#torn between being super excited and super distressed

[hobermallowed]

I forgot I requested a week off…. Starting tomorrow I’m off for 7 days….

[free-pool-trash]

happiness - peter maximoff

yay a new peter fic <3 i was feeling a little unmotivated for a few days (since our boy wasn’t in episode 8 at all :/) but im back 😎 although im back in school so i might be on and off for a while 😩✋🏻

!!!it’s not a songfic those lyrics at the start are just my inspo!!!

word count: 5k <3 😳

warnings: maybe swearing but i dont think so i cant remember, peter being sad, angst, but mostly fluff, WandaVision spoilers maybe??? I pretty much made up this plot so idk, endgame spoilers, reader was an avenger, kissing but it’s not graphic😽 probably some mistakes yk how it is

feedback is appreciated <3

tagging: @enchantedcruelsummer (should i make a peter maximoff taglist? let me know and I’ll do it)

masterlist

haunted by the look in my eyes that would’ve loved you for a lifetime

leave it all behind

& there is happiness

Loneliness had always been something that plagued him. That and a plethora of other negative emotions.

There wasn’t a day that went by where Peter Maximoff wasn’t made to feel like a loser. Admittedly, he’d never held himself to a high standard, he grew up thinking that he’d never fit in anywhere and eventually that thought mutated into a lifestyle as he began isolating himself from the world around him, either far too good or heartbreakingly not enough to be a part of that crowd.

He liked spending time with himself. Nobody else knew him the way he knew him, and still, he found nothing but an overwhelming hollow space where his deepest most important hopes, aspirations, dreams and self discoveries should have resided.

Peter had always put this feeling of exile down to the fact that he was a mutant, it was the most likely explanation, right?

It was only when he’d decided to join the X-Men that he finally came to the conclusion that maybe the rest of the world wasn’t the problem, nor was his mutation the problem, but that he himself was the problem. For even in a school full of people exactly like him he was still the same loser that he was in his mother’s basement.

And he was under no illusions that that was exactly what his teammates saw in him; nothing. No potential. Just a space holder to bring the numbers up.

Super speed was incredible. That’s how Peter acknowledged jobs well done, he praised his speed but never himself. He just saved Charles and Erik from a room full of armed guards? No that wasn’t him, that was simply his speed. He saved an entire mansion full of people from a potentially fatal explosion? Nothing special, Kurt probably could’ve done the same.

Forget all of the good deeds and saved lives because the bottom line of it all, to him at least, was that all he was good for was cheeky one liners and hopeless kleptomania.

His life took a turn for the worse when he found himself being mind controlled in an alternate universe. And even then, he was playing the part of someone that wasn’t him, the thought humbled him, reconnected him to his roots and reintroduced him to his life long philosophy that he’d never be anything more than a social pariah. Not even an alternate reality could accept him for who he was. There wasn’t a warm welcome and despite not knowing what was going on, the definition of “imposter” or the weirder, “recast”, still shot to kill.

He settled on the notion that he was an inter dimensional waste of space. At least in WestView he could be blissfully ignorant, let the real him be drowned mercilessly in favour of being an integral part of someone’s life- to feel important, even if it wasn’t real.

When WestView fell apart he was completely lost. In every sense of the word. In a new world with no way home and as it turned out, nobody was looking for him. Although he didn’t expect anyone to care, it still stung that nobody did. He always hoped that one day Erik would step up as a father figure for him, this; getting kidnapped and smuggled into a different dimension, seemed like the perfect moment for that epic father son moment, but it wouldn’t surprise Peter if his father has yet to notice his disappearance.

But then, seemingly out of nowhere, he came into contact with a beacon of hope. A guiding star that might possibly lead him to an existence consisting of something other than misery and self loathing.

It offered him a choice; return to being the self proclaimed loser he was known as or start fresh as someone new and mysterious, with first impressions yet to be made and conclusions about him yet to be drawn. Peter had known himself to be rash in the past, when it came to making decisions he had the tendency to act impulsively, never putting too much thought into how his decisions would affect his life in the long term. The choice before him now is no different, he knew exactly what he wanted going forward, however selfish the choice may have been, the second he realised it was an option his heart was set on it.

That previously mentioned beacon of hope arrived to him in the form of a girl, in the form of you. An ex-avenger and close friend of Wanda’s, you were hired by S.W.O.R.D to help them clean up the more ‘sensitive’ fallout that the fall of WestView brought about. Obviously, they were sticking you- the only other avenger with magik- on babysitting and rehabilitation rather than letting you go after your best friend who had gone completely off the rails. Having said that though, you didn’t want anyone else handling him.

You hadn’t watched WandaVision, nor were you even aware that any of it was going on until it had reached a boiling point and you got a call from Monica Rambeau, she’d begged you to come and wait on the edge of town while she went in and act as her eyes on the outside along with Jimmy Woo.

That’s where you stayed until the hex broke down.

As soon as the barrier came down the base you manned was overrun by an armada of terribly confused and distressed citizens, Monica and Wanda were not among them but in their places stumbled in Darcy and the man playing the role of Pietro.

Jimmy appointed himself to Darcy, who in all honesty seemed relatively unscathed by the situation while you made a beeline for the dirty blonde charading as your former, dead teammate.

Peter was, to put it simply, completely enthralled by you as soon as you’d strolled over to him and in the moment he’d put his almost magnetic attraction to you down to the fact that you were the first friendly face he’d seen upon breaking free of Agatha’s possession.

But one thing in particular struck him; you’d asked him his name. You hadn’t immediately assumed him to be some knock off Pietro, as everyone else had. You acknowledged that he had his own personal identity and despite how often he caught himself hating the person he was, he found that when it was torn away from him that he wanted it back. The simple question you posed gave him the opportunity to regain his identity.

“Peter. My name is Peter.” He answered you, almost unsure of himself and you found your interest in the man piqued even further.

He remembered with perfect clarity the way you’d offered him a grin, tilted your hand, extended your hand and said, “Well it’s nice to meet you, Peter. Come on, I’ll be your babysitter for the next while.” There was something about the way you’d laughed after saying the words and the slight, yet unmistakable, glint of mischief in your eyes that had him captivated from the get go.

With you came a whirlwind of new emotions. After only a few weeks of knowing you, Peter noticed he wasn’t as lonely as he had been back home. He didn’t hate himself half as much either, he wasn’t entirely free of self deprovative tendencies and maybe he never would be, but undoubtedly, he likes himself more in this world than he ever had in his last. He thanked you and your determination to make him “a functioning member of society” for that.

It didn’t feel belittling, the way you helped him. You hadn’t dragged him to your favourite mall every weekend just to taunt him about how he couldn’t stop himself from stealing something. Even the very first time, when he’d sped away from you and returned within a second adoring a pair of freshly stolen sunglasses. Your only reaction had been to laugh and casually place your hands on both sides of his face.

“At least remember to take the tag off next time, speedy.” You’d muttered, subtly pulling the tacky stickers off the arms of his shades. No, you weren’t dragging him sight seeing or forcing him to help you go clothes shopping because you thought he was a loser who needed reforming you were doing it because you were a true friend who wanted him to succeed.

The pair of you seemed like two peas in a pod. Which to be fair, you were. Peter Maximoff intrigued you in every sense of the word. He was new, quite literally other worldly, he was kind, he was funny, he was perfectly mischievous and completely wonderful.

What caught your eye the most was the way he held himself, as if he wasn’t entirely comfortable in his own skin. It became apparent to you that he lacked confidence with the phrases he usually tacked onto the ends of his sentences. When you’d invite him to hang out in the beginning his response would always be something along the lines of, “Sure. If you want me to.” But the excitable puppy dog eyes told you that he was dying for someone to want him to tag along some place.

There was a certain understanding between you. You were both more than accustomed with the harrowing feeling of being alone and even though you’d never exactly voiced those thoughts with each other, you couldn’t deny that his was a spirit kindred to your own and he felt it too.

Since the Avengers has disbanded, one of your best friends, Natasha, was dead and your other best friend, Wanda, was gone completely off the rails and the people chasing her wouldn’t let you anywhere near her or even attempt to help pull her out of her darkness. You were being kept as a wildcard in case they needed her taken down. Peter was no stranger to the feeling of being cast aside and so he quickly responded to your frustrations, and in doing so, forced himself out of his comfort zone to be there for you. To his complete shock though, you’d been so appreciative of his efforts.

You never failed to thank him for the little things he did for you, always complimenting his mutation when he’d use it and giving him the recognition he never received at home. The friendship he formed with you was so… two sided, again, something he wasn’t accustomed to before. It didn’t involve him giving everything he had to offer and receiving nothing in return, you matched his energy meticulously and never left him hanging.

In a series of firsts, he didn’t wonder whether or not you genuinely liked him, never feeling the need or want to question it as you’d left him with no reason to doubt.

As he walked around the mall with you now, his mind brought his attention back to the question you’d asked him rather casually a few nights ago. You were both lounging on your couch, watching some ridiculous reality show (a favourite of yours and Peter’s) when you’d turned your head to look at him, a thoughtful look on your face. “Do you think when S.W.O.R.D figures the technology out to crack into other realities, you’ll go back to yours?”

The question had taken him aback for a second, in all honesty, he hadn’t thought about going home, not when he was with you at least and considering he’d become your roommate about three weeks after he got out of WestView, the thought of returning to his old life had barely crossed his mind.

Being an ex-Avenger you were fairly well off, you lived alone in a two bedroom apartment in New York that you’d bought to be closer to Stark tower. Peter had nowhere to go and aside from having a spare room to offer you’d also been sort of lost in the current of the busy city with everyone you once loved in the area either dead, on the run or busy elsewhere.

While the question hadn’t crossed Peter’s mind, it had crossed yours on several occasions. He’d been staying with you for six months and the moment you realised that he was becoming one of the most important people in your life, the thought of him leaving you too weighed on your mind but at the end of the day you wanted him to feel happy. He deserved to feel happy and if going back to his reality brought him that happiness then you’d support him.

“Dunno,” he’d replied, turning to face you, chucking a handful of popcorn at you when you looked incredulous at his response, “To be honest I haven’t really thought about it, m’way too busy babysitting you anyway.” He joked, effortlessly dodging the few pieces of popcorn you attempted to throw at him.

For the last few nights, the question haunted him, but it wasn’t just the question that was bothering him. You were at the forefront of his mind as he replayed the past six months of his life which also happened to be the best six months of his life. WestView put him through hell but coming out the other side of it and meeting you felt like heaven.

He weighed up the pros and cons of returning to his native timeline. The cons: he’d have to leave you behind, he’d go back to being the loser who nobody took seriously, his talents would be downplayed and disregarded and he’d inevitably end up revisiting his lifestyle of solitude. Then there was the pros: he’d get to reunite with his pac man machine. He couldn’t manage to think up anything else.

If he stayed he’d have everything he ever wanted and needed. You’d be there and he knew you always would be, besides he couldn’t leave you knowing that you needed him. If he left who would wake you up when you had night terrors about the catastrophe that your reality was still recovering from? There would be nobody there to comfort you when you woke up from the nightmares, reliving the deaths of Natasha, Tony or Vision and the experience of being snapped out of existence? If he wasn’t there to make you laugh when you were about to cry then who would be? In his heart of hearts he knew you had a huge support system at your disposal, he’d met most of them. Even though he was well aware that Sam visited you as often as he could, that Bucky wrote you letters on a monthly basis and sometimes tagged along with Sam on his visits, that Stephen Strange appeared in your apartment whenever the urge struck him, that the literal god of thunder invited you out for beer whenever he was visiting Earth, that the little spider-kid, also named Peter, swung by your apartment at least once a week to tell you all about school and his good deeds. Despite knowing all of this and knowing all of these people loved you dearly, Peter wanted to be your main source of support, he didn’t want to be someone who came and went, who’d love you then leave you. He wanted to be with you through anything and everything and the feeling that you’d love him for a lifetime had him satisfied with the decision he was about to make.

If leaving his old life meant he could stay here, with you, and experience happiness for more than a fleeting moment then he’d simply; leave it all behind.

“I’ve been thinking about what you asked me the other night.” He spoke through a mouthful of curly fries. You were sitting in the food court of the mall when he decided to let you in on his desire to stay with you indefinitely.

You raised your eyebrow, “You? Putting thought into an answer? Peter, I think I’m starting to become a bad influence on you.” You told him teasingly, taking a long sip of your drink as he rolled his eyes humorously.

“You’re a terrible influence which is exactly why I’ve decided to stay here and put you on the straight and narrow.” The glee you felt at his statement was undeniable, your eyes lit up and your lips curled upwards.

“You’re staying? Really staying?” Your smile was contagious, Peter’s face now painted with a wide grin as he nodded his head.

In a moment of weakness he frantically added, “Y’know only if you want me to though. If you don’t that’s completely cool.” He rushed through the words, feeling more embarrassed when the fond look on your face never faded.

“Of course I want you to stay. You mean a lot to me.” You reassured him, a gentle smile on your lips as you reached across the metal table, intertwining your fingers with his.

Peter squeezed your hand gratefully, holding it in his grasp securely and allowing his smile to return to his face, “I know. You mean a lot to me too.” It was somewhat of an understatement, he was starting to understand that you didn’t just mean a lot, but that you meant everything.

His resolution lifted a huge weight off your shoulders that you wouldn’t be losing yet another best friend. You were glad he’d be with you when everything blew over with Wanda, the two of them definitely had the potential to develop a beautiful sibling relationship and they both deserved that. Of course, Peter would never replace Pietro and having known them both it was obvious just how different the two men were, the only thing they had in common being their powers and last name. Still, he and Wanda would still be able to work on it. He didn’t hate her after WestView and you knew Wanda well enough to know that she was kind hearted and she’d be more than willing to give him a chance. When she eventually comes back to her senses, that it.

As the months went on, life with you and Peter seemed to only get better. You never stopped laughing, your nightmares died down and Peter had taken on a whole new lease of life. Yourself and Peter were the perfect example of meeting the right person at the right time, you balanced each other out and accentuated the other’s good qualities.

Peter could now say with complete confidence that he was happy and what’s more is that he was finally sure that he was making someone happy.

Up until nearly eleven months of living together your relationship had been purely platonic, save for the constant flirting but flirtation pretty much ran in yours and Peter’s blood. Peter wasn’t going to lie to himself, he’d fallen for you the second you’d peeled the security tags off his stolen sunglasses.

You, on the other hand, had been fighting with yourself because yes, you love Peter but you couldn’t have told him when there was the possibility he’d eventually leave and now so much time has passed and you’ve got such a good thing going you didn’t have it in you to ruin it.

However, all of that changed when your original Maximoff best friend came knocking on your door.

Wanda was on the run. She’d caused an amazing amount of chaos but Stephen Strange and S.W.O.R.D were hot on her trail and now she needed a place to lay low with the twins. She figured there was no place more reliable to go than to the always open arms of her best friend, who conveniently had a divinity for earth magik and could muster up a protective barrier without raising suspicions. And that’s exactly where she found herself; outside your door.

You’d been chasing Peter around the apartment when you heard the knock on the door. Peter was on the opposite end of the kitchen to you, using the bar as a shield from you. “You better get that.”

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you?” You glared as you spoke, it was his own fault really. What sort of idiot jumpscares a witch while she’s mid-meditation? He’d frightened you so badly you accidentally blasted a ball of your signature green energy and ruined your favourite couch throw pillow. When you were ready to pounce on the scared speedster the knocks sounded again, more frantic this time.

With one last glare towards Peter you stomped towards the door. Your anger melted away completely when you saw her. Her hood was up and she looked completely exhausted, two small hooded little boys by her side.

“Wanda…” You breathed out, relief flooding your system at the sight of her alive. She didn’t get a chance to speak before your arms were pulling her against you tightly, hugging her as if your life depended on it. Wanda returned in your embrace, allowing herself to relax for the first time in nearly a year, she sniffled against your shoulder, holding back tears as she realised how much she’d truly missed you.

Billy and Tommy watched in confusion as their mother cried into your shoulder. They didn’t know who you were, all their mother had told them was that they were going somewhere safe.

It was the yell of one of the boys that caused you and Wanda to separate, “Uncle P!” With that you felt a familiar rush of air across your leg but instead of Peter appearing one of the kids was gone.

You shared a perplexed look with Wanda, although your confusion was for different reasons.

“Hey hell raisers!” Peter responded, catching the mini speedster who all but threw himself at him barely regaining his balance before the other child had flung himself into the hug.

“Wanda? Those two… are they...?” You started, at a loss for words Wanda cut you off quietly, her tone as disbelieving as yours.

“My children? Yes. Is that…?” You nodded your head numbly, anticipating the end of her question.

“Your fake brother? Yeah.” Quickly, you realised you and a wanted woman catching up with the door wide open wasn’t ideal and you ushered Wanda inside, shutting the door when she walked in.

“Hey.” Peter greeted her simply, as if he hadn’t been used as a meat puppet in her altered reality. It wasn’t in his nature to hold any grudges.

“Hi?” Wanda replied, her voice still twinged with confusion.

“Peter, will you keep an eye on the kids for a bit? Wanda and I have some catching up to do.” You asked him with a nervous laugh, just thankful that Wanda was too tired to argue with your suggestion.

Peter ruffled the boys’ hair and gave you a grin, “Only if you stop trying to kill me.”

You rolled your eyes as you began to lead Wanda into your bedroom, “You’re on probation, jerk.” You called over your shoulder.

Once you were securely in your bedroom, the door locked and sitting comfortably you fixed Wanda with an amused look, “I’d ask you what’s new but I’m not sure I even wanna know.”

Wanda gave you a sad smile while she shook her head, “No, you probably don’t. I will tell you tomorrow, I don’t want to get into it tonight. I’m so tired.” She admitted, her voice overcome with sadness.

“I’ll pump up the air mattress and you and the boys can sleep in here for however long you need. I’d offer you the spare room but that’s where Peter’s been staying and I don’t think empty food containers are the kind of decor you’d be into.” Wanda nodded, squeezing your hand gratefully.

“So his name is Peter?” She asked, curious about the man Agatha had used to trick her in WestView.

You nodded in confirmation, “Yeah. Peter Maximoff, actually.”

Wanda’s brows came to a furrow at that, “Maximoff? So he’s a relation?”

“Yes and no. Peter is from a different reality but he’s still a Maximoff and he’s got super speed. So, and this is just my theory, while you’re not directly related he could still be your brother- if you wanted him to.” You explained, as gently as you could, not trying to push her too far but to nudge the idea in her direction.

Wanda, to your surprise, didn't seem to hate the suggestion, “What is he like?”

A genuine smile made it onto your face then, as you shot into your description of your roommate, “He’s caring, funny, a little bit of a kleptomaniac but he’s working on it. He’s understanding and moronically selfless, moronic in the sense that he doesn’t even realise he’s being selfless. Huge pain in the ass too.” Wanda had a soft smile on her face by the time you’d finished.

“You like him.” Was all she said and you let out a laugh in disbelief, standing up and opening the door.

“Go grab a shower. I’ll have Peter blow up the air mattress while I go introduce myself to my god sons.”

“I thought you’d at least wait until I actually asked you.” Wanda laughed as you walked out of the room.

Things moved fairly quickly after that. As promised you introduced yourself to Billy and Tommy as their god mother, which they seemed more than thrilled about and you assumed that excitement had to do with whatever description of you Peter had given them. Wanda and the twins were all cleaned and fed and had all but collapsed into bed, foregoing the air mattress and huddling together in your double bed instead.

“Where are you sleeping, mother Teresa?” Peter teased as he noticed your eyes drooping where you stood.

“On the couch probably. Or the air mattress.” You mumbled, cutting yourself off with a yawn.

Peter, unimpressed with your options, scoffed, “No way. Come on, you can bunk with me.”

Much like Wanda, you were too tired to argue and you let Peter pull you to his, surprisingly clean, room by the hand.

You both crawled into the bed, lying close together despite the amount of empty space on the mattress.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” Your soft voice broke through the silence and Peter turned his head to look at you.

“About Wanda?” You nodded your head, watching him intently as he rolled onto his side, facing you more comfortably.

Peter shrugged lightly, “I’m feeling ok. Just glad the twins still see me as their cool uncle.” You let out a small laugh at his response.

“Wanda was asking about you. Seemed interested in getting to know the real you.” You informed him, your heartwarming as you watched a hopeful look fall across his face.

A lull settled over the room once again and Peter caught himself staring at you. His eyes drifted over every visible part of you, reminding him of most of the points on his pros list for staying in your universe; your eyes, your lashes, your nose, your lips, you.

“What’re you thinking about?” The sound of your tired voice pulled him out of his thoughts and ultimately pushed him to bite the bullet and tell you how he’s feeling. With you curled up beside him, in his bed, fighting sleep just to stay in his company for as long as you could; he knew there would be no better time.

“Just about how happy I am to be here with you.” He answered you honestly, the butterflies in both of your stomachs fluttering in sync at his words.

You trailed a hand under the duvet and onto the bedsheets between your bodies, feeling around until you found his hand and gently intertwined your fingers. “I’m happy you decided to stay.”

“What you’ve all gone through in this timeline sucks- don’t get me wrong-“ Peter started sincerely, scooting closer to you and dropping his head back down on the edge of your pillow, leaving the pair of you practically nose to nose as he went on.

“And I hate that Wanda had to go through so much… but I’m really glad that it led me to you.” Peter swore in that moment, right after the confession left his mouth, that he could die right now and be completely content knowing that you now knew how he felt.

His heart stopped, and he thought that maybe he was about to die, when you gave him the softest, sweetest smile he’d ever been on the receiving end of and whispered, “I feel the same.”

Time moved in slow motion as he felt you moving your intertwined hands towards your lips, your lips pressed gently against the back of Peter’s hand before you brought them to rest against your chest.

It was a fact to say that Peter Maximoff had never felt intimacy quite like this before. But, experiencing it now, with you, led him to wonder how he’d ever survived without it. He wasn’t sure whether it was natural to crave more, especially when the affection you were showing him was so gentle, but he didn’t care as he let the impulsive side of him take over.

Not sparing another word, Peter closed the small distance between your lips and his. His free hand cupped your jaw while yours wasted no time in getting tangled in his silver hair.

His lips moved softly and surprisingly slowly over yours and he savoured the feeling of your hand holding his while your other got lost in his hair, your body pressed up against him, the way your jaw moved against his palm as you reciprocated the movement of his lips and the taste of your lips, promising himself he’d never let the memory slip from his mind for as long as he lived.

With complete clarity, Peter could say he had felt true, genuine happiness and he had no doubt in his mind that there was absolutely nothing Charles, Hank, Scott or anyone else from his original timeline could say to make him leave this happiness behind. Because in the process of forgetting his old life, he couldn’t deny that he has undoubtedly found himself in the position of a man who had so much more to live for.

[putflowersinmyhair-callmepretty]

The fate of a nun (Finan x OFC); part 5

GENERAL A/N: Hi there! This story is my first attempt to write a fanfiction. English is not my first language, so feel free to let me know how to improve my writing/language skills 😊 I will try and post a chapter per week, let’s see how it goes! The story takes place in season 3 and you will notice that I have used some of the sequences and dialogues from the tv series, changing them to include my OC. I did try not to be too colloquial and informal with my writing -giving the time of the story- but I preferred to make it more enjoyable than realistic, same goes for Finan’s accent. I’m nervous and excited to share my work, hope you enjoy! Bacini, Cate. A/N: Helu! So, this is super late butttttt I’ve been soooo busy with my classes and the translation I’m working on :) This is a filler part, but I find it extremely cute, plus Finan and Aoife are getting closer, my children :’) Have fun reading this. byeeee Summary: The life of the young novice Aoife completely changes when the Lady of Mercia arrives to the Abbey of Wincelcumb. Oaths, battles and love will turn her in a warrior. General warnings: Violence, Blood, Strong Language, Smut, Fluff, Graphic description of violence Chapter’s warning: Fluff fluff fluff, probably bad English? idk Words: 3410 Chapter Four.

Chapter Five: Stories and Returns 

At some point she had passed out; it must have been just minutes because, when she woke up, her face was still wet of tears, and her hair too. She stood up and just yet noticed that she was starving. In the hall, the warriors and the Lady were already eating, and she slid next to Osferth, who shot her a smile and pushed a plate full of bread and cheese in her direction. “How are you feeling?” she asked, and he playfully rolled his eyes. “I’m doing well mum, stop worrying!” He was healing just fine, he could already walk on himself and laugh without pain, but he still had to be careful, wound like his took some time to heal. “Are you all right, Aoife?” Aethelflaed, who had followed their playful banter, asked cautiously. The Lady was sitting right in front of her and she could see how swollen and red Aoife’s eyes were. Anyone could, especially Finan, who was sitting next to Aethelflaed and in front of Osferth. “I’m fine, thank you my Lady. I’m just tired” No one seemed to believe her. Finan leant forward and filled her cup with ale. “Eat and drink. Then we go for a walk.” And so she ate abundantly and slowly, careful not to let anyone see how nervous and trepidant she was to spend some time alone with Finan. What did he want? Had she done something? Had he done something? He stared at her the entire supper with a questioning look, and it did not help the uncomfortable feeling of excitement and fear that was stirring her soul. When she chewed down the last bite, he stood up and, with a little bow to the Lady, left the hall. Aoife shot a questioning look to her friends, who just shrugged with an amazed smile on their faces; Aethelflaed gestured her to follow the warrior and she obeyed swiftly, her heart beating violently against her ribcage. Finan was waiting for her just outside the wooden door and, when the girl reached him, smiled sweetly. For a while, they walked down the streets of Saltwic in silence. It was a nice winter night without wind nor cloud and Aoife enjoyed the cold air on her cheeks and how bright the stars looked. The town was still alive, the torches still burning in the alehouse and the voices loud. People would pass them and bow respectfully, and Aoife would smile to each of them and greet them with a soft “G’night.”; it warmed Finan’s heart. They stopped right next to the town well, facing each other. The stars were reflected in her eyes, the blackest eyes Finan had ever seen. He was used to the clear eyes of Uthred and Sithric and Osferth, that painfully reminded him of his mother’s eyes, but he had never seen such dark eyes, so deep and welcoming. He had to restrain himself from running his thumb over her lashes, which looked as soft as they were long and thick. Aoife was looking back at him, bolder that she would have days before. He hadn’t even noticed that he was chewing on the cross hanging around his neck, something that Aoife had seen him doing before, when he was lost in his thoughts. She found it precious, somehow vulnerable, a very childlike action, so at odds with his mature stance. And he had pretty hands too, with long thin fingers, different from the stubby hands of the Mercians. She was curious to learn where he came from, where his family lived. Had he always been a swordsman? He had the delicate hands of a musician, corrupted by the scars and dirty of his warrior life. There was a specific reason to why he had asked her to walk with him, but now that she was watching him in such a direct, open way, like no one else had ever done before, he could not find the right words to address it. “I never thanked you” he finally croaked, his voice just above a whisper. And she smiled , calmly yet questioning, still watching him boldly. “What for?” “For saving my life” “You don’t have to.” She assured him “It was the right thing to do.” He took her hand in his, succumbing to his own desires. Her skin was not as soft as he remembered, chapped and irritated by the wind and callous were the hilt of the sword would press during her training; on the opposite, her touch was delicate and prudent. He grazed his thumb on her knuckles and smiled, looking at her through his lashes. “Still, you acted like a true warrior and if I’m here today is just because of you. I shall never forget it, Aoife.” Under the dim light of the torches, she blushed and her bottom lip drop slightly, but she didn’t reply. “Also…” he kept going “I apologise if I’ve been too hard on you today.” “What made you think that?” He shrugged “I don’t mean to sound disrespectful, but you look…” he looked her head to toe “distressed.” She averted her gaze, eyes filling with tears. He was pitying her, then. She was too embarrassed to watch him, now, she didn’t have problems with being emotional, but she did not like compassion. “It’s not you, Finan.” She mumbled, her voice shaking “It’s just…” she couldn’t find the words to explain how she was feeling, torn between excitement and guilty, happiness and grieving. She gasped for air and tried to wipe the tears from her face, trying to push herself away from the warrior. But he did not let her step back, fearing that if she left, she would never be so confidently herself with him. He reached her and embraced her without hesitation and, despite her surprise, her body reacted naturally and she hid her face in the crook of his neck. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she noticed that he smelled of leather and metal, the scent she expected from a warrior, and just behind it she could detect the natural fragrance of his skin, and she loved how intimate that new experience was. The warmth of his body was comforting and welcoming and she couldn’t understand if it was her heart of his beating fast against her skin. He held her tightly, her fingers dipping in his back, and he was not sure where to put his hands, afraid to cross any line, but she smelled so good and her body was so warm that he could not help but melt against her and run his fingers through her hair until her tears stopped. They were ready to let go. The night had fallen long before Osferth decided to retire to his room in the alehouse. He walked slowly, in the cold air of winter. He was enjoying every second of his stay in Saltwic, knowing well how rare moments of peace were for a warrior. His wound was itching, and he picked up his pace, dreaming of his warm bed and the ointment Aoife had prepare precisely for when the healing wound would become too uncomfortable. She was an amazing healer, and he had wondered many times if he would be alive without her help. The well was fairly close, which meant that in less than a minute he would be at the alehouse. And right in front of the well, he witnessed the blossom of a love. Aoife and Finan embraced in the dark. Since that night, Finan had spent most of his time with Aoife. Honestly, he hadn’t had much to do, while she seemed to be always busy; so, he had followed her around for days, helping and amusing her. He had noticed that she was growing bolder every day, quick to answer his remarks. She still blushed, though, and he was proud of how much his words and actions could affect her. He had found himself spending with her every day and thinking about her every night; he knew he was slowly falling in love with the woman and he was trying to fight it. She was young, innocent and inexpert of everything that the world had to offer; she deserved someone just as fresh as her. Even with this knowledge, he could not stop himself from spending all his spare time with her, from thinking about her constantly, from looking for her in every room. Besides, when he tried to stay away from her, she would find him everywhere, with a little pout on her full red lips. “Were you hiding from me, Finan?” she would ask, mocking pain with a hand on her chest and he would smile and bow dramatically in her direction “I was not, milady. I was looking for you.” To assay her, Finan started telling her the most vile stories of his past; he talked about blood and swindles and heartbreaks; and one day, while he was sitting on the fence of the stable and telling her one of his cruellest stories, she ceased grooming her horse and, with a sharp smile, commented “I know what you’re doing, Finan.” “What am I doing, then?” “You’re trying to scare me away. But you’re actually doing the opposite.” she run her hand up and down her mount’s face “Because I know you now, and I know you’re not the man you’re telling me about. Not anymore, at least. I think every one of those stories made you the man you are today, a much better person than you think. I’m no fool, and surely, I’m not as innocent as you think I am. If I’d had the faintest impression that you were not a good person, I would not be here now.” “Are you making a pass at me, dear?” She looked back at him with a gaze so deep he felt naked and, unexpectedly, something that hadn’t done since he was a child happened: he blushed. It infuriated him how much power she had on him, how his body melted right against hers when she snuck between his knees and pressed her hands against his tights. He lowered his face to meet her eyes and she stood on her tiptoes. Was she about to kiss him? Did he want her to? Of course he wanted to kiss her, but was he ready for the consequences? He was aware of how his heart worked, how hardly and quickly he fell in and out of love with a woman; he did not want to hurt her in that way. Yet again, his worrying alone was an indicator of how different what he felt for her was from his previous women; he had never worried for the consequences of his actions before, but here he was now hesitating to kiss the prettiest woman watching him from under her black eyelashes. And he hesitated a moment too long, because when he finally leant towards her, she shot him a feral smile and pushed him down the fence. The last thing Finan heard, before the splashing of his body on horse shit, was Aoife’s crystal laugh. And he was happy. Winter was giving the way to spring slowly but relentlessly, the sun now a little warmer and the days a little longer. That afternoon Finan had joined Aoife at the stream and little white flowers were already sprouting from the snow along the banks, where the temperature was higher, and the first birds were chirping on the branches moved by a delicate wind. All day long, Aoife had been busy with Aethelflaed, Finan had seen them walked down the streets of Saltwic, arm in arm. Now, finally, they were together and he was watching her washing clothes. He didn’t understand how she could dip her hands in the cold water without freezing, but she had assured him that the shock was only temporary and after that, it was almost as if the water was warm. “Tell me something, Finan.” She then requested, while he was adjusting a strand of hair behind her ear. With time they had become physically very closed, always touching each other in some way. “About what?” She stopped to look him in the eyes “I don’t know, something… how did you and Uthred met?” That was a story that many knew, but he still did not feel comfortable in telling it. Yet, Aoife was the one person who made him feel safe, calm, unjudged. If there was someone that could cast away the ghosts of his past, that would be her. He dipped the tip of his finger in the cold water, rippling the surface. “I have done things I am not proud of, Aoife. And some of them had led me to slavery. I have spent winters and summers at the bottom of a ship, rowing and rowing, with the sun and the wind and the snow. I reached a point where I could barely remember who I was, where I came from, why I was there. Then one day Uthred came. He was dressed as a slave, and was rowing as a slave, but there was something behind his eyes that told a whole other story. And somehow, in that hell, we bounded. And when his brother came to the rescue, he did not abandon me, he gave me a reason to live. He still do every day, and I owe him my life. He not only saved me from that ship, but he also brought me back to the man I was, and he gave me a chance to be someone better than that man. And we are bound in ways that no one could ever understand; we have suffered and seen things that no one else could ever understand. That’s why my sword is his, until the day I die. I would give my life for him, my soul for him. He is my brother. My family.” Aoife was holding his hands, he hadn’t even noticed, up until that moment, that she had stopped washing and had knelt in front of him. She caressed his face gently, brushing her cold fingertips against his scars. She had many questions, about his past, his regrets, his fears. She felt as if she knew nothing of him while knowing him deeper than many could say. He was a mystery, with a very dark past, yet he was the person she trusted the most. “Thank you for sharing your story with me, Finan” she whispered softly, and he smiled, leaning in her cold palm and kissing it softly “Thank you for listening, Aoife.” She smiled, returning at her duties. “Your name is Irish too, did you know that?” Finan watched her stiffen, suddenly uncomfortable “I do know that , yes.” Here it was, the thing he couldn’t bear about her: it was easy for him to open with her, he had trusted her entirely in a short period of time, while her, as much as she seemed to enjoy his company, had yet to trust him with her past; and perhaps it was wrong, but he wanted answers to his curiosity, about her family, and the mysterious man who had gifted her with weapons and a horse, and her past; so he kept pushing her. “Was your mother Irish?” She paused “No, Finan.” He was walking down a dangerous path “What’s with that name then?” She looked up at him, with a pained and somehow angry face “You won’t rest until I’ll give you answers, right?” “Indeed, lady.” She sat down with a huff “My mom was in love with an Irish man and wanted to honour him with my name.” “Was he your father?” “Not quite.” Here she was again, reticent woman. Finan had even talked about it with Osferth, with whom Aoife seemed to have bounded and she felt freer talking – Finan at times could not stand how close they were – but the monk too had admitted that he had tried but failed in that same situation. Even Aethelflaed knew nothing, and where a Lady can’t succeed, what are the chances for a warrior to? Therefore, he took what she had offered him, which was a lot considering the previous attempts, and held her hand to his lips, kissing her cold knuckles. “Let’s go back, you’re freezing.” They had walked back in silence, hand in hand. The sun was setting one they entered the hall, where the warriors were enjoying some spare time playing dice and drinking ale. Finan left Aoife with one of his sweetest smiles and joined his companions, while she sat down next to Osferth, who was warming up in front of the fire. “You’re getting closer by the day, aren’t you? By Sunday you’ll be married.” The monk joked, gaining a light kick on the shin; the training had helped her quite a lot with her fighting skills, but, as a result, she had become more violent.“Hey, you should not hit your patients!”“I brought you back to life, I can end it just as easily.” Osferth laughed, wrapping her shoulder with his long, thin arm. He had found himself growing less shy every day and he had now reached a point of ease with Aoife that he had become physical affectionate, a part of him he had hidden successfully during his monk life. Growing up in a monastery, he hadn’t spent much time with people his age, and even now, travelling with Uthred’s warrior, he felt that there was a certain aspect of him that they could not understand. Aoife, on the other hand, had experienced a similar youth and with her he could be himself. By the day, she was becoming more and more a warrior, as was he, but they would always remain children of the church and the type of education they had been raised through was different – if not opposite – to those of the others and for that reason they were bounded as siblings. Finan watched them for long, curious – and somehow jealous – of why they were laughing. He had noticed that everyone adored Aoife, she had the singular power of making people at ease. As far as he knew her, and it wasn’t much, she seemed without flaws. However, based on his experience, he knew it could not be possible and he feared the day he would discover her darkest side. For now, though, he decided to join them and hope that their contagious laughs would heal his restless soul. Enjoying some peace after years of battles and death was a gift, he was aware of it, but he would never stop being a warrior and he missed the clanking of swords and the stench of blood, sweat and fear. He missed the shivers of excitement running down his spine on the battlefield, and the surreal, still silence that followed a bloodshed. Yet, he was torn between the past he knew, living day by day without the certainty of a tomorrow, and this new routine of enjoy sweet talks and long walks with Aoife. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew that he did not care for the fresh air, nor for the starry night, he just cared for the lady standing next to him under that dark sky. For now, however, he did not have to choose, and he grabbed three cups and joined his friends. “Why are we laughing?” he asked, dropping heavily next to Aoife, who shot him a bright smile. “Just threating Osferth, here.” she answered cheerfully, accepting the ale he was offering. “Oh, I do like this game.” “No you do not!” Osferth huffed, sipping his ale “Just let me be, I’m still recovering.” Finan had a sharp reply on the tip of his tongue but he was interrupted by hooves drumming outside; with the heart beating in his throat he jumped up, running to the window. “What is it?” Osferth asked. “You mean, who is it” Finan smiled, looking outside “Osferth.” He then called urgently, in his tone a happiness and thrill Aoife had never heard. He was not quick enough to reach the door and it opened from the outside, bringing in the room cold wind and smell of horses. And then here he was, wrapped in furs and covered in snow, his sword standing proudly against his back, the widest, proudest smile on his gorgeous face. Uthred of Bebbanburg was back. Chapter Six.

[oneirataxxiaa]

WITCHES AND DRUIDS

a little gift for @silverdecepticon93 for their amazing writing. some klarion content!

written by Persephone. Anastasia did some editing and helped me write Klarion correctly. It's a bit of a slow burn, and I probably got some story facts wrong, but I hope you enjoy!

requests are OPEN , remember to specify who you would like to write your oneshot. Anastasia, or Persephone.

• • • •

It's not that the weather wasn't pleasurable, it was, really. the sun was out, reflecting off the oceans subtle waves and warming the grey pavement just enough for beach-goers with no shoes to begin to hop from foot to foot. The wind was perfect, swaying the tall palm trees that lined the coastal road, every now and again, causing a hat to fly off in its cool breeze, making it's owner run after it with calls of protest. A girl in her late teens leaned back on a uncomfortably tacky faux beach chair just outside the open air cafe. Her hair moved slowly, partially from the outside breeze and partially from the squeaking old metal fan making slow rotations just inside the door. It blew no dust, so it was clearly well used considering the heat.

Happy Harbour seemed just that, happy. Everything had been calm the past few months, villain attacks were incredibly low, no major plots had been uncovered, and the group known as The Light was seemingly inactive after the league and teams triumph over them. The lack of attacks had Robin and Kaldur on edge anticipating something being planned in the shadows, but Y/n, Artemis, Megan and Wally had taken the opportunity to enjoy Rhode Island for what it was. In the ginger speedsters words, a paradise just waiting to be explored.

Zatanna Zatura was across the round table from Y/n, in casual clothes with a black baseball cap and a vanilla milkshake in hand, sipping on the straw slowly. Y/n herself had her favourite flavor smoothie resting on the table, her phone in hand as the camera on the device recorded what was happening in the small grass patch to their left. Wallace West swore on his life that he had landed a back flip the day before, which the rest of his friends refused to believe. In trying to prove his ability, he was attracting some strange stares from passers by, and rather ice filled glare from a mother who corralled her three kids, most likely in their early preteens, away, hurriedly muttering about 'unethical teenager'. Quite an interesting thing to be thrown their way, but the teen heroes had had worse hurled at them in their exploits as protectors of justice.

"Wally" Megan laughed, a short snort escaping her lips as she watched the boy try to land another flip. " You're going to break something". The Martian was resting on the grass, watching what was happening unfurl.

"cheers to that! please do!" Artemis' words were filled with sarcasm. The blonde teen making her way towards the table and picking up her drink to take a sip. Wally dropped to the ground again and sprawled out on the grass, crushing the green blades under his body. Y/n cringed slightly.

"you girls are no fun, even Connor is more fun to hang out with, at least he encourages me to improve my wicked moves" Wally pulled himself to his feet with a bounce and brushing off his pants with little success, the mucky dew soaked dirt already staining them brown at the knees. Y/n was glad he did his own laundry, she didn't want to be the one to wash those stains out. The girl stopped the video on her phone with the press of a button, dropping her hand to her side and turning the object off.

"I'd like to argue with that" Connor complained, he seemed to have appeared out of no where, walking towards them, ebony shirt still sporting the superman signal. He seemed a little happier today, perhaps it was the immaculate weather. Y/n reckoned it could put anyone in a good mood, even Connor, who hadn't been as happy has he could have been lately. His relationship with Megan had be strained.

"The man, the myth, the legend, how could you betray me my main man? You're really going to let the girls pick on your best friend?" Wallys drama queen was showing as he rested a hand on his head in a damsel in distress motion.

"Wolf is my best friend, you are" Connor faked a thoughtful expression, "an unfortunate acquaintance". Y/n could see the joking sparkle in Connors eyes. It was strange. Strange, but good. He deserved some joy in these darker days. "anyways, the reason I'm here for two reasons, reason one being because Robin decided to have an identity crisis, he's changing his name"

"Please tell me it's not another bird, I don't want it to be a bird" Artemis groaned, dropping heavily into one of the chairs. It groaned in protest from the sudden and violent weight.

"I don't know what he's gone with, but second reason I'm here is because we've got a new team member, Batman just made a visit and brought someone with him-"

"Batman was at the cave! and you didn't tell me! is he still there?" Wally began to vibrate from excitement, sparks ran down his arms and legs.

"When I left he was, bu-". Wally was gone in a literal flash, leaving the remaining team looking around frantically, glade the citizens of Happy Harbour seemed content in being too interested in their own lives to notice a super-powered boy and his friends.

"we should probably make sure he doesn't break anything, and welcome the new team member huh?" Zatanna said with a sigh, getting to her feet and stretching her arms up, elbows cracking slightly. As the group collected their drinks, waving goodbye to the cafes owner, who they knew well due to their frequent return to the place, Y/n saw something that peaked her interest, making the girl pause and turn towards it.

"Y/n, you coming or what girl?" Zatanna called out. The group somehow was a good ways away from her now, standing, ready to cross the pedestrian crossing at the coastal road. The curious frown on her face must have given something away.

"um, I'll catch up, yeah? say hi to the newbie for me?" the uncertainty in her voice made Zatanna pause, but nod, turning back just in time to walk with the others across the road.

Turning back towards the curiosity, it stared at her with dark eyes, watching her movement. Y/n walked over and bent down, petting the feline behind it's ears, coaxing a purr from the familiar cat-daemon.

"Hello Teekl" the teen greeted, "what are you doing here?" her hand continued to pet the creature, before it shook it's head, pushing your hand away with the action and going to work on licking its paw. Cats were always strange, but she supposed their sudden mood changed were due to their nature.

"I feel like you're just in this for the cute cat" the voice was monotonous and Y/n recognised it immediately. Turning her head slightly, she spied the source of the voice. He looked different, slightly older, taller, and dressed in more civilian esque clothing. Perhaps to attempt to blend in with the surrounding crowds of people.

"The cats a bonus" Y/n gave one final pet to Teekl before walking to the table she was sitting at previously, Klarion Bleak now occupying Zatannas previous location. "How are you? I haven't seen you since the whole light thing". I'd been about five months and the league was still recovering. Klarion got a sour look on his face, pausing, he fiddled with the hem of his shirt, a neat black button up dress shirt. He looked, perplexed.

"I've been keeping my head down I guess, Savage lose his mind after we lost, been hounding anyone who talks to about it" the strange look remained on his face. "I've been banned from annoying the justice brats, no offence, until he comes up with something new"

Y/n dismissed the nickname for her team and frowned herself. "Robins noticed, it's got him freaked out, running crazy circles trying to figure out what Vandal Savage is planning" a small grin rose on her face. Klarion noticed movement, seeing small clovers begin to crawl their way out of the cracks in the pavement. That caused the small smile that few saw to appear.

"your magic is getting better". That was how they met. Before the team. Both of them were young magic users, each pulled down a different road. One good, One evil. But between them there was balance, peace. Order and Chaos meeting in the middle for a calm chat and shared news on a sunny day.

"I've been getting better at it, but there's always room for more practice as Aqualad says" Y/n laughed. Silence entered their conversation. It wasn't awkward however, as it sometimes was among friends or co workers. It was a comfortable silence of enjoying a summers day without the chaos of the world. It be nice if things stayed like that, balanced, forever. But soon, Unfortunately, their friendship would burn and break. Being torn to their sides, ripped from the comforting friendship, forced to fight each other to prove loyalty to each side. No. Order and Chaos were balanced, but wars tended to tip that scale and break it. In the process, something much more important was shattered.

fin

[lefaystrent]

In your Kid Logan AU do you think maybe one day Logan gets really like torn thinking there all going to leave him but Virgil finds out and like have a bonding moment??? Sorry im a sucker for platonic analogical

Pomp and Circumstance

Fandom: Thomas Sanders, Sanders Sides

Pairings: platonic LAMP,platonic analogical

Word Count: 1920

Masterlist Link

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It’s Spring and Patton isgraduating.

They all knew it would happen. Anobvious outcome. Why wouldn’t it happen? Logan didn’t meet Patton until hissenior year. The months in between then and now are not altogether infinitesimal.Logically, Logan knew this would happen.

But as Logan sits up in thebleachers of the auditorium, sandwiched in between Virgil and Roman, he findshimself frowning down at the sea of red-cloaked graduates in their seats downbelow, each one waiting for their name to be called.

Logan didn’t think he would behere. That’s it, isn’t it?

That first day, when Patton draggedhim across the lunch room to sit with his friends—Logan never imagined apossibility that it would lead him here, sitting in the crowd, supporting his friend.

What does Logan remember from hisown graduation? Hardly anything, if he’s being honest. The principal and valedictorianand whoever-else-just-had-to-say-a-speech droned on, and he had sat amongst hispeers tuning all of it out. He’d never been a fan of fanfare, and the ceremony hadnumbed his brain with boredom.

Pitiful, isn’t it? Logan had beenbored at his own graduation. What was there to get excited about? He had knownhe would get his diploma and go on to college. It had been an absolute. Whathad there been to celebrate then? His classmates’ success? Although he knewthem, he didn’t know them, so why should he care?

Practical, if not cold.

Logan watches as one-by-one thestudents walk up onto the stage when their name is called. Throughout the entireceremony, Patton has been looking up at them every couple of minutes, facebeaming and hand waving excitedly at them.

Logan wonders if he himself wouldhave been this excited if he had formed any lasting attachments in high school.His parents and grandfather had been amongst the audience that day, there tosupport him. They had been very proud, but that was his family and that hadbeen expected by that point too.

On either side of him, screamserupt. He startles, only to realize that Virgil and Roman had shot up to let loosea chorus of cheers.

Patton’s name had been called andhe almost missed it.

Logan stands as well, clapping andoffering what he can. Patton looks beyond joyous. He hops up the stage stepsand—rather than shake the principal’s hand—he outright hugs the man.

“Look at that dork,” Virgil snorts.

“He’s so happy,” Roman agrees.

“I think the principal is uncomfortable,”Logan comments.

“How much do you want to bet thatPatton’s doing that on purpose?” Virgil asks.

“Why would he do that on purpose?”

Virgil and Roman share a look overLogan. Logan huffs. This is all part of theirPatton-can-actually-be-really-passive-aggressive agenda.

“I just don’t see it.”

“That’s the point, Specs. He’s goodat it.”

Patton smiles a satisfied smile allthe way back to his seat. The principal straightens his jacket like he’s justbeen knocked over by an unruly dog.

“What do you think, Finding Emo?Should we do the same when we graduate?”

“Or we could accidentally push himoff the stage.”

“Virgil.”

“What? I said accidentally.”

The conversation continues, mostlycentering around how much they disliked the principal.

From down the rows of bleachers,Logan’s gaze drifts down to Patton’s family. His parents and all of his siblingsare in attendance.

Patton’s little brother is watchingLogan. He’s looking back over his shoulder, staring up at him. Dee’s expressionis blank, observing what Logan will do.

Logan turns away and listens to astory from Roman and Virgil’s freshman year when they got in trouble with theprincipal.

The ceremony drags on and eventuallycomes to an end. Everyone’s getting up from their seats and Logan doesn’t makea fuss when Roman steers him through the crowd.

“What? You’re so tiny. Don’t wantto lose you.”

“Figuratively bite me.”

Well, not much of a fuss anyway.

They go to wait out in the lobbyarea. So many people are coming and going and grouping off and taking picturesand smiling. Roman and Virgil are talking with some of their classmates, andLogan’s just …

He’s not contributing to theconversation anymore. Not that anybody is asking for his opinion on anything.He sees that his presence is inconsequential, so he doesn’t feel guilty forslipping away.

Logan heads outside. There’s morefamilies and graduates hanging around by the entrance. Logan steers clear ofthem and makes his way to Roman’s car. They’re all going out to eat afterwardsanyway. It’s not like Logan will miss anything.

Virgil finds him sitting againstthe back bumper. It can’t have been more than ten minutes.

“Found ya,” Virgil says.

“You were looking for me?”

Virgil shrugs. He plops down besideLogan. “Sorta? I’m not really a fan of crowds. Thought I’d might as well findwhere you snuck off to. So, two birds, one stone.”

“I see …”

The noise is not as oppressive outhere. People walk by and cars filter out, but it’s all in passing and gonebefore it’s really began.

Fleeting. It’s all so fleeting.

“Patton is … happy,” Loganobserves. It’s not anything new, merely a conversation opener. It’s not really hisstyle and Virgil knows it. He’s staring Logan down but Logan is busy watchingthe world pass them by.

“I’d be happy too. High school isjust a load of bullshit. Patton’s free now.”

“He still has college.”

“Yeah, but that’s better than highschool at least. Don’t have to deal with all the petty drama and stupid kidsand teachers who think they know everything.”

“There are also professors whothink they know everything, even when they clearly do not.”

“Touché,” Virgil acquiesces, notcommenting on how familiar Logan seems to be on the subject.

“How much longer do you think they’llbe?”

“Forever and a half. They’reprobably taking about a million pictures.”

“Unlikely. I’m sure their phones donot have that much memory storage.”

“You know, sometimes I think you takethings literally just to mess with me.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

Virgil laughs and it’s a softcomfort.

Night had fallen a while ago. Beamsfrom headlights break through the shadows from time to time. Red-robed figuresare easy to pick out. One of those graduation gowns could belong to Patton, butfrom this distance it’s hard to tell.

“Lo … what’s wrong?”

“What makes you think something’swrong?”

Virgil levels a look at him. “Ialways think something’s wrong. And sometimes I’m even right about it.”

“And you think that this is one ofthose times?”

“I know that this is one ofthose times.”

“Irrefutable evidence, surely.”

“Is it Patton?”

Logan digs his fingers into the legsof his pants. It’s wrinkling the material. Logan hates wrinkled clothing, yethe’s doing it anyway.

“What makes you think my unconfirmed‘wrong state’ is caused by Patton?”

“You’re the one who brought him upfirst.”

“We are at his graduation.”

“Yeah, we are.”

“…”

“He’ll be moving away soon forcollege.”

“… yes, I know.”

“A whole four hours away. Notexactly a quick trip.”

“Yes Virgil, I know.”

“We can call him if we want, but I’msure he’s gonna be super busy with college stuff.”

“Yes, he will be.”

“And then even phone calls willprobably turn out to be too much effort. At some point we won’t even be talking.”

“Do you have a point to thisnegative ruminating?”

“It’s what you’re thinking, right?Patton’s going to move away soon, and we’ll still be here, and he’s going toforget about us.”

He’s not wrong. That surprisesLogan more than anything, mostly because Virgil has given words to a verycomplicated bundle of emotion that Logan has been struggling to unravel.

“How do you know that?” Logan asksquietly.

Virgil shifts, his forearms restingon his knees, fingers laced together. “Because I’ve been thinking it too.”

Oh.

Somehow, in all of Logan’spondering, he’s forgotten that Virgil and Roman have known Patton for manyyears more than he has. And that Virgil is prone to anxious thoughts. Thisshould have been expected.

Or perhaps not so expected. IfLogan is struggling to pinpoint his own emotional distress, he can be evenworse at times when it comes to other people’s emotions.

“You have Roman, at least,” Logansays. It’s an attempt at comfort, but the words are layered with a hard edge.

Oh, that’s jealousy right there.

Virgil’s brows furrow. “What do youmean? I’ve got you too, right?”

Logan tilts his head back, eyesroaming over the dark sky. There’s nothing but clouds. “Not for long. You andRoman won’t be long behind Patton, and then I’ll be …”

Here. Alone.

Funny how that’s never bothered himbefore.

Virgil groans loudly, making Loganjump in the relative quiet. He covers his face with his palms, pressing theheel of his hands over his eyes.

“Logan, do you really think we’regoing to forget about you or something?”

“Perhaps not forget, but it is entirelypossible that when encountering a new environment and workload that—”

“Nope, stop, don’t even finishthat.”

“But—”

“Seriously Lo, that’s not how it’sreally going to turn out. We’re not going to lose touch or anything.”

“But even you said—”

“I know what I said. I’m wrong a lotof the time. I might be worried about it, but I know Patton’s not goingto let us stop being friends. I mean, have you met the guy?”

“… perhaps once or twice.”

Virgil snorts and Logan feels alittle better for it. “Alright smartass. Just admit we’re both being dumb andthat the power of friendship or whatever will prevail.”

“The power of friendship?”

“Ugh, leave me alone, it’s probablywhat Patton or Roman would say. Just admit we’re dumb already.”

“I’m quite smart actually. Have youseen my GPA?”

“I hate you so much,” Virgil saysand Logan laughs.

Later, when much of the parking lothas emptied out, Roman and Patton find them.

“You guuuuys!” Patton yells,running up to them. His red cap is missing and Logan wonders if he’s alreadylost it. “Where were you? We were taking pictures!”

“Ew,” Virgil and Logan say at thesame time. They smile at each other.

“Not really my thing,” Virgil says.

“I’m not partial to them myself,”Logan agrees.

“And I’ve heard cameras steal yoursoul. Wouldn’t want my soul to get sucked out, if I have one.”

“Yes, that would be terrible.”

“You both are terrible,” Romaninterrupts. “And clearly you enable each other too much.”

“Look at Princey, pulling out thebig words.”

“From where did he pull them?”

“I would say ‘brain’, but the jury’sstill out on that one.”

Roman gasps in offense.

Logan watches them bicker, afondness overcoming him, syrupy sweet. He glances over to Patton who’s watchingthem with the same expression. He catches Logan’s gaze and smiles.

“One picture?” Patton pleads. “Justof the four of us? For me?”

Logan puts on a show of sighing. “IfI must, then so be it.”

“Yay!” Patton cheers and throws hisarms around Logan. “Thank you Logey-Wogey!”

Logan’s expression softens. “You’rewelcome … Patty-Watty.”

Patton’s excited screams can be heardall the way back to the auditorium.

________________________________________________________________

General Tag List: @spectralheartt @a-pastel-pan @notalwaysthevillian @rose-gold-roman @ijustrealizedhowdumbmynamewas @katie-the-noble-fangirl @yourroyalydramaticanxiousness @aroundofapplesauce @merlybird500 @beach-fan @jemthebookworm @whats-going-on-kiddos @randomsandersides @gamerfreddie @unring-this-bell @that-royal-ravenclaw @analogicallythinking @lilygold23 @punsterterry @levy-the-b00kw0rm @tacohippy56900 @accio-hufflepuff-power1 @just-another-rainbowblog @georganabanana @grey-says-heck @crookedlyoptimisticdestiny @thesynysterunknown @idont-know-what-im-doing @idioticsky @fadingglowcloud @whizzie72 @theinvisiblespoon @greyyy523 @opaque-puppet @just-fic-me-up @wowimsogoddamnoriginal @sos-fandoms @loganeatsbooks @trust-is-overrated @theitalianalchemist @im-crunchie @mourning–star @4amanxiety @hogwarts-my-love @enby-phoenix @justanotherpurplebutterfly @internet-or-sleep @absolutesandersidestrash @seaspider10 @nonasficcollection @small-words-to-say @satanblessi @an-absolute-failure @analogical-mess @noisyeggpizzapatrol

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[noah-kalani]

Breathe | Noah & Simon

PARTIES: @inconvenientsimonstrocity​ and @noah-kalani SUMMARY: The one where Winn is still missing and Noah’s hand is still broken. 

Takes place directly after this solo

Simon hadn’t been home for very long after a weirdly-tiring day at work - between Winn’s disappearance, Simon himself trying to make sure no one was making irrational decisions and denying his own irrational decision to keep Beans despite some… valid protests, he felt somewhat run-down, more-so than usual and certainly reflecting how he was sure he came across to people on the outside with his disheveled appearance. Despite all that and how he felt, the dog was as excited as ever to see him and he couldn’t help but smile, ruffling his fur with pianist’s fingers and verbally agreeing to let the dog out. That was when, as he leaned against the side of his house and watched Beans tear through the brush, he received the text from Noah. It was vague, distressing. Simon could immediately feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up and he corralled Beans back inside, feeding him with a few gentle pats before grabbing his keys and heading out. He fished through his glove compartment as he drove to the location Noah told him, eventually finding a bottle of medication that… didn’t have as many pills in it as he hoped but it would have to do and he downed all four of them, tossing the empty bottle into the backseat. 

The drive wasn’t too distant and Simon saw Noah sitting there as he arrived, his sore eyes doing a quick scan to gather information as he got out of his car and headed toward the young wolf; broken pier, the water didn’t look any more disturbed than the wind against it. The faint smell of blood that managed to creep into his nose briefly. 

It was safe to say Noah had been really lucky to have had foresight to leave his cellphone in the pocket of his backpack. And obviously lucky that he had been talking to Simon all this week, the older wolf reminding him that there were people other there that really do care. About him, and about others. Watching as the other man approached Noah stood, hoping he looked dry enough to avoid too many questions. “Uh thank you, for uh coming to get me,” Noah started quietly, not really knowing what else to say in the moment. “I would have called my aunt but she would have definitely freaked out about...” He trailed off eyes darting to his swollen hand, the bones already trying to knit themselves together with the last few drops of his werewolf energy. The closer Simon got to Noah, the more a latent sense of concern and irritation filled his expression and sinuses, respectively and he quickly ducked his head into the crook of his arm to stifle a sneeze as the smell of wet dog - wet werewolf, whatever - greeted his nose. Not right now. Just… for, like, FOUR minutes, please. He didn’t reply immediately but he kept his eyes on Noah’s hand as soon as he was close enough, reaching out and touching it very carefully, examining the injury. He was still getting used to their wolfish regeneration but Noah still needed at least a splint - hand injuries weren’t anything to mess around with regardless of ‘super’ healing. “It’s okay,” was what he said first with his usual, quiet delivery, voice thick and somehow even more gravelly than where it usually sat. “It’s okay.” He repeated with a clear of his throat, now moving his glance upwards to look Noah in the eye for at least a few moments, hoping to convey the worry that was in his gaze as his brow went from furrowed to slack, his expression becoming gentler. “What happened?” He found himself asking next though it seemed obvious between the general location and the splintered pier. “You’re--” His head turned sharply and he smothered another sneeze into his jacket. “Wet.” Or he was; despite how dry he may have been now, Simon’s nose wasn’t something so easily fooled and now that they were so close, the older man could also catch faint traces of alcohol through the congestion. Well, he knew what they said about when it was raining. 

Noah would be lying if he pretended his hand didn’t hurt like hell. Because it did, a lot, and even more so as Simon examined it. But Noah had been in enough pain–shit he’d been in enough hospitals for that matter–to know that sometimes he had to just grit his teeth and hold still.  “I-I” Noah stammered trying to figure out how to explain without having to, well, explain. And it wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell Simon. He just, didn’t really know where to begin. There were so many layers to what had happened, things that he barely wanted to admit to himself let alone someone he just met (even if that someone reminded him of his father, and somehow seemed to know exactly what to say to make the situation seem better)  “I took a long walk off a short pier?” The younger man continued with a slight question to his tone before realizing how that definitely could have sounded, especially with the alcohol still on his breath. Shit “On accident of course.” He held up his good hand, to try to quell the questions he knew would come. “I’m not, like, wanting to uh like..” He trailed off eyes settling downward, not wanting to see the disappointment in Simon’s eyes. Or worse. Pity. He listened carefully to every word Noah said, when he stopped, how he sounded, the words he used. Simon’s forensic mind started replaying what roughly might’ve happened going off what he could observe and what fractured pieces Noah gave him - he had either already been drinking before he came here or he started once he arrived. Probably the former given the lack of bottles. He punched the pier before going in - that was evident by the lack of blood on his bruised, swollen hand. He got the feeling, distant as it was, that Noah had actually fallen in on accident - or, if he jumped on purpose, his rationale or survival instinct kicked in and he pulled himself out. He loosed a quiet, raspy exhale and started to sit where he faced the water, placing a hand on Noah’s shoulder to follow suit. He never was good at eye contact and, observing over the years that sometimes… most of the time, people who were going through what Noah was feeling didn’t like being looked at, as if they were being scrutinized or judged. So he looked out over the water’s surface in silence next to Noah. “It’s okay,” he finally said after several minutes of nothing but the gentle breeze and the water licking at the shore. “It’s okay to be upset,” He continued calmly, quietly as he kept his blue eyes looking ahead. “It’s okay to be confused and to feel hurt because of feeling abandoned.” He did turn his head slightly, not looking into Noah’s eye but instead around his leg/hand area. “Just breathe,” He instructed, his tone devoid of malice, intensity or harshness. “Do what you couldn’t do in the water; do what you can’t do when you’re being crushed. Just… breathe.”

Feeling the hand on his shoulder Noah didn’t realize just how much energy he was using to just stand, this body practically crumpling on to the pavement the instant it was given permission.  Cradling his broken hand into his lap Noah curled his knees up to his chin, the large man becoming a small boy in only a few movements. It’s okay. Just… breathe. Noah clung to these words like a mantra as he tried to calm his mind, tried to ground himself with Simon’s presence, and gentle advice. But no matter what he did he just came back to his lungs filled with water. His heart aching for a family he’d never get to see again. To Winn leaving without even saying as much as a goodbye. “I don't think I know how.” Noah whispered out a single tear staining his cheek. He wasn’t too sure what he was referencing, the breathing part, or the okay part, but either way the sentiment stood. He didn’t know how to do either. “I mean i thought I did but” He sniffed wiping at the tears now rolling freely down his cheeks as he stared out at those stupid fucking nightmarish waves. “Its been 10 years but I still miss them, every single fucking day. And I can’t,” He paused sniffling, still trying to hold all his seams together. “I don’t know what I would do if Winn doesn't come back.” He shook his head with a large gulping breath “I mean I know he will eventually. But I just.” He sniffled again, chest tightening with the force of trying to hold back the tears. Though it would’ve sounded cruel to say aloud, Simon was hoping for this sort of reaction; he knew, he knew that every wolf had its problems, whether it be hunters or instincts or loss... the essence of what they were was steeped in tragedy and Noah was no exception. He wasn’t sure exactly where Noah’s roots were, where he came from, how he got there but it was evident even by their few interactions that Noah tried to be the rock, whether it was because of expectations he set for himself to distract himself from his own trauma or because that was the expectation that was given to him. Simon never liked telling people explicitly to smile - that sometimes carried negative connotations and sometimes, you just couldn’t. Though he expressed some mild hesitation on his part that started with a pause, he eventually reached out and placed his very human hand on Noah’s head, running his spidery fingers through the boy’s human, thick dark hair, still damp from his fall. His skin connected to Noah’s scalp as he messaged it for just a moment, almost feeling the ghost of his mother’s hand on his own head. Gradually, his hand traveled to Noah’s neck, feeling the sinews and muscles under the skin and applying a gentle pressure to it as if it would anchor the young wolf before moving it down to his shoulder where he applied the same pressure. “Don’t hold it back,” He said this time, still keeping his voice low. He felt… like he wasn’t doing enough, frankly; he didn’t have any sage advice, at least none that he could think of right now but he was torn in two on whether or not Noah needed to hear a lecture at that moment; he… didn’t, at least not now. Simon had a feeling that he knew what Noah DID need and that was to be honest. “Release. In... out. Cry. It’s okay.” He paused. “You’re okay.” Heaven help both of them as they sat on the beach.

Noah didn’t realize just how badly he needed the gentle touch of someone supportive until it was there, Simon’s spindly fingers moving through his hair. It was an act he didn’t know how much he missed until it was gone, the memories of his own dad’s hand hitting him like a brick to the face. Noah didn’t know much about Simon, but he knew one thing for sure this man would be a great dad, if he wasn’t already. Leaning his crumpled worn out body towards the older wolf, Noah let himself fall again, but this time there was a shoulder there to catch him. Someone there to whisper softly that he could let it out. And so he did. 

The younger man didn’t know how long they sat there like that, or how long it took him to calm but finally he took his last ragged breath leaning on Simon’s shoulder. He felt… not better. Clearly not better. But now he felt like he could at least face the rest of the night, which was a marked improvement. Wiping at his face he straightened a little, taking his weight off of Simon. “Sorry. I-” Noah wiped at his tear stained cheek, “I don’t cry a lot. So when I do it’s all” he circled his good hand around his clearly snotty and ruined face. 

Simon tried to recall if he’d ever been in a situation like this before but he quickly came to the conclusion that he hadn’t - this was, how they say, ‘uncharted territory’ for him. So he just… did what felt right and he found his arm moving around to Noah’s shoulder, almost subconsciously pulling him closer as the younger wolf leaned against him. He remained steady, keeping his eyes on the water as the latter cried and finally… expressed himself. There were so many people that didn’t understand the importance of emotional release and he knew even as Noah started calming down that it wouldn’t fix everything but it was a way to ease some of the tension. He waited until Noah choked out an unneeded apology before he felt the ghost of a smile cross his angled face and he fished around in his jacket pockets with his other hand, managing to find an unused packet of tissues and he offered it to Noah. “Please don’t apologise,” He replied softly, turning his head slightly. “Thank you for--” He turned his head sharply to face away from Noah and he sneezed twice more. Damn, and he was doing so well, too. “Being honest.” It was his turn to sniffle, useless as the endeavour was. He loosened his other arm from around Noah though he still kept it present just in case the other wanted or needed it, still; he was in no way rushing anything about this. He had all the time in the world.

Taking one of the tissues offered to him Noah gently wiped his face down with his good hand, feeling a bit better now that the saltiness was cleaned off that part of his skin. Noticing the sneezes though, he handed the packet of tissues back to Simon, brown eyes giving the older man a look that read something like ‘looks like you need this more than I do.’   Sitting there Noah let the silence wash over them for a second, looking out at the sea... Simon saying something about being honest. Oh yea. Honesty.  “I wouldn’t thank me yet.” Noah started straightening a little, needing the comforting touch just a little less than before. “I mean you don’t even know like 75 percent of the story.” Yea. Simon knew practically nothing about Noah’s past, and practically nothing about what had happened past the fact that Noah was wet, intoxicated and falling apart. But yet he still came. He still let a stupid 20 something cry on his shoulder. “You know you remind me of my dad,”  Noah said quietly, looking over at Simon. “He was very patient and understanding too.” Simon took back the packet, tilting his head as he noticed Noah’s subtle change in body movement; had he said something offensive or wrong? He felt his eyebrow twitch and he gave a gentle smile. “It doesn’t matter,” He replied softly. “Not right now. Right now, it’s you and how you feel. No matter what the other 75 percent of the story is, you allowed yourself to feel right now.” He felt his expression saddened by Noah’s use of past-tense when bringing up his father. Passed on? Missing? Was he a source of why Noah felt abandoned? He… wasn’t sure how to respond to that part; while he felt something like happiness at being referred to with such a title - he remembered looking up to his father with reverence - he also felt undeserving of it. He hadn’t done anything to earn reminding anyone of anyone. “I…” He felt his insides twisting. He wasn’t anticipating this. He liked it better when they were focusing on Noah. “...appreciate that,” He finished quietly, taking one of the tissues for himself and wiping his nose.

“Yea, but how I feel is connected to that 75 percent of the story,” Noah countered, body curling back into itself again, trying to make himself as small as possible without jostling his injured hand. Averting his gaze a bit Noah listened to the other man sniffle, the silence almost deafening between them. He knew he didn’t have to talk about it, Simon had made that abundantly clear. But maybe tonight was the night to just get it all out anyway, the older wolf proving after all that he was a safe and caring shoulder. “I was in a pretty severe boating accident when I was 13.” Noah started quietly, the words still catching slightly in his throat even 10 years later “I survived but my dad, mom, and brother weren’t so lucky. That's the 75 percent you don’t know.”  He didn’t know why he was still talking. But part of him felt like he owed it to Simon. He owed it to the older wolf to give him a little bit more context, to speak to him like he would his father. “When I tell people, it changes how they think of me.” Noah started again, picking at a random thread on his jeans if only to give his good hand something to do .“Sometimes for the good, but most of the time for the bad. But it's a part of my past. It is a lot of the reason behind everything I do, and everything I feel. And I just.” Noah paused biting at his lip a bit. “I don't hate the sea because I’m a weirdo. I hate it because I know how it feels to drown. It’s the same reason why I’m not angry at Winn for leaving. I’m angry because I know how it feels to be left.”  There was a furrow of his brow as Simon listened, keeping his watery blue eyes on Noah as the latter seemed to spill everything once he got started, feeling his heart hurting more with every sentence Noah entrusted to him. He already had the feeling that he learned this before but his belief that Bitten wolves struggled with a unique form of suffering was reinforced as in one night-- one explanation, Noah opened himself up to the older wolf. Being the sole survivor in any capacity was… almost unbearable. He was silent for a long moment, not holding Noah anymore but still making sure they were making contact, though subtle rubbing of shoulders. He exhaled, breath catching in a web of phlegm. He had so many things he wanted to say with this information, so many consolations to give, so many words of encouragement but… “I understand,” He ended up saying instead. “And that’s fine.” He nudged his shoulder against Noah gently. “You’re completely justified.” He felt like he was floundering to help at this point, like he shouldn’t keep talking, like he was uncertain that everything he could say would be taken wrong. This was a delicate situation. “Your past is yours.” Why did he say that? “Your past is instrumental to who you are now.” Stop. Stop. “But the decisions you make now are still yours to make.” Ugh, this was going downhill. At least it was nice sitting in silence with Noah while it lasted. “I’m not going to treat you differently; you’re still Noah; compassionate, kind, sweet. I know you think that 75 percent of your past might make you seem weak or… I dunno, undeserving to be mad but that’s not true; it takes immense strength for you to be how you are despite that 75 percent.” God, he hoped he didn’t just screw this up.

Simon’s words echoed in Noah’s mind as he spoke, ears focusing on just one word. Justified. And it was weird how just hearing the word aloud somehow made Noah actually believe it. Believe that this wasn't some sort of overreaction, or his broken mind playing tricks on him. Not that he had really thought that, but it was different. Having someone validate your feelings after they sat and listened to you explain why you felt that way. It was definitely some powerful stuff. And Simon did it effortlessly, for someone he barely knew no less. “Thank you” Noah started quietly, knocking into the older man’s shoulder gently. He didn’t know if Simon could feel the sincerity in his tone, but he hoped he did. “Honestly, thank you Simon. It really means a lot to me to hear these things out loud.” Because it did. It truly and honestly did. Leaning over slightly Noah reached in his backpack for his phone to check the time, hoping he hadn’t wasted too much of the other’s night. But that wasn’t before promptly forgetting that leaning over to get said backpack required moving parts of his body that were cradling his broken hand. “Fuck.” Noah muttered under his breath as the pain radiated up his arm. The sigh of quiet relief that raggedly exited Simon’s mouth couldn’t represent how the weight of incoming failure and feeling as though he’d said the wrong things was lifted from him. He gave a gentle smile to the younger wolf, indeed catching the sincerity. “Anytime, Noah,” He replied before Noah made a motion to reach for something and starkly remembered himself that Noah’s hand was busted up. “Oh, right…” He started to stand, putting a hand on Noah’s back as if to encourage him to stand, too. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-- I mean, we should’ve taken you to a hospital first,” He chuckled nervously. “Here, I can drive you… would that be okay?” He asked; he knew the two had just spent an indeterminate amount of time together on the beach and he really should’ve been asking himself if that was okay given that his car would likely smell like wet dog for several days after the fact at least but he had admittedly more pressing concerns on his mind at the moment.

Smiling through the pain Noah just shook his head at the older man “My hand will survive. It was my mind that needed immediate attention.” Because it was mostly true. Noah needed the pep talk and understanding more than he needed a trip to the ER. But as he struggled slightly to pull himself up next to Simon, the pain grating on his nervous system, Noah figured  that yea, it was probably time to go get his hand looked at. “Yea actually, I’d like that.” He nodded with complete sincerity. “If you don’t mind,” he added hastily, hyper aware of all the time he had already taken up. It didn’t seem like Simon did though, which was nice. It had been a long time since Noah had had another adult than just his Aunt invested in his well being, it was kinda nice  Walking to Simon’s car Noah slid carefully into the passenger side, trying not to get everything wet as they drove to the hospital.

[midnightbluemoon]

Daniel And David Both Liking Counselor You Headcannon! (Camp Camp) (Probably Will End With David)

-So listen.

-David caught feelings like two days before Daniel came to Camp.

-So he didn’t really have the time to figure out how to ask you on a date.

-So then Daniel shows up.

-Big oof for David.

-Because as soon as Daniel shows up, he clearly seems attached to you.

-Daniel thinks your amazing.

-Like, other then his cult and religious beliefs, best thing ever.

-Seriously though.

-He is immediately wherever you are.

-You think it’s coincidence.

-Or that he’s nervous in a new place.

-So you offer to take him on a tour, just the two of you.

-Which kills David.

-But is a dream come fricking true for Daniel.

-The tour goes really nicely.

-Daniel seems to take actual notice in what you have to say.

-Which is a nice feeling.

-David follows you guys.

-Not in a creepy stalker way though, to be clear.

-He is legitimately worried that Daniel might do something sketchy.

-And wouldn’t it be kinda awesome if he was there to be the one to save the day?

- So you guys get back to camp.

-And since Gwen left when Daniel showed up

-And you and Daniel went on a tour

-And for some reason David wasn’t there

-The kids were running rampant.

-Daniel noticed your distress. 

-So did David, actually

-But there’s no good way to pop out of the bushes behind someone supportively.

-So he went around through the cabin.

-When he came back, lo and behold

-There was Daniel, helping you deal with the kids.

-And his hand was on your shoulder.

-Which almost broke David right there.

-It’s the little things, you know?

-So David come up and hugs you.

-Like, out of the blue.

-And really tight.

-But you weren’t complaining.

-Cuz, I mean 

-It’s David.

-He would totally stop if you asked him to.

-So then Daniel comes up on your other side.

-And he’s hugging you too.

-The camp is still half chaos.

-But no way can Daniel let David show him up.

-So after a while, you mention that all of you still have to take care of the rest of the kids

-Daniel and David agree.

-But although  

-David lets go completely, 

-Daniel starts holding your hand while you go deal with everything.

-So David grabs your other hand

-And you don’t have the heart to tell either of them to let go.

-Daniel noticed how stressed you were about the kids

-And he already had a plan to sacrifice them

-So wouldn’t that be kind of a gift to you too?

-Peace and quiet

-No responsibilities

-No David coming up from out of nowhere and hugging you because what the heck

-So you guys get everything sorted out.

-And then Daniel starts chatting you up.

-So you guys are going to the Mess Hall.

-And David is semi-crushed.

-And while Max walks by, he says

-”If you don’t learn to talk, your going to lose her/him/them.”

-And David’s just like Oh no he’s right.

-So anyways.

-Daniel is trying to figure out what you like/dislike/any hobbies you may have

-So that he can connect with you on them

-For example, say you like musicals.

-Suddenly he loves musicals

-Whichever ones you mentioned, in particular coincidentally.

-So whatever you mention, after everyone goes to bed, he starts learning about all of them.

- So the next morning he’s flaunting his knowledge about your favourite subjects.

-Which is kind of amazing for you to have someone with shared interests that seems to care about your opinions.

-Sucks for David though

-Cuz now you and David are practically joined at the hip.

-It’s around this time when you first notice the purification sauna.

-You didn’t question it that much

-Because you didn’t have any reason to.

-You start noticing campers being creepily fanatically loyal later that day.

-Which you did question

-extensively. 

-Because David had tried EVERYTHING with those kids

-And suddenly they love Daniel

-Which is kind of a red flag.

-You didn’t want to hurt Daniel’s feelings.

-But you were sure that he would understand your concerns.

-David hadn’t noticed that much.

-He was too busy moping.

-Daniel hadn’t actually planned on sacrificing you or purifying you btw.

-Just everybody else.

-Because having the person you love as a mindless yes zombie is no fun.

-But he kind of panicked when you asked about the kids.

-And he shoved you into the sauna. 

-Which he felt kind of sad about.

-He still wasn’t gonna sacrifice you though.

-But having you be a little bit less nosy was nice.

-And it was also pretty awesome to have you draped over him.

-And he could hug you as much as he wanted.

-So then when he heard David coming, he kissed you.

-The thing is, you might not even have stopped him from kissing you if you hadn’t been purified.

-Just maybe not in front of a bunch of campers.

-And David.

-And that was when David decided that Daniel had to go.

-Well also Max tipped him off before getting turned into a yes zombie himself.

-And then the whole Better Than You thing happened.

-And you were right with Daniel the whole time.

-Which made David super mad.

-So then when the effects started wearing off

-Because Daniel hadn’t planned for an argument

-Only just enough time for sacrificing

-And a dash more time to flaunt his amazingness to you

-Your head felt like it was swimming through tapioca.

-You staggered a little.

-So Daniel put his arm around you.

-And in your drugged confused state, you cuddled into him.

-What can I say? He was the only thing keeping you balanced.

-And you were also still semi drugged to love him.

-But then by the time Daniel slipped up and got sent to the hospital you were pretty much fine.

-But David made you go take a nap anyways.

-He wanted to be 100% sure whatever that was was out of your system.

-You guys didn’t really talk about what happened with Daniel.

-Neither of you really wanted to think about it.

-Although David couldn’t think of much else.

-He wanted to ask you if you actually loved Daniel

-But he could tell you didn’t want to discuss it.

-So he didn’t.

-You just felt betrayed.

-But things were pretty platonic between you and David.

-Both Gwen and Max were trying to help him ask you out

-But he was worried you were going to say no.

-And then Bonquisha happened.

-He had tried to move on and date someone else.

-Which had hurt you a lot.

-You didn't know why it hurt so much

-But it hurt a lot.

-But you acted like you were happy for them.

-Because Gwen told you.

-She thought it might make you jealous

-Which would force something to happen.

-But it didn’t.

-It just made you sad.

-And when Bonquisha broke up with him, he was really torn up about it.

-You thought it was because of the breakup.

-But it wasn’t.

-It was more about how he couldn’t keep anybody.

-Which wasn’t great for his self esteem.

-Neither was the fact that the two of you weren’t exactly talking.

-You and Bonquisha had gotten into a fight about the fact that you were 110% sure that she was cheating because you saw her kissing somebody else and she denied everything.

-And David defended her.

-Mainly because he just didn’t want it to be true.

-Which led to you two fighting.

-With words.

-In the end you just walked away.

-Which hurt a lot more than being yelled at, for David.

-You had spoke to him, but for nothing more than camp activities.

-Like “Hey David, could you pass the fire extinguisher.”

-And he’d pass it over

-And then conversation over.

-Max was annoyed.

-Because he was sure if David ever got up the nerve to apologize to you, and ask you out you would say yes.

-And he was right.

-After a lot of moping on David’s part, basically every camper knew what was going on.

-So they destroyed the blender in the kitchen.

-And made sure you were the one to go out to town to buy a new one.

-And the moment you were gone, everyone started taking turns giving him pep talks.

-And he got a looooooot of conflicting advice.

-Like 

-”Be sincere.”

-”Act cool, like you don’t really care.”

-”Be dramatic!”

-”Be clear. We don’t want any misunderstandings.”

-Yeah, it was a lot.

-So when you got back he tried to do everything at once.

-Which resulted in him having fallen on the ground.

-With a broken nose.

-You were a little less mad now.

-Because that was hilarious.

-And you could tell he had really tried.

-So you took him back to the Counselors Cabin.

- And administered as much first aid as you knew how.

-And he apologized again.

-Except as him.

-And you forgave him, obviously.

-Because he was your friend.

-After that everything went back to normalish.

-Max was annoyed he didn’t take the perfect opportunity to confess.

-But he wasn’t teary now, which was an improvement.

-Everything was purely platonic for the next while.

-But then Arrival Of The Torso Takers.

-You hadn’t been sure if anything was off.

-David had been touchier than usual.

-More hugs, more arm around shoulder, e.t.c.

-By this time you were pretty sure you had a crush on David.

-So you didn’t mind.

-But it also reminded you a little of Daniel.

-And then when David asked you out, you said yes.

-You were really excited.

-So was Gwen actually.

- You know who wasn’t?

-Max.

-He had been watching for a while. 

-And he did feel a little bad.

-He didn’t want to ruin your relationship.

-Except he also thought you deserved to know that your boyfriend was an alien.

- So he told you his suspicions.

-You agreed that David was off.

-You also thought it was a little fantastical.

-But you hadn’t noticed that Daniel was a cult leader.

-So you thought you should trust Max.

-Until he came back to you and said everything was probably fine.

-You were surprised.

-But he seemed totally normal.

-So you agreed.

-Until he came running by you about 10 minutes later.

-He grabbed you by the wrist and said Daniel was coming.

-So you both ran.

-You heard his voice, and it sent shivers down your spine.

-Calling for you to come back, saying he loved you......

-It was absolutely terrifying. 

-You had no idea where Max was going, but you wanted to save your breath for running instead of asking questions.

-Then he dragged you into a bomb shelter.

-And there was David.

-He looked like he’d been crying a lot.

-He was tied up in front of a bunch of screens playing certain parts of what was happening all over camp.

-You and Max ran over, and started untying him.

-Literally though,as soon as David was untied, Daniel p I c k e d y o u u p and put his arms around you, in a semi threatening way.

-What happened next was surprising though.

-David jumped on top of Daniel, and started attacking him.

-You just looked a Max, and he gave you a ‘what am I supposed to do?’ face.

-You guys left Daniel in the bunker.

-You felt kind of bad, but not really.

-He had been keeping David there for god knows how long.

-So when you went to hug David, he kissed you.

-Max was hooting, and yelling “FINALLY!”

-When David leaned back he apologized a lot.

-“I-I’m sorry-I should’ve asked-”

-You told him it was definitely fine.

-And you guys started dating.

-Even Max thought you guys were cute.

-And everything was sunshine and daisies.

-Until the Woodscouts, with Daniel as their new leader took control of Camp Campbell.

-Daniel took you away from the rest of the group, and started scolding you.

-Literally scolding you.

-About leaving with David.

-But then he said he forgave you, and so did Xemüg.

-And then he put his arm around you in a fiercely protective way, and marched right back out in front of everybody.

-And he was giving David this smug look, like ‘look what I can do and you can’t stop me’.

-You tried to shake his arm off, but he had a death grip on you.

-He’s just flaunting you to everybody

-Because he does actually love you.

-He’s just not great at loving people without being evil.

-After he takes Nikki you beg him to brig her back.

-Because you care about your kids.

-But he isn’t budging.

-What’s been really hard for David is having to see  you trailing around behind Daniel, knowing that if either of you don’t comply, a camper could die.

-And the fact that Daniel keeps touching you.

-Nothing lewd, just kisses and hugging and arm around shoulder, e.t.c.

-Daniel has all the Woodscouts giving him complete control.

-So there always seems to be one watching you in the few moments you have alone. 

-And then there was when Daniel was about to sacrifice Nikki.

-She seemed so chill.

-You asked him to sacrifice you instead.

-But no way was he doing that.

-And then, right before he killed Nikki, what you assumed was supposed to be his god came rising up.

-After a lot of banter back and forth, Daniel was commanded to go to Antarctica.

-He nodded solemnly, and took you by the hand.

-But Xemug said something along the lines of

-”Wait! No! Thou shalt not take anyone with you!”

-Daniel looked back and forth between you and the obviously fake Xemug.

-He gives you a final kiss, and walks off.

-And then it’s all done.

-The Woodscouts other than Pikeman, plus David and Max come out from behind the giant puppet Xemug they made.

-You guys free Nikki.

-David hugs you for an eternity.

-And everything really does return to normal.

Until the next disaster.

[terramythos]

TerraMythos' 2020 Reading Challenge - Book 1 of 26

Title: The Devil and the Deep: Horror Stories of the Sea (2018)

Author: Various (edited by Ellen Datlow)

Genre/Tags: Short Story Anthology, Horror (Various), Female Protagonist(s), LGBT Protagonist(s). 

Rating: 7/10 (note: this is an average of all the stories)

Date Began: 1/1/2020

Date Finished: 1/6/2020

I don’t usually read short story collections. But since I kicked off 2020 with a trip outside the US, I wanted something that could easily be picked up and read in short bursts. So I dove into a short story anthology @mistressofmuses gave me for Christmas. Since I was staying on the coast, this seemed like an appropriate choice. 

This anthology is a collection of 15 original horror stories by different authors, each somehow associated with the sea. Like any anthology, they were pretty hit or miss, but there were some I really enjoyed. Honorable mentions (scoring 8/10 or higher): 

Fodder’s Jig by Lee Thomas (9/10) 

The Whalers Song by Ray Cluley (9/10) 

A Ship of the South Wind by Bradley Denton (8/10) 

Broken Record by Stephen Graham Jones (8/10) 

A Moment Before Breaking by A. C. Wise (9/10) 

Sister, Dearest Sister, Let Me Show To You The Sea by Seanan McGuire (10/10) 

He Sings of Salt and Wormwood by Brian Hodge (10/10)

For a brief summary of all the stories and impression of each, see below the cut. These are in the order they appear and contain minor/implied spoilers.

1. Deadwater by Simon Bestwick - 4/10

Summary: A man living in a coastal tourist town is found dead by the shore. When her cop boyfriend rules it a suicide, the man's best friend Emily investigates the death on her own.

Thoughts: This one was very predictable. I'd figured out the "twist" and exactly how it would end by the half way point. It wasn’t super exciting and the writing just wasn't engaging for me. I did appreciate the occasional thematic callback and the whole thing about broken people needing to stick together, but there wasn’t enough of that in the actual story to sell me on it. 

2. Fodder’s Jig by Lee Thomas - 9/10 

Summary: Two men in their 60s fall in love with each other and try to form a life together. However, amid one’s rough divorce, a bizarre disease emerges that causes people to dance wildly and speak in tongues after exposure to the ocean. When one of the two men begins to exhibit symptoms of the disease, everything changes. Thoughts: Well done, creepy cosmic horror, and the ending was phenomenal. I loved that it was about two old gay dudes trying to find happiness late in life, struggling with manipulative family issues, and how all of it seamlessly blended with the horror. The prose was great too, and the zinger when you fully understand the title is... an experience. I thought it was interesting that the flashback scenes were in present tense and the current scenes were in past tense, but it sort of makes sense with the themes of the story.  

3. The Curious Allure of the Sea by Christopher Golden - 7/10 

Summary: A woman's father is lost at sea. To honor his memory, she tattoos herself with a strange symbol found in his abandoned boat. However, afterward, sea creatures and people alike find themselves drawn to her. Thoughts: It was moderately creepy. The part where Jenny burns off the tattoo (spoilers) was viscerally horrifying. Beyond that, it didn't stick out a whole lot. Sort of like a “wouldn’t that be fucked up?” Twilight Zone episode. 

4. The Tryal Attract by Terry Dowling - 5/10 

Summary:  After a conversation with his neighbor, a man agrees to spend several nights in the neighbor's house to commune with a talking human skull which he has recurring dreams about. 

Thoughts: The prose was good enough, but the actual horror element was sort of like one of those creepypastas that’s just unintentionally funny. It felt very Scooby Doo and I don’t think that was the intent. 

5. The Whalers Song by Ray Cluley - 9/10 

Summary: When a Norwegian whaling ship sinks after a catch, the small crew manages to escape. On shore, however, the eerie artifacts they find of old whaling ships are more than they bargained for.

Thoughts: Way way way eerie, and the prose was great; very stilted yet beautiful. There was an underlying theme of the past and present, which Cluley explores in multiple ways. It has a slow start but it pays off. One of the more haunting ones in the collection. 

6. A Ship of the South Wind by Bradley Denton - 8/10 

Summary: Three years after the Civil War, two Native Americans -- a boy named Charley and his uncle JoJim -- are accosted by a group of travelers in the plains of Kansas. They find that help comes from an unexpected source-- an eccentric, quasi-supernatural figure named Captain Thomas, whom JoJim met decades ago.

Thoughts: Honestly, setting a sea-themed horror story entirely in Kansas was a power move, but I think it worked. Did a great job building and maintaining tension. I loved the small details, like keeping the villains as "Red-beard" and "Black-beard" even after we learn their real names to keep things nautical. It's kind of like if No Country for Old Men crossed over with a pretty good episode of Goosebumps with some pseudo steampunk elements.

7. What My Mother Left Me by Alyssa Wong - 6/10 

Summary:  Following the death of her mother and breakup with her abusive boyfriend, Emma and her new girlfriend visit her mom's old beach house to collect her things. However, things get weird when they discover partially decomposed, yet still living fish along the shore.

Thoughts: I’m torn on this one. The writing was really good, but it felt like the story couldn’t decide between being a straight-up slasher flick or a deep, heartfelt exploration of family and surviving domestic abuse. I really felt like it needed to be longer, as both elements felt underdeveloped. 

8. Broken Record by Stephen Graham Jones - 8/10 

Summary: A man is trapped on a deserted island.

Thoughts:  I do not want to spoil the "twist" of this one but it's good and a fun scenario to imagine. Toed the line between humor and horror well.  

9. Saudade by Steve Rasnic Tem - 5/10 

Summary: A man agrees to go on a senior singles cruise at the behest of his daughters, but feels awkward and out of place. He is drawn to a bizarre woman who occasionally appears and causes something strange and unsettling to happen.

Thoughts: The writing is good, but Tem spends the bulk of the story focusing on protagonist Lee wandering a cruise ship and being sad about it. I loved the ending and its callback to an earlier, seemingly unrelated scene, but beyond that I feel there’s way more you can do with the inherent horror of a cruise ship. 

10. A Moment Before Breaking by A. C. Wise - 9/10 

Summary: While a little girl and her mother are immigrating to the United States, the ship they are on suddenly sinks. The girl is captured by cultists who perform a strange ritual, binding her to a creature called the prince of the sea.

Thoughts: I really dug this one-- it's just so weird. I loved how the narrative treated the shared body between Ana and the prince, and that we get to see Ana in various stages of her life. The prose was gorgeous. Definitely one of my favorites in the collection.

11. Sister, Dearest Sister, Let Me Show To You The Sea by Seanan McGuire - 10/10 

Summary: When her little sister drowns her in the tide pools by their Washington home, a teenage girl makes a deal with an eel-like entity of the sea to get her revenge. Thoughts: "Holy fucking shit" was pretty much all I could say when I finished this one. Visceral body horror at its finest, and I'm always a sucker for revenge. The prose was beautiful and horrid in the best way. I'm a big fan of the author already but this exceeded my expectations.

12. The Deep Sea Swell by John Langan - 3/10 

Summary: A couple is traveling by ship. One of the two, Susan, recalls a few supernatural stories their mutual friend Giorgio told them before she has her own supernatural encounter.

Thoughts: I found myself begging the author to press the enter key on his keyboard a few times. Beyond that, this was the first story that actually challenged my suspension of disbelief with what happens and how it relates to the main character. I didn't find the horror element very scary at all. There were some cool visuals but that's about all I got out of it. 

13. He Sings of Salt and Wormwood by Brian Hodge - 10/10 

Summary: During a deep sea diving exercise, a competitive surfer comes across an old, sunken yacht. He is horrified by the strange worm-like creatures devouring the wood. However, when he returns home to his wife, they begin to find strange, humanoid carvings every day on the Oregon coast. Thoughts: GOD was this good. Superb voice and writing, very creepy, and everything comes together so well in the ending. I felt an emotional connection to the love and longing between Danny and Gail, which is always hard to accomplish in a short story. Just a stellar read.

14. Shit Happens by Michael Marshall Smith - 3/10 

Summary: A higher-up from a tech conglomerate attends a company conference aboard a converted boat-hotel, but things go south when guests start to experience acute gastrointestinal distress. Thoughts: This gets like 3 points for making me genuinely laugh a few times and -7 points for everything else.

15. Haunt by Siobhan Carroll - 6/10 

Summary: In 1799, a cargo ship is troubled by a ghost ship on their trail. When the passengers and crew are stranded in the middle of the ocean, the dark pasts of the crew slowly come to light. Thoughts: The writing was good, the author clearly knows her shit, and I can admire what she is going for. However, the whole thing was just a bit too brutal and graphic for me, especially knowing that some of the things described were based on real events. I guess that was probably the point based on her author’s note, but I can’t recommend this as an entertaining read. 

[jonesingforben]

Para | Super Cockslut

Who: Bentley Jones and Eli Hummel ( @elihummelsub )

When: Saturday 4.18.20; 9pm

Where: Pool

Easter Eggs: 9pm, costume, pool

Ben was thankful that Eli was willing to help him with this event. He'd been a little lost in his own world and he was happy to step out of it for a moment. In fact, he felt as though it's something he needed to do. Ben easily made his way to the pool, turning on the lights to fill the dark room. Because it was well into the evening - at 9pm - the pool was completely still and he couldn't wait to disturb the water. He wasn't dressed in anything but a simple pair of shorts, that he was only going to lose eventually. So he situated himself at the edge of the pool and waited for the other man to show.

Eli was excited to get to do this scene with Ben and it worked to be another form of distraction. He made sure he arrived at the pool promptly, already in the Spiderman suit and he smiled at Ben, "Good Evening Sir" he said as he dropped to his knees, "How are you this eveing?"

Immediately, Ben's focus was taken out of the scene when Eli showed up in the costume. Eli did exactly what Ben had asked, but he already knew going into this that roleplaying wasn't really his cup of tea. He enjoyed the genuine exchange between himself and his sub during a scene, but this was going to be a needed experience and hopeful lesson. "Hello, Eli," he responded with a smile. "I'm well. Thank you for coming prepared." He stood up and dropped his shorts before jumping into the pool. "Before joining me. I want you to recite your limits and safeword."

Eli nodded as he knelt at the edge of the pool and looked to the other, admiring his body for a second, "My limits are Vore, Scat, Vomit, ageplay with the exception of calling someone daddy and sleep sacks and I use the traffic light system for my safe word" he recited, "Would you like me join you now Sir?"

Eli was nothing if not thorough and Ben appreciated it. He took note of the limits and liked that his safeword is something he was already familiar with. "Yes. How adequate are your swimming skills?" He asked as he moved away from the edge and focused on treading water the way Nate showed him in one of their lessons.

Eli slipped himself into the pool and he felt the water envelope him in the right outfit, "Yeah I can swim Sir. Not super fast or anything but I'm pretty good"

Ben nodded. "That's all that's needed. We're not going to do anything too intense seeing as I'm not a professional either." As soon as Eli got into the water, he slipped his hands to the boy's hips, holding him in front of him. "We're going to keep it simple. You're a hero right? And I'm a villain who's overpowered you and I'm going to make sure you remember me always."

"Yea sir, that sounds like a really good plan" he said with a nod, "Would you like me to go ahead a little for you to 'catch me'"

Ben swam away from Eli once again, giving him yet another nod. "Sounds like a plan," he replied with a smirk. "I'll give you a ten second head start," he went on, watching Eli from across the water.

Eli smiled as he started to swim away from the other, not sure where this scene was going but already loving every second.

Ben felt lucky that Eli was so willing to give into the role he was given. He smiled as the boy swam away, counting to ten like he said he would before pushing off the wall and chasing Eli.

Eli looked behind him and smiled as he saw Ben coming, "Catch me if you can" he teased as he moved a little slower in the water

Ben just laughed, unable to keep the 'villain' role he was meant to be playing. He did compose himself a little more once he reached Eli and pushed him against the closest wall in front of him, pressing his body up against him from behind. "Looks like I've caught you, Spider Man."

Eli smiled as he moved and then he felt Ben catch him and press him against the wall, "Well shit" he whispered, "And what are you going to do to me Master Villain?"

"I don't know," Ben replied, playing along. "What can I do to make sure you regret ever stepping foot in here? I could just drown you, make you disappear. But that wouldn't be fun for me. I could make you remember this moment.  So that you think of it and me for a long time to come.

Eli bit his lip as he listened to the options, "You don't want to drown me cause if you did I would be dead" he said with a little laugh, "But I like the idea of you making me remember this moment Master Villain"

This exchange only reminded him of why he didn't particularly like roleplaying, the fine line between reality and the roleplay was always blurry which meant he could never really give himself fully to the character. Plus he just enjoyed being himself far more. "Well then, that settles it, I'm just going to have to make sure you never forget this." Ben reached down between them, finding a seam, then ripping the costume in half.

Eli gasped as he felt the costume rip and he had to try and hold his laughter as he turned to face Ben, "That was my costume" he said, the laughter in his features, "What kind of hero doesn't have an outfit!" he teased

"Well that's too fucking bad," Ben added with a smirk before continuing to rip the fabric until the bottom half was completely torn and floating to the top of the pool.

Eli bit his lip harder, "You gunna make me remember this for a lifetime" he whimpered, "Make me tender remember who took my powers"

"You're damn straight," he responded with a growl, pressing his half-hard cock against Eli's ass thinking about what was about the come. He wasn't fully hard yet, but he knew it would come once he started fucking him. He teased his opening with the tip of his dick.

Eli heard the tone and Ben's voice alone made him moan as he bit his lip, "Hmm, gunna fuck me Sir?" He asked, pressing his hips down a little to feel more of Ben's cock, "Hard?"

Ben yanked Eli’s hair. “I already told you, I’m going to make sure you never forget this.” There was no warning, nothing to prepare Eli for the pain that was sure to come. He pushed his cock in as far as it would go, moaning at the sensations. “Some hero, letting yourself get caught like this. It’s like you wanted this.”

Eli's stomach flipped at the tone in Ben's voice and he let his head fall backwards as it was pulled but he was not prepared for Ben's cock as he buried himself inside him and he screamed out, his scream echoing around the pool, "Shit! That was...." but he couldn't find words, "Wanted to feel your big cock more like"

Ben wasn't a cocky man by any means, but he knew the impact of just shoving his cock into the boy without any preparation or lubrication. "Oh, so this hero is just a needy for cock, hm" Ben clicked his teeth as he buried into Eli's ass fully. "What would everyone say knowing their hero was really just a cock slut?"

Eli was gasping and clutching the pool edge. Ben's cock was huge, there was no denying that and he felt like he'd been split in two, "They would probably not judge cause have you seen you Master Villain"

At Eli's words, Ben started to move inside of him - increasing the speed with each thrust. "Flattery will not spare you," he assured before taking himself completely out of the submissive only to slam back in full force.

Eli felt like he was on fire and he knew he would not be able to walk properly after this but it didn't stop him pushing his ass out as the other slammed into him, "Fuck Sir" he groaned, biting hard on his lips, fingers white from his grip, "So fucking big"

Ben's arms burned from supporting his and some of Eli's weight off the edge of the pool but it was worth it to hear the reactions he was getting from Eli. "You really are a cock slut, hm?" He continued, slamming into him over and over again and finding a rhythm they could both enjoy.

Eli was gasping as he tilted his head back and let Ben take what he needed. He was having too much fun to make or want this to stop and he nodded, "Super Cockslut" he whispered, "Want you to bury your load inside me!"

"Super Cockslut," Ben chuckled. "That does have a ring to it." Ben didn't let up, instead he just continued to fuck him harder and faster. "If you want me to cum inside of you, you're going to have to beg better than that, cock slut."

Eli was impressed with the name he'd come up with but Ben was super distracting and his head, like his body, was swimming, "Please Master Villain, please teach me a lesson and cum inside me so I can feel you dripping from me, Please I need it so much"

Ben didn't know how much more his body could take with the weight of the water weighing him down and the muscles in his arms screaming so he allowed his body to be pushed to the edge prematurely. He focused on the sensations Eli was providing and the thought that his presence would linger with the superhero was enough to let him lose himself and fill the boy up with his cum. "Fuck."

Eli groaned as Ben came inside him and his body shook as he held onto the edge of the pool whilst he squeezed around Ben's cock, "Thank you" he managed to whisper

"That's a good cock slut," Ben moaned as he continued to empty out inside of him. After he was able to calm down a little bit, he pulled out completely and helped Eli up out of the pool before pulling himself out and laying on the concrete. He pulled Eli and snuggle into his chest just to give a few moments of affection before they needed to clean themselves up. "Go get your stuff. We're going to go up to my room so I can take care of you, okay?"

Eli winced as he was moved out of the pool and he winced harder still as he tried to stand and get his stuff, "Yes Sir" he said, his suit hanging off him as he dripped on the poolside, "Just, give me a minute" he spoke as he promptly sat back down

Ben squatted down in front of where Eli was sitting, cupping his face to forcing him to look at him. He knew that he pushed Eli and the last thing he wanted to do add to that distress. "Do you need help with walking?"

Eli looked into the others eyes and he nodded, "Yes Sir" he whispered, "I've not had such rough and hard sex for a while and you are really well endowed"

Ben just chuckled before pulling Eli up and scooping him up into his arms. "Don't worry, Eli, just relax. I'm going to take care of you."

Eli nodded, "Thank you Sir" he whispered, "I think I'm gunna need it"

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

His Smile Will Keep You Safe - Chapter Three

Warnings: harassment, mention of depression

Word Count: 5 834

You were torn out of your peaceful slumber when the bus skipped to a halt. The sudden absence of the motor vibration had woken you up, and sleepily you rubbed your eyes. Out of the small window by your bed, you saw that you had parked next to a house, and curiously you poked your head out of your bunk bed.

“Back under the living, sleepyhead,” Dallon joked, throwing a backpack over his shoulder.

“Where are we,” you asked, sitting up properly, and dangling your feet out of the bed.

“Phoenix. Now grab your night bag and let’s check into the hotel.”

And with these words he disappeared out of the bed department of the bus.

Quickly you threw your pyjama and your hygiene products into a small bag, which you had stuffed into your suitcase the day before, and followed the bassist.

Outside of the bus the air was blazing hot. The bus had parked at the side of a huge building, in what looked like a backstreet, or some sort of backyard. Just in time you spotted Lisa walking through a door, and hurried after the young woman.

Stepping through the inconspicuous door, you were once again hit with air conditioning. Even though outside the colour of the light suggested that the sun was close to setting, in here the corridors were ignited with bright lights.

Following the sound of the footsteps in front of you, you finally reached a small lobby. A couple of couches were standing by the windows, and a middle aged man was talking to Lucas, who seemed to be checking everyone in.

Slowly you walked over to Lisa, who was standing by a window, and looked out into the street. Cars were driving by, carrying dust into the air. The few people on the street were dressed in short trousers matched with t-shirts, and most women were wearing dresses.

Turning back around to the room, you noticed that Luis and Charlie were sitting huddled together on one of the sofas, holding a map. Probably they were deciding what to do until the show tomorrow. Dallon and Ryan were leaning against a door frame, Dallon still carrying his backpack, while Ryan had placed his between his feet. Lars was standing in a corner, mobile in hand, and punched the keys in an almost aggressive manner, while Bill had plucked in his headphones, and seemed not to notice anyone else.

Just when you were about to ask Lisa where Jay was, you saw him pacing up and down outside, pressing his own mobile to his ear. He looked distressed, occasionally reaching into his hair and tucking on the dread locks.

“Do you think he’s calling his girlfriend,” Lisa asked.

Her voice was quiet, and while she mostly sounded sad, you also heard the underlying jealousy.

“Does he have one,” you retorted.

Honestly, you did not feel in the mood to get pulled into other people’s problems with their love life, but then again, maybe you would need someone to talk about Lars earlier or later, and then you could ask her this favour.

“Don’t know,” she replied, keeping her eyes fixed on the spot where Jay had disappeared out of her view.

“It’s probably just his mum, don’t worry,” you tried to comfort her, “or his grandma. You know how grandmas can be.”

Lisa nodded and turned around to face the room again, and you copied her movements.

“So, did you take a nap,” she asked, trying to do small talk.

“Yeah. Everything is pretty exciting,” you explained, preferring not to mention that another reason for your quick tiring was the never entirely healed depression, which you still dragged around with you.

“I know, right? The first days I’m always super tired,” Lisa agreed, and you were glad that she did not think it was weird, “But soon the routine will kick in, and you’ll get used to all this.”

“I hope so,” you nodded, and just in that moment Lucas turned around to the group.

“So, we have three rooms,” he announced, “Two four beds rooms, and one two beds room. I’d suggest you girls take the two beds room, and the rest of us share the other two rooms.”

Since nobody disagreed, Lucas handed Lisa a pair of keys, and together the two of you made your way up into the third floor, where your room was located. Secretly you were glad that you got to share a room with her. Apart from the fact that you had talked most to her out of all the members, you seriously did not want to have to share a room with Lars.

The room which Lisa unlocked for the two of you was small, but cosy. To the left there was a door that led to a tiny bathroom, which just about fitted a shower, a sink and a toilet. The rest of the room contained two beds, one on either side, a small wardrobe opposite the bathroom door, and two bedside tables.

“Which bed do you want,” you asked.

“I don’t care, whatever you prefer,” Lisa answered, peeking into the bathroom.

“Then I’ll take the bed on the right,” you decided and threw your backpack on the matrass, sitting down next to it.

A strange feeling washed over you. This morning you had still taken a shower at home, in your own, familiar flat, and now you were hundreds of miles away, in a city you had never seen before, sharing a hotel room with a woman you had just met yesterday. With a sense of wonder you realized that a hundred years ago such a trip would have taken days, if not weeks, and now it was possible to travel this far in under a day.

Lisa went to take a shower, and you stretched out on your bed, pulling out your mobile. Yesterday you had only left your parents a short message, telling them what kind of offer you had gotten, so of course there were several missed calls from them.

You felt your heart grow in your chest as you saw these calls. For some reason you missed them all of a sudden. Admittedly, you were in your twenties, but this was new and strange, and your parents had always provided such safety to you, that it almost felt dangerous not to have them join you on this trip. Pushing aside this thought, you pressed their number, and called them back, to explain what had happened since yesterday morning.

You had just finished your call, when Lisa emerged back out of the bathroom, and with her a cloud of rose scented, moist air. Her face was red from scrubbing it, and her blonde curls were hanging down on her shoulders in wet strands. She had dressed into a white dress with flowers, and all of a sudden you felt rather clumsy in your own body, being dressed in simple shorts and a blue shirt.

A knock on the door made you peek up, and since Lisa was busy reapplying her make-up, you went to see who it was. Outside Charlie was standing, his hands shoved into his pockets up to his wrists, and he looked nervous until you opened up, as if he had been uncertain if he had knocked on the right door.

“We wanted to go out for dinner, would you guys like to join,” the bassist asked.

For a split second you would have answered with something along the lines of “Only if Lars isn’t coming” but you bit your tongue.

“Sure, why not,” you grinned, looking forward to getting to know everyone better.

“Lucas and Bill, and probably light guy will be staying here, but Lucas said, you should bring your camera, to, you know, document the tour and all,” Charlie said, “What about Lisa, she coming too?”

You turned around to take a look into the bathroom where she was almost done applying her make up. When she saw you looking at her, she nodded eagerly.

“Yup, we’re both in,” you replied, making Charlie smile.

“Great, we’re meeting downstairs in ten!”

You watched the musician turn around before you closed the door behind him. Somehow you almost feared Lisa would start asking you questions about her outfit, but she did not, so you used the time to freshen yourself up a little.

Ten minutes later, after you had fetched your camera from the bus, you arrived back in the lobby. Dallon was sitting on a sofa, his long legs stretched out into the room. Ryan was talking to Luis, and if you had to guess from their gestures, they were talking about drumming. Jay and Charlie were also talking, but when they noticed you entering, Jay stood up.

“I know a great place pretty close by,” he said, “they have all sorts of different foods, like burgers, pizza, pasta, salads, and they have cocktails. Just the perfect thing for this weather. What do you guys think?”

Since nobody had any better ideas, you followed the tall man out of the hotel onto the street. Lisa immediately hurried to catch up with him, so you were left on your own. On one hand you were nervous, as always when you got to know new people, but you were also excited to get to know all of them better.

Dallon and Ryan seemed to be having a more private conversation since you heard Dallon mention his kids, so you turned to see what Charlie and Luis were talking about. Sure enough they had just turned to you, and soon you were walking between the two men, hearing stories about their band, and what tours they had done so far.

From what you learned, it seemed that Luis was the kind of guy who wanted to be liked. He needed attention, and liked being the centre of it, and seemed generally like a joyful person, always ready to joke around. He showed you a tattoo on his upper arm where he had gotten his grandparents’ names inked into his skin, and explained the meaning of a few other ones. Luis was easy to talk to. He was quick in understanding, and never seemed to mind the little awkward stutters you sometimes did. Judging by what Charlie told about him, Luis was liked by everyone, and even though he often got on people’s nerves, everyone loved and defended him.

Charlie was a little more difficult to read, especially in the beginning. He was quiet, and preferred listening over talking, which made him the perfect match to Luis. Most of the time he nodded or just kept his eyes on the ground, but after a while he contributed more to the conversation. He told you how he had started playing the bass, and that he had studied IT in college. For some reason you could not help yourself to chuckle as he revealed this information, since if someone would have asked you to guess his favourite school subject, you would have answered exactly that. Charlie also told you about the different times Luis had been arrested, because cops had thought he would be dealing drugs.

“Never man, I’m straight edge,” Luis had laughed at your shocked expression, “I’ll never in my life touch drugs, not even to sell them!”

His exclamation made the three of you laugh, and happily you noticed how easy it was to have a good time with them. They were nice, smart, and understanding, even when it sometimes took you a while to find the right words.

It felt like barely five minutes had passed when Jay stopped in front of a restaurant. It was not big from the outside, but you heard many people talking. You waited until Ryan and Dallon had caught up with everyone, then you entered.

The smell that met your noses was delicious. Terracotta coloured walls and small cacti in plat pots made the place feel comfortable. Banjo music was playing out of well-hidden speakers, and even though most tables were already occupied, you quickly found a place by one of the windows.

You scooted in next to Charlie, and were followed by Ryan who shot you a friendly smile. Remembering how only a few hours ago he had gotten you out of the weird situation with Lars, you asked yourself if he was still wondering what had been going on.

It did not take long until the conversation picked up. You had imaged there to be at least two different groups, but much to your contentedness, the whole table was engaging in the same discussion. It started out with Dallon asking how many bands the others had already been in. Ryan had the highest count with over thirteen.

And then everyone started talking about the weirdest things that had happened to them on tour. Charlie and Jay repeated the stories of Luis being taken in by the police, Lisa told a story about how one of the bands she had toured with had forgotten their entire equipment once, and Dallon talked about the time he had spent touring with the band Panic! at the Disco, reminding you of how much you had listened to the first two albums as a teenager.

Even though you had no stories of your own to contribute, it was amazing to listen to everyone else’s. They laughed at your disbelieving stares, and your open mouth, and whenever anyone said something especially funny, the whole table erupted into loud laughter.

By the time the food, which all of you had ordered, arrived, you had almost forgotten that you knew none of these people longer than 48 hours. You felt comfortable in their company. Charlie had leant against the window, looking along the table, while his knee was pressing into yours. You were sitting very close to both him and Ryan, because Dallon had decided to squeeze into this booth as well. Now Ryan’s arm was pressing against yours, and your hips were touching, but neither of your minded.

On the other bench Lisa was sitting at the edge, Jay in the middle, and Luis had taken a position that resembled Charlie’s.

Remembering Lucas’ request to take some pictures, you took out the camera, and quickly shot a few photos before everyone started to dig into their delicious smelling food.

Several hours later, the bellies filled with lots of food and fruity cocktails for dessert, all seven of you were on your way back to the hotel. The laughter and the cheering about each other’s stories had calmed down, and instead you were quietly walking along. During dinner you had learned that Dallon had two children, the older one, a girl, had just turned eleven. He had proudly talked about them, and told many stories. Ryan too had shared stories, but his mostly centred around his cat and his dog.

Jay had stayed a little more silent about private matters, but when the question, who in the group was in a relationship, had been asked, he had mentioned that he was single. Of course this statement had caused Lisa and you to exchange meaningful looks.

When you reached the hotel, everyone bid their good nights, and shortly after you had dressed into your pyjama, back at your room, and you had fallen asleep on the soft pillow on your bed.

~*~

The following day was not especially exciting. Lucas insisted on everyone coming to the venue, where he and Bill started setting up the stage for the first show of the tour. Lars seemed to have decided to take care of the lights, as he was supposed to, and Lisa had started looking through and categorizing the merchandise that had been delivered directly to the venue.

Since you had nothing to do, and all the band members had settled down in the bus to relax, you grabbed your laptop and your camera, and settled down at one of the tables in the bar area of the club, and started looking through the pictures of the prior evening.

At first you copied all of the pictures onto your computer, then you deleted them off your memory card, so there was enough space on there for the evening. Saving the pictures in a folder with the date, you created a second folder which you named “edit”. Once more you copied all the pictures in there as well, then you started selecting which ones had turned out nicely.

Even as a professional photographer not every picture turned out good. Some were blurry, and since you were taking pictures of people, it was not always easy to catch one in which they did not accidently blink or have their mouth wide open. In the end you were left with about a dozen pictures, which you started editing.

Editing was, next to choosing the subject of your photograph and preparing the settings, your favourite part. It was amazing to see how toggling contrast, colours, brightness and other variables changed the entire feeling, which the picture conveyed. Concentrated on your work you barely noticed how time had passed, until suddenly Bill tapped your shoulder.

“Wow, these look amazing,” he marvelled, looking over your shoulder.

You could not help the smile that appeared on your lips at his compliment. Maybe you had not been on tours before, but you definitely knew how to take pictures.

“Thanks,” you grinned, looking up from your screen for the first time in hours.

“Hey, it’s almost time for doors, so you’ll need this.”

He handed you a backstage pass on which a long lace had been tied so you could put it comfortably around your neck. You have had these before, but usually ones made out of thin plastic or carton. This one here was as thick as a credit card, yet bendable; something that was supposed to last for two months.

“Don’t lose it, or you won’t be allowed on the bus,” Bill joked, making you laugh lightly, “Now let’s go, or do you want to be run over by all the fans?”

Both of you laughed again, and he helped you pick up your laptop, and carry it backstage into the small room where the bands were preparing for the show.

The “Three Beats” were already in their stage clothes, all of them wearing black trousers and shirts, a white jacket on top. Ryan and Dallon had not yet changed, but considering they still had about two hours until it was their turn, they still had plenty of time. You realized you had missed sound check, and when you mentioned it to Charlie, he chuckled.

“There are still plenty of sound checks, don’t worry,” he told you with a comforting smile.

Outside you heard the first fans being allowed into the venue. The chatter grew louder and louder, and at some point somebody turned on music for the growing audience. Actually knowing the bands that were about to play, you started noticing the change in atmosphere.

The opening band grew more and more fidgety with every passing minute, and even you started feeling nervous and excited. You realized that you had no clue what kind of music these bands were making, but now it was a little too late to grab some Spotify and look them up. Instead you did what you always did when you grew impatient; you started capturing the moment. Sitting crossed legged on a table you pointed your camera through the room, taking pictures.

There were Jay and Charlie who had started doing their vocal warm up. Luis was jumping around, kicking the air and punching invisible enemies to get his spirit up for the show. Ryan and Dallon on the other hand were calm, or at least looked like they were. They had settled down on one of the two sofas in the room, both engulfed in their own world. Sometimes Dallon’s fingers twitched a little, as if he was searching for chords on his bass, and Ryan’s feet were tapping the floor in quick rhythms as if he was practicing the songs they were about to play.

Suddenly the noise from outside increased, and Lucas entered the room.

“You guys ready,” he asked, turned to the opening band.

The three young men stepped next to each other and nodded; determination in their faces.

“Great! (y/n), are you going to take pictures of them going on stage, please,” he asked, and you too nodded, quickly slipping out of the room backstage, and into the noise of the chatting fans, who were eagerly waiting for the first band to come on.

You passed the security guard, who only took a short look at your backstage pass, then you started making your way through the crowd, and to the other side of the room to be able to take some pictures of the men when they were stepping on stage.

Some people, mostly young girls, were sitting on the floor; others were standing around aimlessly, or were singing random songs, mostly in a terribly off key melody. The lights dimmed and the music turned off, making everyone around you cheer.

Quickly you passed the last few meters to the spot you had chosen for now. The crowd was still cheering, and just in time you turned on your camera, and adjusted the settings, when Luis stepped on stage. He kept his head down and directly walked to the drum set that had been set up in the back centre of the stage. Even though his entrance was not very spectacular, you shot several pictures of him, before focusing on Charlie, who walked to the right side of the stage, where he picked up his bass that had been standing in front of a second drum set, probably Ryan’s. Charlie, too, kept his eyes locked to the floor, as if he was focusing really hard on not falling, but when he picked up his bass, he spotted you, and shot a quick smile your way, which you immediately captured.

It took a few more seconds for Jay to step on stage. What had Lisa told you on the bus yesterday? All the girls loved him? The reaction of the crowd definitely supported that statement, and you had to admit yourself, that out here on stage, wearing this confident, sassy smile, his black hair and dark skin contrasting so beautifully with the snow white of his jacket, the band that held his dread locks together being the only colourful spot on stage, he definitely looked attracting.

You shot a few pictures of him walking over to his guitar and his microphone, and waited until they started playing their first song, snapping a few more photos, then you started manoeuvring through the crowd. Whenever you found a good angle at the stage, you turned to shoot pictures. Not all of them would turn out great, you knew that. The dim light, the quickly changing spotlights, the fast movements of the musicians, all these things added up, and in the end only a handful of pictures would be good enough to edit. Once again you got lost in your work. Walking around, adjusting settings, shooting several pics, starting to walk around again.

You were so engulfed in your work that you did not even notice Jay announcing their last song, instead you were surprised when all of a sudden they walked off stage.

The lights stayed down, but the music got turned on again, so you quickly raced to the room backstage to take a couple of post-show photographs of the opening band. They were sweaty and happy, laughing ecstatically, and hugging each other. Ryan and Dallon watched grinning. They had both changed into their flower shirts, nervously bouncing on their heels.

After a few quick shots, you ran back out into the crowd, trying to find a good spot from where you could capture Ryan and Dallon walking on the stage. You noticed how you had started sweating. The air had been hot the entire day long, and the crowd radiated heat as well. That, plus your constant running around, had caused your skin to turn all sweaty, and your shirt started getting moist a little.

Concentrating back on finding the best spot, you found a whole in the crowd, right at the lighting console. Showing the security guard your pass, you climbed over the barricade and balanced yourself at the edge of the rostrum on which the console was standing.

“Are you paying me a visit?”

You would have almost fallen off the rostrum at the unexpected sound so close to your ear, and quickly you turned around, being faced with Lars. His lips were mere inches away from yours and hastily you leant away from him. How could you have forgotten that he was doing the lights?

“Just for the view,” you replied, looking back to the stage.

“Oh really? Because I could have bet it was because of me,” he shrugged.

“Trust me, it’s not because of you,” you hissed, still not looking at him.

For a few seconds there was silence and you almost allowed yourself to hope he would leave you alone, when he spoke up again.

“I always love you the most when you’re as sweaty and worked up as right now.”

The use of present tense sent an uncomfortable shiver down your spine. Turning around you stared him in the eyes. Without noticing, you had taken an aggressive stance. Your shoulders were straight, but slightly tilted to the front, your face expressionless, except for your eyes. These were shooting daggers at him.

“Leave me alone,” you told him, your voice low, but clear.

Luckily in just that moment Ryan stepped onto the stage, distracting Lars from you since he had to change the lights, and you took a couple of pictures of the drummer on his way to his drum set. As soon as he sat down, he started drumming an even rhythm, while Dallon followed him on stage.

You snapped multiple pictures until the singer had grabbed his bass, and started strumming the first chords, then you climbed back off the rostrum, and started your journey through the crowd once more. After a while, feeling like you had taken several good pictures of both band members, you started calming down. Finding a quiet corner with good view to the stage in the back, you started listening more to the music that got played.

The fans were singing along wholeheartedly, and even though it was hard to understand the lyrics, you found yourself nodding along to the beat, while you played around with your camera. Being a photographer had the advantage that you could zoom in on someone at any given time. While you noticed in the course of the evening, that Dallon had put on a strong stage persona, giving directions to the audience when to cheer and what to sing, Ryan seemed to be more like you knew him off stage. He sat at his drums, a huge smile plastered on his face, while he head banged to the music they were playing.

The longer you watched the drummer the more he seemed to enchant you. His hair fell into his eyes with every move forwards, and he had to shake it away with every time he sat back up. His eyes were squinted together because he was smiling so hard, and deep dimples were etched into his cheeks. It was obvious how much fun he was having, how much the audience singing back at them meant to him. Even here in the back it felt like waves of pure joy and happiness were radiating from the man drumming away his soul up there on the stage.

You found yourself thinking how you could not wait to see him play the next time, and a strange feeling of safety sparked in your chest. It felt as if all of a sudden you knew him so much better, as if the mere act of watching him play music he enjoyed was an intimate, personal confession between the two of you.

Out of nowhere the picture of him holding your hand while you were feeling down popped into your mind, and for a moment you were too confused by the image to notice Dallon, who had commanded the crowd to part. Quickly shaking of this strange, yet comforting thought of Ryan, you picked your camera back up and shot pictures of Dallon how he walked through the crowd, almost all of the people smaller than him, with expressions of admiration on their faces.

You marvelled at the way he was able to control the crowd. After having asked them politely, yet never taking off the mask of his stage persona, to not touch him, all of them kept their hands to themselves.

Only when Dallon climbed back onto the stage, you realized that for a good two minutes you had not paid any attention to Ryan, sparking a feeling of guilt in your chest. Why would you feel bad for not paying attention to Ryan for two minutes? You had spent at least ten minutes just watching him, without a thought of Dallon, why not the other way around as well?

Maybe it was because most of the people kept their eyes fixed on the bassist, but you felt that Ryan deserved an equal amount of attention. So if the others did not give it to him, you had to, and watching Dallon for too long felt like an act of betrayal.

It took you several seconds to understand the strangeness of these thoughts. Not only were you the photographer, it was your job to hang out with the band, but also was it ridiculous to think you staring at Ryan would make the lack of attention from the fans any better. Not to mention that he did not even know you had been watching him. Hell, you did not even know him, he did not know you! He had helped you up on the street once, like any other decent human would, and you had spent two days knowing each other’s names. Why were his emotions, why was he, so important all of a sudden?

You spent the rest of the show with these questions in the back of your head, trying to answer them for yourself, but you failed. Until the concert was over you only took a few more pictures, and when Dallon and Ryan had said their good byes on stage, and the fans started leaving the hall, you took a deep breath. These unexpected emotions, which Ryan’s performance had sparked, the rawness and realness of his joy, the passion while playing music, had confused you and you knew it would take a while for you to clear your head.

Secretly you had hoped for some calm after this roller-coaster of emotions, but unluckily Lucas did not allow this to you. Instead he started commanding Lars and Bill around, to clean up the stage. If you remembered correctly you had a long drive of almost eighteen hours ahead, so it was understandable that he wanted everyone to hurry up so you could get going as quickly as possible.

Since you could not be of much help you checked if you had packed everything, computer, cables, camera, charger and memory cards, then you hurried out to the bus, where the “Three Beats” were helping to carry instruments and technology into the trunk. Making sure you were out of the way, you leant against the side of the bus and started clicking through the pictures. You had taken several hundred snaps during the evening, many of them blurred, but as far as you could tell from the tiny screen, there were also a couple of very good ones, which you already looked forward to editing.

Slowly the hectic back-and-forth around you calmed down. Most of the things that needed to go into the trunk had been packed, and only Dallon and Ryan were missing now. Some of the fans had crowded around the exit of the venue in the hopes of meeting Ryan and Dallon on their way to the bus.

Feeling like this was something private to the fans which you had no right of documenting, you decided to climb on board of the bus instead. The opening band was sitting spread out over the sofa facing the door you walked through, Lisa and Lars were sitting on the other sofa, and through the open door to the driver’s cabin, you saw Bill type around on the navigation system, doubtlessly preparing to take off as soon as everyone was on board.

Walking past the other members of the crew, you made your way to the bunk beds, where you climbed into your bunk, and stored away your camera and the laptop that had still been lying on the blanket, at the end of your matrass. Usually you loved starting the editing the same evening, but you were tired now, and still confused about Ryan, so tomorrow would probably be early enough.

For a moment you wondered if you could take a shower, but you remembered what Jay had told you: if you don’t want to get sick, don’t shower on the bus. And in the venue there had not been enough time for you to take a shower, since the musicians had been a lot sweatier. So some wipes and deodorant would have to do for now.

You grabbed the bag with the things you needed and walked back into the direction where Dallon had just climbed on board, following Ryan. Both looked happy but tired, and the smiles on their faces faded slightly, as soon as Lucas, the last one to climb into the bus, closed the door.

“Let’s go,” he told Bill, poking his head into the cabin, and immediately the motor awoke to life.

Quickly you grabbed the handle to one of the bathrooms, to stay stable while the bus made a turn, and only slowly you grew used to the foreign feeling of standing in a moving vehicle. Since nobody made any attempts to strike up a conversation, you decided to continue the plan of refreshing yourself a little.

By the time you were done, the living area was almost empty. Only Luis and Charlie sat there, quietly talking. You wished them a good night, then you walked back to your bed, and climbed up. All the curtains were closed, except for the ones that belonged to Bill’s bed. Drawing your own curtains closed, your stored away your things properly, making sure they would not start sliding around if the bus moved abruptly. Then you cuddled into the blanket of your bunk bed, and closed your eyes. A wave of exhaustion broke in over you, and before you even had time to realize that this was your first night on a tour bus, you had fallen asleep.

Chapter Four

[staravya]

👀👀👀👀👀

i dont think any of our fandoms overlap but here’s a portion of a thing i haven’t managed to fit into a bigger whole of “pacrim au for k.ingdom hearts, feat. triple pilots as the norm bc i do what i want” yet \o/ i pulled it from a nano doc so it’s Awful and unrevised in current form but shh.

also hello hello hope the holidays have treated you well!

Terra is trembling.

He’s been trembling for a while, honestly, but since stepping out of Wayfinder’s waterlogged harness, it’s only gotten worse. It perplexes the scientists. Kind of.

They know what to call it—tremors, either cerebellar or psychogenic, they haven’t decided for sure yet—but they don’t get why it’s happening to him. Not yet.

They all have suspicions, though.

Ven sits in the bed adjacent to Terra’s, undergoing his own examination. He seems fine, if teary-eyed and stressed, so after they splint Terra’s fractured leg, they let the two of them go.

Terra leans on one crutch, hands the other to Ven, and lets his co-pilot support him instead. They limp quietly away from the medical ward, quiet in the hall but with minds screaming, the drift alive between them.

Aqua, Aqua, Aqua, they call, but there is no response. It’s just the two of them.

This is wrong, Ven says. She’s not dead.

She’s not dead. Terra tightens his hold on Ven’s arm, gritting his teeth as his limbs shake against his will. The more he thinks about them, the worse they get, but—they’re impossible to ignore. We’ll find her, he promises, Aqua is strong—faith, love—we didn’t feel her die, so she’s not dead.

Agreement. Ven buries his face in Terra’s shoulder as he bears his weight, letting muscle memory and Terra’s vision guide their steps.

There are people along the way but word must’ve gotten around, because for the most part the two of them are left alone. Soft greetings bounce off their hunched backs, meaningless platitudes against the sting of loss. The aching lack of a third must blaze like a spotlight in others’ eyes, it must, because it’s impossible to miss in the turmoil of their own minds calling and calling and calling.

Ven thinks he feels Sora’s thoughts brushing past his in quiet reassurance, but all it does is make him think of how the higher-ups are going to handle this (badly, by shoving the overworked Sora into Aqua’s position and believing that will solve everything), so Ven sends him a clear, bristling sign to back off.

Not now, he hiss-whispers, every thought tinged with distress, and Sora’s presence retracts apologetically.

Normally, Aqua would huff at him with a reprimand of be nice, but she’s not here and he hurts for it. They both hurt for it.

Jack catches them just as they move to their door. “The Master will see you in four hours, at eleven,” he says, less boisterous than usual. If his eyes skate over an empty space to Ven’s other side, nobody says anything about it. “Rescue efforts will be ongoing in the meantime.”

“Thanks,” Terra says, a curt but not unkind dismissal. Ven opens the door as Jack leaves, and the two rangers stumble into the room.

The door slams shut behind them and Terra collapses onto his bed.

“Terra,” Ven says, pressing love love love I know I miss her too at him.

“I can’t stop shaking,” Terra says. He curls his hands into fists against the covers, frustration boiling over. I’m afraid leaks through his thoughts for an instant before he crushes it ruthlessly. I’m not afraid.

I am, Ven responds, curling into his side.

…

Ven mumbles something intelligible as his mind groans, sleepy, and falls asleep right there. Terra raises a brow.

…

“Is he asleep again?” Roxas asks, baffled. “This is, what, the fifth time?”

“Maybe he hasn’t been sleeping much,” Sora says. Because of—you know. Sora’s thoughts are a little softer than usual, muddled by the weeks since their last drift together, but they’re still clear enough to understand.

That said, it’s not exactly a pleasant line of conversation. I get that, but… Roxas frowns, reaching over to gently shake the other pilot awake. This seems a little much. He’s not going to be eating enough at this rate.

Sora nods with a small frown, and then pokes a spaced-out Riku (pestering Kairi about something or another, no doubt) with his spoon. “Hey. Do you know where Terra is?”

“Last I heard, he’s having his physical therapy session.” Riku glances over at the slowly-waking Ven, and his eyes soften. “Should we go get him?”

“No,” Ven interjects, finally awake enough to slur his own opinion on the matter. He rubs his eyes with one hand, pushing Roxas’ hand away with the other. “PT’s important. Don’t distract him.”

“Do you want to go back to your room?”

“No. I’m fine.” Ven straightens his back, looking significantly more awake as he rebelliously takes a bite of his food.

…

Ven claps his hands together. “So, new diagnosis,” he says. “I have narcolepsy. If I get comfortable I can and will pass out on the spot.”

Lea takes a moment to digest this, and then asks, “Are they still gonna let you pilot?”

“Yeah.”

“Really.”

“It’s not like fighting kaiju is comfortable,” Terra drawls, steady and firm. Lea puts his hands up in mock surrender.

“Didn’t mean to sound like I doubted you. Just that—ow, Xion!”

“What he means,” Xion says, voice pitched to override Lea’s grumbling at being harshly elbowed, “is that he’s super impressed. We appreciate your efforts.” Don’t push, Xion scolds. They’re not made of glass—they’re strong, but hurting.

…

Ven figures it out first.

After a drift test to see how capable they are at piloting without their third—and they’re plenty capable, just unstable and easily unbalanced, but that’s not something they test for or can test for when it’s just a jaeger humming to life in the relative safety of the Shatterdome—their ghosting is renewed in strength.

Because of that, neither of them bring up the faults in the test. The soft buzz of the connection between them is enough of a recompense. For now.

For now, the faint impression of Ven’s amusement agrees.

Terra snorts, similarly amused. It’s quick to fade as he reaches for the water bottle on his desk, though, as his trembling fingers knock against it instead of picking it up.

As it topples, about to roll off the table, Terra watches it—annoyance frustration pain—Ven cuts in—frustration reassurance love—reaches—let me help (we are one)—and—

Terra’s arm snaps out with Ven’s will and snatches the bottle before it hits the floor.

His hand is steady. And it remains steady, even as Terra lifts it and places it back on the table.

Terra lets go (Ven lets go) and his fingers begin to shake again.

“What did you just—“

“Nothing,” Ven breathes. Nothing we haven’t done before—slipping into each others’ eyes and bodies—I just wanted to help.

Terra hesitates, glancing over to the corners of their room. Technically, pilot dorm rooms are private and aren’t under surveillance. Technically, they’re safe to say things out loud here.

Technically, the rooms aren’t soundproof.

And the idea of telling the lab coats (the people who said it was Aqua’s fault, who said she’s dead, who said she is to be left abandoned now and to move on and to fight with the burden of that missing link) turns their stomachs.

“Oh wow how lucky that didn’t hit the ground,” Ven says in a rush of an exhale, slumping back onto his bunk bed. Let me try it again!

Terra rolls his eyes but does so anyway, unable to suppress the excitement. He reaches for the bottle again, and just as his tremors rack up, Ven’s presence presses close, and they—the tremors vanish. He grabs the bottle in a smooth motion.

Oh, shit, Ven’s thought burbles, and Terra turns to see—through Ven’s eyes—his hands shaking. In shock, there’s a snap in their connection, and Ven’s hand steadies.

Terra’s, on the other hand, are trembling again.

“Okay,” Terra says, okay, okay, so you just—took my tremors?

Can you take my narcolepsy then! Let’s try! Ven hauls himself off his bed, saying, “Aren’t you tired? Let’s take a nap.” If I can stay up longer than you, then we’ll know!

“Sure.” Why the hell not, Terra says, and flops onto his own bed. He crawls a little further onto it as Ven casually tosses himself on top of him, practically vibrating with all the joy faith love pouring through him.

…

Ven laughs, a little hysterical. “We didn’t get out of that unchanged either,” he says. “If my narcolepsy hasn’t forced Wayfinder into early retirement, nothing will.”

“Narcolepsy,” Aqua repeats. “How—“

“You guys make up for it when we fight, because we’re drifting,” Ven says. “Same goes for Terra’s tremors. And your migraines, I guess.”

Aqua purses her lips, thinking. Guilt trickles over from her mind to theirs, underlined with memories of being torn out of the cockpit and the drift swaying as it frays with distance. Terra says, “It’s not your fault,” to make it go away.

“If anything,” Ven starts, and immediately shuts up as Aqua and Terra turn disapproving looks and thoughts his way. He puts his hands up innocently. “I’m just saying.”

“Absolutely not,” Aqua says.

“No,” Terra agrees.

“Then it doesn’t make sense for any of us to blame ourselves, right? It was just the kaiju.”

…

“Migraine,” Aqua says, letting Terra rest his chin on her shoulder. She laces their fingers together when his shake too much to find hers properly.

Ven makes a sympathetic sound, sitting on her lap with his legs draped over Terra’s lap. His eyelids are already dropping, but Terra and Aqua (on some unspoken instinct from a memory she gained over drift) gently pull him awake, spreading the drowsiness thin over the three of them. As a result, the pressure to fall asleep alleviates, and Ven exhales a soft sigh. Thanks, he says.

[moodycastiel-writes]

level-headed

requested by anonymous: i have a Castiel x Reader request! :) Reader had snuck off on a hunt that Cas had warned her to not go on, and she gets injured bad during the hunt, and since she’s super scared, she prays to Gabriel to help her since they’re friends. And when they get back to the bunker, Cas freaks out when he finds the reader unconscious in Gabriel’s arms, and Gabriel tells him what happened and Cas lectures reader as to why he didnt want her to go (he loves her too much to lose her).

summary: you’re hot-headed and cocky, too cocky for your own good. when you catch wind of hikers going missing up in the Colorado mountains, you take the case for yourself. castiel catches you while you’re packing and argues that you can’t go, especially not alone, which leads to an argument between the two of you where you storm off and end up going anyways. What you thought was one wendigo turned out to be a pack of them, and you’re in way over your head.

warnings: angst, some strong language, depictions of blood and gore teeny tiny bit of season 13 spoilers

pairing & characters: castiel x reader, gabriel, winchesters(mentioned)

You typed away furiously at your computer, you pen scribbling onto your notepad, taking notes on an upcoming case. Five hikers gone missing in the span of five weeks, none of the bodies had been found. Each of the campsites had been torn to shreds, and there were no tracks to indicate what did it. You, being the smart hunter you are, knew it was immediately a wendigo. You took out several wendigo over the past several years that you’ve been a hunter, so this should be a piece of cake.

You slammed your laptop shut and shoved it, along with your notes, into your backpack down by your feet and quickly stood up, excited to get out and get on a hunt by yourself again. You loved Sam and Dean Winchester, you really did, but they always put you in the back seat when it came to hunts. You were a good hunter, better than the Winchesters, but they were too cautious when it came to you. A solo hunt was something you needed to blow off some steam, especially something that would take skill and concentration, instead of a simple salt-and-burn.

Just as you were about to head to the armory, the door to the bunker opened, and in walked Castiel.

“[Y/N], hello,” he greeted you as he walked down the large staircase.

“Castiel,” you greet, acknowledging his presence.

“Where are you off to,” he asked, noticing you were alone in the bunker, Sam and Dean off looking for a lead on finding a way to open the door to the apocalypse world.

“I’m going on a hunt. Don’t wait up,” you responded, brushing past him. You didn’t get far, as a gentle grip on your upper arm held you in place.

“Wait, [Y/N], maybe you should wait for Sam and Dean to get back and you guys can go together,” he offered, releasing his grip on your arm. You gave in an incredulous look and scoffed at him.

“I’d rather not. People dying, y’know,” you told him, and iciness laced through your voice. “It’s no big deal, I can handle it.”

“[Y/N],” he sighed, “please.”

“Please what, Castiel? I’m a damn good hunter, I can take care of a stupid case on my own,” you shot back, your voice beginning to raise.

“Yes, [Y/N], know that, but–” he started, but you had already cut him off.

“There is no ‘but’. I’m not some damsel in distress. I’m a hunter.”

Castiel looked at you through squinted eyes. He could feel the heat your temper was radiating, and was trying to diffuse your anger before you erupted.

“[Y/N], just listen to me. Please, I–” but you had already heard enough, ripping your arm from his grip and sending him an ice-cold look that brought chills even to him.

“Fuck off, Cas. I can handle this myself.”

Before he could get another word in, you had already stormed off, your temper at its boiling point. You stomped and grumbled your way down to the armory, throwing all the weapons and medical supplies you needed that could fit in your bag and you were out door in no time. You jammed your keys into the ignition of your ‘78 red Mustang and sped off to Colorado, dreading the long drive.

—

When you arrived at the motel in Colorado the next night, you wasted no time in unpacking everything and opening your laptop again, going over your notes ten, twenty more times. By the time all the information was burned into your mind, the sun was already rising. You had about fifty missed calls from Castiel, and ignored all of them, still angry with how little of faith he had in you. You were going to prove to the angel that you were a good hunter, and you deserved to be treated like one.

You grabbed your backpack off the ground by the foot of the bed and rummaged through it, making sure you had everything you needed.

Medkit? Check. Flare guns? Check. Shotgun? Check.

You grabbed your car keys and made your way to the door, eyes lingering on your phone that lay abandoned on the glass end table. There was a voice in the back of your head scolding you, telling you to apologize to the angel for having such a thick skull, but decided against it, leaving the phone long forgotten on the table as you headed out the door.

It took only a couple minutes of driving to get to the edge of the reservation and you were out of the car and started your trek through the forest. You pulled a map of the reservation out of your back pocket and opened it up, finding where you needed to go easily. Each hiker that had gone missing had set up camp in a five mile radius of each other, and right in the middle of all the disappearances, there was a massive cave, hidden to the common, everyday average-joe type of guy. You knew the cave was the perfect place for a wendigo to hide out, especially since the area was major in camping and hiking. You were less than five miles away from the first campsite, so you figured you were roughly ten miles from the cave. If you went fast enough, you should be in and out before nightfall. With a triumphant grunt, you folded the map in your pocket and headed onward, pulling the strings on your backpack tight against your body.

—

By hour three, you had finally made it to the first campsite, or what was left of it, anyways. Most of it was still blocked off due to police investigation, but with no officer on duty to block off the area, you were able to sneak through the site and continue on.

“God, this is taking forever,” you grumbled to yourself as your boots sloshed through the mud for the umteempth time, forcing your aching legs to push on. You could see the mouth of the cave in the near distance and picked up your pace, speeding up to a light jog. You reached around to the mouth of your backpack and grabbed the flare gun, holding it tightly in your left hand as you used the right to put more flares into the pockets of your jacket, just incase.

As you approached the cave opening, you stood on guard as you raised the gun, walking further into the damp cave. The further you walked, the darker and colder it got, sending a chill coursing down your spine. The sudden pungent stench of what could only be described as death filled your nostrils, and you knew you were getting close.

You slowed your pace down to a complete stop, listening to see if the wendigo was anywhere near you. Wendigo’s were good hunters, but you were better.  A low growl pierced through the silence, the hair on your neck standing up straight. You turned just in time to dodge the claws of the beast, ducking down and rolling out of the way. You stood back up quicker than the wendigo could recompose itself and shot the flare directly into the creatures chest.

You didn’t wait to see it go up in flames, instead you reloaded the gun and pressed on, determined to find survivors in the cave.

As you continued, you saw a break of light straight ahead, and jogged to the opening in the cave. To your delight, five bodies were suspended from the ceiling of the cave, only one of them appearing to be conscious.

“Help me,” the hiker groaned out as you approached him, “please.”

“Hey, you’re going to be okay. It’s dead,” you reassured him, cutting the man down with the knife you kept stashed in your jacket.

“All of them?” he questioned as you helped him to the ground.

“There’s more than one?” you asked, your voice shaking ever so slightly.

“There’s at least five of them.”

“Mother—”

A force strong enough to knock down a building came flying at you, sending your body crashing against the cave wall. You groaned in pain as your head slammed against the damp ground, the flare gun falling just out of arm's reach.

Two more wendigos came out of hiding, joining the one that had just attacked you. Regaining your composure as quickly as you could, you rolled over to the right and grabbed your gun, shooting a flare into another wendigo, it’s body going up in flames.

The other two let out a scream, one of them lunging towards you faster than you could even imagine. It brought its hand down, swiping its claws down your left arm. You screamed in pain, kicking your legs out to throw the creature off of you.

Blood pooled from the new wound, enticing the second wendigo to lunge at you, as well. You barely had time to register its attack before it was on top of you, grabbing you by the neck, lifting you in the air.

Your gun dropped to the ground with a clatter as it was getting harder to breathe. You flailed against the tight grip of the wendigo, trying to break from its grip. Finally, it threw you down to the ground, the feeling of your ribs breaking under the pressure of you overwhelming you. You rolled into your stomach, trying your best to reach for the gun when a third wendigo entered your line of sight.

As your fingers gripped the handle of the gun, claws raked down your back, digging harshly into your flesh. Another scream tore its way through your already sore throat at the feeling of your torn flesh. You pulled the trigger on your gun, sending another flare out into one of the wendigo, taking another one down. You rolled over onto your back, your body screaming in protest as you quickly reloaded the flare gun again and took down another wendigo.

When you went to reach into your pocket to grab another flare, you came out empty.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cursed, out of flares. One more wendigo remained, and you had no way of killing it, just a pistol and a knife, which would only piss it off more.

The remaining wendigo lunged at you, sending you back down to the ground, your head smashing against the cement ground. White spots danced across your vision, and the last thing you saw before total darkness was the wendigos face above yours, it’s white eyes staring deep into your soul.

—

When you woke again, your first thought was that you wish you didn’t. Your entire body was screaming in pain, and you could feel your body shutting down. Your tongue sat uncomfortably in your mouth as the metallic taste of blood was all you could focus on. Warm blood trickled down your face, landing in the pool of blood underneath your suspended body.

You tried to wiggle your way out of the ropes keeping you tied to the ceiling, but every movement made the brink of unconsciousness loom over you. You turned your head to the side, the body of the hiker torn to shreds over to the edge of the cave opening. Fuck. You wanted to cry, your efforts to save at least one person in vain.

You heard the growl of the last wendigo as it approached you, and you felt it lick a stripe up your leg where your pants were torn, lapping up the dried blood. You cringed at the feeling, trying to kick it away.

The wendigo ran its claws down the back of your left calf, breaking the skin there while it crushed the bones in your right. You tried to scream, but your mouth was too dry to even let out a noise.

The pain turned white hot, and you felt yourself beginning to pass out again, and you prayed that you wouldn’t wake again.

—

Halfway across the world, a certain archangel in hiding was enjoying his day hidden out in a run-down motel, trying his hardest to regenerate his grace, when he felt the familiar tug of someone praying to him. Usually, he ignored any and all prayers, seeing as most of the time they came from the Winchester duo, but for some reason, he actually listened to this one.

Gabriel, please help me.

Gabriel’s eyebrows furrowed at the sound of your voice as he continued to listen. I screwed up, bad. I need help. Please, Gabriel. God, please be hearing this.

Gabriel knew you, you were hunting with the Winchesters when you guys first encountered him at that college where he was giving those douchebags their ‘just desserts.’ You were hotheaded and arrogant, and he knew you were going to grow to be a damn good hunter. He knew the last thing you would ever do was pray to him, or any angel for the matter.

He followed the tug of your prayer, and in an instant he was by your side in what looked like to be a cave. He looked up at your unconscious body suspended from the ceiling and his blood turned cold. Using as much grace as he could, he cut you down from your bindings and held you tightly in his arms. You groaned at the contact of your raw skin on his.

With a flutter of his wings, no longer were the two of you in the cave, but you were in the warmth of the bunker.

“Hello?” Gabriel called out, hoping someone was home to help you so he could leave. He couldn’t be here, not now while the Winchesters and Castiel were depending on his help to save their friends, or whoever they needed to save.

“Gabriel?” a voice called out, the figure of Castiel coming into view. His confused expression morphed into one of immediate worry at the sight of your body in his brothers arms, the only sign of you living were your shallow breaths rising and falling unevenly.

“What the hell happened?” he asked, his voice shaking as he was beside Gabriel in an instant.

“I don’t know. I heard her praying to me, and when I found her, she was already unconscious.”

Gabriel lied you down on one of the couches in the room on your back, your blood leaving a stain on his clothes.

“Help me heal her,” Castiel ordered, his hand already on your forehead, his grace flowing through you. Gabriel complied with no arguments, his hand resting gently on your arm as his grace mixed with his brother’s.

Soon, all your open wounds were stitched closed, the only sign of your past hunt being the scars left behind. Your breaths were coming out more even now, and the pain in your body subsided.

“I’m going to take her to her room,” Castiel whispered, a forlorn expression on his face.

“I should go,” Gabriel responded. “Helping her used up a lot of my grace. I need to recuperate.”

Castiel nodded absentmindedly as he scooped your body into his arms, taking you to your room. He heard the flutter of Gabriel’s wings as he left the room, your body held tightly in his arms as he walked to your room. Once inside, he placed you gently on your bed, making sure your pillow was tucked safely under your head, trying to provide you with as much comfort as he could. He pulled your desk chair over to the edge of your bed and sat down, waiting for you to stir, his hand gripping yours tightly.

—

When you woke again, you expected to see the fiery pits of Hell; your bedroom was the last place you expected to be. You let out a groan from your body being so stiff, but otherwise felt no pain. A hand was gripping your own, and you gave whoever the person was a gently squeeze to that hand.

“[Y/N],” you heard a voice gasp from beside you, the sudden contact lossed.

“Cas?” you groaned, blinking your eyes open, adjusting to the harsh light.

“Yeah, [Y/N], it’s me. I’m so happy you’re okay,” he said, relief flooding over him. He helped you sit up, your back resting against the wooden headboard of your bed, a pillow bracing your lower back.

“What happened? How did I get out?” you questioned. The last thing you remembered was being dinner for that ugly son of a bitch.

“Gabriel heard your prayers.”

“Gabriel?” you asked. “I didn’t even know I was praying to him.”

Castiel nodded his head. “He said you were unconscious when he arrived, you must have been dreaming.” A silence settled over the two of you, and your argument from the other day was all you could think about.

“Cas,” you whispered, grabbing his hand. “I’m sorry.”

Never in your thirty-five years of being alive have you ever spoken those words. You never apologized, regardless if you were in the wrong or not. “I was in way over my head. You were right.”

Castiel said nothing, his eyes trained on your hand in his. “I should have more faith in you, [Y/N]. But I should never have let you leave this bunker.”

You sighed, using your other hand to guide Castiel’s face to look at you. You rubbed your thumb gently on his cheek before dropping your hand. “Cas, please listen to me. I have one hell of a thick head, and I would not have listened to you no matter the circumstances. I thought I could handle it, but I couldn’t. That doesn’t mean I’m not a good hunter”

“You’re a great hunter, [Y/N], I know that, I know that better than anyone else, and I know that you have this part of you that needs to prove you’re the best, which means you refuse to ask for help on anything, but you need to understand how dangerous that is,” Castiel spoke gently, not wanting to cause another argument. “You don’t need to be so competitive all the time. It’s okay to need others once and a while.”

You winced at his words, guilt washing over you like a tidal wave. You knew he was right, how self-destructive your tendencies were, but you couldn’t just change over night. You didn’t know if you could change at all. You were raised in the hunter life, and your father made damn sure you were the greatest hunter out there. The constant tests he laid out for you, and how he reprimanded you if you failed… You shuddered at the thought.

“Cas, please,” you pleaded, but for what? You weren’t even sure.

“You matter, [Y/N]. You matter to a lot of people. You matter to me. You need to know that, you have to.”

An overwhelming feel of different emotions settled over you, all of them too powerful for you to begin to say anything to Castiel. Instead, you tugged him to you and wrapped your arms around his center, resting your head against him. “I’m sorry,” was all you could muster up. You expected Castiel to stiffen underneath you, for him not to reciprocate your actions, so it surprised you when you felt his arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer to him.

“You have to be more careful,” he muttered, finally breaking away from your embrace. You nodded your head slightly, a small smile coming up on your face.

“Thank you,” you whispered. A sudden wave of fatigue settled over your body, and you stifled out a yawn.

Castiel helped you back down the bed, grabbing a fluffy blanket from your desk and covering your body until just your head peaked out. Your eyes fluttered shut as you snuggled into the warmth of the blanket, and as you were just on the brink of unconsciousness, you could have sworn you felt lips against your temple.

Castiel watched your sleeping form from the doorway, contentment settling over him. He flicked the light off in your room and smiled softly at you. “You’re welcome.”

[deviant-hunter-rk800]

Flashing Lights

—He was supposed to find a deviant, but what Connor discovered was you—

A/N: My first Connor x Reader! I’m super excited and I hope you all enjoy! Let me know what y’all think too!!

Warnings: Swearing (lol thx Hank), blood, talk of abuse, fluff, angry Connor

“Stay down,” he’d hissed at you, “don’t come out for anything.”

The words echoed loudly in your head, his warning banging against your skull with each pound of your heart. Your stomach ties itself in knots. A loud crash from the front door has you holding your breath, your fingernails digging into the back of your neck. Footsteps move past you quickly, and for a moment, you fear they can hear your racing thoughts. But they pass by without hesitation, and you let a shaky breath free.

“Looks like the fuckin thing is gone,” a gruff voice says. 

A rustle of cloth and the crunch of broken glass. “The call came in at 8:27 this evening, but the victim has only been dead since 8:53.”

“Only,” the first voice snorts humorlessly. “Neighbor said they heard shouting?”

“Lots of,” a third voice adds. They sound tired - bored even. “Said it was worse than usual.”

“Any idea what they were arguing about?”

Light spills beneath the door, moving aimlessly before continuing on. The threat of throwing up settles in your throat. Hot tears stain your cheeks.

“Were there any- oh god damnit! Connor!” The first voice swears loudly, followed by grumbling you can’t make out through the door.

“Lieutenant Anderson,” Connor, you assume, says warily. “Someone else is in the house.”

Oh god.

“What’re you talking about?”

No.

“This blood is from a Y/N L/N. It doesn’t lead outside.”

No! No! NO!

“Where does it lead then?”

Panic so strong it makes your entire being shake takes hold of you. Do you run? Do you fight? Before you can decide, the closet door swings open, flashlights blinding you.

Your hands fly up to shield your face, an ugly sob escaping your lips. “Please! Please don’t- I don’t- P-please!”

You aren’t sure what you’re trying to say. You’re not even sure who you’re crying to until a figure crouches in front of you.

“Y/N L/N?” He says gently. You peek between shaking fingers. “My name is Connor. I’m the android sent by Cyberlife. I’m with the DPD. We’re here to help you.”

The calmness of his voice eases your nerves, but you still jump when he reaches towards you. He holds his hands up at your flinch, as if he were talking to a rabid dog.

“You’re wounded,” he murmurs, a hand slowly extending, “there is an ambulance outside.” His brown eyes are warm in the flashing of police lights. “Medical responders who can help you. Can you stand?”

You realize he’s holding both of your hands, carefully guiding you from the wall of the closet.

An older man with gray hair swears solemnly, and you’re painfully aware of your torn clothes and battered appearance. Connor seems to sense your distress as he sheds his coat. The flash of an android band catches your eye, but you can’t bring yourself to look away.

I’m surrounded by too many bad memories, you tell yourself.

Connor moves towards the door, his hand warm on your lower back, but your feet won’t move. You can feel the throbbing on your temples, the sting in your open wounds, but you feel numb.

“He’s dead,” you whisper. The older man - Lieutenant Anderson, Connor had called him - blocks your view of the body slumped on the ground.

“You-“ you spin to Connor, eyes wide. “You don’t think I did it, do you?!”

Connor only tilts his head to the right, LED flashing. Anderson lets out a breath. “We don’t know yet. We’re gonna have to ask ya some questions down at the station.”

Again, you feel Connor guide you towards the door. The patter of rain on your skin does little to conceal the tear marks running down your cheeks. The android doesn’t even seem to notice.

The medic’s LED swirls yellow before cycling back to blue. They list off your injures with words the length of your forearm. You carefully perch on the edge of the ambulance. Connor turns to leave, but you jump, taking hold of his wrist.

His eyes flick from your hand to your face. “Is there something you need, Y/N?”

“I-“ you search for your words. His fingers twitch, the movement of his muscles pressing into your palm. “I don’t know what to do.”

“The MR700 will address your wounds-“

“That’s not-” His LED flickers, his brows furrowing. You swallow thickly. “Where do I go?”

His face relaxes. It reminds you of someone who’d just had their heartbroken. “Is there nowhere you can stay?”

You shake your head. He presses his lips together, and for a moment, you appreciate his design. But then the fear creeps back up on you.

“Could you stay with me? Just for a few minutes?” It’s stupid, but for some reason, this android makes you feel safe. Probably another aspect of his design. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

After a long moment, he nods, moving to sit next to you. His shirt is nearly drenched, but he pays it no attention.

You wrap his jacket tightly around yourself as the medic works quickly, only speaking when you need to move a certain direction or ask about your pain level. They’re wrapping your hand when Connor speaks again.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, his eyes moving from the rain soaked scene before you to your face. He looks like a puppy in the way he tilts his head, but there’s something burdened in the way he speaks. “For the situation you’re in.”

You look away. You both stay like this; sitting shoulder to shoulder, staring out at the people talking in hushed murmurs.

Lieutenant Anderson calls for Connor from inside the house. The android looks to you, his mouth opening before closing slowly. Another flicker from his LED. Standing up, he fixes his tie before walking away, leaving you alone with the rain. 

“You were the only one in the house,” Detective Reed seethes. “And there was a dead man less than twenty yards away!”

He slams his hands on the table, and you jump in your seat. Your hands shake in your lap. Another tear slides down your cheek, your eyes squeezed shut. “Look at me, damnit!”

Lieutenant Anderson shakes his head. “She ain’t gonna talk,” he mutters. “Not with him fuckin yellin like that.”  

Detective Reed is now inches from your face, his nose twitching as he speaks. You flinch with every word.

“Perhaps I should speak with her,” Connor says, moving closer to the one way mirror.

“Gavin’ll tear you a new one,” Anderson replies frowning.

“Y/N is scared.” Detective Reed yells again. “She trusts me. I can get her to talk.”

“Connor- Hey! Where you going?!”

Reed doesn’t turn as the door to the interrogation room slides open, but when he does, his hands clench into fists.

“The hell do you want, tin can?”

“I believe your interrogation has gotten us nowhere.” Gavin straightens his shoulders, jutting out his chin. “Perhaps I could speak with-“

“You’re not gonna do shit,” he sneers, “except get your plastic ass outta here.”

“That’s enough, Reed,” Anderson grits, pushing himself between the two.

Gavin glares at Connor for a long moment, neither willing to back down, but eventually the detective moves towards the door.

“Good luck getting the bitch to talk,” he mutters to the android, glaring at you over his shoulder.

As if suddenly reminded of you, Connor looks to you sitting at the table, his LED flashing a pretty yellow, flickering red as Gavin shoulder checks him.

Lieutenant Anderson sighs and throws his hands up. “Do whatever then!” He turns, shaking his head, muttering a “fuckin androids” before leaving. Connor sits down carefully, analyzing you with a glance.

Y/N L/N. Y/A years old. Increased heart rate. High blood pressure. Fear.

“I’m sorry,” he says finally, “about Detective Reed.”

You shuffle in your chair, uncertain of where to look. He sits across from you, his brows furrowing. Leaning forward in his seat, the android sets his hands on the table.

“Did you know the victim?” You clench your jaw, which doesn’t go unnoticed. “Why were you at the house? Did you live with him?”

You turn your head towards the wall opposite the mirror, giving Connor a clearer view of the bruises littering your skin.

“Your neck,” he says, “Did the deviant do that?”

“Adam,” you murmur sternly. Your eyes snap to his, and if he needed to breathe, Connor’s breath would’ve hitched in his throat. “His name was Adam.”

It was something in the way you said his name that made Connor’s thirium pump malfunction. But a quick run of his diagnostic program shows no flaws in his system.

“How did you know him?”

There’s a long silence before it’s broken with your whisper. “He was the only one who cared.” Your eyes soften, a sadness creeping into her features. “To him, Michael,” the name sounds bitter, “I was nothing but a product. A source of income.”

A heavy silence falls over the two. Connor runs his diagnostic program yet again, only coming back with no anomalies detected. Why was his thirium pump irregular? Why did his biocomponents feel as if they were pinched in a vice?

“When someone didn’t pay, Michael got angry. He would’ve killed me. But Adam-“

“Interfered before you were seriously hurt,” Connor finishes. His brows stitch together, a frown pulling at his lips.

Your eyes meet and Connor swears he sees the face of rA9. But that’s what deviants believe in. Not machines. Something akin to a shiver drops down his spine.

“Adam saved my life.”

^ Software Instability ^

Hank watches the way Connor’s LED bounces from blue to yellow a flash of red and back again. He digs out his coin, fiddling with it mindlessly as he stares off into space.

“Connor?” The coin clatters to the floor, the android jumping in his seat. “You good?”

“Yes, lieutenant,” it comes out too fast, “of course.”

“Right,” sarcasm laces Hank’s tone. He leans forward, his elbows resting on the edge of his desk, which has Connor straightening. “So nothing’s got your screws loose?”

Connor remains silent, eyes darting across paperwork he’s already done. Hank huffs, sitting back in his chair, arms crossed. His gaze moves across the bullpen.

“Nothing about that girl sitting over there,” he says nonchalantly.

The android’s head whips up. “No,” he says quickly. He looks to where you’re sitting at Reed’s desk. You cradle the cup of coffee closely, staring down into the steam while you wait for the Detective to return.

“Then why are you lookin at her like she’s some kinda puzzle?”

Connor’s shoulders drop, his eyes slowly returning to Hank’s. His LED settles on a steady yellow.

“She spoke about the dev-“ he clenches his jaw, remembering the way you said his name. “Adam as if he were another person. An equal.”

“Never bothered you before,” Hank points out, head tilting to the side. “What’s so different about her?”

Connor opens his mouth, but something draws his attention away from the conversation. Turning, his eyes narrow as Gavin sits unnecessarily close to you. His hand touches your shoulder and you shy away from him. You’re sitting on the very edge of your seat, your head turned away from him.

“Fuckin seriously?” Hank shakes his head, lip curled in disgust. “Prick doesn’t know when to fuck off, does he?”

You jump when Gavin’s fingers touch your jaw, forcing you to look at him. He moves closer. Your neck cranes away from him, your eyes meeting Connor’s. Reed says something that has the color draining from your face.

^ Software Instability ^

Hands clenched into fists, the android stands, crossing the room with carefully calculated anger. Connor quickly understands the term seeing red.

Dozens of warnings flash before him, but he ignores each and every one. He realizes, somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s crossing lines; ones that will not go unpunished. But then he’s close enough to see the tears welling up in your eyes and he realizes he doesn’t care.

“That,” he snaps fiercely, “is enough.”

Heads turn, but Gavin doesn’t even flinch. He slumps into his seat, an arm draped loosely over your shoulders.

“You gotta a problem with me talking to someone?” He sounds bored, but his eyes have a fire in them. Connor extends a hand to you, which you take tentatively. Helping you stand, you quickly duck behind him as Reed jumps to his feet, standings toe to toe with the android. Connor’s hand drops behind him to your waist.

“I should tear you apart you piece of shit,” Reed sneers, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You can try,” Connor replies coldly. His nose twitches as he leans forward. “But unlike me, you won’t come back tomorrow.”

Gavin pales, and slowly backs down, shoving his hands in his pockets as he ducks into the break room. The rest of the room is quiet, only resuming their previous tasks when Hank snorts.

The older man claps a hand over his mouth, a futile attempt at concealing his laughter. “I didn’t think that was in your programming, Connor!”

“It wasn’t,” the android replies quietly.

Hank stops laughing. “What?”

Connor turns around, his hand dropping from your waist. Neither of you move away from the other as you watch a thousand things flicker in his eyes.

Anger. Confusion. Doubt. Fear.

All things androids shouldn’t feel. 

All things that were rushing through his like a flood.

“Connor?” Amanda’s voice echoes out. His head spins, lost for a moment before gaining his bearings. The garden. “What are you doing?”

“I- she needed-“

“She is not your mission,” the woman before him snaps. Her dress flaps wildly in the wind, but she doesn’t seem to care. She steps closer. “You are to locate the deviants, not become one.”

Connor squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head. His biocomponents have melted and his sensors have fried. At least that’s what it feels like.

“Connor!”

He jumps at the sound of his name, eyes opening to see the precinct. His fingers twitch, feeling his hand in yours.

“Are you okay?”

Why are you so nice to me?

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be deactivated, Connor,” Amanda says dreadfully. “We’ll have to analyze your biocomponents.”

“I am to return to CyberLife,” Connor murmurs, eyes focusing on you.

“What? Why?” Hank steps forward, shielding them from the rest of the room. “What’s going on, Connor?”

“I- My programming- it’s-“

He’d never been so tongue tied. Was this what it was like to feel emotions? Complete and total chaos in his biocomponents? Everything moving so fast his head spins?

“That’s an order, Connor!”

He’s looking at you, but it’s Amanda he hears. His LED swirls red, occasionally flicking to yellow. He flinches, blinking furiously.

“Obviously your system has been compromised,” Amanda mutters. She shakes her head, straightening her shoulders. “So we’ll have to resume control of your programming.”

“No!” Panic. That’s what this emotion is called. “You can’t do that!”

“Of course I can,” her tone leaves no room for argument. She sighs, looking around longingly. “I always have loved this place. It’s so peaceful.”

Something vicious has Connor smiling. “Are you sure you aren’t deviant, Amanda?”

She scowls. “Goodbye, Connor.”

“Goddamnit, Connor!” Hank snaps loudly. “What’s happening!”

“Nothing, lieutenant,” the android says, his voice oddly calm. His LED has returned to a steady blue. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

He sidesteps Hank, drawing his hand back to himself without so much as at glance at you. The older man swears under his breath, blocking Connor’s path.

“You’re actually going back?” He sounds angry, but the look in his eyes says something else. “What about your damn mission?”

“I’ve been compromised, lieutenant. Another Connor will return and take my place. This is goodbye.”

Anderson makes no attempt to stop him; he just watches slack-jawed as the android walks out.

“Now what?” You ask quietly.

Hank drags his eyes away from the door to you, sighing as he does so. “I’ll finish your paperwork,” he says solemnly, “c’mon.” 

You sit at Hank’s desk, eyes flicking across the floor. Leaning down, you pick up the coin the android had abandoned, the metal heavy in your palm. 

Your paperwork is done. It’s been decided that you’ll stay at a nearby hotel under supervision due to witness protection. Neither of you speak beyond that, but you both share the same unspoken question: what just happened to Connor?

Want to join the revolution? Send me a message and I’ll add you to the taglist!

[freedom-shamrock]

The Chat Righting Reflex - Chapter Five

Also on AO3 Chp 1 - Kitty’s New Home    Chp 2 - Taking Care of Business Chp 3 - Hugs and Kisses   Chp 4 - A Well-Fed Chat Chp 5 - Chat in the Night    Chp 6 - Here With You Chp 7 - The Adventures of Mr. Stainless and the Muffin Maiden Chp 8 - New Normal         Chp 9 - Caretaker Kitty Chp 10 - More Normal   Chp 11 - Everyday Miracles Chp 12 - Family by Design     Chp 13 - Contented Chat

This is the @miraculousfluffmonth  prompt #8, late nights

Chat in the Night

Adrien thought he'd spend the night alone in his apartment.  While he loved Marinette to pieces, he thought it would be good to give her a little time to herself while he settled in to just being himself.  It started out nice enough. He'd come home alone from yet another warm and inviting dinner with Marinette's family. He went through his books, finally getting them shelved while his stereo played soothing classical music.  The window fan in the living room hummed pleasantly in the background.

Feeling good about accomplishing the task, he sat down for a snack of cookies and milk.  He savored the treats, the first ones he'd made without any help or intervention, smiling happily over that success.  When he was done, he pulled out the list he and his therapist had come up with to help him with the transition. She'd been keen on making sure he paced himself as he worked through the tasks that would get him true independence.

The big things were all done.  The apartment, the move, and protecting his finances.  He needed to talk to his lawyer in the next few days, just to touch bases.  The paperwork severing his contract with Gabriel should be sitting on the ridiculous oak desk in the same in basket as Adrien's old phone by the time Gabriel returned from London.  He still needed to get the rest of his kitchen set up, and internet needed to be a thing. He didn't want to do everything from his phone. It was nice to see how many things were crossed off the list.  The remaining ones didn't seem so intimidating anymore.

He should probably start trying to establish some sort of pattern or schedule.  While he was nearly deliriously excited to be free of the oppressive calendar of his former life, he recognized the value in stability.  He didn't want to go from overscheduled to schedule free, the idea sounded terrifying. Being in control of his own plans, deciding what he wanted to do, and what he didn't, was exciting.  He'd also need to start picking up work at some point in the next few weeks, so a stable sleeping pattern would be good, too.

He loved his new room. He knew his girlfriend wanted him to feel loved and at home, and he was so glad she'd surprised him with curtains and a comforter designed just for him.  They suited his tastes, unlike the stuff Gabriel allegedly made for him. Every time he stepped into the room, he got a little jolt of happiness.

"Hey Plagg, you need anything else?" he called, not entirely sure where his kwami was.  The tiny black cat hadn't selected favorite hang outs yet, though Mari and Tikki had worked to provide him with a couple of comfortable spaces in good tucked away spots.

"Hmmm, sleeping now."  The soft reply seemed to come from the little closet between the bedroom and bathroom.

"Okay.  Goodnight, buddy." He smiled.  Plagg had insisted they'd both be better out of the mansion, but he was glad his guide and partner was settling in.

In bed, Adrien relaxed to the sound of the window fan, muffling the noises of Paris at night.  He was comfortable and relaxed, but for some reason sleep felt like a distant thing. After tossing, turning, breathing exercises, and waiting failed to do anything for him, he noticed the first nibbles of anxiety at the edge of his mind.  Sighing, he reached across his bedside table and unplugged his phone. He stared at it for several minutes, contemplating the pros and cons of checking in with Mari.

Cons: she could be sleeping, she deserved a night off from his neediness, he was a grown up and shouldn't need help.  Ugh. Those made him feel guilty and awful about even thinking of calling her.

Pros: she loved him, she'd told him he could call any time, she wouldn't judge him, and she'd been trained for independence, while he hadn't.  She'd also be angry with him if she found out later that he chose not to reach out when he needed something.

Adrien: You awake?

Marinette: Yep.  You know me :)

Her response had been nearly instantaneous, and he wondered if she'd been expecting to hear from him.

Marinette: You need anything?

Adrien: Can't sleep.

He hesitated to add more.

Marinette: What can I do to help?

Adrien: I love you. <3

Marinette: <3 <3 <3

Marinette: Want some cuddles?

Adrien: Always.  Is it wrong to admit that?

Marinette: Nope.  Can I come over?

Adrien: Yeah.  I'd like that a lot.

Marinette: Be there in five.

He set his phone back on the table.  Was it bad that he wanted her to stay? That he wasn't ready to be alone tonight?  Before he had the chance to work himself up, there was a soft clunk on the fire escape outside his bedroom, followed by a gentle tap on the window.

Shoving himself out of bed, he opened the fabric screen he'd replaced the original screen with yesterday, ensuring quick and easy entry for when he didn't want to use the skylight.  "Hey," he said quietly.

Ladybug stepped gracefully into his room before detransforming in a shower of pink sparkles. "Are you okay?" Marinette asked.  TIkki zipped in to cuddle his cheek.

"You two are going to spoil me," he said, loving the affection.

"That's the plan!" Tikki said happily.  She pointed to the bedroom door. "I'm going to go find Plagg and snuggle him now."

"Linen closet," Adrien said.  "Top shelf, I think."

Marinette set a backpack next to the bed, then reached for his hands. "Are you okay?" She wore super cute summer PJs, pink shorts with mint green piping and a matching green spaghetti-strap top.

He nodded. "I was starting to let my anxiety get the upper hand, but I'm fine."

She frowned.  "Stupid anxiety. Treating my Kitty badly."  She stepped in and caressed his cheek with light fingers.  "What do you need?"

"Just you being here is nice."  He leaned in, drawn to her affection, to her gentle touches that left a trail of heat in their wake.

"Can I kiss you?" she asked, slipping her fingers into his hair.

"You don't have to ask," he murmured. He'd learned that was easier to just speak quietly once his purr kicked in.

"Normally, no," she agreed, rubbing her cheek against his. "But if there's any chance you're in distress, or upset, I'm going to ask in case it's not welcome."

He kissed her, flicking his tongue over her lips.  

She smiled against him, but broke away. "Come on Kitty. Let's go to bed. It's a good place to kiss and cuddle." Her voice was soft and sultry.

"It is," he agreed, desire curling in his belly. They hadn't had sex yet, despite her parents' teasing encouragement and their friends' less gentle nudges.

"And if you want to do more, I'm ready to try that." A dusting of pink spread over her cheeks.  "But I'm happy to wait if you're not ready for more."

He scooped her up and carried her to his bed, smiling at the giggle he'd startled out of her.  "I'd like that..." He knelt over her on his mattress. "But I haven't had a chance to get to a pharmacy."  When they'd talked about it last, they'd decided having two forms of birth control was in their best interests, so she'd gotten an IUD. Complications of living with his father had meant he had to be super careful about what could be found on him.  

She beamed up at him.  "Silly Kitty. Mama has you covered."  She giggled again. "Literally." She wriggled away from him to hang over the side of his bed for a moment.  He heard the zip of her backpack and she popped back up with a box of condoms. "She gave me one to keep by my bed, and one for yours."

He bit his lip, taking the box and firmly planting it on his bedside table.  "Is it okay that I'm totally torn between embarrassment and love for Mama Sabine?"

She nodded. "Totally fair. I was pretty mortified when she handed them to me, with that smile.  You know the one."

He did indeed.  Mischievous Mama Sabine was wicked.

"And she told me to have fun with you." Marinette rolled her eyes. "Right before mentioning that we shouldn't feel at all put out if it takes a bit of practice before we get good at it." She snickered, worming her way back under him.

"Oh my god," he muttered.  "I'm so glad I wasn't there for that."

"She'll wait until you're really settled in before she gets frank and naughty with you," Marinette said.  Her expression softened as she slipped her hands behind his neck. "Lie down, Kitty. I want to feel your weight on me again.”

Tagging:  @the-wheel-comes-full-circle

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

DOTW 41 - Start... like 2 hours work. Probably a bit less... idk I need sleep

Laying in Hanji's bed, Eren wept. He'd cried for what must have been hours, but the tears refused to stop. Three negative tests. Three negative tests and his dream of being a mother was over. There was no mistaking that. It felt as is his heart had physically broken, the pain in his chest all consuming as he cried over his own patheticness. Both Levi and his doctor had told him that he probably wasn't pregnant, yet he'd stupidly become attached to the life that hadn't even been growing inside of him to begin with. He'd wanted this. He'd wanted this so badly and he'd let Levi down. He'd opened his mouth and told him. If he'd just kept quiet, Levi would be none the wiser. He could have hidden it completely. Levi wouldn't have to know that he was a bad omega. Or rather, his boyfriend wouldn't have to know he was worthless omega. What kind of omega couldn't carry pups? It didn't matter that they'd used protection. Not when they'd had a ridiculous amount of sex without a condom... he'd had his shot, but did that mean he could never fall pregnant? That he was never going to be able to give Levi children? That's what it felt like. That those three tests were life's way of saying he just wasn't good enough to be a mother. Surely this had to be his punishment for being so bad. Hanji had tried to soothe him, but his omega wasn't having it. She wasn't his alpha. Her scent wasn't safe and warm like Levi's. It wasn't the scent that made his heart leap, or made him slick like crazy during heat. It wasn't the scent that anchored him... She, just wasn't Levi. And Levi was the only one his omega wanted. He was the only one that Eren wanted. Levi was the foundation of his very identity. Everything he did or said, was because of Levi's influence. He would walk through the fires of hell to be with his alpha... So why was it he couldn't even fall pregnant, for him. Now Levi had no reason to be by his side. Before Levi, he'd never met anyone he wanted in his life, for the rest of his life. Even omegas who casually hooked up and fell pregnant, were forced to admit that through their child, the would never be free of the ties that bound them to the father of their child. He wanted to be bound by Levi. He wanted Levi to want him and need him, like he did him. If he'd been pregnant, than no matter what, there would have been a tie that bound them... and now that was gone. He was so fucking stupid. He'd gotten excited. In those few moments before checking the tests, he'd actually gotten excited. His heart was racing as his omega proud. But that was gone now... and he just couldn't stop fucking crying like the idiot he was. When he'd given himself over and let those alphas mount him, he couldn't remember them wearing protection... then again, he hadn't remembered everything when he'd woken up. Things had taken a few days to come back. Small fragments coming together to build the bigger picture. If they'd mounted him, and they'd filled him with their seed, why hadn't he fallen pregnant by them? They'd all taken turns, even when his cries turned to Levi's name, they'd still plowed into him. He'd embraced that fantasy to escape his reality. His omega state reduced to its carnal desired. The heat and drugs turning his brain to mush, until their touches had turned to pleasure and he'd come over and over. It wasn't until he'd come down from the high that he'd felt sick. He tried to ignore it, but without the drugs, he felt cold from their touches. Sick from the force of their trusts. Nauseous from their knot inside of him. They'd used him, and they'd lied. He really was stupid. With Levi, it was all a fresh start. He'd given himself to the alpha and considered Levi the one to take his virginity. Not the ones who'd kept him locked in chains for their pleasure. If Levi knew... Levi would leave. Wasn't that what he wanted though? If things were over, he might as well make Levi so revolted that he could never forget him. So that the man would carry that ugly black stain on his soul until he died... as payback for lying to him. He wished for Levi's happiness. He did. But he was hurting so badly. Levi hadn't really seemed that excited over his possible pregnancy. Not like Jean had been, or Moblit. If Levi hated him, he might as well hate him from the very depths of his soul. With time, Levi would move on and he'd be forgotten. That... that would be for the best. He probably didn't have long left anyway. Not with Bertholdt openly declaring that once the favour was paid, he'd die. Yeah. He needed Levi to leave him, or the alpha would die. * Levi felt sick to his stomach as he walked up to Hanji's door. The door opening before he could even knock. Eren's distressed scent rolled thickly off the female alpha, Hanji looking slightly uncomfortable about it all. Her instincts to protect we're probably through the roof "Thank fuck you came. He's in my room. Levi, he's in a really bad way. He hasn't tried to hurt himself, but..." Hanji shook her head, her eyes sad. She had already said that Eren was in a bad way, so her words were completely unnecessary. It was like pouring salt into his the open wounds of his own emotional distress. Giving her a nod, he headed straight up. Walking into Hanji's room, Eren was curled up in the middle of the bed. The omega still crying his heart out, while his scent was trying to keep Levi from coming close. His boyfriend trying to reject him, despite not being bonded. Omegas generally didn't reject their alpha, not even in their final moments. Even when those final moments came from being bashed to death by their alpha. The whole secondary dynamic system was completely fucked. Everyone could talk until they were blue in the face about protecting omegas and empowering them, but at the end of the day, none of that shit mattered when an omega accepted their partner completely. Climbing up on Hanji's bed, he cautiously placed his hand on Eren's head "Eren?" Whimpering, Eren curled in tighter "Hey. I'm here. I'm here, my love" Crooning softly, Levi laid himself behind Eren, wrapping himself around his boyfriend as much as was humanly possible "I know it hurts. But I'm here. We knew it was a long shot, and I'm sorry I wasn't here for your tests" Eren completely ignored him. Rather. He verbally and physically ignored his presence. His scent flared further. Forcing out the vile tendrils of rejection "Eren. You need to let me in. You need to let me be here for you" He needed him to fucking open up... at least enough that Levi could talk to him. To make him understand that despite the scare, he loved him. He loved him and he'd been stupid with fear "Eren, please. Stop rejecting me. I fucking love you" His voice broke, tears in his eyes. His alpha was roaring in pain. Not just emotional, but physical. He felt like... like he being torn apart by his second dynamic. He couldn't stop his bitter tears "P-please, brat. Please let me in. Stop rejecting me" Begging. He didn't beg. His pride didn't allow it. Without saying a single thing, Eren had reduced him to this... to this pathetic lump that vaguely resembled him. With a miserably sob, he buried his face against Eren's nape "I'll bond with you. I'll breed you. I'll do anything you tell me to do. Just stop this. Please. I need you" "If I talk. Will you listen?" Eren's voice was husky from the hours spent crying. So soft he nearly missed it in his own distressed state "Yes" "To all of it?" "Yes" He'd do anything to take Eren's pain away... he shouldn't have thrown up his walls and pushed for space between them. He should have swallowed down his own need to figure everything out, and given Eren what he needed to get him through this pregnancy scare "Let go of me..." He didn't know if he could. His body was fused in place. Scared that if he did let go, everything between them out break so badly that no amount of super glue could ever repair them "I..." "Let me go" If Eren's voice hadn't been cold before, it had dropped another several degrees in his moment of hesitation. Prying himself off Eren was like prying apart two sheets of wet glass. All he could do was slide and hope he didn't crack upon separation. When Eren was finally free, he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, facing towards the door of Hanji's ensuite. Wrapping his arms around himself, Eren took a breath "I was 10 when I watched my father murder my mother..." This wasn't what he wanted. He'd wanted to know Eren's back story so fucking badly, but hearing it almost seemed to make his ears hurt. There was no emotion here. Just words. Spoken as if off a script "I came down stairs because I was thirsty. Grisha never accepted having an omega son. For two years we hid it from him. I watched him kill her. She told me to run, so I tried to protect her. Grisha threw me against the wall and killed her in our kitchen. He'd gotten in to deep, and couldn't see another way out of it all. I remember someone else was there. I just don't remember who. He was the first to want to sell me. To sell away his shame. I kept my mouth shut as he went insane. He'd frequently hit me. Every time I heard him coming, I hid in my wardrobe. He'd find me and beat me. This went on until one day he dumped me and disappeared. After that, I was put into the foster system. I was 10 when I stopped going to school. I was too much of a problem child for the foster parents to handle. I never stayed anywhere for long at all. No one knew how to treat me or deal with me, and most weren't prepared to handle an omega with messed up heats. I was like a library book. Taken, only to be returned. I lost count of the number of homes. The faces of the other children all blended into one. None of it meant anything to me anyway. When I first saw that house, I knew something was wrong. For the first time since everything began, I finally found a family that didn't just shove me off. They kept me around until my heat and then everything changed. To begin with, I would cook and clean for them. Dress how they wanted. Entertain their friends and let them slap me around. After all. My own father didn't want me. I deserved it all. Then, things started getting worse. They started with the chains. My wrists and ankles. They kept a gag in my mouth. The system was so relieved that I wasn't being bounced around anymore, they didn't bother checking in. Things started growing sexual. They'd beat me. Push me to the floor if I made the slightest mistakes. If they were drinking, they'd piss on my, rather than walk to the bathroom. If they were drunk and horny, they'd jack off over my body. At night, or when I wasn't needed, I was kept in their basement. I had thin sheets, that were little more than rags, a bowl to eat from like a dog, and a bucket to shit in. If I stank too bad, they hosed me down with a garden hose. The basement was always cold and wet. There were rats and it leaked when it rained. When they first gagged me, I would scream and fight. They'd push me down and fuck between my legs. They'd bash me regularly. I was tired of being treated like a monster for my dynamic. So I stopped fighting. Even when the gag came off, I wouldn't speak. I've had surgery because my back teeth were ruined by the gag. When I stopped speaking, I became completely non vocal. I think it was a year or two. I think I was with them for 3 years. If their friends got a little too enthusiastic, they'd always make sure to beat my stomach. They didn't mount me, but some nights I fell asleep covered in come. No matter how much I rubbed at my skin, even if it started to bleed, I couldn't get it off. It's not assault if you're not mounted. The court said. Alphas can't help their desires and needs around an omega who constantly goes into heat because of emotional trauma. As I grew, they replaced the cuffs around my wrists. They were slightly different to the metal ones around my ankles. They left those in place, cutting in as I grew. One day, one of them was complaining. They called me the bastard son of Grisha Yeager. It was then I realised. Everything done to me, was because of my father. Never once did they see me for me. No. I was the kid of the man they hated and they took that out on me. When they realised who I was, they kept me chained constantly. They left me down their to die. Someone called Child Services and reporter the abuse anonymously. Police raided the place, yet, they all got off. Zeke took me in shortly after I woke in hospital. I was around 16, maybe nearly 17. I say shortly after, but my sense of time was nonexistent. It felt like years. Laying in that bed. Staring at those walls. I was violent so they'd tie me down and dose me. I had to have surgery to correct my teeth. I was malnourished to the point where my body had started failing. I was in constant pain and constantly feverish. I was covered in bite marks from bugs and mice and whatever else. And they still got off because I was mute and they were alphas. Zeke murderer them all. It was after that that I found my voice again. Looking at those photos. I was happy. They were burned beyond recognition, but he told me how he slowly tortured them. I wasn't scared by it. I felt happy. I finally had someone who protected me. He'd taken care of the trash the police refused to touch. He burned their house down. He said the whole place was too evil to exist. That no one should live like that, especially not because of our father. He hated him. Grisha had walked out on Zeke and his mother. Sometimes I see Zeke's mother as my mother's killer. It's not like the memories of a ten year old are accurate. No one cares. Zeke took me in. We lived with his two friends. Reiner Braun and Bertholdt Hoover. Zeke wasn't stronger than the pair of them, but he kept them both in line. He poisoned Bertholdt, simply for being too close to me. He forced them to work at the same club as me. He refused to let anyone close me. He taught me to be strong. He got me into dancing instead of physical therapy and he controlled my diet so I didn't get sick again. Zeke taught me how to be a human again, and not a dog eating out a bowl. He had to teach me how to bath, shower, shit and shave all over again. How to eat with a knife and fork, and the alphabet. All I had to do was stay by his side. I couldn't talk to Reiner or Bertholdt. I couldn't get too close to them or he'd hurt them. He wanted to come after all of you, after I fell off the table. He cleaned me after my heats. He'd dress my wounds and make sure I was using my vitamin E cream so I wouldn't scar. He showed me how to use concealer to hide the scars around my ankles. The mask I wore, was crafted by him. I was no longer Eren from the basement. I was no longer touched and used by alphas. Instead, I danced and waved in their faces that they could never fuck me. I never, ever wanted an alpha again. All of them were so pathetic as they pushed money down my underwear, and watched my every move. And I fucking loved it. They all deserved it. They're nothing more than animals in human skins. It made me feel alive. I took back those broken parts of me, and shoved it in their faces. I danced and behind the scenes, my brother would hurt anyone who hurt me. All I had to do was be obedient to him. They might have never mounted me out of fear of pregnancy, but up on that stage, I could see that's exactly what they were thinking and I fucking loved it. When Zeke abandoned me at the hospital, he came to see me when Hanji took me home. He told me to stay there and behave, so I did. I waited every day for him to come take me home. Until you came along. I never let myself dream. You know. I broke my ankle when I was drunk. I climbed up on the balcony rail because I wanted to fly. When I jumped down, I broke it. I never dared to dream. But I wanted to be a fucking bird. I wanted to fly away and leave everything behind. I wanted to leave the alpha with the mercury eyes behind. The stupid alpha I couldn't get out my head. I even started dressing in grey, because I was that pathetic. I thought things with you were different. You cried for me when you thought you raped me. I'd never met an alpha like you. You always smelt and felt safe. I always wanted your full attention. No matter how jealous and petty it was. I wanted you to want me as much I wanted you. I wanted to be good for you. I wanted to be the perfect omega. But at the end of the day, I am dirty. I'm so filthy that my soul will never be clean. Even if I couldn't voice words, I cried out when they touched me during my heats. The people who hurt me because they couldn't hurt my father. He must have known and he never came. He tried to kill me, and didn't care when someone else tried to do the same. He denied my existence. If he's still alive, he probably thinks I'm dead. The truth of it all is that I am not a sweet and caring person. I help others purely because I know what it's like to be powerless and it makes me feel good. I want the praise. I want to be wanted. I want to be wanted by you. I wanted to have your children. I wanted to be pregnant. I wanted it so fucking badly. But this... I am a bad omega, and this is the punishment. I've lied to you. Hurt you. Ruined your life and kicked you away. You were never supposed to hear this, but I'll probably be dead soon, and you can never unhear how worthless and dirty I am. I truly fell in love with you. But love won't give you that baby. It won't change the fact I wasn't pregnant. It won't change the fact that Zeke hit me and froze me in a cold shower for touching myself. It won't make me any cleaner. I am the bastard son of Grisha Yeager. It's a sin for me to live. My living has killed both my mother and Zeke..."

[calamity-bean]

Stranger Things 2.01 & 2.02

Do you know how much I've been looking forward to Stranger Things? I’ve been looking forward to Stranger Things so much that today, October 27, I got up at 4 a.m. so that I could watch as many episodes as possible before I had to go to work — and, more saliently, before y’all started flooding my dash with gifsets and untagged spoilers galore. Am I rather exhausted now? Yes. Was it worth it? Also yes. Will my sleep-deprived reaction ramblings even be comprehensible to better-rested minds? I’ll let you be the judge.

Not too much fancy meta or analysis here yet — mostly just my in-the-moment reactions to each ep. And uh, needless to say, spoilers below the cut!!! Like, do I even gotta say that? There are. Obviously. Spoilers below the cut.

Chapter 1: MADMAX

— Aaaaand we are right into the action with a cold open confirming — yepp! Eleven’s not the only experiment subject walking around. I suppose we’ll see whether this scene is just to communicate that little revelation, or whether these merry bandits will themselves tie into the main plot.

— And ah yes, the new kid! The eponymous Mad Max! I will admit that I’ve been a little bit uncertain about her. So far she seems cool in and of herself, but I guess I’ve just been wondering what her role is going to be, you know? New friend? New love interest? An attempt to balance out the boy–girl ratio? Maybe even connected to the bad guys?? From a writing perspective, I just feel like it’s always tricky to introduce a new character into an established group dynamic, so I’m curious to see how she’ll fit into the group and the plot.

— PS: I love how Dustin and Lucas are already getting heart eyes, Will has way too many other worries to be concerning himself with girls ... and then there’s Mike. Mike, just scowling there like he ain’t got time for any woman who can’t literally murder people with her mind.

— Speaking of Mike, he’s a wild child now! He’s neglecting his schoolwork! Stealing from Nancy’s piggybank! Cussing out teachers!!! Richie Tozier would be so proud. It’s like the Duffer brothers are trying to give us all even more reasons to crossover Stranger Things and It.

— But on a more serious note, poor Mike. I appreciate that they’re showing that El’s disappearance has really affected him. :(

— I do not trust Joyce’s new boyfriend. “BOB.” What kind of a name is BOB. A palindrome, that’s what kinda name it is. I don’t trust palindromes. And he works at RadioShack? HM. HMMMMM.

— Anyway, putting down a non-zero chance that Bob will turn out to be like ... a spy or something. Because maybe I’m just paranoid, but he seems far too mundane for Stranger Things / Hawkins right now.

— One thing I’m super appreciating even as it rips my heart out: ALL THE BARB.

— It would be so easy for Stranger Things to just forget about Barb. Lots of other shows would simply forget about Barb. Her disappearance hardly made a ripple in Hawkins to begin with, so why should anyone care a year after the fact, right? But no. No! Instead, we see Nancy still distraught, we see her parents grieving yet still tragically hopeful, we get Steve and Nancy visiting them as a regular thing ... Far from being ignored or tiptoed around, her absence — and the community’s apathy — is faced head-on. Barb will always have deserved better, but I’m glad that at least she’s not been forgotten.

— In conclusion, #JusticeForBarb, and ... ELEVEN!!! ❤

Chapter 2: Trick or Treat, Freak

— FIRST OF ALL, THIS. THIS RIGHT HERE WAS THE TRUE HORROR OF THIS EPISODE. The fucking impenetrable, inescapable, unutterable MORTIFICATION of being the only kids to show up in costume. This part honestly had me hiding behind my hands like no Demogorgon ever could. That said, their costumes are super well done. Color me impressed, boys.

— Hey yeah quick question though, why are bullies in 80s-based media always litERALLY FUCKING HOMICIDAL

— Eleven is so precious with her curls and her flannels ten sizes too big. I’m torn, though. On the one hand, Hopper raising Eleven as his own, feeding her Eggos and caring for her like the daughter he lost, is everything I have ever wanted. But on the other hand — so she’s been with Hopper all this time?? AND THE BOYS DON’T KNOW??? MIKE DOESN’T KNOW????? THIS IS UNBEARABLE, I NEED MIKE AND EL REUNITED AT ONCE

— In lieu of Mike and El, though: MIKE AND WILL BONDING!!! Oh my god let me collect myself, I gotta scream about Mike and Will bonding

— Okay, so: Earlier this week, I was talking to a friend about what we were excited about for this season, and she surprised me by admitting that she just doesn’t really care about Will nearly as much as she does Mike, Eleven, Dustin, and Lucas. And like, okay. Fair enough: Will didn’t have a ton of screentime in season 1. But the result of this conversation is that I’m going into this season paying extra attention to whether Will is given enough characterization to catch up to the characters we’re already more familiar with. So that he can be more than the damsel in distress / MacGuffin this time — a fully developed agent in his own right.

— So with that in mind: I am SO THRILLED to see this bonding between Mike and Will. As Dustin and Lucas are kind of going one way, focusing on Max and the present, Mike and Will are both stuck in the past, still deeply affected by s1 in different ways, and what a good way to connect them, honestly, I love it. And what a good way to make sure Will’s trauma gets adequately explored and that he’s got real, fully developed relationships within the group.

— I’m really liking Max in this episode, too. The cool skateboard gamer persona was a good start, but this episode is bringing out a lot more depth and revealing the loneliness under her stony facade.

— Oh and hey, here’s another thing to RIP MY HEART OUT—

— “You’re not in love with me?” “...BULLSHIT. ;_;”

— For the record: I don’t really take a side in Nancy/Jonathan vs. Nancy/Steve. I love all three of them. I like both relationships in different ways. But Steve’s obvious heartbreak here broke my heart. And I’m dreading what I’m absolutely certain is gonna be an influx of people screaming that Nancy is such a bitch in this scene, but like, chill, okay, things don’t always work out, and she’s still so distraught over Barb, and it’s all just ... bullshit. :(

— On a lighter note: So Mike’s cussing out teachers, and Joyce’s new Bobfriend wants to move to MAINE??? WILL THE CROSSOVER POTENTIAL NEVER CEASE.

{Calamity Watches Stranger Things}