance half of my extended family will be drunk before the reception even starts. it could get interesting. just remember, avoid aunt ethel. at all costs. and don't let her trick you into dancing with her," he added seriously, "you'll never be seen from again."

Raphael laughed softly when Simon started complaining about going to the tailor, as he glanced at his finger, adorned with the gifted ring, and let his mind wander, explore the depths of the wedding that was waiting ahead. Although he wasn't one to really show that, Raphael was anticipating and kind of nervous to meet Simon's family, to see his mother, who'd managed to raise a little boy into a beautiful ​&&​ kind man, and his sister, whom he'd spoken of with brotherly love. “Finally, there's one thing we can both agree on,” he teased, slightly turning his head so he'd be able to watch the way Simon's eyelashes fluttered on the apples of his cheeks and how the corners of his lips quirked every time he talked about things he was passionate about. It was one of his favorite things about him - although Raphael didn't like when people talked too much, he couldn't complain about the fact that Simon looked so pure and content every time he rambled. It was cute in a way he'd never thought of appreciating it before, and that was another thing that made him realize he was falling, and he was falling ​hard​. “What has aunt Ethel done?” Raphael asked curiously, smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The woman seemed very amusing, even if he'd never seen her before, and he couldn't help but think that meeting his family could be disastrous but in a good way.

Simon couldn't think of a way to sugar coat what he wanted to say, so he didn't. "uh, well, she met her last husband at my cousin's wedding. apparently that's where she shops for her next husband. she just got divorced and you're, well," he gestured to him, unable to find the words to properly articulate how gorgeous he was. "you'd be the prime rib at the buffet, and trust me," he shuddered, "that's not a good thing." just the thought or bringing raphael to meet his family made his palms sweat ; he'd been nervous before when it had all been pretend, but now it was verging on reality and that made it much more daunting. what if they didn't like him? or worse, what if they did? what if they loved him and simon managed to screw it up? he was notorious for it, after all. but as his breath fanned out against raphael's collarbone and his toes brushed up against the inside of his ankle, he couldn't ignore the glimmer of ​hope​ that sparked inside of him. he wanted this to work, whatever this was, and he would do anything he could to save it from, well, himself.

Raphael raised an eyebrow at Simon's explanation, tapping on the other's hand with his own, as a small laugh escaped his lips and he slightly shook his head. “I'm afraid I couldn't be her husband anyway. I'm already engaged to someone else, remember?” he said, lifting his hand up to flash the ring that had been slipped on his pinky, smile teasing. It was so unusual for him to talk about things like this so casually though it felt very natural at the same time, which was supposed to be quite concerning, but he was tired of overthinking things and all he wanted to do right now was drown in Simon's embrace, inhale his sweet scent and stay with him just for a little bit longer. “Seems like it's going to be one hell of a party,” he mused as he gazed into Simon's eyes, with a look so soft and fond it was almost unrecognizable.

Simon could practically feels his insides melting into goo as raphael leveled him with a look that could only be described as tender. his breath caught in his throat, stilling momentarily as he rebelled in it. for someone who protested that they were grumpy and not gooey like a marshmallow, simon couldn't help but think he had proof now that would suggest otherwise. the feeling warmed him and he couldn't help but smile, something he seemed to do frequently whenever raphael was around. "that's a fair point." he replied evenly, "you've already promised me a Star Wars themed wedding. there's ​no​ turning back now." He kept his gaze trained on raphael as he hesitantly tilted his chin up to press a kiss against the underside of his jaw, lips stuttering briefly as they traced the contour of his face. how had he managed to find himself wrapped around someone this good? someone so pure, an angel among men. never perfect, but pretty damn close. he tasted like the sun and if so, simon was icarus and the burn was inevitable.

Raphael let out a quiet sigh of delight when he felt Simon's lips pressing against his skin, warmth overwhelming his entire body and lulling him to sleep. He closed his eyes for a moment to relish the comfort he'd been gifted with, fingers tracing patterns on the other's arm, and welcomed the light that took over his entire existence and made him feel like ​home​. “We should sleep, it's late now and I'm exhausted from all that running,” he hummed, rolling his eyes at the memory of almost tripping over air as he tried to run away from Magnus while flailing around like a chick, and looked down to see that he was still in those golden shorts, feeling just as uncomfortable as before. Unfortunately, there were no clothes to change into, so he could only purse his lips before furrowing his brows, even though his facial expression changed as soon as he decided to settle in under the covers, nuzzling his nose into the pillow. “This bed is amazing. I should just move in. Or steal it.”

Simon couldn't help but choke back a laugh as he thought back to earlier that night, watching magnus chase raphael around the living room. at the time he'd felt pangs of jealousy when legs that weren't his own has wrapped around raphael's waist - but now those feelings were gone, replaced with a warmer, softer feeling, that came with settling where you ​belonged​. but as comfortable as he was in the moment, he knew that eventually they'd need to come back down to reality. this, whatever was going on between them, would eventually need to be acknowledged. but not tonight. "it's the sheets," simon explained, rolling the fabric between his fingers as he spoke. "they cost more than my car insurance. it's ridiculous, but it really does make all the difference." with ease he slipped in between the sheets, shifting back into his former position where he'd been wrapped up against raphael. now that he knew how good it felt to be in his arms, it would be ​difficult​ to resist. "oh, there's pyjamas in the drawer over there if you want to change." he added after a moment, only realizing how uncomfortable raphael had to be in the unforgiving spandex when the rough material rubbed against his leg. "no laughing though, I was going through a phase." he winced at the thought of what he'd find in there, knowing that there was at least one pair of spongebob squarepants pj pants tucked away in there. if raphael didn't find him sexually unappealing yet, that would certainly be the final nail in the coffin.

Raphael let out a hum of approval as he slid his hand across the sheets, feeling the soft material under his fingertips and enjoying the way they clung to his skin. He hadn't felt this comfortable in a while - wrapped up in those sheets and Simon's arms, warm ​&&​ content, wishing to spend the rest of his life living luxuriously in the other's presence. He offered a soft smile when Simon noticed that Raphael's shorts stopped him from relishing in the feeling of comfort, and escaped Simon's embrace to change into something not so suffocating. As soon as he opened the drawer, he couldn't help but let out a laugh at the sight of Spongebob pajamas while cringing at the thought of wearing them, yet he didn't take another second to get them out, quickly changing into more comfortable clothes. When he came back to bed, Raphael wrapped his arms around Simon's middle, bringing him closer to his chest, and sighed softly, muttering something under his breath. “Goodnight, Simon, and don't you dare drool on me again,” he warned as a grin stretched across his face, closing his eyes shut. His chest pressed again Simon's back, nose in the other's hair and arms settled comfortably on the younger boy's stomach - Raphael had never been this happy before.

[andixinha9th-blog]

soulmates au: ‘’ I feel like I’ve seen you before ’’

pairing: andi (kim seungmin fc) x inha (hwang hyunjin fc)

genre: fluff, some angst to spice it all up (insert wiggling brows,, I’m just a binch for sadness what can I say.)

warnings: might be hella cheesy as well as a bit sad so,, oof, be prepared.

word count: 3,753

author’s note: ‘’ ever felt like you and your soulmate have met before and you can’t imagine where or when? ‘’ that might mean one thing, that you have met each other in your past lives and this one lead you to one another again. that feeling… when you come home. it’s not a place, it’s a person. it’s You.

·         in some alternative universe, where strange things happen daily,

·         lived two boys, who had no idea, what was About to happen.

·         I mean, who could… two people, living their ordinary lives, trying to get through with their struggles, which seemed to have gotten harder as time went by.

·         no one could even imagine that something might quickly change their routine, by linking two lives together so chaotically and of course, unexpectedly.

·         Andi was someone who had deep passion for music and arts in general,

·         he was a first year student in university, working at a part-time job, while managing some projects at school and literally wishing it was possible to Get more time because he never had enough for the things he wanted to do.

·         not to mention rest.

·         he rarely done that.

·         which worried everyone around him, but himself.

·         he had good, supportive friends around him and everything seemed well, because he always had a positive spin on life, but

·         something always had been missing

·         like a piece of himself, scattered somewhere around the world and he felt the need to search for it.

·         but then again… never had the time to figure it all out.

·         and then we have Inha, a guy who is also a first year in the same university,

·         he got into a dancing program, which was the only thing he was proud of achieving in his life,

·         because anything else he had done, never seemed enough for himself or anyone else,

·         honestly, he was a sad person, not really open to others, made a few friends in first half of the semester, but rarely hang out with them.

·         he felt so alone in this world which made him wonder at times, was he even born in the right time, or place,, or space even.  

·         and then things started to change.

·         second semester started and Inha had to take the last and apparently highest level of English, but he didn’t make it into Mrs. Lee class, which was a bummer,

·         because all the people he knew, so like, what,, three? went to that class.

·         he had to reapply for the same class, asking another lecturer to take him in.

·         which was a little hard for Inha,

·         because he never liked approaching people,

·         even the elderly ones.

·         he was awkward but tried not to show that his anxiety was hitting his stomach like tiny needles poking it from inside.

·         so he went to talk with Mr. Wang, who was a transfer teacher from another university,

·         he kindly added Inha to the list and it felt like a rock had fell off his shoulders.

·         and surprisingly Andi was in the same class.

·         which was just pure faith, really.

·         universe got tired looking at two young people, always lost, not knowing what they actually lack.

·         I guess, It got tired just as much as those two souls, which were separated.

·         till they had to meet again.

·         and they did.

·         ‘hey, watch where you’re going!’ annoyed voice growled.

·         ‘uh,, sorry’ flustered brown eyed boy leaned down to help pick up all the stuff that fell from another one’s hands.

·         Inha was stressed because his homework was due today but he still had to find a new part-time job.

·         which he Just lost. because there was simply someone else who did his job better.

·         and so he became a trash which was thrown out.

·         ‘I’m really sorry, oh.. it’s you, Inha, right?’ cute boy handed all the stuff that he had gathered from the ground to the taller one standing in front.

·         black haired boy emitted a sigh after he noticed it’s someone from his new class. ‘Oh. Andi, was it?’ he mumbled.

·         and then their eyes clicked.

·         for like a whole ass minute. literally.

·         there was nothing either of them could do. neither move or talk.

·         and they didn’t want to.

·         they felt a hole in their chest filling up slowly, with warmth and love.

·         they felt whole.

·         the universe they cursed at every night questioning ‘why me’.

·         finally gave them an answer.

·         ‘wow’ both of them muttered under their breath.

·         then they felt some strange feeling on their left wrist.

·         like someone was gently carving something on their skin.

·         and then they both dropped Inha’s stuff again.

·         ‘oh my god I’m so sorry… again’ Andi groaned out going to pick up all the stuff again.

·         but Inha was still staring at him.

·         because he realized that something happened and he didn’t look like the only one feeling side effects of it.

·         ‘wait’ he whispered and grabbed Andi’s wrist.

·         younger one looked at him, brows furrowed. ‘ugh, what are you..’

·         he was going to break out of Inha’s claw but he got even more confused when he saw a strange mark on his wrist.

·         Inha lifted up his left hand revealing the same sign on his wrist.

·         then he backed off of Andi, looking scared and confused.

·         they both felt the same.

·         but deep down they just wanted to know what’s going on.

·         ‘what the fuck just happened?’ Andi stared at the mark, afraid to lift his eyes and face the male, standing in front.

·         older one panicked and collected all his stuff.

·         and ran off. like he always does.

·         at least he tried.

·         but some magical force threw him back to Andi.

·         felt like some sort of magnet. such strong power not letting him move any further.

·         ‘ugh.. I’m sorry, I panicked’ Inha looked down guiltily, finding his balance.

·         ‘it’s fine, I mean, I was gonna do the same, but I couldn’t move when you started.. running’ Andi ran his fingers through his own hair, frustrated.

·         ‘listen, Inha, I don’t know what the hell is happening, but I have no time to figure it out now because I’m on my way to my part-time job and.. I mean, I have to ask you to come with me, if you can?’

·         he blurted out, finally facing Inha, who was as confused as ever, now thinking what to do.

·         ‘uh, I guess we have no choice. but my laptop is out of battery and I need to do my homework, If you could..’

·         ‘of course, I’ll lend you mine just.. stay by my side because I don’t want to be thrown to another part of the planet if you decide to run away again’ he chuckled.

·         and then Inha’s heart literally felt shaking like in the middle of an earthquake.

·         ‘I’m sorry, I’ll try not to move too much.’ he scratched his head, following the younger one.

·         both of them tried not to show the confusion on their faces. but it was inevitable, really.

·         walk towards the shop that Andi did part-time in, was painfully silent.

·         both of them were drowning in their own hurricane of thoughts. I mean who wouldn’t…

·         THAT just happened.

·         they finally reached their destination.

·         it was awkward at first but then it just felt natural. being beside each other.

·         Andi was doing his work at the shop, while Inha was using borrowed laptop for his homework.

·         Half of the time he tried to google. which was a desperate call for help in answering the mysterious thing that happened today.

·         Andi, when not having any customers, searched on his phone, nervously peeking at his new classmate.

·         both of them were busy on their own stuff, but tension lowered as they slowly started chatting.

·         asking things about each other.

·         getting to actually know each other.

·         where they study, what they do after lectures are done. their pet names and favourite things to do in the morning.

·         just all the little things that popped into their head. they didn’t hesitate to ask.

·         stating it as ‘help for the research’

·         even though it actually was something they felt like they knew all along, but only got that feeling when getting an answer.

·         it felt like filling up their souls.

·         they were hungry. for knowledge. and touch even.

·         but it didn’t feel right just yet.

·         because even though both of them had that feeling of knowing one another for a lifetime.

·         in this one, they Just met.

·         ‘so what are we going to do?’ asked Andi, knowing that this question had to be asked by someone eventually.

·         ‘what Can we do?’ Inha lifted up his wrist, waving it at the brown eyed boy, smiling softly.

·         that was when Andi felt the same feeling of an earthquake, shaking up his world.

·         one smile.

·         from one person.

·         changed everything.

·         and that’s when they realized that this is something more than just a prank or a dream that they should wake up from soon.

·         it was something real, and something that was planned all along.

·         like a destiny.

·         or at least it’s a way of destiny showing up itself in both of their lives.

·         because everyone can change destiny.

·         since that weird force attracting them to one another was still there, they had to think of something.

·         because life didn’t stop for anyone. so something had to be done.

·         boys decided to stay at Inha’s place since he didn’t have a roommate at the moment.

·         they went to gather Andi’s stuff after his shift had ended and drove back at Inha’s flat.

·         ‘home sweet home!’ the taller one chuckled, opening the door, not being able to believe what’s happening still.

·         both of them came inside and settled down. Andi got to sleep in an empty room which was ready for a flatmate that didn’t show up for a few weeks now.

·         low-key felt like it was all planned.

·         here we go, destiny again, peeking it’s nose inside their business.

·         boys were tired so they just parted their ways for the night, going to sleep off this madness.

·         though it wasn’t as easy as hoped.

·         both of them ended up in the living room, searching for a movie to watch,

·         because laying in bed was just painful

·         thoughts kept attacking both of their buzzing heads,

·         and level of anxiety was at highest

·         so a distraction was the best option in this case.

·         they eventually sank down to sleep, using each other’s shoulders as support.

·         tomorrow came faster than expected.

·         Inha, hearing some fuss happening in his kitchen, realized, that it was definitely Not a dream.

·         and he didn’t decide yet, if it was a good thing or a bad one.

·         but either way he had to get up and get on with it.

·         while Andi was making breakfast, Inha got ready.

·         it was weird but felt nice.

·         not being alone. Inha thought to himself.

·         ‘good morning!’ he inhaled and sat down viewing this aesthetically made food, as his jaw dropped. ‘damn, I forgot you were an artsy one’

·         ‘hey, don’t you mock me!’ Andi playfully huffed but sat down as well. they ate breakfast, chatting like old friends, with this tiny feeling lingering, that they knew each other so well.

·         they planned their day, filling up every gap to make it perfect. of course, not everything worked out, but they tried their best to cooperate.

·         hopefully it wasn’t a ‘forever’ kinda thingy.

·         It was around lunch time when Inha was running through the hall, trying to find in which corner Andi was hiding.

·         and he finally did.

·         the thingy on their hand was like a compos.

·         it felt warmer and warmer, the closer they got.

·         convenient.

·         of course they couldn’t leave each other’s side, the biggest distance was like hundred meters or so. either way… they didn’t check on that yet.

·         ‘I found something!’ those words sounded like something so joyful but sad at the same time.

·         it felt weird.

·         both boys scooted closer to each other, as Inha started to blabber quickly about everything that he had found.

·         he gathered all the information about this tattoo. he even posted it online and some people responded.

·         so here it was. mark of soulmates.

·         people said that this has happened before to some of them. and it either disappeared after five days, or stayed.. if they developed feelings for one another.

·         it got both of them flustered.

·         but not knowing how to act they just… cheered.

·         ‘yay! we’re going to be free in four days from now’ Andi giggled nervously as he looked away for a second. feeling sadness punching into his chest.

·         as did Inha.

·         it’s not like they knew each other that well.

·         but one thing was obvious.

·         in such a short time they grew fond of each other.

·         and if it wasn’t a soulmate thing, then I don’t know what else was.

·         but fear got a hold of them, and even the slightest thought of saying anything related to that, made their throats dry.

·         ‘yeah’ Inha replied, half-smile flashing on his face as he stood up. ‘I’ll catch you later, I have a class.. well, nearby’ he winked and ran off.

·         then he realized what he did, and smacked himself on the face. what a dork.

·         Andi waved to the older one’s back, feeling his cheeks heat up.

·         that was their biggest mistake. not telling each other what they actually felt.

·         but it would have been weird.

·         they just met.. right??

·         all of this is weird.

·         they both shoved up their heads with bunch of excuses and made themselves believe that they are waiting for Thursday to come.

·         that would be the day when they’d be set free.

·         or so they hoped.

·         time passed quicker than expected. and both boys got so attached to each other.

·         doing everything together.

·         it finally felt like they had someone to depend on, filing that void inside their bodies, which was bugging them both for their whole lives.

·         Andi even got Inha a part-time job at the same place he was working at, it was instantly easier to match up their schedules.

·         after classes they went to a small hall in their uni, where Inha used to practice his dancing.

·         and Andi played guitar while singing.

·         they mesmerised each other with their talents, and there was no escaping that.

·         they had movie nights,, every night.

·         and always asked each other if they had eaten yet.

·         if not, they would do it together.

·         they went on walks, to relief stress of all the studying.

·         Inha even helped Andi with this huge project that he’s been doing for the university.

·         everything seemed to go as it’s supposed to.

·         except that people had noticed that something was going on.

·         their friends in particular.

·         and they thought of inviting them both to a party, to finally find out what the hell is up.

·         which was due on Thursday.

·         they had no choice but to accept. and they kind of thought about this party as a farewell one. so it was a nice way of saying goodbye.

·         sad.

·         right?

·         and it was.

·         no one could imagine what was about to happen.

·         so they went to that party.

·         together.

·         for one, there was no other option.

·         and second, they really didn’t mind, especially that doing everything together by now felt like only natural thing to do.

·         it was fun, all of their friends getting to know each other, playing games, drinking… a bit.

·         later on, a lot.

·         someone suggested to play ‘spin the bottle’

·         and everyone was against it.

·         till few random faces started agreeing, and then everyone was forced to join.

·         well, here goes nothing.

·         all of them sat in a circle.

·         freshly emptied beer bottle was the main game tool.

·         Inha and Andi didn’t feel so good about this.

·         or maybe they were just too nervous.

·         either way, there was no running away from it.

·         as the night went on, everyone was cheering, and kissing the heck out of everyone.

·         and then, bottle suddenly stopped pointing at Andi.

·         he was supposed to kiss Inha’s friend.

·         room went silent.

·         some people tried to lessen the awkwardness by cheering a little and telling Andi to kiss the girl.

·         Inha got so annoyed that he didn’t notice how his hands started forming into fists and shaking aggressively.

·         or more like out of panic.

·         he simply got up and left the room. which got some people saying some nasty comments.

·         but he didn’t really care about those.

·         they were jokes.

·         so was he.

·         he felt like one.

·         like everyone was mocking him, all his life, up to this moment.

·         and he just got angry about it.

·         or maybe it wasn’t IT.

·         it was Andi. and he felt it, deep down.

·         it was hidden under all those meaningless excuses.

·         and he wasn’t the only one feeling like this.

·         brown eyed boy sat in a circle, staring at the bottle, not being able to lift his eyes up.

·         he knew that Inha left. but he wasn’t able to see anyone’s reaction. especially his new roommate’s, which stormed out of the room just now.

·         he thought that maybe Inha liked that girl, so he got nervous.

·         maybe he got mad at Andi that he was about to kiss her.

·         all in all, idea was taken.

·         he got up as well, running out of the house.

·         then suddenly he felt burning pain on his wrist.

·         he felt hurt and sad. hole in his chest opening up again.

·         tears started running down both of the boys’ cheeks as they hissed in pain.

·         Inha was in a balcony, looking down the street, as he saw Andi going out of the house.

·         the younger one finally broke down and screamed: ‘just let me fucking go!’

·         and then it happened.

·         as promised.

·         the mark started fading away.

·         and pain only got bigger.

·         they had to endure it, till it was gone.

·         the sign was gone as they empty eyed stared onto the skin of their wrists.

·         and there was nothing.

·         Andi was the one who ran off this time.

·         and Inha was left alone to stare at his silhouette, fading away into the dark night.

·         and there it was.

·         destiny got broken by two very confused hearts.

·         which longed each other’s touch.

·         but wasn’t brave enough to tell how they actually feel about each other.

·         and how they actually felt for a long time now.

·         worth of countless lifetimes.

·         but life goes on.

·         and it did.

·         there was nothing they could do.

·         or they thought so.

·         a week and a half flew by after what happened at that party.

·         they went on doing their part-time jobs, trying to not run into each other.

·         went on walks, but now, separately.

·         they ate at different places, and either stopped watching movies at all,

·         or just, watched them alone.

·         but it got too depressing.

·         both of the boys tried to change their perfectly matched schedule, so it would be easier,

·         easier to forget.

·         but how one is supposed to forget about each other’s soulmate.

·         but what happened, already did.

·         this phenomena was something out of this world, really.

·         but there is no option like turning back the time.

·         sadly.

·         you just have to live with what you’ve done.

·         to yourself.

·         keeping yourself away from something… someone that matters more than your own life.

·         going to university was one of the most cheerful things in Inha’s and Andi’s lives.

·         but now, it changed.

·         and even if it was awkward at first,

·         meeting each other at the halls.

·         one thing had to be done.

·         ‘excuse me’ a poke on taller one’s shoulder was felt.

·         Inha was trying to do his homework, before English started, as he flinched of an unexpected touch. ‘yes?’ he turned around, surprisingly to see his now ex soulmate.

·         ‘could I take back my stuff from you? I thought I could live without it but, I really need it for my project..’ Andi nervously muttered, looking off slightly.

·         he felt kind of guilty, running off like that.

·         they really had a great time together and everything they did, felt So right.

·         it wasn’t Inha’s fault that he liked that girl.

·         IF he liked that girl… even.

·         but Andi reacted badly.

·         because deep down he felt like he belonged to him.

·         even universe said so.

·         but not everything goes as planned.

·         even if it was meant to be.

·         it doesn’t always happen.

·         and so dark haired boy agreed, slightly nodding.

·         they both met up after lectures and went to Inha’s place.

·         it was even more awkward that the first time that happened.

·         but they had to act like adults about it.

·         as Andi gathered his stuff, Inha stood, leaning against the door.

·         he watched Andi, and it made his heart shatter.

·         it was so sad, that whatever was supposed to happen did not work.

·         actually, Inha didn’t understand what happened.

·         he knows why he stood up and left the room that day, but Andi..

·         younger one was collecting the box, filled up with his stuff, into his arms, as he was about to leave.

·         but Inha stretched his arm in a doorway and blocked the way ‘hey’ he silently whispered.

·         ‘I know this is weird for me to ask but… what happened that night, why did you leave?’

·         the hurt in his eyes was a see-through. and Andi saw it as well.

·         it felt like staring into a mirror.

·         reflection of himself and his own pain in someone else’s eyes.

·         the box was heavy so Andi put it down on the ground, and his eyes followed up to face the boy, standing in front of him.

·         it was kind of funny.

·         how they couldn’t leave each other’s side because of the mark,

·         but now,

·         the only thing stopping him from leaving was Inha himself.

·         ‘I…’ Andi parted his lips to say something, but words stuck inside his throat.

·         like all those times when they wanted to tell how much they don’t want to part their ways.

·         and why.

·         Inha dig his own nails into the palm of his hand. the hesitation was real.

·         but he broke through whatever was holding him down.

·         he looked fear deep in its eyes.

·         and he reached out his palm, to take Andi’s in his.

·         both of them were surprised.

·         their eyes filled with tears,

·         that warm feeling was back.

·         they felt unconditional love and attraction to one another.

·         it was undeniable.

·         and they didn’t want to deny it anymore.

·         then it appeared again.

·         marks on their wrists started to brighten.

·         their gaze fell down to observe the tattoos of their souls, showing up again.

·         as they finally looked at each other again.

·         and words fell out of their mouths, as if they said them thousands times before.

·         ‘I feel like I’ve seen you before.’

·         I think I have loved you before.

·         and I think, I will love you for thousand times more.

[corruptionofteller]

32. Neither Here Nor There

The brightness of the light that shone down over her confused Scarlet. She hadn’t connected that her dead father was kneeling over her body with her very alive ol’ man. Taking his hand she sat up, moving to her feet with her dark eyes locked on Otto. Questions ran in circles in her mind but she couldn’t find her words. Otto only smiled, letting her take her time. She turned back to where she had laid moments ago to see her body covered in blood, limply cradled into Jax’s chest as he weeped for her to stay. The entire scene played out in real time before her. With a quick shake of her head she turned yet again to face Otto to ask him what was happening to her but she lost her breath. Securely wrapped in his arms was a small baby boy; Otto held him with pride giving Scarlet a nod to come closer. She was torn, the bond she felt for the small child was overwhelming but the love she held for Jax was deeply rooted. All she could do was cry out for help. “Please help me! I don’t understand what is happening to me!” Chibs had ran right past her, he didn’t hear a word she said. Actually no one did, everyone hovered over her lifeless body as she stood watching trying to get the attention of just one of them.

“Sweetheart, I need you to come with me now. I need you to trust me. Cain needs you.” The sound of his name pulled at her heart. Scarlet shook her head by the mention of his name. She and Jax had found out the sex of the baby a few days ago but wanted to keep it a secret until he was born. His name was picked out by the by the couple as something only they shared together until it was time to welcome him to the world. The experience she was having with Otto seemingly having all the information she had shared with him while talking to his urn twisted her emotions. Did Otto really hear her? Would Jax be upset she shared the happy news with her dead father? Would she ever be able to tell Jax this unreal event had taken place. These were the questions she asked herself as her hand laid to grasp her rounded belly but all she touched was air. Glancing down her eyes widened in horror, still confused by the situation. “Everything is going to be alright, baby girl.” Otto again cooed to her, holding the child.

“I can’t..I don’t want to die. We can’t be dead.” She whimpered, walking over to her father calmly, taking the perfect child from him. Her eyes scanned her son for wounds but she quickly realized that he was full term. He was perfect and most importantly he seemed unharmed. Blonde like his Daddy. Cain’s eyes opened to her touch, flashing a smile that reminded her of Jax. “He is okay.” She spoke softly with Otto proudly standing behind her shoulder, gazing down at the little piece of her she held protectively in her arms.

“He is going to be fine, just like you are. Now come on. I want to talk to you for a minute. We don’t have much time.” When her eyes lifted up to find Otto she realized she was no longer at Teller-Morrow. She stood in the place Jax had taken her on their first ride. With her son still securely in her arms she began walking down the path nervously not seeing Otto. The memory she had of Jax leading her down the same path made a smile break through. It was their first raw moment together. The first time she saw the real Jax. Even if he only showed it for a moment.

Otto stood at the entrance with a smile, his arms crossed over his chest like he was watching his favorite movie. When Scarlet and her son made their way to him she saw Jax and her walking through the cave. She remembered the moment so clearly, each word spoken between the two. “Man oh man babydoll, when I first realized you went to Jax for help I about shit myself. I wanted to yell for you to stop. I knew when you found out the truth about my death it would destroy you. And if anyone was going to find it out for you it would be Jax. But then this moment. God this moment right here. I knew you would be in good hands as much as I wanted to punch the little shit.”

She looked to her father surprised until he nodded to the memory playing. She watched herself graze her fingertips over the carved words left behind by her old man, she solemnly read out the words. The memory paused mid sentence and Otto began walking into the

double sided cave. “Yup, this was it.” He began taking a few more steps closer. “He didn’t know it, you didn’t want it. But this moment I knew I may have failed you as your father but Jackson would love you until his last breath. I knew that look.” Otto said, taking in a breath as he observed Jax a little closer. She realized the sorrow in his tone, the sadness in his eyes. “That was the very look I had for my Luann. God, did I love her. This was the moment love was seeded. This was the moment that at the same time would lead to what has happened.”

Scarlet smiled, wanting to reach out and touch Jax but her hand waved through. She looked down at her sleeping child again torn between the two, choosing to turn away holding her son a little tightly to her. “What do you mean it led to this?” She questioned, following Otto out of the cave, her eyes falling to the baby in her arms who she swore was a perfect mixture of herself and his father.

“You hate yourself for my falling but you need to know that my death was coming. One way or another, sweetheart, I knew it was coming. It was why I gave you my secrets. It was why I made sure every visit to tell you how much I loved you. I know about Chris and I know what he did to you as well as what you did to him. My blood is not on your hands. Yes, Andy set it in motion because of what you did, but I couldn’t be prouder. You are strong and you did what had to be done only you shouldn’t have had to been the one to do it. When I was dying I smiled because the last thing I heard was your name, the last face I saw was yours. Your happiness is mine then and especially now.” Scarlet’s tears came out of nowhere. She sniffled listening to her father speak but it was not pain, it was relief. To hear him tell her he was okay, not angry with her, was everything she needed to hear.  

Cain looked up at his mother wiggling in her arms in what came off as a playful manner, catching her attention away from Otto. His eyes were crystal blue like Jax, the little bit of hair he had was a blonde again like his father, but his smile, that was breathtaking was just like Scarlet. It was that moment she knew she couldn’t be without him. Jax is the love of her life but their son needed her. Jax would have to understand that whatever the outcome of this strange experience was Scarlet needed to be with her Son.

“The moment I saw you changed my life, unfortunately for you it was already too late.” The tone in Otto’s voice shifted from pride to sufferance. Scarlet looked up to see they had been now standing in the hospital. Otto put a hand over the glass that looked into the nursery. Walking up next to him she saw her small clear cradle marked, Baby Girl Delaney. She gasped, having never seen herself as an infant. Joanna was never one to take pictures leaving Scarlet’s childhood unmarked. Which may have been for the best.

She watched Otto’s eyes staying locked on the infant girl who was a stunning split image of the child she now held in her arms. “I look like Cain,” She muttered, walking closer. Otto’s head dropped in a nod before he turned to face her.

“You wouldn’t believe the shock I felt first seeing my grandson. Scarlet, you are my daughter. But this little guy here, he is /your/ son.” Otto chuckled, tickling the side of Cain’s neck for a moment. “It seems your whole life I watched you behind glass. I always wanted to be there for you but the life I lived I was in too deep. I couldn’t save you from your mother, from Chris and now Andy.” Otto paused, giving Scarlet a small smile, putting a careful hand over Cain’s head. “I will make sure he has the perfect life. I will never leave his side. He will have everything you have dreamed of for him.”  

Scarlet smiled, assuming Otto meant he would be watching over them. She leaned against her father. The first real physical contact as father and daughter as she ever had. His arms wrapped around her shoulder, both watching Cain wiggling and cooing in her arms. The moment seemed to last a lifetime. Scarlet felt at peace; if that moment stood still she wouldn’t mind.  

That moment did not stand still however. Scarlet felt a dual pain come to life from her shoulder at first, lifting her head she tucked her chin in looking for a reason to be feeling the pain. I large breath was drawn in by Otto who reached out for Cain as the pain became increasingly intense joined by a sharp pain in her stomach that seemed to be ripped open. “DADDY?” She cried out feeling the warm liquid seep from the wounds. Otto took Cain from her who began to cry.

“It’s okay, you will be okay. Our time together is up. I am so sorry sweetheart just know you will be okay in the end..” A rush of confusion jolted through her. Looking down she was now standing in a pile of dark crimson blood. She looked to Otto as if he betrayed her, quickly her arms reached out for Cain but she was torn away in a swirl of pain, sucked back into the black emptiness.