#when i finally managed to get the re-colouring to red i clapped my hands in glee lol it took me forever

[roscoehamiltons]

"working on my masterpiece, i'll be the one to decide when it's finished" - lewis hamilton

[chudleycanonficfest]

Sorry, they're maroon

Day 18, Story #2 is by @Heavensquill

Title: Sorry, they’re maroon Author/Artist: HeavensQuill Pairing: Harry Potter & Ron Weasley Prompt: Brother from another Mother Rating: K Trigger Warning(s) (if any): None

Summary: Ron Weasley's willingness to share with Harry Potter started early, on their very first night at Hogwarts.

Hogwarts: 1st Year

  “They found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains.” -  Rowling, JK. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. Chapter 7 - The Sorting Hat, Page 93

  ----

  The five young Gryffindors were all extremely grateful that they did not have to carry their trunks up to the seventh floor, each of them panting slightly from their climb with full stomachs. They wheeled their respective trunks away from the centre of the room and set about picking their new beds. 

  Neville Longbottom chose the bed furthest to the right, his rounded bottom currently poking out from under it, where he could be heard searching once again for his lost toad. 

  “Come back Trevor, I can’t reach you under there!”

  Sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan opted for the bed furthest to the left. He placed his trunk down at the foot of the bed, looked nervously around the room, jerked his thumb to the nearby bathroom door and muttered,

  “Weak bladder, boys, hope you don’t mind. Makes it easier to go in the night.” He launched himself backwards into the comfortable four-poster bed with a groan of satisfaction, then got back to his feet and retreated to the bathroom.   

  Dean Thomas took a little longer to contemplate his choice. The tall dark-skinned boy—who was even taller than Ron Weasley—walked between the three remaining beds while running a hand across the foot of each as he muttered to himself. Eventually, he straightened up and heaved his trunk to the bed next to Seamus’ before he, too, flung himself face-first into his bed with a yell of satisfaction. 

  Harry took in his surroundings and tried to process the events of the day. How could someone gain so much in a day? He had gained a new school and home, a new bedroom, roommates, peace away from the torment of the Dursleys, and best of all, a best friend. He looked over at Ron Weasley and smiled as the lanky ginger contemplated between the two remaining beds that had yet to be occupied by the new cohort of first-year Gryffindors.

  “Left or right, Harry? Your pick,” offered the ginger-haired boy, a warm smile on his freckled face.

  A little startled at being given the freedom of choice for once, Harry contemplated between the two beds, before deciding on the left one. They began to wheel their trunks over, but unfortunately for Ron, one of the wheels on his trunk appeared to be broken, and it scraped noisily across the ground as he heaved it behind him. 

  At that moment, Seamus Finnigan had re-entered the room and clapped his hands for their attention. 

  “Shall we uh...get ready for bed? I noticed the bathrooms have stalls, I...uh, think I’ll change…” he trailed off weakly, an embarrassed blush creeping up his face. Rather than continuing, he simply grabbed his wash bag and pyjamas and darted into the bathroom once more, uncomfortable at the prospect of changing within a shared dormitory. 

  Neville Longbottom looked like he, too, wasn’t yet comfortable with the prospect of getting changed in front of others, so he too jogged to the bathroom after Seamus, before returning a second later. 

  “I uh, forgot my things…” He whispered, before retrieving his wash bag and clothes and returning to the bathroom. 

  “I guess I’ll just go in the stall, too. I always change in the bathroom at home anyway,” Dean Thomas said, leaning into his trunk to withdraw what he needed. 

  Ron had finally managed to get his trunk to the foot of his bed and yanked out a tatty pair of tartan pyjamas and a toothbrush before rushing off into the bathroom. Harry looked around at the empty room and figured since he was alone in here, there wasn’t any reason he couldn’t change where he was. Removing his shoes and socks and placing them at the side of his bed, Harry walked over to the shared mirror in the room and pulled his new wizarding robes off over his head, attempted to flatten his messy black hair, and then changed. He was now wearing an old blue t-shirt and torn baggy jeans. Yawning, he walked over to his trunk, pulled out his toothbrush and entered the bathroom to brush his teeth.

  ✽

  After changing and brushing his teeth, Ron was the first one to re-enter the dormitory and excitedly clambered into his new bed. He was finally at Hogwarts and Harry Potter was his friend. What a day. He looked up to see the spectacled boy walk back into the room and climb into his bed. Confusion took a hold of Ron, Harry was wearing a t-shirt and old jeans to bed. Why hadn’t he changed into pyjamas or something more comfortable?

  “Is...Is that what you’re going to sleep in?” he asked Harry tentatively, hoping he hadn’t sounded rude. 

  Harry shrugged, “It’s what I always wear. They’re my cousin Dudley’s old clothes. I don’t...don’t have pyjamas or anything else.” A tinge of sadness was in his voice as he pulled the covers back over himself. 

  Anger and sympathy rapidly bubbled up inside Ron, and he felt his fists clench on his bedsheets. How awful were Harry’s Muggle relatives? How could they not give him any pyjamas or even proper clothes? It sounded as though they were cruel to Harry, and it was shameful. He looked over towards his friend, who looked even smaller than he already was if that was possible. Making up his mind, Ron jumped out of bed, yanked his trunk open, and rummaged around inside. 

  “Aha! Found it!” Ron said, triumphantly brandishing a balled-up wad of clothing in his hand. 

He stood up and made his way towards Harry, a large red blush creeping up his neck. He held out the tangled mess of clothing towards Harry and said.

  “Here, try these on. They were always a little small for me, but they’re in good condition and—and I want you to have them.” He smiled at Harry, a look of tenderness and hope in his blue eyes. Harry reached out with trembling fingers and took the bundle of material from him.

  “Uh, thank you. Are these...?” He was stuttering slightly, not sure of what to say.

  “Pyjamas? Yeah. For you, from me.” Ron finished, rubbing the back of his neck.

  Harry smiled at Ron, a look of affection on his face, and took off into the bathroom to put them on.

  Ron felt proud of himself for causing the look of happiness on Harry’s face when he had accepted the pile of pyjamas from him. He feared that maybe his old pyjamas would not be appreciated or wanted. He was glad to be wrong, and now he just had to wait for Harry to change and come back out. 

  One by one, the other boys stepped out of the bathroom in their pyjamas and climbed into their respective beds. Harry, however, had not yet emerged from the bathroom and Ron was getting a little worried. Did he not like them? Did they not fit? Was he disgusted by them? Ron was just about to walk over towards the bathroom when the door swung open and Harry stood there grinning, clad in the pyjamas from Ron. He immediately made his way over, his smile growing wider and wider.

  “Thank you. They’re amazing and so comfortable!” Harry said in a hushed voice. 

  “No problem, mate. Anytime.” Ron replied, an equally wide grin on his face.

  ✽

  The five Gryffindors all settled into their beds, blew out their candles and eventually, a low rumble of snores could be heard throughout the circular dormitory. Only Harry and Ron remained awake. Earlier, Harry had hoped to slip into bed without anyone noticing his sleeping attire. The Dursleys had never quite clothed him properly, he had always been given Dudley’s old clothes, but they never quite matched his needs or physical appearance. For a brief moment, he feared Ron would mock him for his clothing, but he had something amazing and kind instead. 

  “Ron?”

  “Yeah, Harry?”

  “Th-Thanks again for the pyjamas. I really appreciate them, I’ve never worn any before.”

  “Honestly, mate, say no more about it. They’re yours now, and besides, I’m glad they have someone who fits into them, they come up to my shins! Lucky you’re so short.” He let out a soft chuckle. “Goodnight Harry.”

  “Goodnight Ron.”

  With a deep sense of happiness, Harry rolled over in his bed and was drifting off to sleep when Ron spoke once more.

  “Harry, I’m sorry they’re maroon.” 

  Smiling to himself, Harry felt the weight of sleep overtake him, his last thought as he drifted off to bed was that maroon wasn’t such a bad colour, but today it was nothing compared to the colour orange. 

[mrpenguinpants]

Genshin: Mythos AU - Cat Xiao

Dancer Xiao? I’ve never heard of that but to be fair, I don’t really get out much. Cat Xiao Dancer tho 👀 This is valid and I fully accept it. I wrote a University AU a while back and if I ever make a part 2, I’d love to brainrot on this dancer idea. Speaking of, since I just started another royalty/mythos AU and I think this idea could slide into that.

Alright let me crack my knuckles a bit. You’ve got my brainworms running.

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Xiao Semi Series

[ Friendship ] [ Falling in Love ] [ Cuddles ] [ Protective ] [ Affection ] [ Jealously ] [ Opposites Attract ] [ String Of Fate (Soulmate) ] [ Fainting ] 

[ Genshin: Royalty AU ]

[Masterlist]

Note: The royalty and mythos AU aren’t completely connected together. But I am definitely taking ideas from each other.

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[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

 @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @sunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @thicmitten @nonniechan @htnicayh @genshins1mpact @morthecreator @aanne2601 @aklxojjk @fulltimeventisimp @aetherazor @youaskedfurret @snowy224 @mayumintsu @tigerpriestess @yuu-yuukurotsuki @legionqueensav @eva-0403 @blanktide @aaaaalona @castinluckgamer @hanniejji​  

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Mythos AU - Cat Xiao

Xiao was born and raised in the Huan tribe, a clan where its members were born with feline features, but it was an isolated group that was purposefully hidden away from human eyes. While most of the world was friendly towards hybrids, the threat of poachers and trafficking was still high that most hybrid clans hid away from the outside world. There was a misconception that hybrids could bring someone good luck or blessings so they were always hunted down to later sell to wealthy royals. In the case of the Huan, they had the ability to scare away misfortune.

Due to the old traditions and customs the Huan tribe carried, all males were raised to become warriors that could defend the tribe should any corrupted mage or human arrive to capture them. Therefore, Xiao was handed a spear before he even knew how to say his name properly. But surprisingly, Xiao was quite adept at the spear and learned quickly how to use it. He was flexible and nimble on his feet, being able to dash in and out and use his spear as a third extension of his arm to quickly disarm other peers his age. Making sure his tail kept his balance and his dilated eyes were focused on his opponent.

Perhaps it was the overconfidence the clan held in him or how lax the rules had become with the fall of poachers that the one moment Xiao strayed too far from home. He was suddenly enveloped in a pink gas that irritated his eyes and made his limbs drop dead. A mysterious green haired man appeared from under the ground, dirt and roots pushing aside to reveal him, as he smiled sweetly down at the growing Xiao. That sick smile was the last thing Xiao saw before he was knocked out.

When he awoke, he was suddenly thrown into an entirely different land that he wasn’t used to. The Huan was hidden away deep inside a cave of lamp grass that gave the entire area a slow blue glow. High up in the mountains where the air smelled of fresh mint. But there was too much orange and red that Xiao had to close his eyes from the bright and vibrant colours. His cat ears twitching at all the loud noises of people yelling about numbers and products. The stuffy air that was slowly choking him. Xiao tried to pull himself up only to see dendro bindings incasing him and he was still feeling the affects of that gas. He sighed and flopped back and tried to flex his arms into a more comfortable position as he tried to calm himself down. His tail slowly curling around him. Xiao only had a small break before the doors to his cage was suddenly thrown open and he was quickly yanked out of his cage onto the ground. The same mysterious green haired man smiled and nodded at him before turning back to a strange man wearing a mask, dressed in armour, and welding a spear.

Everything was happening too fast, before Xiao could get his bearing he was hauled up and dragged into a strange building and pushed into a room with several woman. There seemed to be a silent conversation he was missing before the woman pushed and pulled him every which way. Shredding his clothes and washing his skin and ears until he was rid of the grime he had been stained with from his “trip”. He was highly uncomfortable with all these foreign people touching him and dressing him but in his drugged out state he couldn’t do much besides trying to bat away hands when they were too forceful on his tail. Until he was finally dressed in a stiffy outfit with a too high collar, he heard it was called a Changshan from one of the woman, and was he lead to a private room and told to behave or else he would be killed on the spot.

At least Xiao had a chance to breathe. To take in his surroundings and bask in the peace and quiet. To think of how he could possibly get out of this situation. He knew how to fight, if he could get his hands on a weapon that those guards had, he might be able to escape and find a way to return to Huan. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, remembering what his teachers taught him, and opened them determined only to flinch back when a girl his age was already standing in front of him. While Xiao knew his yellow feline eyes were intimidating, this new girls scarlet eyes felt as they were crushing him this invisible pressure. Xiao quickly bit his tongue before it could let out a warning growl and subtly wrapped his tail around his leg in comfort.

It wasn’t until the girl stepped back and sat on a couch that Xiao realized she wasn’t alone. The same guard from before was beside her but his eyes were closed. Directing his attention back to the scarlet-eyed girl, she almost seemed amused at Xiao’s hybrid features. The cute twitches of his ears and nose, but she leaned back and gestured for Xiao to go on. Xiao just stared blankly at her, was he supposed to do something? He was only told to behave lest he be killed but he felt like he was missing something important. The girl tilted her head further and asked if he had any talents, if he knew how to dance perhaps?

Xiao didn’t know the first thing about what dancing meant to this kid, he was raised to know how to weld a spear. He was aware that weapon dancing was a thing, the Huan would always celebrate victories in hunting through spear dancing, but was he even allowed a weapon?

Xiao’s eyes darted towards the guards spear as he pointed towards it. The girl’s scarlet eyes seemed to light up in understanding, Xiao just noticed that her pupils were flower shaped, as she reached over and tugged at the guards sleeve.

“Hand him the spear,” the girl said as she pointed at the weapon in his hands and then back to Xiao. The guard just stared at her incredulously as the cheerful demeanor the girl held suddenly vanished as her face scrunched into an disgusted and annoyed expression. She reached over and yanked the spear out of the guards hand before tossing it to Xiao who scrambled to catch it before it ended up stabbing him in the foot.

“Was that so hard? You may go now. Bye bye!” she said as he proceeded to push the man out despite his protests, “Don’t you have anything important to do that isn’t here? Just go stand outside or something. Are you saying I can’t defend myself? I might poison your food if you say that you know!”

As she basically threw the man out and closed the door. She pattered her clothes down and re-adjusted her hat before turning around as she grinned at Xiao. Returning to her seat on the couch, she crossed her legs, folder her hands on top of her knees, and laid back as she nodded for him. 

“Now, go on. I’m interested to see what you can do. Impress me kitty.”

Xiao could feel a very thin thread inside him snap at the nickname but tried to keep his emotions in check. His teachers always said he had a short fuse and one day it would get him in trouble. He was in an unknown place, surrounded with enemies, and he could feel that the drug wasn’t fully out of his system. So he stepped back to give him more room as he twirled the spear in his hands. It was similar to the Qiang spears he used back at home. Xiao breathed in deeply, breathed out, as he took his stance and raised the spear in front of him. The girl began clapping a tempo as he twirled and danced with the spear. Stepping in and out and thrusting the spear forward. At the last second, as he was twirling the spear over his shoulder, Xiao’s eyes dilated as he rolled the weapons off his neck and into his hands and thrusts it at the clapping girl. It didn’t surprise anyone when the girl’s grin turned wider as she kicked her leg out to knock the spear out of Xiao’s hand before she caught it. The girl simply studied the spear, the weight of it, before turning her gaze back to Xiao. He was standing with his arms crossed and looking at her unimpressed.

"Excellent performance," the girl nodded as she laid the spear on her lap to clap for him but when she didn’t get any change from Xiao she slowly stopped her clapping, looking at him confused. 

“Why did you send that man away if you knew this would happen?” Xiao questioned. If her flower pupils didn’t give it away he could feel in the air that she was the same as him. A hybrid of some sort. 

“Only an idiot would do something like that so I wanted to see if you would actually do it! You’ve managed to impress me which means you get to live,” the girl clapped her hands once more as if that was something Xiao should be happy about, “Isn’t that nice? One more day of freedom, well until Zhongli get’s his hands on you. Then you might be in a little trouble...”

“Wait hang on. What is going on? Where am I and who is Zhongli? Who are you?” Xiao quickly intercepted before the girl could go off on another tangent. Could he get a quick five minute break and have someone explain what the hell was happening? Didn’t this girl know he was basically drugged and kidnapped? Should that be something that communities deemed as wrong?

“Oh you poor Kitty. No one bothered to explain anything? This week is Golden week where everyone in Liyue is trying to tie the knot. Zhongli has preferred taste and as his trusted advisor, Hu Tao, it’s my job to select the most eligible spouse,” Hu tao nodded to herself after finishing her explanation. There was a beat of silence as Hu Tao blinked and looked back at Xiao. His ears and tail were stiff as a board as his mind was slowly processing the information. He blinked at her. Once. Twice. Before proceeding to pass out.

---

This is not what you asked for and yet I still delivered. I just started writing and it became gay. I don’t even watch dramas but if this isn’t a plot to one. I’m going to be very disappointed. Every time I write Cat!Xiao it’s another drama. Feel free to sub anyone out for reader. I just wanted to stick to the lore and AU.

If you’re interested in the terms or the “lore” behind this AU. I added a read more below:

Disclaimer: I am not a Chinese historian so there is probably something wrong here.

Huan (讙)

Found on the Yiwang Mountains, a cat with the same build as a small mountain lion or lynx, except it has one eye and three tails. According to ancient depictions, the Huan cat has the uncanny ability to scare away misfortune.

Qiang

The most common long-handled spear used by Chinese soldiers. It is one of the earliest known battle weapons and was known as “the king of a thousand soldiers”.

Changshan

Similar to what Xingqiu wears, Changshan were introduced to China during the Qing dynasty. Changshan were a formal dress for Chinese men before Western-style suits became common in China. They are traditionally worn for formal pictures, weddings, and other formal Chinese events.

Adepti vs Yaksha

The Adepti and Yaksha are two different social classes. In this mythos AU, your worth and reputation is based on your celestial powers. Adepti are people that are reincarnations of celestial beings and can change into their animal variant.  Meanwhile, Yaksha’s are people blessed by celestial beings. They only have the animal features and are weaker in terms of power. Yaksha’s are still powerful compared to a human but due to the misconceptions in Liyue, Yaksha’s are treated as possessions. Yes, this will change (if I write more on this AU) because equality is hot.

Hu Tao

To be fair, I originally wrote this as Zhongli talking to Xiao but it didn’t really make sense to me. Her role and relationship to Zhongli is similar to the genshin lore where she’s a massive headache to him. But Hu Tao knows how to do her job and is one of the few people that talks back to Zhongli that he appreciates her existence. She still has to walk the line carefully lest she actually offend him and get herself killed. She admires people like herself, people that aren’t afraid to stand up for themselves or surprise her, and she has a lot of fun pushing people to reach that state. She’s not very well liked because of this.

Zhongli

I’m going to say it. I fully believe Zhongli used to be a piece of shit before he met Guizhong. Maybe not intentionally but he doesn’t understand emotions or what empathy is. In this AU, he has some amount of capability to express himself except they are all entitled because he genuinely believes he is the strongest. He’s not inherently evil, just very trapped in his own world and understanding, and everyone is too scared to correct him. Besides Hu tao of course. 

Baizhu

He’s a questionable doctor that works beside Zhongli. Just so long as Zhongli doesn’t poke his nose into his experiments, he doesn’t care what Zhongli does and vice versa. But because Zhongli is technically his boss, he’ll go and do some dirty work for whoever peaks Zhongli’s interest.

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This entire AU is my call out post for Mihoyo to drop more lore bombs. If you won’t give me the lore then I’ll write it myself. My request box is still closed but at this point, if you give me something to think about I’ll probably write it. 

[thereaderarchive]

ch.16: Bloom

• for @drarrymicrofic prompt: bloom | words: 768 | all chapters - prev / next

Harry heard the door's bell. "I'll be there in a sec!" He yelled, clapping his hands to get the flour off.

As always, the first thing he saw was Malfoy's hair, bright with the light coming in from the front window. He remembered Malfoy over a broom and the characteristic smell of grass and rain from the Quidditch pitch. The second thing were the long sunflowers' bouquet. "Morning, Malfoy. What's with the flowers? Opening a shop?"

"Yes, from Death Eater to flower shopkeeper, making my father prouder every day," he sneered. "Nerissa Nettle, a senior Auror, is retiring and I'm in charge of the bouquet. Weasley asked me to get his doughnuts, also. You see, I'm the errand boy of the Aurors' department."

"That really must make Lucius proud," Harry sniggered, Malfoy didn't laugh, but there was a lightness in the curve of his mouth. Harry summoned a yellow box.

"Has he always eaten this much?" He said scowling at the heavy box. "How much do I owe you?"

"You think I'll let Ron pay?"

"You should, maybe that'd stop him from leaving crumbs all over our shared desk. Well, thank you, Potter. Have a nice day." Harry nodded, but Malfoy didn't leave, he was ogling the éclairs.

"You can get one if you want. It'd be a hard blow to your vaults, I'm sure, but they are worth it. I am a pretty good baker."

"Is the sarcasm included in the price?"

"Just for you, Malfoy, just for you," Harry said lightly, reaching for one of the smaller boxes.

"Don't bother, the doughnuts are more than enough.” Again, he nodded to leave, but shuffled in place.

"I'm not gonna beg for you to patronize my shop, nor will I give you free goods," Harry said frowning.

Malfoy straightened and turned around to look at the rainbow-coloured six-tier cake. "That's impressive."

"Oh, thanks. It's not as complicated as it looks. It does require a lot of time."

"That's not what I meant," he said avoiding Harry's eyes. "It was awful, what Skeeter and The Prophet did, but you have... quite manage."

"My friends and family have my back, and I'm glad I can be, in a very small way, helping others."

"Saint Potter," Malfoy said with his slow drawl. "When we were at school, I told Skeeter untrue stories about you."

"Should I act surprised? I've always known."

"Of course," he cleared his throat. "I'd like to apologize, I never did before. I'm sorry, Potter, that was a rotten thing to do."

Harry blinked in surprise. It's such an insignificant thing now. "S'okay, it's all in the past. Anyhow, Ron shares an office with you, he'll hex your bits if you dare to try again," Harry said laughing. The corners of Malfoy's mouth went up just a little, then turned to finally leave.

It was a strange vision. Harry could have been an Auror, he'd wanted to be, for a long time. He doesn't know what Malfoy wanted to do as a grown-up. Not a Death Eater, he's certain, and probably not an Auror either, he never seemed the type, he was too much of a coward back then. He probably wanted to be someone in power, with great influence, a politician maybe. It's not like he needs a job, anyway.

But here they are. Harry is a baker with a peaceful life, and now, he was finally coming to terms with who he really is and what he really wants, everything still very new, very delicate but right there... almost at his fingertips. Malfoy? An Auror and Ron's partner (to the chagrin of both, mind you).

"Malfoy, wait," Harry said. He summoned one of the small pink boxes and placed three éclairs inside, waving his wand to close it with a red ribbon. "On the house, I know you can't afford it."

Astonishment was a good look on Malfoy, Harry decided. Being speechless for once, too. He ruined it by lifting an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Pink? The many green, blue or white boxes laying around weren't available?"

Harry placed it over Ron's box. "All of them," he said trying to contain a smile, unsuccessfully.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and stayed quiet for a moment, then he reached for one of the sunflowers and presented it to Harry. Now he was the speechless one.

"I don't carry cash with me. Ta, Potter." Then he simply walked out the door, leaving Harry with the first flower he'd ever received in his life, and hot, ringing ears.

I want to thank the nice people who helped me find the right word in this post.

[theimprobabledreamersworld]

A Time Of Magic Chapter Two.

This AU is so much fun to write! And I'm glad people are enjoying it so far 💜 Here is the next chapter!

Taglist: @psychedelicships @jwillowwolf @lost-in-thought-20 @red-imeanblue @writerwithtoomanyships @spicycreativity (Hope this is okay, Spicy- just thought this would be the easiest way to keep you up to date!)

If you would like to be added to this taglist- let me know! 😊

Summary: ‘Virgil needs a hand to hold, a voice to guide, someone that might help him find a purpose for his gifts. There is no one else I can turn to Logan. Only you.’

Virgil's second day in Camelot is even more eventful than the first. Can he get through it without getting into danger, or trouble?

Tags: Mild language, threat, death mention, weapons, food. Merlin/Human/Fantasy AU.

Word Count: 3,047

Read on Ao3!

Chapter Two: A Dark Warning.

'In a time of magic, the destiny of the mythical land of Camelot rests on the shoulders of a young warlock. His name… Virgil.’

Virgil heard the bells ring out within the castle walls and sat bolt upright. As it chimed six times, he realised how early he fell asleep yesterday. He needed to go and apologise to Logan for not being a very good guest. He closed his eyes and listened to see if Logan was awake. Luckily he could hear bottles bubbling and the sound of Logan humming a tune, so he got dressed and headed out of his room. He looked around, but Logan was nowhere to be seen, Virgil frowned in confusion since his bed was freshly made, but where could he have gone?

“Logan? Are you here?” He called out into the seemingly empty room. He jumped as he looked up and saw Logan perched on a ladder re-organising a bookshelf up a small balcony.

“Ah, Virgil! You’re up early. Good mor-“ His chipper greeting was cut short by an excruciatingly loud snapping sound as the ladder Logan was standing on caved in and he was sent flying backwards over the banister, hurtling towards an unforgiving floor.

Virgil acted immediately, without a word his eyes began to glow a rich, deep purple. Logan was suddenly moving in slow motion, buying Virgil more time. He frantically began to search around the room to find something, anything that could cushion the fall. His eyes glowed one more time and he dragged Logan’s bed across the room, he sighed in relief knowing it would be okay. Virgil smiled as he blinked and let the scene run in real time. Logan cried out before landing in a crumpled heap onto the bed . He stared in shock for a moment before patting himself over, relieved that he was not injured. Logan leapt up and stared at Virgil in fascination.

“How… did you do that??” He stared at Virgil, almost looking right into his soul. There were no words, Virgil just stammered trying to desperately come up with an answer that didn’t sound completely crazy.

“Did you express the incantation in your mind?” Virgil was trying not to panic, he knew that Logan wasn’t angry with him, and he certainly wasn’t going to tell Uther about his magic… but he couldn’t explain why he could do everything he does, it just… happens.

“Where did you study?” Logan’s last question stunned him into silence. Study? You can study magic? Virgil had never heard of that before. He took a deep breath and finally got an answer in before Logan’s next question.

“I… I was just born this way.” His voice was timid, and Logan continued to stare at him, stunned at the unexpected answer. Hunith was right, Logan thought. Virgil really was a gifted boy. He glanced over at the open letter on his desk surrounded by vials and strange looking chemicals.

‘Virgil needs a hand to hold, a voice to guide, someone that might help him find a purpose for his gifts. There is no one else I can turn to Logan. Only you.’

Logan sighed, believing his word to be the truth. He put a hand on Virgil’s shoulder gesturing for him to sit down at the table for breakfast. He walked away before returning with a delicate bowl of fresh berries and Virgil began eating them enthusiastically. He smiled with gratitude and when Logan sat down with his own bowl, his face had a serious expression on it, and Virgil couldn’t help but panic slightly.

“While I am completely and utterly fascinated by your powers. I need not remind you that you will need to be incredibly careful, especially while you are in the castle grounds. If anyone was to catch you, you would be executed without a second thought.” Logan’s voice was laced with worry, but Virgil couldn’t stop a bitter laugh escaping from his mouth.

“Believe me, Logan. I am well aware. I watched it with my own eyes yesterday.” Logan’s eyes widened ever so slightly, but he shook it off and just nodded sympathetically. He knew that he wouldn’t have been able to keep it from Virgil, but he hoped that he could have explained it to him in his own way. Virgil had only been part of Logan’s life for roughly one day, but it already felt like he was the son he never had, he couldn’t stand the thought of losing him already. He made a silent vow that if anything ever happened, Logan would try to protect Virgil in every way he could, no matter the cost to himself. Enough of that now though, he needed to create a distraction.

“Well, as you’re up. You can help me with my rounds! I have several draughts and medicines that need to be delivered to people who live in the castle grounds. They are all labelled, and I’ve put in a map with their quarters marked out. Make sure you tell Mr. Duill to not drink the vial's contents in one go… he tends to do that.” Virgil was nodding along in agreement as Logan began pottering around adding liquids to different bottles while watching them bubble and change colour. Virgil grabbed the basket and headed out, it would give him a good chance to finally acclimatise to just how large this castle was.

“Oh and Virgil. Stay out of trouble.” Logan called out as the door slowly came to a close.

Virgil took his time wandering around the castle, he explored the different passageways and climbed multiple staircases to look out at the town. Virgil stared in awe at some of the stained glass windows and the stories that were being told within the glass. He was surprised that he managed to find everyone on the list considering how much time he had just spent procrastinating. As he reached the final door of Mr. Duill, he remembered what Logan had told him as he knocked loudly. The man swung the door open violently and Virgil guided his hand to the medicine. He heard a pop of the cork on the vial as he turned to the man.

“Oh, Logan said don’t drink it all at on-” but it was too late. The man drank the small vial’s liquid vigorously like it was a tankard of mead and Virgil just stared at him in disbelief.

“I’m sure it’s fine.” The man looked at him confused and Virgil just smiled as the man closed the door in his face. He sighed and slowly wandered down a corridor.

It was only eight in the morning, but Virgil was already exhausted. He sat down in one of the corners of the castle to take a breather. Despite the constant coming and going of the castle staff, it was actually quite peaceful. It must have been about an hour later when the same bugles from yesterday began to ring out across the courtyard, and Virgil felt his heart beat rapidly increase. ‘Not again.’ He ran out and sighed in relief when there was no stage and chopping block greeting him. Many people began to flock around facing the balcony as the King, Uther strolled out, that same smug look on his face. The feeling of dread was indescribable.

“As I announced yesterday. Twenty years ago today, we banished the Great Dragon from Camelot and lived in peace, free from the evils of magic. We also executed one more sorcerer who deceived you all and committed evil acts in Camelot. Because of this; I have decided to declare not one day of celebration, but three days. Preparations will begin shortly and there will be a grand feast in the castle tomorrow evening, everyone is invited. Let the festivities begin.” He clapped his hands together and everyone began to cheer at the news. Even Virgil couldn’t help but feel excited, it would be great to see inside the Great Hall.

A horrific wail shattered the joy instantly and Virgil looked around trying to find where it was coming from. A window opened and Logan looked down on the courtyard searching for the noise too. Even Uther showed a hint of concern. The crowd parted and there was a woman standing, staring at Uther with tears streaming down her face, the sorrow in her eyes was apparent. She was hunched over, wrinkles covered her face and her skin was sagged. Blonde, wire-like hair blew around her and the brown torn dress she was wearing accentuated how thin she truly was. She cried once more, and Virgil immediately felt sympathy for this woman even though he wasn’t sure why.

“There is only one evil in Camelot, Uther Pendragon, and it is not magic. It is you! I promise you that by the end of these celebrations, you will be shedding more tears than me. An eye for an eye... A son for a son.” Virgil’s eyes widened as he realised that she meant every single word. She must be Peter Robert Sclator’s mother, the executed man from the previous morning. He had to admit, he couldn’t blame her for being heartbroken… but threatening a King like Uther Pendragon was a terrible mistake. He looked up and was surprised to see fear pass through Uther’s eyes too.

“Seize her! She cannot be allowed to leave.” He roared while pointing down at the woman. Several guards attempted to approach her but she let out a shrill scream and they were thrown backwards onto the ground. She grasped a necklace securely fastened around her neck and her voice broke into a low and vicious tone.

‘Uranun caripe baglen ol. Gemeganza de-noan chiis gosaa. Zamicmage oleol ag-sapah arphe. Oresa ethamz taa tabegisoroch.’ Her arms were thrown backwards as she levitated off the ground and began to disappear. A harsh wind surrounded her body and lashed at anyone who attempted to come closer. As the final fragments of her ragged dress faded from view, Virgil smirked ever so slightly at the fact that she had left Uther looking powerless, but he recognised that incantation. It was Old Magic. Worse than that, it was Dark Magic. This woman was dangerous and she wanted revenge, he hoped he wouldn’t have to intervene… but if she harmed anyone, especially if any harm came to Logan, he would have to protect them, even if it cost him his life.

Uther stormed inside the castle, and Virgil glanced up to see the same window open with the same face timidly looking out. His eyes filled with worry. They looked at each other for just a moment, before the man looked away and he reluctantly closed the window carefully due to the cracks made by anger during the execution. He looked over to the next set of windows and saw an equally worried expression on Logan’s face too. Did he know her?

Virgil ran back to Logan’s quarters, and nearly collided into him in the process. Logan put his arms on Virgil’s shoulders, it immediately helped him calm down. They sat down and Logan waited patiently for questions.

“Who is she, Logan? Why is Uther afraid of her?” Logan put his hand on his head looking for his glasses, but he realised they weren’t there. So he sighed and ran a hand through his hair instead.

“Her name is Mary. She used to be something called a High Priestess of the Old Religion. They were incredibly powerful, and during the Great War… Uther was powerless against them to begin with. Only brute force allowed Uther to win, so she has many reasons to hate him with every bone in her body, but executing her son… that was the final straw.”

Virgil nodded, he could understand how Mary felt. He started to try and formulate plans in his head about how he could fight her if he needed to.

“I know what you’re thinking. You cannot face her, Virgil. We have not even discovered how your powers work. It’s too dangerous.” Virgil nodded again, he was right. It would be too reckless, he couldn’t risk being caught. He smiled, a silent promise was made between the two of them.

“Is there anything else I can do to help you today?” He had to admit that he enjoyed running errands for Logan, it gave him a chance to be nosy and look at areas of the castle others are not allowed to.

“No. Everything is done for today, but thank you for the offer. How about you have another wander around the castle? Have you seen the training grounds yet?” Virgil shook his head and listened as Logan gave him directions. He stood up and waved as Logan as he headed out the door once again. He walked down the now familiar corridor and walked towards a spiral staircase he must have missed this morning. Before he walked down, he peaked over the wall to check that he was definitely going the right way this time, he didn’t want another incident like yesterday. Virgil could clearly see the training grounds below him, and as he looked closer, his blood began to boil.

There were a group of knights, roughly Virgil’s age crowding around a young serving boy. One in particular dressed in a loose red shirt with silver armour on his shoulders and brown trousers with what looked like new brown shoes was spearheading the entire event.

“Where is the target?” The leader demanded.

“Over there, sir.” The boy pointed to the large target timidly, while the leader raised his arm in front of his eyes dramatically blocking the sun.

“It can’t be there… The sun is in my eyes.” The boy who was clearly used to being treated like rotten fruit just sighed and he walked over to move the target by picking it up. The guy smirked and turned to the others while saying he’ll teach him a lesson. As he was handed some daggers by one of the entourage, Virgil decided that he had had enough and stormed down the staircase to the training grounds. When he got there, the serving boy was running around with the target in front of him, desperately trying to avoid being hit. The guy kept throwing dagger after dagger at the target while the others laughed at the boy’s expense. As the seventh dagger hit the centre, the boy tripped and the target rolled away with a loud clatter. Virgil put his foot on it, before taking a deep breath and letting a fake smile grace his lips.

“Hey. Come on now, that’s enough… You’ve had your fun, my friend.” The leader looked at the others and pointed a thumb at Virgil like he had grown a second head.

“Do I know you?” He swaggered over until he was standing directly in front of Virgil. Virgil had to bite the inside of his cheek to avoid showing his disdain for the arrogance in this guy’s voice.

“Oh, I’m Virgil.” He held his hand out for the man to shake, but he just looked at it in disgust before rolling his eyes.

“So I don’t know you… and yet you called me… friend?” The guy paused waiting for an answer to his audacity. Virgil knew that he should have just walked away at that point, but he was too riled up, and this man needed to be taken down a peg or two.

“That was my mistake…”

“Yeah, it was.” The man thought he had won, and Virgil knew he was going to regret the next words that came out of his mouth… but this guy was a pompous prick, and he deserved it.

“Yeah… I’ve never had a friend who could be such an ass.” He mustered all the sarcasm he could and poured it into every word. The guy stopped short, and Virgil winced as he realised that he had absolutely gone too far. When the guy began to chuckle and readjust the armour on his shoulders, Virgil gulped, but he had gone this far... so he needed to roll with it and hope that he would give up soon.

“Tell me, Virgil… Do you know how to walk on your knees?” He was getting in Virgil’s face now, his arrogance really was overpowering.

“No.”

“Would you like me to show you?” He took a step towards Virgil and he stepped back so he couldn’t be grabbed unexpectantly.

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” Virgil shook his head, he shouldn’t be making threats but he couldn’t contain his irritation any longer. The guy laughed loudly in his face, and his entourage joined in boosting the guy’s ego even more.

“Really? What are you going to do to me?” He held his arms out in an antagonising fashion, encouraging Virgil to make the first move. He had to clench his fists to ground himself, Virgil knew he couldn’t attack this guy, not if he wanted to live.

“Oh you have no idea.” Virgil muttered with a smirk.

“Come on, hit me! Weakling.” That was it. Virgil saw red and lunged at the guy, but he misjudged the distance between the two of them. There were gasps from spectators as the guy grabbed Virgil’s arm and twisted it harshly behind his back.

“I could have you thrown in jail for that.” The guy spoke directly into Virgil’s ear as he tried to free himself from the grasp.

“Who do you think you are? The King?!” Virgil shouted mockingly. Who did this guy think he was anyway?

“No… but I’m his son… Prince Roman.” Roman called for guards and pushed Virgil into their path. They bowed at the Prince before grabbing Virgil’s arms to restrain him. They dragged him through the castle and down a broken staircase leading to darkness.

The walls constantly dripped with water and the smell was repulsive. The guards opened a heavy metal door and shoved Virgil unceremoniously onto the straw floor before slamming the door shut behind them. He got up and shook the metal bars before angrily kicking them. He’s only been here two days, and he’s already made an enemy within the monarchy. Virgil sighed, he knew he wouldn’t get out today, so he took off his jacket and wrapped it around his shoulders before trying to sleep.

As the sun set and darkness seeped in, Virgil was sound asleep, but a low growling voice began to call out.

“Virgil… Virgil… VIRGIL.”

He shocked himself awake as his eyes glowed purple, he looked around frantically but there was no one there.

Who was calling out to him?

[cinaja]

Before the Wall part 23

Summary: Five hundred years before Feyre Archeron is born, the world is much different from the one she lives in. Humans are slaves, seen as little more than animals by the Fae who rule. But things are beginning to change. Talks of rebellion is spreading and on the Continent, some Fae territories begin to consider the potential gain of War. All it takes is one spark and everything will explode.

Masterlist

----

“Must we?”, Mor asks.

It is early evening, and she is more than ready for this day to be over. Her night ended a few hours past midnight when a group of Fae attacked Telique. They were easily thwarted, of course, but Mor got a nasty cut on her left arm by stepping in front of a blow meant for Andromache. (Something the queen did not appreciate at all.) And as if having to fight in her nightgown wasn`t bad enough, she then had to endure the endless row of meetings following the failed attack.

“Yes”, Andromache says. She takes her arm and begins tugging her through the palace, something like mischief glinting in her brown eyes. “I promised Miryam.”

“I`m sure she`ll understand”, Mor mutters.

“Easy for you to say. It´s not you who she`ll be mad at.” They have almost reached the huge doors leading to the gardens now. “We`re going, and that`s final.”

“It`s just…”, Mor begins, but trails off. It`s just that it`s her birthday and she doesn`t want to spend the evening discussing war strategies. She at the very least wants to have a few hours to herself, if this damned war stole the rest of her day already.

“What?”, Andromache asks, turning around to her. There is such light dancing in her eyes that Mor`s resolve melts away into nothing. Something in her eases as she looks at the queen.

“Nothing”, she says softly.

Still, Andromache does not look away. The intensity in her gaze makes Mor`s cheeks burn.

“I…”, she stutters, “let`s go, then.”

Andromache smiles like she knows exactly what is going on inside Mor`s head. She does not comment, though. This has been their dance for the past couple of months. And since Mor has been well away from anyone from the Night Court for months now, she allows herself to continue with it – even though she knows she probably shouldn`t.

She takes Andromache by the arm, the touch sending sparks shooting through her body, and winnows them both away. As soon as they land safely in the war camp, she hastily lets go. As soon as her hand leaves Andromache`s, she already misses her warmth.

“Come on!”, Andromache says, dragging her along with an excitement that seems entirely inappropriate for a military meeting. When they reach the planning tent, the queen gives her a gentle shove, making her step inside first.

Mor gapes.

The huge table in the middle of the tent has been cleared off the maps that are usually lying there. Instead, it is filled with food, a huge cake with thirty-two candles sitting in the middle. Around the table, her friends are standing, smiling at her – Miryam and Jurian, side by side, Tia, Drakon and-

“Rhys!”, Mor squeals, “Az!”

“Couldn`t well let my favourite cousin celebrate her thirty-second birthday alone, could I?”, Rhys drawls.

Mor just jumps into his arms and holds on tight. They haven`t seen each other in months. Then, she spins around to Az and embraces him as well. She hears the hitch in his breath, sees the way his shadows seem to lighten at her touch. Her cheeks heat, but the feeling his touch sends shooting through her is nothing at all like what she felt when she touched Andromache earlier. With the queen, Mor felt warm and light – with Azriel, she is just uneasy at the clear hints at the feelings he confessed to her on that horrible night fifteen years ago. As quickly as she can, she lets go of him and turns around to beam at the others.

“I tried to bring Cassian as well”, Miryam says, “but I couldn`t find a way to get him out of his tent without anyone noticing.”

Cassian`s absence puts a small damper on Mor`s mood, but she is still so overwhelmed that she can only grin like a fool.

“Thank you”, she whispers, “Thank you all so much.”

Andromache shoves past her into the tent and plops down on a cushion next to Drakon. “Thank Miryam”, she says, “Most of the credit goes to her.”

Miryam opens her mouth – likely to object – but Mor beats her to it. She dashes around the table and pulls her into her arms. “Thank you”, she whispers into her hair.

“Happy birthday, Mor”, Miryam replies softly.

They all sit down around the table. Mor ends up between Rhys and Az, the latter of whom keeps shooting her covert glances. Her stomach tightens uncomfortably. But then, Jurian calls out to her to just blow out the candles already so they can eat. The entire table laughs and Mor leans forward to do as he says.

Mor eats until she feels like her stomach is about to burst – and then another small slice of cake on top. They talk and laugh and for the first time in months, the war seems far away. They are just a group of young people, happy to be alive and together for the evening.

She looks around the table at her friends. Miryam is leaning against Jurian, who is absentmindedly playing with her hair. Tia has begun chatting with Az and Drakon is laughing at something Rhys is telling him. She meets Andomaches` eyes across the table. The queen winks at her.

“You haven`t opened your presents yet”, Jurian tells her at that moment.

Mor`s eyes widen as Drakon snaps his fingers, the rest of the food disappears and a few packages wrapped in colourful paper appear. Mor opens a long, heavy box first. Inside, she finds a long, slender sword and four daggers. The tips of the blades are slightly curved, the metal strangely light – lightning forged into weapons. Mor turns to Drakon, gaping.

“For me?”, she whispers. The Prince nods.

Mor squeals and hugs him. The Seraphim are known throughout the entire Continent for their master-forgery. They guard their weapons almost as closely as the secret to their creation, though. Only very rarely do they gift their weapons to outsiders – foreign royals, usually.

“I`m… honoured”, she manages, although the words barely manage to convey her feeling. Drakon shrugs a bit sheepishly and smiles at her.

From Miryam and Jurian, she gets a new armour – well, the armour is from Jurian, and Miryam inscribed it with runes that should help ward off basic spells and protect her against severe hits. Rhys got her a beautiful red dress and from Az, she gets a new saddle for her horse. Finally, there is only one small package left.

“From me”, Andromache says with a slight smile.

This package is far smaller than the others. Mor rips open the deep-red paper and reveals a small box made of dark wood. Carefully, Mor opens it and gasps. A necklace of white diamonds glitters within. Matching earrings lie next to them.

“Oh”, Mor whispers. Her hand shoots to her mouth.

“I`ll help you put them on”, Andromache says and darts around the table.

Gently, she brushes Mor`s hair aside. Her fingers brush against her collarbone, sending sparks of heat shooting through Mor.

“There you go”, the queen whispers and fastens the necklace.

“Absolutely stunning”, Drakon tells her. Azriel seems to sink deeper into his shadows.

“Isn`t that a heirloom?”, Miryam asks softly. Her eyes flicker from the necklace to Andromache and back again.

“Yes”, Andromache says. She is standing so close behind Mor that she can feel her breath tickling her neck.

Mor spins around to her to face her. “What?”

“I thought they`d suit you.” Andromache shrugs. “They glow as brightly as you do.”

Mor smiles at her and for a heartbeat, they are the only people in the room. But then, Rhys claps her back and makes some light-hearted comment Mor barely hears. Music starts drifting in from the camp and somehow, they all end up filing outside to join the soldiers celebrating outside.

Mor ends up on the dancing floor, twirling around with one soldier after another. People keep passing her drinks and Mor downs them in one shot, laughing as she keeps dancing.

Then suddenly, she finds herself face to face with Andromache, her hands on the human woman`s hips. Mor`s blood is boiling, but at the same time, something like dread shoots through her. She makes to pull away, but Andromache gently takes hold of her hands.

“Dance with me”, she whispers, “What`s the worst that could happen?”

Mor should say no, she knows it too damn well. But then, why not risk it? Just this once. After all, she`s on the Continent, not in Prythian and if this happiness is possible for Sinna and Nephelle, why shouldn`t she get a chance? And maybe she is more drunk than she thought, because she takes Andromache by the waist and pulls her close.

“A wonderful day”, Mor whispers. Her voice sounds hoarse even in her own ears.

“Indeed.” She can feel Andromache`s smile.

For a while, they dance in silence. Their bodies move in perfect harmony. Mor feels more at home than ever in the past months.

“What are you thinking?”, the queen asks softly.

“That we should have done this much sooner”, Mor replies.

In this night, with the stars glittering above, all the reasons not to seem far away. There is just Andromache, vibrant and beautiful. And for some reason Mor cannot possibly imagine, clearly interested in her. It is a dream come true.

They dance closer and closer together. Mor`s entire body is on fire. This is what she wants, she realizes. She has never wanted anything more than this. Andromache`s hair tingles her cheek.

“You`re so beautiful”, Mor whispers into her ear.

Their faces are close, so close now. Andromache`s lips part slightly.

Mor doesn`t know why, but for a heartbeat, her gaze leaves the queen`s face. To find Azriel staring at her. A shadow wraps around his ear. The shadowsinger`s face seems impassive, but Mor can read the confusion in his eyes. The suspicion that`s beginning to form. Just like that, the fire in her blood turns to ice.

She pulls apart from Andromache, stumbling back a step.

“What`s wrong?”, Andromache asks. Concern and hurt war on her face.

“I…”, Mor stutters. She can see nothing but the look on Azriel`s face. “I have to go. Sorry.”

She turns around and begins pushing through the crowd. Andromache remains standing between the dancing soldiers. Lost. Hurt. Mor has to force herself to keep walking. Her heart races. She imagines Azriel`s eyes following her. She can almost feel his gaze, searing on her back.

This shouldn`t have happened. Oh Cauldron, how could she be so stupid? To think that a thousand miles of distance would be enough to keep her away from her family. Because even if Azriel and Rhys should understand, word is sure to get back to her family.

It will destroy her. Because as soon as her father finds out this one part of her that she kept secret, he won`t stop until he has destroyed her. It will be her end.

But if Az suspects already… What can she do? How can she fix this.

“Are you alright?” Suddenly, Drakon is standing in front of her, a look of concern on his face.

Mor has a hard time breathing. They can`t know, none of them can know.

“Hey.” Drakon gently takes her by the arm. “What`s wrong?”

Mor dares a look around her shoulder. Azriel is still watching. And suddenly, Mor has an idea.

“Dance with me”, she says.

“What?”

“Please.”

Mor takes his hands and puts them on her waist. When she begins to dance, Drakon follows her lead, thank the Cauldron. His confusion is written clearly on his face, though. And still, Azriel is staring at them. His look is like that chamber beneath the Hewn City, like the feeling of nails tearing through her body.

This isn`t convincing enough. So Mor gives Drakon her best, dazzling smile – even though she feels more like crying.

“Pretend to be flirting with me”, she whispers to Drakon.

“What?” Now, he sounds fully confused.

“Please”, Mor begs, “I can`t explain, I just… Please.”

Drakon hesitates only for a heartbeat. Then, he pulls her closer, smiling brightly at her.

“Like this?”, he asks softly, “If I do anything you don`t want, just tell me.”

Mor has to keep from sagging with relief. “You too”, she whispers. “And thank you.”

She runs her fingers through Drakon`s hair. For a while, they keep dancing in silence. Mor is careful to keep smiling, keep touching Drakon.

“I`m sure he`ll catch the hint”, Drakon finally says.

Mor misses a step and stumbles, he steadies her. It takes her a heartbeat to realize that he doesn`t know. Drakon likely just noticed Azriel staring, and came to the conclusion that Mor just wants to get rid of an unwanted admirer.

“It`s not that easy”, she whispers, “I don`t want to hurt him.”

And this will hurt Azriel, that much is sure. Her choosing a prince over him –

“That is very kind of you”, Drakon says, “But he does not have a claim on you. You owe him nothing, and certainly not what he clearly wants from you. And if he`s worth anything at all, he will accept that.”

Mor takes a shuddering breath. She can feel tears burning in her eyes. Then, she`s full-out crying.

“It`s okay”, Drakon whispers and gently rubs her back.

Before she can help herself, she is crying on Drakon`s shoulder. He whispers soothing words to her, but Mor barely hears what he is saying. It`s just too much. All of it.

But eventually, her tears stop and they pull apart. When Mor looks over Drakon`s shoulder, Azriel is no longer standing at the side of the dancing floor.

----

“This was a wonderful idea”, Jurian whispers into Miryam`s ear.

She nods. She doesn`t even remember when she felt this… light the last time. Like a weight she hasn`t even known she was carrying vanished from her shoulders. She danced with Jurian until she was dizzy. Now, they are sitting side by side at the edge of the dancing floor. Jurian is running his fingers through her hair.

“Looks like we aren`t the only ones having fun”, he says.

Miryam follows his gaze and frowns. She can`t believe her eyes.  “Wait… Are those Mor and Drakon?”

“Yep.” Jurian sounds extremely smug. “I`ve always thought they`d fit well together.”

“And I always thought neither of them seemed really interested”, Miryam mutters. But there they are, dancing together so closely that there`s hardly any space left between them.

“Why?”

Miryam shrugs. “Just a feeling.”

Truth is, she was almost entirely sure that Mor had a thing for Andromache – and that the queen returned the feeling. With how the two of them were acting, she was convinced it would only be a matter of time before they made their relationship known. It doesn`t take her long to find Andromache – the queen is just storming away from the dancing. The Shadowsinger, Azriel, looks almost as miserable.

“Maybe you were wrong”, Jurian points out gently, “Has to happen from time to time, right?”

Miryam is pretty sure she isn`t wrong on this. But Mor and Drakon are indeed looking very cosy, and Miryam is not about to gossip about her friend like this, so she just nods.

They sit in silence for a while, watching the soldiers dance. Miryam leans her head against Jurian`s shoulder and smiles softly.

Finally, he breaks the silence. “There`s something I have been meaning to ask. For a while, actually.”

His tone is tense enough that Miryam sits up straighter and turns around to face him. “Okay?”

“I was wondering…” He keeps his eyes carefully trained on the dancing soldiers. “I heard that when half-Fae inherit magical abilities, they are usually also immortal. And, well…”

“I`m as mortal as you are”, Miryam says, saving him the trouble of having to come up with a way to phrase his question. “Usually, half-Fae with powers really are immortal, but they also have their powers from childhood. I didn`t. And Fae and humans age differently from the very beginning – for them, it takes twenty-five years to mature, for us only eighteen. I aged the human way so far, and I doubt it will change.”

Jurian nods thoughtfully. “Do you regret it?”, he asks.

Miryam laughs softly. “No.” She doesn`t even need to think about the reply. “Most people probably would, but I don`t want to live forever. It makes life indefinitely more precious to know that it isn`t forever.”

“I agree.” Jurian grins. “Probably makes us the only two people in the world.”

“Probably.”

Jurian is silent for a moment, then, a smile slowly begins to form on his face, “Hold on. You mean that Fae literally mature more slowly than humans? They don`t just come of age later?”

“No, it really takes them longer to mature.”

“Twenty-five, you say?” Jurian grins even more broadly now. “Amazing!”

Miryam arches an eyebrow at him. She can`t for her life think of anything that would be so amazing about Fae aging more slowly. It only makes sense, given that they also live much longer, but Miryam never considered it to be particularly exciting.

But Jurian says, “If I`m twenty-three and human, and Drakon`s twenty-eight as a Fae, that means I`m technically older than him. At least on a maturity level, if you know what I mean.”

Miryam gives him a playful shove. “Well, that comment certainly goes to prove how much more mature you are.”

Jurian laughs and puts his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. They remain sitting like this until well past midnight. Until the dancing has stopped and most of the soldiers have left.

“We should go to bed”, Jurian finally says.

Miryam nods. They are at war – they don`t have the luxury of staying up all night, looking up at the stars. He gets up and offers Miryam a hand to pull her to her feet. They walk through the camp side by side. As usual, they stop before Miryam`s tent.

“Goodnight”, Jurian says and turns around to leave.

“Wait.”

The word slips out before Miryam can stop herself. She bites her lip.

“Yes?”, Jurian says softly.

Miryam hesitates. They have been in a relationship for almost three years now. Still, they continue to sleep in separate tents. Jurian hasn`t pushed her on it. Not once. He`s waiting for her to take the first step, and so far, Miryam hasn`t. She decided that she wanted to do it months ago already, but so far, she hasn`t found the courage.

Jurian is still looking at her, waiting for a reply.

Miryam mentally kicks herself and says, “You could stay.”

“You`re sure?” He steps closer to her and takes her hand in his. “I don`t want you to do something you`re not comfortable with just because you… feel some kind of pressure.”

It is a way out – and Miryam loves him for offering it to her. Still, she shakes her head. “I`m not comfortable”, she says, looking him straight in the eye. “But I don`t think I`ll ever be comfortable. And I feel like the longer I run away from this, the worse it gets.” She shakes her head. “Let us just… try. It`s what I want, really.”

Jurian nods. “We can sleep next to each other, if you want. There`s really no need to go further if you don`t want to.”

Miryam gives him a relieved smile. That sounds easy enough. She loves him, after all, and she has been waiting for this moment for months. This will be fine. There really is no need for her to be scared.

He follows her into her tent. For a moment, they stand around awkwardly.

“Soo”, Miryam says, blushing, “I should probably change.”

Jurian doesn`t say anything. He just watches her. Miryam begins fiddling around with the buttons of her tunic and turns her back to him.

“I could turn around”, Jurian offers.

“No”, Miryam says, loosening the last button. Her fingers shake and she takes a deep breath. “It`s just… not very pretty, I`m afraid. And I´d rather not see the look on your face when you see it.”

Taking a final deep breath, she pulls off her tunic. Jurian gasps.

“Yes, I know”, Miryam says softly.

She knows exactly what she looks like. Her entire body is covered in scars. Burns and cuts, some of them punishments for mistakes, others for simply existing. The only reason they spared her face was that most Fae prefer their slaves to be pleasant to look at.

“I…”, Jurian begins, then trails off.

Miryam reaches for her tunic. Her cheeks are burning. This was stupid. A stupid mistake. She is about to quickly pull it over, but Jurian takes her by the arm and stops her.

“Wait”, he says gently, “I`m sorry, I-“ He steps around her until he is looking her in the face“This doesn`t matter to me. Okay? You are kind and strong and beautiful and I love you more than anything else.”

Miryam smiles through the tears that are still running down her face. “I love you too”, she whispers and leans her head against his.

----

Drakon wakes up with a pounding headache. The light is far too bright in his eyes, and he presses his face into his pillow.

“I`m never drinking again”, he mutters.

Mor and him stayed up until dawn yesterday. She had dug up a bottle of whiskey somewhere, and they kept passing it back and forth. It was the first time since the beginning of the war that Drakon did something like this, but Mor needed a distraction. Badly. In spite of his pounding headache, Drakon doesn`t regret staying up to keep her company.

Groaning, sits up in his bed and rubs his face. Go ahead, he reprimands himself, If you can get drunk at night, you can also work the next day. He manages to get up. Bleary-eyed, he walks over to his desk, where someone already delivered the morning post. Three from various members of his council about matters regarding the governing of Erithia. Another letter with a report from the leader of his non-Seraphim army. The fifth letter, though, makes Drakon frown.

The envelope is made of thick, heavy paper. And the seal in the red vax… A blazing sun with a crown over it. Ravenia`s seal.

Every thought clears out of his head. With shaking fingers, Drakon breaks the seal and opens the letter.

My love,

Ever since the regrettable end of our engagement almost five years ago, I have been hoping to have another conversation with you. Now, it seems we will finally have the chance. I will be expecting your presence in my beautiful palace within the next few days.

Yeah, right. Drakon frowns. What kind of sick game is this? He continues reading.

Until you arrive here, I will have to entertain myself with a few of your soldiers who were kind enough to join me here, including your charming General Sinna.

Drakon nearly drops the letter. His heart misses a beat, then races on. No, no, no.

As you know, the Black Land is famous for its hospitality. I can assure you that your soldiers will be able to attest to that once you arrive and they may leave as free people. Should you fail to arrive within the next few days, though, I am afraid your people will only be able to leave in pieces.

I look forward to welcoming you at my palace.

With love,

Queen Ravenia of the Black Land

----

A/N: I`m mean, I know. I`ll have the next chapter up as soon as possible. Anyways-

Huge thanks to @croissantcitysucks for giving me advice on how to write Mor in this scene! I hope the way I did it turned out alright!

About the ages. I know sjm never really specifies how Fae age (or rather, she gives conflicting information), so I just picked an aging system that made at least some sense to me. I'm not exactly happy with Miryam and Drakon having an age gap of seven years, but I really could see no way Fae would age the same speed as humans, so I needed him to be a bit older.

Tags: @sjm-things

[writingsofmyimagination]

Conjecture |11|

Idol Reader Au, Enemies to Lovers AU

Summary: Your management refused to renew your contract unless you collaborated, so you ending up working with Min Yoongi. A guy you’d disliked from before both of your debuts. There is more to their past than meets the eye.

Links to other parts:  | 1 |  2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 

May do one more after this, we’ll see. 

Words:5049

Rating:18+

Warnings: SMUT!! (BDSMish themes, Yoongi Switch, Masturbation, Slight exhibitionism maybe) Swearing, mentions of eating issues, alcohol comsumption. General sass.

Permanent Tags: @msunnsstuff  @rosey-roseu @eyelessmin @backtonormalthings

Reblog, Like, Comment pwwwweeasse :)

//

As the coffee machine was whirring away crushing away the strong beans, he remembered the way your eyes flitted when he’d said those words. It was panic. Was it panic because you didn’t feel the same? Or was it just because when he said it? Or was it both? He hated that he didn’t know.

“Are you growing the beans yourself?” He heard you call from the bedroom. The coffee had been sat ready steaming for minutes.

“Sorry baby, I just got distracted” You were sat up, sheet pulled up around you; legs almost pressed to your chest as you took the cup from him. As he stood to leave to start the shower you tugged at his hand, pining. He smiled weakly bending down to give you the kiss you wanted.

“You better not have been heading to the shower without me Min Yoongi”

“And what if I was?” he countered.

“Then I’ll have to you show why it’s better to shower with me”

“I’ll be honest then, I was heading to the shower” he confessed, smile adorning his lips as he grabbed a towel from the side.

“So I’ll see you in a minute then? He added.

“You know I’m a woman of my word” He would never get enough of the teasing smile you rewarded him so often.

//

“Sharp scratch” the nurse warned puncturing your skin with a needle. The long tubing snaking its way into a bag filled with liquid loaded with vitamins. Your reflection staring back at you as the makeup artist was puffing powder all over your face. Your manager and his assistant were stood observing the whole process. His PA was your favourite person right now. You were running on minimal sleep, no food and you felt like crap; she had amazingly managed to call out a nurse out for you last minute.

“Okay so the plan is you will be on the red carpet straight after BTS, Yoongi will hold back so the press can get photos of the people behind the collab of the year” 

Your reflection smiled at the compliment. For the show you will be sat at our section a few tables behind the boys until you get called for you performance and your presentation.

“Got it, please don’t go over the plan again”

The heated leather seats of the car contributed to soothing your pre-event nerves. The bright natural white light flashes seeped in; even through the tinted windows.

“They’re ready Miss YL/N” The driver said before leaving the wheel to hold the door open for you. You smiled in thanks as you stepped out onto the carpet with full grace. The muttering and shouting of the press increased. Probably with the excitement that Yoongi is still stood on the red carpet and they are finally going to get pictures of the two of you together. Yoongi was wide eyed staring at you, trying his best to not let his jaw collapse to the floor. 

He’d realised why you’d kept the outfit away from him. The slit of your dress teased the front of your thigh under the royal blue dress. Your thigh was decorated with a leather strap wrapping round attached to a heart shaped metal ring. The dress ruffled neatly, delving into a v at your cleavage. The middle of the dress sat tight enough to reveal your figure but you made sure it was loose enough so you had some room; there would be lots of alcohol consumed throughout the night. It was long brushing lightly against the surface of the velvet red carpet beneath your feet. Your hair was in a pony tail which was curled to perfection, your fringe quaffed round into a wave shape, pinned and secured with copious amounts of hair spray.

Your red carpet smile was on show instantly; greeting the flashes. With elegant steps you took up poses at the ‘photo spot’. For the first time in a long time you was riddled with the pinch of nerves. These would be the first proper public photos of you together and actually ‘together’. Today that ‘together’ was his hand snug to your waist. His fingers digging in gently enough to not be detected in the photo evidence.

“I know why you kept that dress away from me now” leaning his head to your ear; both your smiles refusing to falter.

“Yeah and why’s that” you replied, still staring outwards innocently at the crowd.

“Because you knew for one that I wouldn’t believe how beautiful you look” Roles reversed he was now facing forward and you was leaning in to his ear

“Did I?”

“And two you knew I’d damn well be impatient to fuck you in it” The filth through the sweeter than sweet gummy smile had you turning to face him with a bright happy smile shrouding the absolute shock you felt internally. He mirrored your smile turning to you. The perfect red carpet couple shot.  The onlookers were probably begging to see a kiss. As much as you wanted nothing more; you would not give them the satisfaction. Both of your managements would also probably not take kindly to the action. He took your hand and you moved from the spotlight to the reception of the venue.

“Jesus they went nuts” Hobi chuckled slapping an arm at Yoongi’s shoulders when you re-joined the others. The flurry of noise reverberating around the whole room

“Kpop’s hottest couple” Jin toyed.

“Alright guys, calm your tits” You laughed, your eyes clapped onto another artist from you label and waved to get their attention.

“I’ll see you guys later when you win artist of the year yeah?” Aimed at the guys

“And I’ll see you for our performance” You left him with a gentle squeeze of his hand to join your agency to finally be ushered to your seats.

//

The buzz backstage oozed chaotic energy, runners running on their last legs searching for anything anyone needed last minute. You stood in the right wing in the same outfit as the music video; sound from the stage pushing your senses to their limit with the bass. Past the energetic fire of the Monsta X performance you could see Yoongi waiting in the other wing. The static of the radio of one of the stage directors buzzed behind you.

“Y/N” you turned to the call

“Erm Yoongi says you’re going kill it” She stood silent waiting for your response.

“Erm tell him I said to stop being a dweeb”

The stage manager had a smile on her face while communicating your professional message to the other manager. Your legs felt the weakness first, energy draining from your muscles.

The cheers erupted as the performance finished, half the boys heading towards you; Wonho included. The sweat glistening off them walking past you with warm knackered smiles. Wonho had just reached you with an even warmer smile placing a clamming gentle hand on your arm when you collapsed.

Your eyesight still non-existent; a constant blackness. You were conscious; you could make out all the scuffles of shoes scurrying around you.  You recognised the panicked tone of Yoongi, it was harsher and angrier than you remember ever hearing. The words not picked up by your dazed state. You felt a rush of air beside you move as a figure left you and was replaced with another. The blackness turned to fuzziness with colour and clarity finally returned to your vision. Yoongi was staring at you with fierce concern, pupils blown. His hand was stroking your head and brushing your cheek. You’d been moved to a small dressing room and set down on a low sitting sofa. Only Yoongi and the stage manager were present; she was avoiding eye contact leaning against the door finger pressing against her ear piece muttering. The brightness of the room had you squinting as you adjusted to your vision. The desk below the illuminated mirror was littered with an array of bottles powders and god knows what other beauty products.

“5 minutes until you’re up, are we going ahead?”

“Of course not she need medic…” Yoongi snapped

“I’m fine, we’re performing!” you interjected sitting up. You were met with daggers

“We are not” wide eyes looking at you with defiant glare.

You stood almost knocking him back.

“We’re on” Evil stares shooting at Yoongi. You brushed yourself off, gulping down the glass of orange juice which had been placed beside you and walked briskly towards the door. The manager opening the door and following you out. You knew you should have eaten but you just couldn’t; you couldn’t bare the thought of any negative comments about your body. The internet was cruel.

Yoongi’s going to be furious

Eyes welling up; but you had to push them away. The look of the absolute worry was shoved on his face; he may have looked angry but you knew that wasn’t how he really felt. No words were spoken as he was escorted in a rush to the other side of the stage.

Your stage persona fit over your face as smoothly as silk. So did his. He said nothing as you rested back to back waiting for the lights to illuminate. It was awful, the comfort you’d swoon at normally when he was close felt a million miles away.

The fighting and harsh words at the start of the song were strongly meant coming from his mouth; it was the emotion of the start of the song through and through. It hurt. The disagreement in the lyrics transformed into words of reconciliation. This was where your sincere words were laced with apology rung true. The audience were stunned with the secret authenticity of the performance. You’re harmonising with his softer rap even melted Yoongi’s demeanour. The closeness of your bodies singing to each other his hand in yours, fingers locked. You’re final note you hit perfectly, diaphragm giving you all the support it needed. As the lights dimmed, you both partly breathless in your finishing position your head resting on his chest and his hand cupping the back of your neck.

You really felt like the situation had calmed. The pair of you both finding comfort through the work you both lived for. It didn’t stop you briskly walking off in the opposite direction to him, more in shame than anything against him.

You ignored the multiple vibrations on your phone as award after award was given out. In your sight you noticed his head turn to you on multiple occasions moments after you felt another vibration, he was a few tables in front of. Far enough to not have any face to face contact. You finally got the signal to go to backstage. It’s not that you didn’t want to reply you just didn’t know how to talk to about it; so you played safe and avoided it. Temporarily.

“And the artist of the year award goes to” Taking your time building the suspension, the smile reached your face before you spoke

“They’ve achieved a phenomenal amount this year…BTS” you announced with pride blooming through every inch of you. They were all humble in their approach to the stage. You bowed to them one by one, first handing the award to Namjoon. Being closer to the boys they all came in to give you a hug and a gentle kiss on the cheek. Congratulating each one in turn.

“I’m sorr…” you began

“I love you” He whispered before following the others in landing a kiss at your cheek. Your head snapped away with a huge shocked smile you couldn’t depress, unsure how to react. He just smiled as normal as anything compared to your expression.

The twitter memes are going to be priceless.

//

“God I love the after party” You sighed relieved slumping yourself onto Yoongi’s lap who was sat a table with his brothers all laughing away. There had been way too much alcohol to thankfully avoid any serious conversation that was overdue and necessary.

The after party was always a place artists and managements could truly relax; all media were not permitted. The lack of nosey eyes allowed artists to relax and be more themselves. You’d see couples that the Kpop world knew nothing about; there was even gay couples which the industry certainly wouldn’t approve of. It was the best part of the MAMA’s for sure. You certainly wouldn’t be able to be on his lap with his hand parked on your bare thigh.

“Bet you didn’t think you’d be think you’d be handing out the award to your boyfriend did ya” Jimin asked, cheeks flushed out with alcohol.

“Actually I had no doubt you’d get it, you’re smashing this industry with a sledgehammer and It couldn’t happen to a better bunch of guys”

“Thank you Y/N but please go back to being the sarcastic, high maintenance woman we know and love, you���ve had way too much to drink”

You shoved Jungkook knocking the cheek out of him. You got yourself up and made your way to the ladies room. Evil plan ready for you to execute; stepping out of your thong and scrunching it in your hand before heading back to the buzzing room, the live band filling the room with all the songs from the last few years. Side stepping and dodging through the sea of inebriated idols you finally got to your table. You resumed your position on Yoongi’s lap pushing your behind down into his lap harder than you needed too; shielding your hand shoving the underwear into his hand like it was normal as you carried on talking to Hobi about god knows what. Yoongi stole a glance as to what’s been gifted to him. His grip on your thigh tightened at the recognition. His hand slid in his pocket exchanging your underwear for his phone. You opened your phone at this vibration

-If we’re not back in our room sharpish I will not be responsible for my actions-

Another vibration.

-I need you in that dress-

You read the texts, not replying on purpose plonking your phone on the table. Yoongi’s hand that was nursing his glass grew tighter. His hand moved further up your thigh unapologetically. You grabbed it standing up removing any more temptation.

“Well I’m going to call it a night guys. I can’t deal with Jin’s dads joke anymore” you teased, Jin flipped you off in retaliation.

“I can say I agree” Yoongi agreed standing up holding your hand; Jimin noticed.

“Yeah sure, we all know why your checking out early” Jimin teased. You were too influenced by alcohol to be embarrassed.

“And what Park Jimin? I can tell you now his hips would even give yours a run for your money.

“ooooooooooo” Jungkook oooed with the others joining in. Jimin shrugged back leaning on the table defeated erupting in giggles. Yoongi shook his head concealing the chuckle funnelling through his lips practically dragging you away before you embarrassed him even more.

“I’m just going to go apologise to Wonho, I’ll meet you by the elevator”

Apparently when you passed out Wonho was the one to catch you and take you to the side room. When Yoongi had rushed in you were conscious again but only just; you were still unresponsive. Yoongi had asked immediately what was wrong and what happened. Wonho knowing you and exactly what it probably was responded ‘She’s fine, she just wouldn’t have eaten’ to which Yoongi snapped back ‘Well that’s not exactly fine is it, get out!’ You remembered hearing a harsh tone which you now know belonged to Yoongi.

//

“You did not compare my hip movements to Jimin’s”

“It… it just came out, I’m sorry” You laughed stepping into the elevator. Giggles carrying on as you leant against the back on the mirror.

“You definitely will be” Flushing his body against yours as the doors dinged shut.

“What? You going to get those hips working?” you teased smirking at each other before he punished you with a hot kiss. You pulled at his shirt needing every part of him as close to you as humanly possible. The heat that flooded every inch you when he was flush against you.

“Aren’t we going to talk about earlier?” His forehead leaning on yours, hands cradling yours.

“Leave that until tomorrow plleeaaasseee” you whined.

“I promise we’ll talk about it, I just need you first” you added.

“Well I better make you sure don’t have the energy to get out of bed for a while then”

//

You dragged him into you by his tie pressing you against the desk in the hotel room. His lips showering yours with attention, his hands preoccupied smoothly gliding up the outside of both of your thighs dragging it over your behind.

“You smell and look sooo good” Inhaling at your neck, the exhale heating your skin already flushed with heat; result of the alcohol and the need for him. His fingertips now up the inside of your thigh. The anticipation had you gripping harder your already balled fist entangling the chest of his white shirt. His jacket already shed on the floor. You hand gripped his wrist.

“Uh uh” you teased

“Not yet” His eyes rolled, bottom lip pushed out.

“Don’t pout” you scolded. You pushed him giving yourself room to escape to grab a chair round the oak wood table and placed it facing the bed. He waited obediently for you to fetch him by his tie; shoving him into the chair stepping yourself over one of his thighs. You began fiddling his tie un-done; his eyes following your movements with a diligent gaze, hoping to get a glimpse of where you were going.

“Hands behind your back” Eye flashing excited gazing up at you. You tightened the tie at his wrists.

“I’ve happily imagined having you tied up to a chair since you released Agust D” you confessed. His head shot up contorted with a raised eyebrow

“I can think you’re an asshole and still want to fuck you” justifying yourself. He smirked with approval.

“You know when I’ve had a drink my patience and control over myself sucks, please tell what you’re planning, I’m already desperate …”

“Well this will be frustrating for you then” straddling one of his thighs teasing each and every one of his button undone. Giving you access to the milky skin beneath. Nails scratching down his torso; faint red trails down his stomach.

“You really are a tease you know that”

“Would you want me any other way?”

He responded with silence.

“Thought so, you’re going to watch me get myself off” His head shot straight to your direction as you sat on the edge of the bed crossing your legs.

“Wh…”

“But you’re going to tell me how to do it” you interjected as you stood

“Dress on or off” already clasping at the zip.

“On” your eyebrow cocked in response.

“If anyone’s going to strip that dress off you it’s going to be me” You shrugged your shoulders loosely and slid yourself on the bed, holding his gaze tightly with yours.

“Shall I start here” placing your hand on the inside of your thigh

“Mmmhmm go slowly higher” you did. Depending on how desperate he was will influence how much he will tease and torture you. Generally when he’s tipsy he’ll torture you until you’re near enough crying with desperation for any contact which he normally denies you; when he’s past tipsy he’s impatient. It’s a dangerous line you love to walk.

“Tell me how wet you are for me”

So he’s way past tipsy

His eyes were raging with nothing but fire yet the way he was fidgeting told you he was struggling. And you hadn’t even done anything yet.

“How desperate are you to know?” Teasing yourself, you were so wet; and he’d hardly done anything as well as you.

“Please baby” he whined

“I need to know”

He was right

“Wet enough for you to come and fuck me right now” your words dousing the fire in his eyes with petrol

He was not expecting that.

You ran your fingers slowly through your arousal, not patient enough to have no contact but patient enough to go slow until he’d finished picking his jaw up from the floor.

“Go in slow circles baby, I love watching you get impatient”

He kept you doing slow circles for far too long. The asshole always did it, seeing you slowly build, craving anything harder and faster; he thrived on it. You’d curse and whine but when the orgasm ripped through you, all that slow build released in an instant always had you thanking him.

He said nothing; eyes fixated on only you. You’d fully laid on the bed doing as he asked.

“Yoongi” you whined, the fabric of your dress becoming uncomfortable at your heating skin.

“Mmmhmm” he replied

“Please give me more” You didn’t need more, the spring at your centre was already tightening; you  wanted nothing more.

He ignored your request and remained silent. Eyes taking everything in; how your back was arching off the bed, how your whines became longer and more breathless. He let you carry on until your legs began to quiver

“Stop!” You did but more out of surprise than actual obedience.

“I’m not giving you that baby, you know that’s mine”

           You’d never tell him but you loved how selfish he’d become; every orgasm he wanted to steal from you. He wanted each one to be caused by him. It killed him to go away and you made damn sure you teased him and drove him crazy when he was; he made damn sure he got you back when you were home.

“You’re cruel!” you panted in defeat hauling yourself off the bed. You straddled his waist the bulge in his trousers pressing against your throbbing core and rocked a few times; stealing a soft moan past your lips.

“And you’re not? He countered.

Fair point

“Tell me why I should untie you?” sucking in your bottom lip

“Because you love it when I fuck you so hard that you scream my name and I can’t do that if I’m tied to a chair can I and I’ve been good for you”

He was not wrong and he knew it.

Kissing him you went behind him and pulled at the knot releasing him. You slid the shirt of his shoulders. He left and made his way to the balcony door unclicking the lock.

What the fuck, now is not the time to get some air

“You coming?” his expression gave nothing away, looking as calm and stoic as he does when resting.

In a huff you crossed your arms pouting

“I thought you were going to fuck me? You’re making me regret untying you”

“I am…on the balcony, so get yourself out here before I drag you out” You stood their blank, your body preparing for the adrenaline you felt start to heat up. You took a few seconds of pondering the consequences of getting caught, before your body took over and went out putting its needs above your better judgement. The sea of still orange hued lights mingled with the specs of headlights moving slowly through the streets.

If you wasn’t so desperate you’d have felt the chill of the breeze lazily swaying in the air. The second your foot hit the cold stone floor you were dragged and pushed hard against the rails, his frustration apparent. Nails biting harder through your dress; hands running up the slit of your dress less than delicately. The tips of your hands tugging at the base of his hair at his neck keeping his lips harsh against yours.

“You’re so wet for me, and you didn’t let me have it” He purred into you.

“It’s all yours now” you dragged his hand through how much you needed him. Your sigh was captured in his mouth, he pressed himself against your body harder pleased with the result.

“You’re just so impatient” you teased. His hand switching and taking control of yours and near enough threw you round pressing your stomach firmly against the cold barrier; hands automatically bracing round the bar as he shoved your dress up and over your ass.

“What if someone see’s, our neighbours have balconies to you know” your voice pitching higher at the end when his hand came down harsh; stinging your behind. Part of you was too far gone to care who saw, but your rational side knew it would be an absolute media shit storm.

“They’ll only see if we take too long, and there’s no way that’s happening baby” his belt brushed against your behind unhooked and undone as he relieved himself from his trousers.

“Don’t you dare ask me if I’m ready Min Yoongi” you warned needing everything from him right now.

“Done” he obliged pulling your hips backs; perfect angle for him to thrust into you.

“You feel so fucking sweet” he panted through a heavy breath.

“Shut up and just make me cum already” you commanded, pushing back into him. You were met with a violent tug your neck was strained, hair pulled back.

“Now who’s impatient” You wordlessly responded clenching around him. His head knocked into the top of your shoulders; faltering.

“God you’re going to end me one of these days” he gurgled at your neck. Time was a non-existent factor, neither of you needed long, the anger, the passion, the alcohol saw to that.

“Tell me your close, cum for me” he panted; knowing he was not going to be able to keep going for much longer.

“Ask me again” you whined, releasing your hand from the rails and ran them up to your clit. His hips starting to buck unevenly.

“Please fucking cum for me, I want to feel you shake around me as you cum…undone” he stuttered.

You were done, crying out expletives into the brisk night whining his name.

“Jesu…”

You were both done. Adrenaline pouring out you. You’d just let one of the biggest hip hop idols fuck you on the balcony of your hotel; and you didn’t get caught.

“I take it we’ve made up fully now” you enquired in a half chuckle.

“I could never stay mad at you. I just want you to be happy, with me and within yourself. Promise me we’ll work on this”

The pair of you looked less like animals and more of a couple enjoying the ethereal skyline together. You were in his arms, gazing into his blown out eyes. Both of your chests slowing down bit by bit.

“I love it when you’re soppy; if only army knew just how much” you toyed. He nudged you from the side.

“I promise I’ll try, be patient with me” finally accepting now you was in the unit with him you needed to sort your shit out.

“Well never stop being a complete closet softie and fucking me like that and we’ll be fine” quickly coating over the seriousness with cheek and humour. Your star move.

“I better start making sure I leave my studio a bit earlier then, can’t have you going without  what your incredible ass deserves can I” he tucked your hair behind your ear, resting his forehead against yours.

“Well if I knew all it took for you to say that was me slipping some underwear to you in public I would have done it sooner. You pushed your hands against his chest. Your body fully drained of adrenaline; the pinch of the freeing air was beginning to feel harsh against your skin. He shot you a defeated smirk as you walked past heading in to the warmth of the room.

“I’m going to replace this dress with fluffy pyjama’s seeing as you can’t resist me in it”

He Followed your footsteps into the warmth.

“Baby I can’t resist you in anything, especially! your pink unicorn pyjamas”

“If your hinting for round two you can forget it, I’m exhausted” His hand pinched at your zip unlatching the metal teeth with the other hand edging round your hip.

“I thought that was a pretty good try for me” You Slipped out of the snug dress, it pooling at the floor round your ankles.  You unhooked your bra and quickly snuggled yourself in your fluffy top. A mocking wolf whistle left his lips. The daggers you shot him were broken down by your lips which couldn’t do anything but find his sarcasm amusing.

“Fuck you Yoongi” you sniped. Your bag thudding on the floor. Knowing the fake seriousness was non-existed in your pyjama top and nothing else

“Yeah?” He closed the space between you with rapid predator steps. The lack of time stole you your chance to defend yourself. You squealed as you were shoved onto the bed hands pinned above your head.

“I know you’re tired you so I just want you to lay back and let me take care of you, I do promise you’ll be even more tired after you’ve had me between your legs. I just want to hear you whine for me once more” Your eye’s shone brightly absorbing the sparkle that danced in his.

“God I love you” you breathed. His hand trickling over your chest under your top blossoming the goosebumps in a trail of where his hands had been

“But if you don’t hold me all god damn night after this I’ll…” He cut you off, the kiss was hot, hard but full of need and want with a undertone of softness he’d reserved only for you.

“If you take this off I will” He tugged at your jumper lifting it up giving him access to clamp his lips over one of your buds.

“I thought you couldn’t resist me in it?” You teased, his kisses going lower.

“Your skin against mine though feels much better”

“Fine! Now are you going to make me victim of your tongue technology or not”

“You know damn well I will”

[kurtty-drabbles]

EW Kitty (Netflix and chill)

N/A: Which EW Kurt wants to know who is the witch and EW Kitty is not caring.

@djinmer4 @dannybagpipesarecalling @sailorstar9 @discordsworld @look-ma-no-hands336

By all means, Kurt is a fearsome figure, sometimes, Kurt does not need to put a show to scare others, in fact, even with his civilian outfit, the people of this small city still look in fear and respect of Kurt. In another occasion, Kurt would bask in the attention.

But today is a special day, competition is hard to find these days(mostly because of his own hand, but, either way, is rare) the mayor is approaching Kurt as one approaches a lion(if someone is treating you to explode your head if you don´t do it) and gives a faux sense of bravado to himself as he speaks to Kurt...pretending they are equal.

"You´re the Necromancer, what are you doing in my city?" the mayor inquires and Kurt pretends to not heard, is always fun to see people squeeze in fear, but, if the man becomes too much like gelatine...then he´s useless.

"I´m looking for a woman. The witch of this city, the one witch that can petrify cities, turn people into animals, and, of course, necromancy" he flashes a smile illustrating his fangs and people can get the hint of his message(fear him, that´s all they can do)

"That woman...is dead" someone shuts tiredly and gains Kurt´s attention. A woman wearing a black dress and a pointy hat, with a grumpy owl on her should is unphased by Kurt´s appearance "people of this city is far too afraid to tell you, but, the witch is dead, that nasty Dorothy did take her down by throwing water"

Kurt is bemused. "That was before or after Dorothy starts singing, Somewhere over the rainbow?" His eyes are golden and no pupil and the woman is thinking of all the cats she witnesses in her long life.

The mood is tense and no one dares to speak, the smarter ones, starts to leave normally to not gain the attention of the Necromancer of the witch. The woman´s laugh is enough to break the mood and she speaks again, at easy and fearless "Oh, you do know the story! that´s interesting, I´ve heard you´re the worst detective ever...now, as for the witch...we have many witches here, any description? it may help" the corner of her mouth lift slight and Kurt has no time to flirt.

"She´s a witch too powerful, in fact, she managed to kill Kilgrave" Kurt explained and Kitty yawns bored. "Look, if the greatest realization this witch of yours ever done is killing pathetic trash...maybe you should look for another witch, now, Guten tag, guten herr" and saches away leaving the Necromancer behind. No crown left.

__________________________________________________________________________

Kitty Pryde strolls in the market, wanting nothing more than buying fruits to her friends(Lockheed completely rejects the term pet) and her owl is flying around causing havoc as the little bird is searching for his own little treats.

"Oh, Lockheed, did you find it?"  the Owl shakes off and the spell is over as his feather open space to scales and the little dragon is more than ready to start eating the little treats.

The owner bides Kitty farewell as the woman is back to her house. Lockheed asked about the stranger, the necromancer and Kitty is not minding his presence here.

"A necromancer? Is not something new here! Oh no, my friend, we have a far important job, we've got a date, remember, yes, with Mr Castle" Kitty replies and Lockheed seems to remember now, yet, still focus on eating the treats "silly dragon!"

_________________________________________________________________________

Frank Castle likes pretty woman, that´s in her nature, especially one like Kitty Pryde, destruction and power(occasionally justice) turns him on, so, when the woman with her tight black dress and red painted lips offers him a nice night, Frank is one of those men, said yes in a heartbeat.

Now, Frank will have a heartbeat for his. The man is tied up, gag and is not played as something erotic. Kitty finally enters the room, with a dagger in her hands and a seductive smile.

"Rest assure, Frank Castle, a hero you´ll be...in death" Kitty promised smiling as now, her eyes change colour, it´s the incorporation of all colours in one, black as the void, black as the universe. "Oh, Crawling God of Chaos, I give you this creature to sacrifice, please, I´d fulfil my deal with you" and Stuck the dagger on his heart.

Thich drops of blood start to fall from the improvised bed, yet, it never manages to drop on the floor as a shadow with one eye emerges and devour the body in one go. The entity smiles at Kitty, a smile that speaks anything and nothing and vanishes.

No signal of tentacles. Kitty assured to herself. And I´m looking to the city still on the same spot where it supposed to be.

A clap of hands emerges and the Necromancer appears impressed by the show. "Bravo, that was fantastic, I never thought I would you would cut to enter in his cult, but, hey...I´m not HIM, what I know?"

Kitty got pale and orders Lockheed to attack, which the dragon is more than pleased to do so, however, Kurt only tsk and summon his gargoyles who did make her dragon more occupied.

"So, you´re the wich! Fascinating" Kurt answers and Kitty only frowns. "I just killed a guy...that should freak you out...even more, because I sacrifice for HIM"

Kurt waves his hand. "Oh, please, I did have my share of killing, but, I want to talk with you, how powerful you´re?"

"Enough to blow you up...but it will blow up my house, and I´d hate to building a new house, so, necromancer...can we all just forget this happen and follow our merry lives?"

"NO! You sacrifice humans to HIM, you are powerful enough to kill Kilgrave...and you want to stay in your house, why?"

"Netflix and chill" she replied and the gargoyles and Lockheed are still fighting(it resembles how dogs would greet each other)

"Netflix and chill?"

[yanagi-uxinta]

Hidden Eyes

Rating: T

Status: One shot, complete

Word count: ~6,200

Summary: A look behind the mask.

He woke to his eyes burning.

They were dry, lids rasping – idiot. Must have fallen asleep before taking the lenses out.

There was a warm, solid lump under the covers next to him. Blake. Waking up to her was new enough to still be novel. She was curled on her side, ears bared, bow discarded somewhere in the tent they’d started calling ‘theirs’.

He sat up slowly, to avoid jostling her, and swung his legs over the edge of the two camp beds they’d shoved together. He rubbed his eyelids in small circles, trying to make the lenses beneath move smoothly over his eye.

No luck. They were too dry; stuck to his eyes – and when he looked, there was a slight distortion where the right lens had shifted off-centre before drying out. Great.

He blinked hard and fast, hoping tears would rehydrate the lenses enough to get them out. He headed to the make-shift washbasin in the corner; a simple plastic bowl of water on a small fold-out table, with a mirror propped up against the canvas wall behind the bowl.

He stared into the mirror, squinting through blurred eyes at the lenses. The right one was still in the wrong place. He rubbed at it again through his lid, felt it slide. A blink re-centred it, his pupils no longer looking lop-sided. They’d started to soften at least. Gingerly, he tested the right lens – it had shifted, but it was still tacky and hard to move. He’d scratch his eye if he tried to take it out.

Sheets rustled. ‘Adam? What’s wrong?’

Blake had rolled over and was peering at him, rubbing sleep out of her eyes and looking temptingly mussed.

Not now.

‘It’s nothing. Go back to sleep,’ he said, keeping his eyes down so she wouldn’t see them in the mirror.

‘What happened? Is it your eyes?’ She sat up, concern in her voice now. Damn. She must have seen him rubbing at them. Too curious, too compassionate at the wrong times.

He could play it off as just an eyelash in his eye. But she was awake now; she’d see him if he checked both eyes. She’d linger until he said he was fine, or she’d offer to help. Wouldn’t be the first time someone in the group had needed to flush their eyes out, or have someone pin their lids open to get something out, especially after fights when the humans used gas or pepper spray, or kicked sand up when they realised they were outclassed and were scrambling for some distance.

A half-truth would have to do.

‘I fell asleep with my lenses in, and they’d dried out. Like I said, it’s nothing.’

She smiled, relieved but amused. ‘I didn’t know you needed contacts.’

He summoned up a half-hearted smile in return. Now, only now would he take her laughing at him over the truth. That was something she could never learn. That no one could ever learn.

‘I can manage without them, but they help.’ He gestured at the mirror, ‘when they don’t get stuck, anyway.’

She laughed, and reached for her clothes. ‘That seems less than ideal. Are you alright taking them out yourself?’

He nodded. ‘I’m fine, I just need a minute. Go and get breakfast; I’ll join you when I’m done.’

‘Alright.’

She didn’t take long to dress, but he still needed to play for time. He splashed water on his face and flushed his eyes, finally feeling the lenses start to move freely. He paused when she stepped up behind him and wrapped her arms around him, her cheek against his shoulder blade. She mustn’t have her heels on yet. He turned, making her giggle when water dripped from his hair to her face. He wiped the drops away with his thumb, leaned down when she rose on her toes to kiss her. She was soft and pliant against him, and for a moment he was tempted to toss her back onto the bed –

But no. They had a mission today. They had to focus. And he needed to get these lenses out.

He gave her one last kiss to keep her quiet before steering her towards the tent flap. ‘Go. I’ll be out soon.’

She smiled as she tugged her boots on then headed out, reaching up to tie her bow and hide the happy tilt of her ears.

One day she won’t have to. When their work is done, when humanity has paid for all the times she’s been made to hide who she is-

And you?

Blue eyes stared back at him.

When will you be able to stop hiding?

The lens moved easily this time. He slid out the right one, dropped it into the case filled with clean solution he’d prepared yesterday morning.

He blinked away the sting of cool air.

A silver eye stared back at him.

The blue lenses were a decent cover. The sliver of silver around his pupil still exposed by the lenses blended in with the blue well enough to look natural unless you were up close. That made this new intimacy challenging – there were only so many excuses for keeping the mask on outside of missions and White Fang business. He was waiting for the day when Blake looked him in the eye and realised the lenses were coloured.

Then would come the questions. Why hide the colour? Why keep it from her? What did having silver eyes mean?

And that would drag her into this mess. This was why he’d wanted to keep the fact he wore lenses a secret. It avoided the likelihood that she would study his eyes closely enough to notice on her own.

Too late now.

He removed the left lens, let them soak in the solution while he got dressed and fixed his hair. It was a familiar routine, easy to let his mind wander.

‘Adam, Adam stay in the truck, ok sweetheart? Just stay there-’

The people outside were still yelling. Dad was shouting too. ‘There’s no need for this, please! All we need is a jump-start, and we’ll be gone, we’ll never bother you again, just please help us get the truck moving!’

‘How dare you speak to my wife you freaks!’

‘Sir, all I asked is if you could give us a jump, that’s all-’

‘You don’t deserve to speak to us!’

‘Please, please I’ve got a son, a little boy – we just need to get to the next town. The Grimm-’

‘They can have you!’

‘No, no wait!’

He heard the engine roar, heard Dad running. Mom shouted for him to come back, shrill and scared.

It was getting dark.

They tried telling him to be brave, to not be scared, but how could he when they were so scared he could see it in their eyes, hear it in their voices? They both tried pushing the truck, but it had rained earlier – the ground was muddy. They could barely budge it.

It was night time when they heard the growls.

Dad had a shot gun. They all climbed in the truck and locked the doors. Dad wound the window down enough to stick the gun out.

The first shot was so loud. He clapped his hands over his ears, buried himself in his mother’s trembling arms to try and dull the sound.

Dad was a good shot, but he couldn’t cover all sides from inside the truck.

Something slammed against the back window. Mom screamed. He twisted in her grip to look into the beowolf’s burning eyes.

Everything happened very fast after that.

The gun was yanked out of Dad’s hands. He tried to wind the window up; but the fourth-hand old truck’s window didn’t move very fast. A black arm with white spikes darted in, claws sinking into Dad’s chest. It pulled him out the window, skin scraping, body floppy. Mom didn’t have a weapon; they’d only been able to afford the one gun. When her window shattered she shoved him down into the foot well, out of reach. She punched and kicked at the limbs reaching in, until a giant ursa clawed the door off its hinges. He watched as the Grimm surged and dragged her out, still fighting, still screaming.

There was only him, heart flying, breathing shallow, head pounding.

Claws reached in again, red eyes staring at him. He kicked at them, like Mom. He ripped at the strong fingers wrapped around his leg, dragging him out of the car, his back scraping against the base of the door frame, cut by the jagged metal.

He sees the moon, broken, bright, pulsing in time with the stabbing pain in his head – then it’s blotted out by shadow and bone and red.

Teeth bared, claws descend –

His head splits, and everything goes white.

He hears the rain falling. He knows he is wet and cold, but he cannot feel it hitting him.

‘-ra. Ghira, over here. There’s a kid. Still breathing.’

‘That’s a small mercy at least. I’ve got him.’

There’s warmth against his side, but he drifts away again before he can burrow into it.

He woke up in a small room with one bed. There was a candle on an old table next to his bed, and a tiger faunus sitting in a chair in the corner, watching him with piercing golden eyes. She had tiger ears, but there were a couple of stripes on her upper arms. Tattoos – the bottom two looked fresh, still red around the edges.

‘You’re actually awake. Stay here, I’ll get you some water and let the others know.’

He tried to speak, his voice rasped. He tried again, croaky. ‘Thank you.’

Her ears turned away from him, awkward. She looked like a teenager, maybe eighteen.  ‘You’re welcome.’

He lay in the quiet, ears straining. There were voices downstairs, the tiger’s one of them. Footsteps on the stairs.

The tiger reappeared, a bottle of water in her hands.

The man behind her was huge, but his voice was familiar, somehow.

‘I’m glad to see you’re awake, young man. You had us worried for a while.’ He sat in the chair, the wood creaking.

He took the bottle from the tiger, didn’t know what to say so he drank instead. Once he started he realised how thirsty he was, started to glug- but the tiger tilted the bottle back down, shook her head. ‘Don’t. Drink too much too fast and you’ll be sick or worse. Small sips, alright?’

He nodded, made himself put the bottle down. With his throat soothed, talking was easier. ‘Who are you?’

The faunus turned to the man, letting him speak.

‘My name is Ghira Belladonna, this is Sienna Khan. We found you in the woods when we came through with our convoy.’

His voice was soft, gentle – pitying.

‘Mom and Dad are dead.’

Ghira looked down, only for a second, but it was enough. ‘Yes. I’m sorry. We gave them the best burial we could.’

He expects it to feel like a punch in the gut, or tears he can’t hold back. But it’s just... blank. Empty.

He doesn’t realise he’s staring at nothing until Sienna speaks.

‘What happened?’

‘We stopped the truck to stretch our legs and check the map. Dad thought we were lost. Then the car wouldn’t start again. We were there for hours, but a car came by. We asked the lady driving if they could give us a jump – but they were human. They shouted at us. Called us freaks. They wouldn’t help us; they wanted the Grimm to get us. They said so.’

His chest isn’t empty anymore. It’s hot, and burning, and expanding up into his throat, forcing his voice out and loud.

‘They drove off, left us there. Just because we were Faunus – they knew I was there, they knew I was a kid, and they still wanted us dead. Mom and Dad tried pushing the car, but it was stuck. When it was night time the Grimm came. Dad had a gun, but he couldn’t get them all. They got him. Then they got Mom. They grabbed me, they-’

He stalls like their truck had. ‘They...’

The moon, bright and broken. Teeth, claws, his head-

‘I don’t know what happened. They dragged me out of the truck, then I... I don’t remember. Did you chase them off?’

Ghira and Sienna were looking at each other, the same way Dad and Mom used to when they were making a decision they didn’t want him to know about.

‘No, we didn’t. We found you the next morning, by your truck. Either the Grimm had left, or something killed them.’

His head hurting. The white light.

‘The next morning? That wasn’t today?’

Sienna shook her head. ‘You’ve been unconscious for nearly a week. We’ve been trying to get hold of a doctor for you. The nearest hospital is miles away and we didn’t want to risk moving you, but finding a doctor willing to treat us outside of the kingdoms has been... difficult.’ Her ears were pinned back against her head.

Ghira shot her a look – like he didn’t want her to say more. ‘But you’re awake now,’ he said, a little too quickly to just be continuing what Sienna was going to say. More like he was cutting her off. ‘So we can get moving again, take you to the hospital in Vale. They’ll have a look at you there, make sure you’re alright.’

He nodded. What else could he do? He was weak and wobbly, he couldn’t exactly run away – and all they’d done so far was help him. That was more than any human had ever done for him.

‘And after that?’ Sienna asked.

Ghira hesitated. ‘They’ll try and find the rest of his family at the hospital, I’m sure.’

He shifted, uneasy. ‘It’s just been me, Mom and Dad. Mom didn’t have any brothers or sisters, and Dad doesn’t talk to his.’ And they lived all the way in Menagerie. He didn’t want to get shipped off to a place he’d never been, to people he didn’t know and from the conversations he’d eavesdropped on, didn’t like.

Ghira’s expression flickered, just for a moment. ‘Well I’m sure they’ll follow procedure and inform whoever is listed as next of kin of what happened-’

‘Or they’ll turf him out as soon as they can say he’s stable and he’ll be on the streets. We can’t just leave him with humans, especially after what they did to him. The White Fang could help him.’

‘The what?’

The adults paused, remembering he was right there. Sienna leaned back against one of the walls, arms folded, while Ghira leaned forward in his chair, hands clasped. ‘The White Fang started some time after the war, as a symbol of peace and unity between humanity and Faunus, a way of ensuring the things we’d fought for were followed through with. However things have been declining for years. The White Fang has sat by and done nothing as the rights we died for, that they promised us, were slowly eroded away. We,’ he said, nodding at Sienna, waving his hand at the door to indicate whoever was downstairs, ‘have decided to change that. The White Fang will campaign to keep our rights, to remind humanity we’re equal to them in every way. One day, we won’t struggle to find medical help. We won’t be abused and abandoned. We will be the voice of the Faunus, until we’re no longer needed.’

It sounded nice. A world where being a Faunus didn’t matter, because no one would hurt you for it. But how would words do that? And how could they help him?

‘So... you’re a group. If I go to the hospital, they’re going to keep me there. I’m a kid, and you’re not my parents. They’re not going to let you just walk off with me.’ And if they couldn’t find his Dad’s family, or they didn’t want him, then what? 

‘He’s got a point, Ghira. He seems alright now, once he’s got some food in him. If you’re really worried we can find a doctor in Vale to have a look at him, but I say let him stay.’ Sienna was staring at Ghira, challenging.

Ghira looked troubled. ‘I still think we should go through the proper channels...’

‘And since when has that got us anywhere? If his family say no, he’ll get stuck in the foster system, and we all know how well that turned out for me.’ Her teeth were bared, ears flat. ‘He’d be better off with us, like I was. Like Saber.’

‘He’s a child,’ Ghira argued.

‘And? I was fifteen. He’s, what are you, eight?’

He flinched at her sharp turn, her anger. ‘Nine.’

‘All the more reason to take him in. He needs us, Ghira. And we need people.’

Ghira shook his head, but he seemed more tired than angry. ‘I won’t turn children into activists.’

Sienna scoffed. ‘What do you call your daughter?’

Ghira growled. Not like most people did when they were angry, this was real. ‘There’s a line, Sienna. Don’t cross it.’

Sienna shut up, back going straight. She stalked out, glaring at Ghira, and slammed the door behind her.

Ghira sighed, seeming to shrink in his little chair. He looked up, gold eyes weary but honest. ‘I promise you, we will do everything we can to help you. I want you to see a doctor, and while Sienna may stoke my temper, she has a valid point. We won’t take you to a hospital unless the doctor recommends it. If you want us to find your family, we will. But if you want to stay...’ he ran a hand over his face, but then he sat up straighter, resolved. ‘Well, I won’t turn away a child in need.’

‘Thank you.’

Ghira smiled then, his face softening. He looked more like a dad than a fighter then. ‘You’re welcome. It occurs to me I haven’t asked yet; what’s your name?’

‘Adam Taurus.’

 He straightened his jacket, strapped his boots, coaxed his hair back into the overlapping arched spikes rather than the mess of red it had been after sleep.

 Ghira had wanted to send him back to one of their safe houses, where his wife and little girl stayed as the vanguard cleared the route. Sienna had argued that it’d stretch their small forces too thin to accompany him back, that so long as he stayed with them and stayed in the truck while they scouted, he’d be fine. Sienna had won.

He’d been very unsteady on his feet for the first few days. Ghira had to help him down the stairs and into their truck.

He’d buckled his seat belt, turned to look out of the window, and hid his trembling hands in his pockets. These trucks were better than his had been; newer, stronger, but he hadn’t thought anything could rip a door clean off of his old truck either. They were so flimsy against the Grimm.

The key turned, and his heart froze – but then the engine turned over and the familiar rumble started. It was easier to control his breathing with the thrum of a working engine beneath him.

He grew stronger on the road. His days without food and motionless in bed had sapped him of his energy and his muscle, but under Ghira and Sienna’s careful monitoring and small but frequent meals he gradually improved.

They reached Vale after eight days of either stopping at small towns or camping. Sienna sent word to Ghira’s wife that the route was clear, while Ghira took him to a walk-in centre that wouldn’t ask too many questions about his background and accepted Faunus.

He was given the all clear, told to keep doing what he had been to physically recover, and they were free to go.

He’d taken it easy on Ghira’s orders until the rest of the White Fang arrived. He was soon bored with hanging about the motel room, and asked if he could go to the local library. Ghira had accompanied him there, gave him a lunch to take with him, and said if he needed anything he’d just be the next building over. There had already been a crowd of Faunus gathering outside what turned out to be the town hall.

He’d promised to stay in the library, to not wander off. He’d found a free computer and started researching. At first he’d had no luck, just searching ‘head hurting’ and ‘white light’ – all he got were results for migraines and other medical problems.

He was pretty sure migraines couldn’t kill Grimm.

He’d branched out. Killing Grimm without touching them. Killing Grimm without moving. Killing Grimm head hurting white light.

Nothing useful, nothing relevant.

He’d given up when the sun started to get low, and went out to find Ghira. He found him outside the town hall, in a crowd of Faunus, most of them holding blue flags with a white wolf’s head on it, or signs protesting Faunus discrimination. They were chanting, peaceful but hard to ignore. Ghira had a megaphone and was calling for the major to come and talk with them, to discuss the Faunus discrimination the local businesses were engaging in against the law. They must have been at it for hours.

A larger crowd of humans surrounded them. They were shouting abuse, some had their own signs, some were throwing things.

He’d tried to skirt around, to reach Ghira, but there were too many people. He’d tried slipping through the crowd, hoping no one looked down, that no one saw the small horns poking through his hair-

Someone seized his arm, dragged him into view of the Faunus. They were screaming, shaking him. He clawed at their hand, tried to pull free, tried to run for Ghira who was marching over, face like thunder, Sienna at his back with a chain wrapped around her wrist.

Their grip was too tight. They were hurting him, fingers bruising his arm, shaking him so hard his shoulder jarred. ‘You don’t belong here you freaks!’

The shallow beating of his heart was swamped by that angry burning again. In that moment, he wasn’t scared, he was angry. He wanted to hurt them, like they hurt him-

And he had a way to do it.

He planted his feet, stopped struggling. Turned to them, drew his head back, then slammed it forward into the man’s stomach, horns-first.

He felt the puncture. Felt the spasm of shock through the man’s hand before he let go. Felt the suck as his horns pulled free.

They were only little. The holes were maybe half an inch deep. But blood was blooming through his shirt, he was staggering away in terror, and blood was trickling through his hair and down his face.

Do it again.

He stepped forward, only for a shadow to cross him. Strong arms wrapped around him, lifted him off his feet, pulled him away.

He turned, teeth bared, ready to scream defiance, to stab again – and met Ghira’s amber eyes.

Chaos was breaking out. The humans were turning into a mob.

Sienna kept most at bay with her chain, letting the unarmed Faunus protestors flee. A dark-haired woman with cat ears hurried to Ghira’s side. Ghira had wordlessly handed him over and ran to help Sienna. The woman carrying him – Ghira’s wife? – had ran, helping guide the panicked, scattering Faunus. She was calm, even in the middle of all the shouting and screaming and violence.

She got them out, got them somewhere safe before the police closed in. One of their Vale safe houses, she explained as she cleaned him up and checked his arm to see how badly he was bruised. She introduced herself as Kali Belladonna, and it was obvious from the start that she was a mom.

It was comforting in a way, but it hurt too. His mom should have been here, should have been the one wielding a damp cloth and digging through a first-aid kit for kiddie band-aids that did nothing to help the bruise, only made him stare at the bright colours in mild disgust.

It’s what she would have done, and it was only then that his chest went tight and his eyes blurred. Nearly two weeks, and he was finally crying. He ducked his head, tried to hide it, but Kali noticed.

She didn’t comment, just held her arms open in offering.

It would be weird. He’d only just met her. She wasn’t his mom.

She wasn’t his mom.

That was what made him curl up in her arms and stay there for hours.

The lenses would be fine to wear again now. It wasn’t the recommended length of time between wears, but it’d have to do.

He’d become so used to seeing blue eyes over the years, the silver were strangely nostalgic. The eyes of a boy, not a man.

  They’d salvaged what they could from his parents’ truck. Only a few personal items, a few changes of clothes. Dad’s shotgun, damaged but not entirely broken. Sienna had said they could get it fixed, even improved. He’d done that eventually, turned it into Blush.

It was around that time when he’d found it. He’d given up his search years ago, had convinced himself the white light had been a delusion after smacking his head on the truck doorframe. He’d stayed with the White Fang, even after Ghira had sent Kali and their young daughter back to their home in menagerie. Ghira was still pushing for peace, but humanity was becoming more violent in their rejection of his pleas.

It was a pity. Ghira was a good man, with good ideals – but this wasn’t an idealistic world. Words wouldn’t change things.

Sienna had the right idea. She’d cut her hair since that first meeting, had accumulated more tattoos down the length of her arms and legs. Her chain had knives on it now, Dust-infused when she could afford it and able to detach at the peak of a swing to become projectiles. She’d helped train him when he said he wanted to learn how to fight. Ghira hadn’t approved, but when he proved too stubborn to be convinced to drop it, Ghira had helped. He was a good mentor, especially for hand-to-hand. He was patient, knew when to push, knew when you’d hit your limit.

Six years later, and he’d grown from the skinny little boy he had been. Tall and growing taller, shoulders broadening, his muscle lean from years of training, his horns grown in – too long and sloped back to stab people with now, but solid enough to daze anyone he head butted. He’d discovered a knack for swordplay, and that gave him a way to incorporate his dad’s old gun into his weapon. Dad had been too weak to survive, too poorly equipped – because of humanity. It was a kind of justice that his old weapon, the one that had failed to defend his family, would be the weapon to help liberate and avenge their people on their oppressors.

He was a near-permanent fixture of the vanguard, along with Sienna and Ghira. Ghira was recuperating after an injury during an ambush, when he knocked on his room door. The three of them were staying in a small motel that hadn’t cared if they had horns or ears or sharp teeth.

Ghira had waved him in, wincing as he shifted his weight and his leg pained him. It was strapped up and elevated, but still bad. He was reading a book, but he put it down on his knees as Adam pulled up the sole chair in the room.

‘How’re you feeling?’

Ghira chuckled. ‘I’ve been better. Give me a day or two and my aura will have this healed up.’

‘Good. We can’t afford to lose you on the way to Haven.’

‘Our biggest challenge yet,’ Ghira sighed.

Adam glanced at the book, curious. It was a child’s book of Remnant’s myths and legends.

Ghira saw him looking. ‘A present from Blake. She likes sending me her favourite books when she’s finished them; she’s done it since she was little. No doubt you’ve seen the picture books in my pack before,’ he said with a laugh.

Adam smiled. It explained why Ghira could be seen reading kids books in the evening. He was yet to meet Ghira’s daughter, but just last week Kali had written to say she and Blake would be joining them next month. Blake wanted to spend more time with her family together, and wanted to help their cause now that she was getting older. Not that nine was an age to start this life when you had a choice in the matter, but he’d turned out alright. Any daughter of Ghira and Kali’s would be fine.

‘Here, look,’ Ghira said, flipping to the first page and handing it over.

There was a note on the blank page opposite the list of chapters, in a child’s handwriting but neat.

‘Hope you like this one Daddy! My favourite is the Four Seasons. I’ll see you soon, stay safe! Blake xxx’

He grinned and was about to hand it back when the list of chapters caught his eye. The standards – Blake’s favourite, the Two Brothers, but then in the middle of the book – The Silver-Eyed Warriors.

He paused, flicked through to the right page – and there, a full illustration, a pair of silver eyes framed by an ancient helmet.

They looked like his.

Each story had a small blurb introducing its history and context. His heart started pounding.

‘This is one of the oldest legends in this book; it dates back to before the formation of the Kingdoms, to before Huntsmen and Huntresses, and is arguably the second-oldest after the tale of the Two Brothers, which is a creation myth. These warriors were supposedly able to slay the creatures of Grimm with a glance. In recent times, this myth has become less commonly known in comparison to more popular tales such as The Girl in the Tower and The Shallow Sea.’

‘Adam? What’s wrong?’

He started, handed the book back. ‘Nothing. I’m sorry; I just remembered I’d forgotten something. Get some rest.’

The small town they were passing through had a little library. There weren’t many shelves, but they had a few computers and a surprisingly good connection thanks to the nearby CCT substation that hadn’t been attacked by Grimm for over five months.

Finally, the results he’d wanted years ago. He found the full legend, though it was very sparse on details and glorified the warriors. It was clear the writer of this particular version had never seen a silver-eyed warrior in person.

No one had. Every resource he found said they were legends, though theorists said that there were too many instances of the story turning up in unconnected areas of the world for it to be a pure fabrication. One of the leading theories was that it was a recurring but vanishingly rare semblance, and that the tales of slaying Grimm ‘with a glance’ were hyperbole.

But it wasn’t. That’s what he’d done. It had crippled him, knocked him out for a week, but all he’d done to the Grimm was look at them and fear he was going to die.

But he’d been a child then, untrained, alone.

He wasn’t anymore.

 He slid the lenses back in, blinking to clear the slight blue blur around his vision until the lenses had settled.

Blue was ordinary. Blue was safe.

Silver was dangerous.

 ‘Go, guard the others! I’ll take care of them.’

‘Adam-’ Blake wasn’t a child anymore. She hadn’t sent her father books since she was twelve. She’d trained for years under himself and Sienna and was as formidable as a fifteen year old could be. But right now she sounded as scared as a little girl, and that was drawing more Grimm in.

‘Just do it!’

A raid gone wrong. A couple of human bandits dead, their blood on his blade. Several injuries, stuck in the middle of a Vale forest, Grimm closing in. They’d been able to get within sight of a cave system the Fang had used for years as a bolt-hole, but moving their wounded was slow and the Grimm were closing fast.

It was Blake’s first large-scale mission. The others knew better. Whenever Grimm were trapped alone with him, they ended up as so much smoke.

She was hesitating. He nodded to Bane, who pulled her away. They’d take care of any Grimm that slipped past him.

Red eyes danced in the shadows, stalking towards him, sensing the others’ panic. They knew this area; they thought they’d herded them into a kill box.

Tapping into the emotions they liked was as easy as breathing now. All the anger, all the hate, the disgust as the bandit had cowered and begged and sobbed as his guts spilled out. He submersed himself in them, let himself feel, made himself a bigger beacon than the wounded and fleeing Fang members behind him.

He needed a big group.

He aimed Blush, shot two of the beowolves trying to skirt around him. One for Mom. One for Dad. The mantra in his head was quiet now, had been softening for years, drowned out by the stab of satisfaction at the holes he ripped in them before they started to dissipate. That angered the rest – good. They were already gravitating towards him, snarling, slavering smoke.

There had to be thirty, thirty five Grimm. Beowolves, boarbatusks, ursas, creepers.

Perfect.

The mask was smooth under his fingers, the freshly carved pattern a neat line, barely tangible through his glove.

Thankfully this little trick didn’t dissolve the lenses he’d taken to wearing to hide his ability. A precaution – paranoia, perhaps, but when the very few records he’d found of suspected Silver-Eyed Warriors throughout history all wound up with the Warrior dead before their time, well, he couldn’t be too careful.

The pounding in his head was sharper, more focused – less pain and more pressure, building, controllable.

The last sensation was the sharp sting and burn in his eyes, like looking into a too-bright light. Then that was all there was – light. White, blinding, burning.

He heard the Grimm screaming.

The pressure built, built, stabbed, peaked –

Faded. He gritted his teeth, clinging onto his focus. That had been the hardest part, teaching himself to stay conscious afterwards.

There was always that moment of blindness in the aftermath. Those few seconds of his heart hammering, too loud in the absence of sight – would it come back? Would that be one of the drawbacks to a power he could barely research, that he’d learned and practiced through trial and error?

But slowly light started to register. Then shapes, then colour, then definition. He could make out the leaves on the trees, the dapple of dying sunlight on the ground.

The exhaustion crept up on him, even though he knew it was coming. It was like it delayed until he began to convince himself that he’d gotten used to it, that he’d be fine – then it would hit.

He sank to one knee, shaking, breathing uneven.

Focus. Pull it together. There might be more.

He slid the mask back into place, forced himself to his feet, dusted his trouser leg off.

He couldn’t let the others see what it took out of him to defend them. Not when he was their hero.

 He picked up Wilt and Blush, checked the tent one last time to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything.

He stepped into the early morning sunlight, fog still decorating the grass. The others were sat around the campfire, bolting down breakfast. Blake looked up at him, cheeks full of the fish Bane had caught that morning. She raised her hand to try and hide how full her mouth was, swallowing hard to try and look like less of a glutton, face bright red. Ilia laughed, elbowing her, but her face fell when Blake barely glanced at her in chagrin before looking back at him, trying to judge his expression behind the mask. Bane was wrangling the late sleepers into getting up. He slung the twins, Ciara and Lonan, one over each shoulder and dumped them near the fire where their breakfast was cooking.

These were his people. These would be the final wave of downtrodden protestors; and the first generation of the new order once humanity had been beaten back and put it its place.

Silver-Eyed Warriors were meant to save humanity from the Grimm. They were heroes, legends –

But the Grimm could have humanity. Let the monsters destroy each other. Let all those who had written those legends and not even included the Faunus as worth saving, as so much as a footnote – let them die, and let the Faunus rise up on top. Let them take ownership of the broken world and rebuild it the way it should be.

Then. Maybe then he’d do what the legends wanted. Maybe then he’d dedicate his life to defending people from Grimm. By then the only people to save would be his own.

Then, he’d be happy to be their hero again.

[hopingforfakedreams]

Dylmas - Don't You Know (soulmate au)

3rd Person POV

Dylan tried to calm his fast-beating heart as he stepped into the room full of the cast. The group of strangers that he was now to spend weeks on end with.

He took a deep, shaky breath and walked up to a group of three people that looked friendly enough. One, a woman, had long wavy black hair that shaped around her contrastingly pale face beautifully. She saw him and beamed, eyes gleaming.

Before Dylan knew what was happening, he was engulfed in a warm hug.

"Hi, Dylan, right?" she asked as she pulled away, "Sorry," she suddenly apologised, noticing Dylan's uncomfortable aura and she took a step back. The smile on her face didn't falter though.

After a moment, Dylan nodded, "Yeah, it's Dylan. Don't apologise, either, at least you're not biting my head off!"

The woman laughed, "Well, hi, I'm Kaya and this here is Ki Hong and Thomas." She explained, gesturing to the two men stood beside her.

Dylan turned to face them. One, he assumed was Ki Hong, smiled at him and shook his hand. Dylan nodded his head at him as they shook hands.

Then, he turned to the other man – Thomas. And, 'holy shit, you're so hot!' Dylan thought, trying to push the sudden attraction for the man stood in front of him away as he outstretched a hand. With a smile, Dylan blushed.

The man, Thomas, had dirty blonde hair swept carelessly to the side, falling past his eyes and framing his well-structured face. Dylan noticed that his eyes, although appearing hazel brown at first, were almost a deep, golden honey colour. Dylan felt like he'd fallen in a pot of honey as he had to force himself to pull his gaze away from Thomas' hypnotic irises.

Coughing awkwardly, Dylan avoided looking at Thomas throughout the rest of the conversation that he shared with his new colleagues.

The next few days are hectic. Dylan barely finds time to sleep, eat and wash in between getting to know each other and shooting the first few scenes. They were on a tight schedule.

That's why he didn't notice the cursive black writing on the back of his right shoulder until he was walking into his room after a long-deserved shower, fluffy white hotel towel wrapped securely round his waist.

"Oi, mate, I didn't know you had a tattoo!" Ki Hong called out from his position on Dylan's bed.

"I don't?" Dylan shot his new friend a confused glare.

Ki Hong stood form the bed and pointed at Dylan's shoulder. "What do you call that then?"

Running back into the bathroom, Dylan swivelled round to see his back in the reflection of the fogged up mirror. "Oh shit!" he muttered, trailing his fingertips lightly over the words etched into his tanned skin.

He squinted, trying to get closer to the mirror and cursing when he bumped into the cold sink. Finally, he managed to make out the words.

'Ah, fuck, I'm gay.'

That was it.

Dylan almost wanted to burst out laughing at the bluntness of the words. But he didn't, because his mind was too preoccupied with the knowledge that this was his soulmate mark. What else would it be?

"What's it say then?" Ki Hong's voice rang through the silence of the small room.

Suddenly, Ki Hong's reflection appeared behind Dylan's in the mirror above the sink. He read over the words, face crinkling before he let out a loud cackle. "Oh my God, what?"

Then there was hushed silence as Ki Hong thought.

"Wait...is that-?" he stopped mid-sentence, taking in the expression of Dylan's face. "It is, isn't it! Oh, man, congratulations!" he cheered, clapping Dylan's bare back roughly.

Dylan still didn't speak.

If this really was his soulmate mark, then that meant that his soulmate was someone in the cast or crew because it definitely wasn't there before he arrived here. And, obviously, his soulmate was a guy – which Dylan was actually thankful for, because he'd always been more attracted to guys. Especially, tall, blonde, handsome ones...

Shaking his head, Dylan rolled his eyes at himself. Of course Thomas wasn't his soulmate, don't be stupid.

Dylan dedicated the next few weeks to trying to find out who his soulmate was, but he soon found that it was an impossible task. Whoever his soulmate was, they were very good at hiding it; nothing had changed with any of the cast or crew, they all spoke to him in the same way that they had when he'd first got here. Nobody was flirting with him or even showing the smallest of signs of having a crush on him.

Maybe his soulmate didn't actually like him?

On one Tuesday, it was a particularly hot day. Most of the people on set were in tank tops and shorts, sweating profusely under the intense Louisiana sun rays.

Dylan wiped his arm across his hot forehead, cringing at the gross sweat that clung to his grimy skin. He hadn't washed for two days, having been so busy filming.

And because it was almost a pointless chore since he knew he'd just get sweaty and smelly the following day.

Resting his head against the wall of a random nearby trailer, basking in the cool shade its shadow casted over him, Dylan pulled a cigarette out from behind his ear. Lighting it, he took a long drag, closing his eyes peacefully.

"So, this is where you're hiding out?" he heard a deep, familiar voice speak. His stomach twisted at the twinge of an accent in the words, and peeking through his eyelashes he watched Thomas walk over to him and mimic his position against the wall.

Dylan hummed, closing his eyes again as he heard Thomas light up his own cigarette.

A comfortable silence surrounded them. Dylan tried to clear his mind, knowing that after this break he'd be jumping straight back into another serious scene. When he finally reached the filter of his cigarette, he stubbed it out under his foot and turned to face Thomas, who was still smoking but was watching his actions.

Dylan felt a heat rise in his cheeks as he thought about Thomas watching him, but tried to ignore the feeling and instead looked curiously at the blond. He was wearing a jacket, despite the unbearable heat.

"Why don't you take that off?" he asked, pointing at Thomas' jacket.

"Wanting me to strip, Dyl?" Thomas smirked, cocking his head to the side.

Dylan just scoffed, shaking his head. "You'll die of over-heating. Don't blame me for caring about you." he said, not actually denying Thomas' accusation because he didn't believe in lying.

Thomas laughed, but didn't answer, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"Really? You're that stubborn? I won't tease you, I've seen you without a jacket on before, y'know."

Thomas seemed to think Dylan's words over before deciding that he was definitely too hot in his jacket. Slipping it off, he placed it on the ground by his feet.

Dylan suddenly realised why Thomas had been self-conscious; he was wearing an orange tank top – probably the most revealing thing he'd worn throughout their time filming. Normally, he had a dirty white jumper on.

Dylan struggle to swallow as his eyes travelled over Thomas' lean figure, trying to keep his staring subtle. Thomas turned around to stub his cigarette out on the log beside him.

Without warning, Dylan let out a loud gasp.

There, right on Thomas' right shoulder, was similar black writing to what was on his own body. He leant closer, examining the words, his mouth dropping open as he recognised them.

'Holy shit, you're so hot!'

Thomas was his soulmate? Dylan frowned, and then smiled wider than he ever remembered smiling. Thomas was his soulmate!

Suddenly, Thomas turned back around, eyes widening as he realised that Dylan was now stood a lot closer to him. Dylan met his curious gaze, an obvious smirk on his lips.

Thomas seemed nervous as Dylan leaned closer, so close that his nose was brushing against Thomas', but he didn't pull away. Dylan could feel Thomas' smoky breath hitting his skin, sending chills down his spine, and his eyes fluttered closed for a moment as he relished in the feeling.

But then he remembered, and he snapped his eyes open again to look at Thomas.

"Ah, fuck, I'm gay?" he blurted out, questioningly, a hint of humour in his voice. He was still very close to Thomas' face.

Thomas seemed confused for a moment, but then realisation seemed to hit him and he froze –eyes disbelieving.

Dylan took this as a good sign, closing the gap between them without warning to connect his lips with Thomas'. The kiss was heated, not gentle and caring like Dylan had originally planned. Perhaps it was due to the weather?

It was fast, tongues brushing against each other wildly in ways that sent a chorus of moans to erupt between the two. Thomas had a hold of Dylan's hips, gripping tight enough to leave behind small, purple, finger-shaped bruises.

Dylan had his fingers wrapped around the unwashed locks of Thomas' blonde hair, tugging roughly in a way that seemed to send Thomas crazy.

They probably would have stayed like this, making out in a furious passion forever, if it wasn't for the awkward cough that pulled them apart. Blushing, but not in the slightest ashamed, Dylan heard someone tell them that they were wanted on set, but he didn't look away from Thomas.

Thomas said they'd be there in a minute, and Dylan heard the person walk away. Dylan didn't care; he was too focused on how Thomas' pupils had dilated to at least twice their usual size. And his pink lips were now swollen red. And his chest was heaving up and down irregularly.

"We'll finish this later." Dylan growled in a husky whisper, before sauntering towards set and leaving a bewildered and very turned on Thomas behind.

But, just before he rounded the corner, he felt a hand slap against his ass, roughly. Swivelling round, he glared at Thomas accusingly, but the blond just walked past him with a smug smirk on his face, not acknowledging Dylan.

Dylan muttered curses under his breath as he met the rest of the cast on set, ignoring pointed looks from Ki Hong, who was shifting his gaze between him and Thomas.

The next hour was pure torture as Dylan had to watch Thomas run around in his tight fitting clothes, drenched in a sweat that for some reason just turned Dylan on even more. Matters only got worse as Thomas had to bend over to tie up his shoelaces, and Dylan found himself messing up his lines multiple times as his mind wandered to a different place entirely.

To be fair, Dylan was doing his fair bit of unintentional teasing to Thomas, and it was driving the blond insane.

The moment that Wes called it a wrap for the day, Thomas was by Dylan's side and had grabbed a hold of his wrist, dragging him to his trailer where they remained for the next few hours.

[markleetrashh]

Makeup Voiceover;Taeyong

Request: I literally have your tumblr on my internet tab all the time, never closing it once :'' i love your work!! Can i request a make up voice over by taeyong? I think it'd be funny considering how he's always the manlyman lol THANKKKS

A/N: i actually feel like he'd be super sweet & soft while doing this so sorry if it wasn't what you expected!!

i've only recently just got back to writing so i hope this isnt too bad

and i think it's been long too since i wrote for taeyong?

but i hope this is good enough and it works!!

also

im running out of makeup brands to write google isnt helping anymore help this clueless makeup girl out

let's go

so taeyong's always been fascinated by your skills and makeup

he'd straight up just stare at you with his mouth open as you do your makeup

kid taeyong would appear and clap his hands together whenever you finish

"woah so pretty my baby"

and your fans have noticed that he's always in the background of your makeup tutorials giving a thumbs up or nodding his head

such a supportive boyfriend

so they'd always comment and ask yall to do the makeup voiceover challenge

which taeyong hesitated at first

mainly because he was shy

but finally agreed because you flashed him your cutest pout that made him s o f t

while you're filming the video he's upset because he doesn't get to see you do it this time

"BABE you'll see it later stop pouting"

"but, it's different"

"it's the same taeyong omg"

"tsk alright alright"

when you finish taeyong barges into the room with a straight expression on his face but does the weirdest dance ever??

yeap the one you're thinking of and the one he always does

and luckily you caught it on camera, which made him more embarrassed

so before recording he gets all nervous and talkative like

"omg babe what if i screw up"

"okay im a strong man i can do this"

"taeyong.... it's only a recording..."

"i know, i'm not nervous at all"

and you just shake your head because you're super used to him

"hello everyone!! it's taeyong here today to do a voiceover for Y/N's makeup!"

"i hope you all would like this video and continue supporting my babe"

"aww just look at her in this headband, so cute"

"barefaced Y/N, my favourite!!"

"oo she's doing her foundation?"

"the one she always uses! the one from innisfree"

"i feel like this shade suits her very well, what do you guys think?"

"she's using her favourite pink egg to blend it out"

"all smooth now!"

"she's taking out a stick.. pen? oh it's an eyeliner"

"babe you showed it too fast and the word's so small i couldn't see the name"

"she's drawing her eyelids now, look at those skills!!"

"every single time i watch her do her makeup and i'm still amazed by how she manages to draw the line so smoothly woah"

"the other eye..."

"oh they're symmetrical, great job"

"let me guess what's next, eyeshadow!!"

"yes i'm right"

"it's because you've seen me do my makeup so many times"

"your boyfriend's an expert shh"

"oh it's the uh.. L-Laura Mercier??? brand"

"so hard to pronounce woah"

"but she's taking her brush and applying this... uhm.. slightly blue colour!"

"make sure to smooth them out"

"moving on to the other eye"

"and.... she's done!"

"doesnt she look brighter now?"

"oh? she taking out a small box"

"what's that i've never seen that box before"

"oh! it's fake lashes"

"you've never worn them before, why so sudden?"

"got to always try out new things!!"

"woah she's applying this liquid thing on it-"

"WAIT IS THAT GLUE- BABE WHAT IF THEY NEVER COME OUT AGAIN"

"IT'S EYELASH GLUE DONT WORRY"

"OH oh... sorry for that outburst everyone"

"but she done sticking on her eye and woah, so beautiful"

"just look at those gorgeous eyes and lashes"

"oh she's moving on again"

"to.. her cheeks!"

"cutie"

"first of all, blush!!"

"makes her cuter than she already is but"

"she's using the one from nars"

"looks slightly pink"

"aw just look at those rosy cheeks!!"

"woah"

"her favourite next- highlight"

"she covered the name- i can't see it omg babe"

"but uh.. just look at how shiny that is"

"cheeks... forehead... nose... and jaw..."

"my girlfriend's glowing!!!"

"i think this is the last step but lipstick!"

"she just bought one yesterday from moonshot- oh she's using it"

"it's dark red shade"

"pouty lips aw!!"

"and my baby's done with her look!!"

"doesnt she look amazing?"

"what did i do to deserve her"

"woah- wait- I FORGOT ABOUT THE ENDING im sorry you all have seen this side of me"

"but anyways, thank you for taking the time to listen to my voice and for loving Y/N!!"

"continue to send more love and i'll be grateful hehe subscribe and comment!"

[lollercakesff]

soft touch

chapter 20 | ao3 pairing: anne/gilbert rating: mature wordcount: 3,548

The weather turns hot in the Glen and I finally find an apprentice in the next town over who’s willing to cover for me as I take Anne home. Susan declines the invitation, choosing instead to visit her daughter and give us what she has kindly termed ‘family building time’ which none of us will admit is actually coded words for letting Anne and I roam the house together whenever Harris is down for a nap or tucked away at night.

Though she would never admit it, lately whenever Anne and I found each other after too long apart she would give a knowing look and then disappear out of the house for as long as she could, returning only to help us prepare supper and care for Harris throughout the evening. It was almost predictable, by now, and while it made our cheeks flush with embarrassment it was the only time we managed to find each other with the summer activities and my work calling at all hours.

Not looking a gift horse in the mouth we took it kindly when she excused herself for her trip, preparing ourselves for the journey to Avonlea and mentally checking every box. When the day finally comes to depart I step out of the house and press my hand to her back in greeting. She holds Harris tightly in her arms as she works to convince herself off the first step.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” I state, my hand cupping her elbow as she looks out at the waiting buggy with trepidation.

“I’m not - I just haven’t been home since school. Is it very much different?”

Shaking my head I step down and stand before her, urging her forward. “Some things are. But it’s still Avonlea. Just think - Diana is on the other end of this and won’t she be so thrilled to meet Harris?”

“Oh, Diana! My sweet lovely Diana... “ She sighs and steps off the porch, closing her eyes tightly for the briefest of moments before exhaling on a rush. “It will be nice to go home. To say goodbye like I should have.”

“Nobody holds it against you, you know. Bash and Mary remind me that with every letter. I think they’ve made sure to fill the rumour mill with so many other things,” I chuckle, thinking of Bash’s story about the children in the Easter play and their off-key meandering songs.

“I’m glad we’re going, Gil. I am. I’m just nervous.” I don’t offer her any words for that, choosing instead to help her into the buggy and begin our trip to the station.

We travel through the day and into the early evening, trips up and down the train cars to soothe a mutinous Harris as the travel wears him out. When finally we pull into the station near Avonlea it’s with a sense of relief, of peace, that we disembark and collect ourselves on the platform.

“Anne!” A voice calls excitedly, Diana Wright crashing through the people and wrapping Anne up in a bone-crushing hug. Tears abound as the two friends reunite, their words babbling over one another until they pause for breath, screaming like schoolgirls. I stand to the side and watch it unfold, holding a sleeping Harris against me with a dopey smile on my face.

“Aren’t they just a sight for tired eyes?” Fred Wright says at my side, nearly making me jump out of my skin as he claps a hand on my shoulder.

“You’re telling me. It’s good to see you, Fred,” I greet brightly, turning towards him and offering him an extended hand. He takes it quickly and then reaches for Harris, eyes wide.

“Let me see him! It’s been years since I held a wee one like this,” he coos, holding the child to his chest and running his thumb along the boy’s nose.

“Gilbert! Oh it is so good to see you again!” Diana shouts, apparently finished with Anne and now moving onto me. In unladylike manner she lunges at me, wrapping her arms around my waist. “You found her! You found her again - I couldn’t - oh, Gil!”

Diana’s tears come quickly against my chest, her composure failing as she turns back to Anne and holds her once more. I rub a thumb under my own eyes quickly, looking away as Fred chuckles. “They’re a real pair, aren’t they?”

“You could say that,” I respond and watch them for a moment longer. When Harris begins to cry I turn to Fred and extend my arms, only to be cut off as Diana instead pulls him to her chest. Together the two women fret over the wails, leaving Fred and I to collect the bags and steer us out towards the waiting carriage.

The ride to the Wright household is filled with excitement, boisterous stories from the couple keeping us in stitches as we ride down the trails. When we eventually crest the edge of their property I breathe a sigh of relief, my hand squeezing Anne’s side gently as we pull up their lane.

“We’ve prepared the spare room for you, Anne. It should be big enough for the three of you,” Diana explains as we step through the front door to the expansive house.

“And you’re sure it’s no trouble for us to stay here? Rachel said Green Gables was still furnished but…” Anne’s voice slips as she swallows her words. Diana reaches out and squeezes her hands as I step instinctively closer.

“We’re sure. My home is your home,” Diana insists and breathes through the shake in her voice. She settles herself once more and leads us through the space and towards our room to start settling in.

It’s later, after night has fallen and the stillness of the house has crept in, that I hold Anne against me as the tears finally catch up to her. We don’t speak, our touch enough to keep us grounded as all of the hurt rises and colours our day. When finally she drifts off to sleep with her back pressed to my chest I breathe a sigh of relief, my lips pressing a gentle kiss to her shoulder before I follow her quickly into slumber.

Morning comes later than we expected, Harris’ cries not rousing us at dawn like they always seemed to now. It’s almost disorienting, I find, to wake up well rested and with Anne curled into me. Disorienting and wonderful, I have to admit.

But the peace is short-lived as soon she stirs, her short red hair a tangled mess as she raises her head to look at me. “Why does it feel like I’ve slept for five years?” She yawns, tightening her arms around me before starting to withdraw.

In a quick move I chuckle and lean towards her, capturing her lips in a deep kiss that leaves her dazed. As I withdraw she groans, lifting her hand to my neck to keep me with her a moment longer.

If not for the knock at the door I wasn’t sure we ever would have gotten out of bed, the taste of her making me feel lightheaded as we reluctantly pulled apart.

“May I come in?” A small voice calls through the wood. Anne lifts a brow at me and I lean to the side of the bed, pulling on my shirt as I hand her her oversized sweater.

“You may,” Anne replies lightly, watching as a little girl carries in an overflowing tray.

“Father said not to bother you but Mother wanted to make sure you had sus-sus-tan-eze,” the girl greets, looking up at us with wide eyes as she stumbles over the word. I can see the recognition come over Anne’s features, her gaze softening.

“And what lovely girl brings us breakfast in bed?” Anne’s voice shakes as she takes the tray from her hands.

“Why, I’m Anne Cordelia!” The girl replies, a wide smile on her face.

“I’m so very pleased to meet you. I’m Anne Shirley Cuthbert Blythe,” Anne whispers, reaching a shaking hand out to the girl.

“Mother said we had the same name but you’ve got oh so many more than I do!” Anne Cordelia insists, taking Anne’s hand and shaking it thoroughly. “But I need to get back to the kitchen. Father said I couldn’t bother you for too long or else I’d have to do Fred’s chores. Are you coming out soon? It’s almost mid-day you know.”

“Yes - we’ll come see you as quick as we can,” Anne replies with a laugh, squeezing my hand tightly and watching as the girl retreats back out the door. Once the latch has clicked shut she turns to me abruptly, launching herself against me in a bone-crushing hug. “I’m so glad we’re here.”

“Me too,” I mumble and rub my hand along her back.

We finish the tray and dress as we go, preparing ourselves for the onslaught of Avonlea that awaits us this afternoon. A church picnic happened to fall later that day and Diana urged us to attend, promising that it would be a merry event for everyone to visit and see the long-lost scholars.

“Has he been behaving?” I ask Diana as we join them on the porch, reaching for Harris and settling him against me with a soft smile.

“Of course! We collected him this morning from your room when he was getting hungry. You looked too peaceful to wake up,” she says with a cheeky smile, her cheeks flushing. I feel my own colour rise as we share a knowing look that makes Anne slap at my shoulder.

“Are we meeting Bash and Mary at the picnic?” Anne asks, sitting down beside Diana and looking out over the rolling fields with a wayward gaze.

“Yes. They were helping set up and couldn’t get out of it,” I reply as I bounce Harris playfully on my thigh. He smiles and wobbles, his expression bright and warming.

“You look so lovely with him, Gil. I always knew you would make a splendid father,” Diana interjects, watching us with a soft gaze. I catch her eye as she smiles, looking between the three of us. “Did I mention how wonderful it is to see you together? After all this time?”

“Don’t start again or you’ll get me going too!” Anne groans, shifting towards her friend and grasping her knee. The two laugh and shake their heads, words unspoken but conveying the closing of the miles of distance between them.

“To have you home Anne… It’s a dream I could not imagine after all those years where we didn’t hear from you. It was the longest silence,” Diana sighs, lifting a handkerchief to her eyes and dabbing at the tears that appear.

“It really was the loneliest too,” Anne adds before standing and pulling Diana into her embrace, a proper tight hug bringing the two bosom friends back together.

I take my leave to let them re-connect and head towards the pond, toting Harris along with me as I show him the beauty of our home. By the time we arrive back it’s nearly time to leave again and we quickly get ready, dressing in our best under strict instruction from Diana.

The church courtyard is full of people when we arrive and for a moment Anne simply sits in the carriage looking out at all of our old acquaintances and their families. “I can’t believe how many people I recognize,” she whispers as Diana and Fred head with their children and Harris towards the gathering. I sit with Anne’s hands in my lap, waiting until she’s ready.

“It’s different but still the same,” I agree softly.

“Blythe!” A familiar voice calls out from behind us, Bash coming into view with his arms raised wide and over his head. He climbs into the carriage and pulls us into tight hugs, eventually dragging us down and towards the crowd excitedly.

With my hand wrapped tightly with Anne’s we approach the cluster of people, eyes wide as they all look towards us. Bright smiles greet us as the crowd parts, inviting us forward and towards a small arch lined with summer flowers. Below the structure stands Reverend Allan, aged but still smiling.

“Bash,” I hiss, looking towards the man who gives me a wink. I look to Anne who freezes mid-step, the whole picture starting to come together as her brow furrows.

She turns to me then with a stricken look, grey eyes wide. “Is this what I think it is?” She questions, her fingers squeezing mine so tightly that I nearly lose feeling. Instinctually I pull her into my arms, ducking my head so that I can whisper my replies into her ear.

“It just might be. Do you want to leave?” I offer. Anne pauses, her hands coming up to draw my gaze to hers.

“No. Do you?” With a shake of my head I grin and turn us back towards the altar, leading us forward with a blush colouring up my neck. “Reverend, it’s been a while.” I greet as we join him. Behind us the crowd quiets, anticipation filling the air.

“As it has, Doctor Blythe. Mrs Wright informed me things were a bit unorthodox in your marriage which, to be honest, only surprised me a little. Miss Anne, how are you?” The Reverend greets, beaming down towards Anne with a knowing look.

“I would like to hug you - Oof!” Nearly knocked off her feet with the impact, Anne laughs as Reverend Allan pulls her into a quick hug.

“It might not be proper but you’ve always held a special place in my heart, dear girl. I couldn’t pass up the chance to be here for you,” he replies, settling his hands on her shoulders as she wipes away tears.

“Kindred spirits still?” She laughs and we join her, my own eyes blinking away tears.

“Always. Now - shall we get onto the real reason we’re all gathered here today?”

The wedding happens in the blink of an eye. One minute we’re slipping off our rings and then next we’re placing them back with weighted words, our hands shaking as we say our vows before the people of Avonlea and God himself. Though surely we would offend some in the crowd with our out of order nuptials and the obvious glaring truth of Anne’s existing marital status, on that afternoon there doesn’t seem to be a care in the world for propriety and the idea of right and wrong. There was only us, our family, our friends, standing with us as we promised each other for now and forever.

“And now you may kiss the bride,” Reverend Allen announces to a roaring applause. I grin down at Anne, her beaming smile meeting mine, before I pull her against me in a breathless kiss that makes the crowd whoop and Bash let out an ear-piercing whistle.

“Mrs Blythe,” I breathe as we part, her arms still tightly wrapped around my neck

“Doctor Blythe,” she counters softly, her fingers playing with the curls in my hair.

“You’ve got your whole life to kiss her, Blythe!” Bash interrupts eventually, jovial in his excitement.

The gathering dissolves into a party unheard of in the small town, a band setting up under trees filled with lanterns as the evening begins to set in. We dance and visit until our feet ache, only giving ourselves a moment of peace when it’s time to settle in to eat.

“Miss Anne!” Seb shouts and leaps to his feet as we tuck ourselves into the table. He’s at Anne’s side in a flash, his arms outstretched as he barrels towards her before he stops abruptly, nearly colliding into her as he slows and puts his arms down. “Sorry Miss Anne, I almost forgot. May I hold your hand and say hello?”

My heart nearly stops in my chest, the memory of Christmas flooding back into my mind as little Sebastian curbs his excitement for a more refined approach.

“Oh Seb,” Anne sighs, reaching towards the boy. “I do wish you would give me the biggest hug you can provide.” He holds nothing back and leaps towards her, arms wrapping around her neck as tightly as he can make them.

“I was afraid you were still scared of soft touches and I didn’t want to ruin your day,” he whispers conspiratorially, leaning back and lifting his palm to her cheek. Her eyes shine as she glances over towards me, colour rising in her cheeks as the boy smoothes her hair back.

“Well, Seb, I’ve had quite a good teacher these last few months. Uncle Gil has been helping me remember how to let - how did you say it? Love speak through our hands?” Seb nods vigorously, a wide smile beaming from him. “He’s helped me realize that you were very right to say it like that. I’m not as afraid as I used to be and I’m even able to help Harris with it too.”

“So do I have to ask first everytime I see you?” He asks pointedly, dark eyes gazing into hers.

“It’s always good to ask first but if you get really excited and you just want to give me a hug, I wouldn’t mind that so much. Okay?”

“Okay Miss Anne, you got it.” He crawls down from her lap and heads back towards his chair, stopping once to look up at Anne with a charming smile. “I almost forgot - I like your red hair a lot better. It fits my memory of you best.”

I feel like I’ve been run over by a horse, Anne’s hand clasping tightly in mine as she takes the compliment and blows the boy a kiss. He runs off in another second and she turns to me with the widest smile I’d seen from her in decades, her colouring flushing out her freckles. I could nearly drag her into a bedroom right now for how the joy makes her look, stunning and alive.

“You pick good, Doctor Blythe,” she whispers into my ear, resting her chin on my shoulder for a moment before the food is placed before us.

“Tell me about it,” I murmur back, my hand squeezing her thigh until she chuckles and brushes me away. The meal passes and I don’t remember tasting a thing, at some point finding myself tied up with tiny dancers, the daughters of our friends having taken my dance card and filled it so that I barely have a chance to sit down.

When I finally do it is with a surprised glance that I realize Anne is nowhere to be found, Diana and Fred sitting with Bash and Mary, Harris soaking in the attention that the group would provide him.

“Has anyone seen Anne?” I question over the music, watching as they all look at me with confusion. Only Mary smiles sadly, nodding in the direction of Green Gables without a word.

I don’t hesitate to go to her, making my way through the fields and hopping the long standing fences between the properties. The graveyard sits in the corner of a field and it’s there I see a small figure seated on the ground amongst the tombstones.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming here?” I ask as I come to join her. There’s fresh tears on her cheeks, her hair a wayward mess as she sniffs and looks up at me.

“I felt like maybe I needed to tell them on my own,” she replies lowly, looking between Matthew and Marilla’s graves. I settle beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and letting her lean back into me.

“Were they happy to hear the good news?” She chuckles and absently plays with my fingers, drawing her nails across the back of my hand in a soft pattern.

“I like to think so. I saved that part for last though. I wanted them to know the whole story so that they understood why I didn’t come back but I didn’t want them to be sad for me. How could they be knowing that it all brought me back to you?”

“They would have understood. They loved you Anne,” I say unnecessarily.

“I know.”

We sit there together until the moon is cresting the horizon, dusk evolving into night and the cool evening air wrapping around us. Occasionally Anne shares another tale, a funny story from the Glen or a charming piece from school, sometimes it’s me with a recollection of admiration for their girl, something that would have pleased them so.

“I’m glad we came back,” Anne admits as we get to our feet, our arms linking together as we head back towards the party. “It’s almost like I’ve closed this book on my life. Like I’m ready to start fresh with you, finally.”

“Are we on the same page then?” I ask with a pause in my step. She twists and wraps herself around me, looking up from where her chin has settled against my chest.

“I’d argue we’re in the same sentence,” she whispers and without thinking we hold tight to one another, my hands lifting her chin so I can meet her lips with mine in a promise of forever.

[xmenimagine]

Imagine: Real.

Requested by Anonx and Anon. Includes: Alex Summers X Reader Request: *Call me {Anonx}, can you make an imagine of Alex Summers falling in love with a human who's not afraid of his powers? * Hello queen, before this request I would just like to tell you that I love your work!!! Could you please do an Alex Summers x reader where they are in love and the reader is taken hostage and tortured and Alex saves her and she has to go to the hospital?? Please include lots of love, fluff, and comfort if you can. Sorry if this request is hard or if you have too many. Thank you and have a great great day/night! * More Alex Summers imagines please!! 😊

Note: My guys, you know what I'm about.

My boy Alex.

I DON'T KNOW IF I DECIDED TO MAKE IT GRAPHIC BUT IF YOU DON'T LIKE THAT SHIT THEN MOVE ON

UPDATE: ^^ kinda

Update update: have not re read this so sorry if it's trash. 

    It was late, Alex had invited you over to the mansion in the morning and you both lost track of time. Some of the students, who didn't know you, had come up to you asking you what your mutation was, thinking that you were a new student and that Alex was just showing you around. At first, it was awkward, but then you got used to it. Alex had to inform them that you weren't a mutant, you were his girlfriend and that he'd like to spend time alone with you rather than getting hounded by a bunch of students.

    You probably should have told him to calm down but you'd rather not be on the end of his glare, but rather his good side. He showed you to his room, which you were surprised wasn't messy, but rather all clean and tidy. Sometimes, the fact that he did go to solitary confinement and the Vietnam War, escaped you. But he didn't seem to mind, you just knew what questions to avoid, and which ones to tip-toe lightly around.

    Alex was all too excited to show you around the mansion, but he knew it would have to wait for a different time as you had to get back home. As a form of protest, he laid half of his body on top of you, trapping you to the bed as his head nuzzled into your neck, faint kisses lining your jaw and neck and his thumb rubbed your side soothingly. You knew that if you didn't get up then he would have fallen asleep on you, and you wouldn't have been able to wake him up.

    "Alex..."

    "Hmm?"

    "Alex, I have to go now," you told him softly, your hands playing with his hair, gently massaging his head.

    "No," he dragged on, lightly shaking his head.

    You let out a small laugh. "Yeah, I do. I have to go to work tomorrow, and it will take me an extra hour to get ready and to be there on time if I stay here."

    "I'll drive you in the morning, it's late."

    "Baby, I know it late, that's why I have to go." You smiled to yourself as you knew he was trying to come up with an excuse.

    "Take the day off," he suggested.

    "I'm going for the promotion, I can't take a day off. I need to look like I'm dedicated."

    "You are dedicated...To me."

    "Alex..."

    "Please, doll. Just stay." He lifted his head up to look at you, you knew he was trying to pout his lips and give you puppy dog eyes.

    "Alex, that's not fair."

   "Neither is you leaving me." You let out a groan, resting your head on his pillow. "Have I won this battle then?" He lifted himself up on his elbow to look at you better.

    "Not even close," you mumbled as you managed to get up off the bed.

    You turned back to Alex and watched as he groaned and dropped his body face first onto his bed. A small laugh escaped your lips as he turned his head to offer you a sleepy smile, which formed into a grin as he reached his arm out to grab you again. You stepped back picking up your coat, putting it on before you found your shoes and slipped them on as well.

    "You should literally be doing the opposite of what I just saw you do," he told up as he moved to sit up.

    "What? Taking off my clothes?" You rolled your eyes with a smile.

    "Yes, here look, I'll start." He reached for the back of his shirt to pull it off over his head before you stepped closer and pulled his shirt back down.

    "As much as I want to watch you do that..." You paused, a smirk grew on his face. "Really want to watch you do that..." You shook your head standing up straighter. "I have work tomorrow."

    "C'mon, doll, what's one little day off going to do? Cause you to be fired? I don't think so."

    "Well, I know that it will make me look worse than the guy who doesn't know how to iron his shirt or tie his own tie without having it backward."

    "So, what I'm hearing is that you're technically already a shoe-in for that promotion."

    "Alex..."

    "In fact, you pretty much already have it."

    "Shh." You placed your finger to his lips.

    "Okay, doll, you need to know that when you do that, it makes me want to do things to you, and not soft, slow gentle things might I add."

    "Gross, Alex." You pulled a face and stepped back.

    "How is it gross? It's not like we haven't done it before. Sometimes I'm not the one who even initiates it." He stood up, following you to the door.

    "Okay, you realise that there are kids here with like supersonic hearing, right? They probably didn't need to know that." Alex just shrugged.

    "We've done it here before."

    "When the kids were out on field trips," you informed him.

    "Hmm," he chuckled. "You really think they were all on field trips?" He smirked as your cheeks heated up.

    "Oh god," you mumbled, covering your face as you both walked towards the front of the mansion.

    "Save that for later, doll." He winked at you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling your body to his—already—warm body.

    "You're like a hot water bottle." You hummed, wrapping your arms around his waist.

    "I know I'm hot."

    "So, modest."

    "But, so are you, are you sure you don't have any abilities?"

    "We're already dating, you don't need to flirt."

    Alex shrugged as you walked down the stairs. "It's fun."

    "Whatever." You rolled your eyes with a light laugh as he opened the front door for you.

    "Call me when you get back home just so I know you're safe."

    "It only takes half an hour for me to walk back. It's not even that dark out."

    "Still. I just like knowing you're safe. You know I'd drop you back but..."

    "Charles has you babysitting the younger ones, I get it."

    "Doll, I'm training them, not babysitting."

    "It sounds cuter when I imagine you babysitting them." You smiled shyly with the shrug of your shoulders.

    "Don't worry, one day we'll have children of our own, then you can actually see me babysitting them."

    You smiled to yourself as he pulled you in for a kiss. His hands cupped your face as he peppered kisses all over your face before letting you go. "I'll call you."

    "Can't wait."

    "You're so cheesy," you mumbled as you turned around, shaking your head as you walked down the stairs.

    "Heard that," he called out to you.

    "Wasn't hiding it," you replied.

-

    Sometime during your walk home you seriously regretted not taking Alex's offer to stay the night. The neighbourhood you ended up walking in seemed a lot sketchier than it did earlier that day. You pulled the coat tighter around your body as you walked passed the empty factory buildings, the overhead light was flickering. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, your senses were no longer reliable as you began to see things, hear things and smell things that weren't even there.

    "Hey, beautiful, where do you think you're going?" A voice from behind you laughed as you pulled your coat tighter around your body, your feet moving quicker.

    "C'mon, baby girl-" You cringed and wished Alex was there with you. "Why don't you come have some fun with us," the other man told you.

    You glanced back, regrettably, only to see that no one was there. You furrowed your eyebrows and stopped. You could have sworn someone was there. You turned back around and bumped into someone. You looked up at them, from what little flickering light you were able to see with, he had green skin, yellow coloured eyes, and a lot of piercings on his face. When he blinked, it was easy to see that he had two sets of eyelids.

    You stepped back, bumping into someone else. "The boss will be happy with this one," his gravelly voice echoed around the empty roads as you turned your head to see dark orange or red coloured bat wings with spikes down to the tips. You gulped before a hand reached out with a white cloth, they covered your face, and it wasn't long before you had to breathe in.

-

    When you woke up disorientated, you tried to move your hands. But the sound of chains drew your attention towards them. Your arms were raised slightly above your head to your sides, chained to two walls either side of you. You tried to look around, but all you saw was a dark room. A whimper escaped your lips. You didn't even know the amount of time you had been missing for. But surely Alex would have known something was wrong when you didn't call him.

    "I see you're finally awake, Princesa." A man clapped slowly as he walked out of the shadows.

    His skin was sunken and wrinkly, his hair was turning white while his long-clawed nails were turning yellow and chipped. You tried to get out of the chains, but it was obviously no use. The man had his arms crossed over his chest, his right hand draped over his left, he lifted his right index finger and shook it, tutting and shaking his head.

    "I wouldn't struggle if I was you," his voice was like nails running down a chalkboard. "You see, every time you do, a small amount of poison is injected through that I.V right there." He pointed to your left arm, a tube with purple liquid dripped, a small amount made its way to the needle in your arm.

    "W-What do you want from me?" You turned back to him.

    "I want to know where Professor Charles Xavier hides his group of mutants, and I know you have the exact location. Possibly even a list of the abilities those children harness."

    "Why would I tell you anything?" Your jaw tightened, as you glared at him.

    A small titter of a laugh bubbled up from his throat, his eyes lit up as his body shook with excitement. "I was so hoping you'd ask that." You watched as he waved his right bony hand to your right. "Horatio, if you'd please."

    A man with almost completely black skin, pitch black, walked out into the faint light. He had, instead of hands, what looked like knives, or at least bone marrow sharpened down to stakes, protruding from his bloodied flesh like stubbed arms. He walked closer to you, you noticed that his mouth was sewn completely shut, you glanced back to the man.

    "Oh, Horatio tends to bite, so, we had to pull them out, but that didn't stop him from creating new ones."

    "So, what was the point in-" You couldn't finish before a scream erupted from your throat.

    Horatio had cut deep into your skin, whatever was on the end of the stakes had burnt your skin, causing it to bubble and sizzle. Of course, with your scream came the struggle against the chains, meaning more poison was dripping into your body slowly and into your veins. He cut again, only this time he stabbed your side, slicing the stake out the side, creating a large wound, but of course, the bubbling of your skin from the poison somehow stopped the blood from pooling out.

    "Every time you give me a wrong answer or an answer I don't like, our friend here will have to take physical action before you give me what I want." The man smiled at you. "Oh, I'm sure you're probably wondering who I am." He paused, waiting for you to look at him. "My name is Arnold, and I will be your host for this evening and many more to come." He laughed to himself before he turned around, clearly happy with himself as he walked away. "I'll come see you in three hours, but for now, just to get some rest. You'll need it."

-

    "Wrong!" Arnold exclaimed in annoyance.

    Horatio had cut into your leg this time, soon there would be no inch of your body left untouched. Tears had long stained your face, and your body was almost at its end. Arnold had come to visit you for an exact total of three hundred and seventy-six times. Each of those times he had either nodded at your answer, not realising it was fake, due to how realistic you made it sound, and left. Or he let his group of mutants each take a swing or stab at you.

    Arnold had some healing abilities still left in him, which he used momentarily on you, only for fatal wounds that he wasn't impressed with. He had told Horatio that you were to stay alive, but all other wounds were accepted and cheered on. Not once did Alex leave your mind, you weren't sure how many days had gone by, or weeks, maybe months, possibly a year, you weren't sure anymore, but you knew that you'd die before you told Arnold anything real about the mutants.

    "You know, I've tried to be kind," Arnold started. "I mean, I'm not an idiot. I knew some of what you said wasn't true. So, I had our good old friends, Simon and Lyle, you know, the ones who escorted you here, dig in deeper with tracking your scent. And just yesterday, oh, you're going to love this." He giggled to himself. "Lyle, our green friend, found your scent, and a strong one at that, far off one of the highways."

    "No," your voice came out muffled due to how swollen your face had become.

    "Oh, yes. We found what we were looking for, there was a boy. I can't remember his name, but he put up a fight. That was before Simon sliced this throat open, and ripped out his heart. Do you want to see it?" Arnold questioned.

    "No." You shook your head as tears rolled down your face. It explained why Alex hadn't shown up for you.

    Arnold waved his hand at you. "Oh, shush, yes you do. Simon," he called out, holding his hand out as Simon handed him what looked like a human heart.

    "No."

    "He's dead. He's never going to find you, no one is. Which is why your death will be so much more easier." He glanced down to the heart and pulled a face. "Disgusting," he muttered, handing it back to Simon. "Can't believe I held that...just disgusting," he mumbled, looking at his hands. "We'll be back later." Arnold turned to leave the room.

    Alex couldn't have been dead.

-

    You just wanted it to end. Soon enough everything began to blur into one. Time no longer existed for you, neither did the pain. You just felt numb. You began to hear voices, see things that weren't there. One of which was Alex. Every time the others left he would appear, sitting on a chair in front of you, just talking to you about memories, trying to keep you afloat. But it was no use. He wasn't real. If you couldn't have the real thing then you wouldn't have anything at all.

    Even the sounds outside of the room seemed to no longer exist. It was like they had all left you for dead, the fake Alex in front of you always turned back to the door before turning back, offering you a sad smile. "I'm sorry, doll."

    "You're not real."

    "I know, but at least you're not alone."

    "Yes, I am."

    "Okay, literally you are. But figuratively, I'm here for you."

    "You're not real," you repeated or at least tried to with your swollen face.

    "I know, doll. You know, I won't be angry with you if you decided to let go," he told you with a kind smile. "I'll understand."

    "Alex, I want you to be real," you whimpered out, lowering your face.

    The fake Alex stood up. He went to reach out for you, but, of course, nothing would happen. "If you want, I'll stay with you until you're ready to go."

    You looked up at him. "I should have stayed with you."

    He shook his head. "Don't blame yourself. I'm sure I could have tried harder to get you to stay."

    "I love you,"

    "I love you too," he told you.

    Somehow, it didn't feel right saying that or hearing it. It wasn't your Alex. It felt like a completely different person. "I just want you to be real," you whispered, looking over his features.

    "And I want to be real, for your sake."

    "You're just my imagination. You always have been. Ever since I first saw you."

    "I'm real."

    "This, you, isn't, and I know that."

    "Oh." He nodded in understanding. You were talking about this version if Alex.

    "You're just my subconscious."

    "I wish I was real."

    You stayed silent, watching in step back to sit down on the chair again. "Alex?"

    "Yes, doll?"

    "I want to go home."

    "You'll be home soon, just relax, I'll be here with you. I'm never leaving you again."

-

    "Doll? Baby, can you hear me?" You heard fake Alex say to you. You faintly glanced up, your jaw tightening as he looked over your features. "It's time to go home."

    "You're not real."

    "What?"

    "You're not real."

    "Doll..."

    "You know, every time I see you again, I keep hoping that you're the real Alex. My Alex." You shook your head weakly, a tear rolling down your bruised face. "I know you said you'd stay with me when I was ready to let go, but-"

    "What? No, it's me." He shook his head confused. "What the hell did they do to you?"

    You tilted your head. "Alex?"

    "You're pretty hard to find, you know that?" He chuckled lightly, trying to somewhat lighten the mood. "We're going to get you help. Okay? We'll take you to the hospital. Then you're coming back home me. Where you belong."

    "You're real?"

    "Yeah, I'm real." He nodded his head. "By the way, you're moving in with me. I'm not risking this happening again, you can stay with me in the mansion and this time I'll never make you walk home by yourself because we'll be going home together side-by-side. You've just got to hold on a little longer. Can you do that for me?"

    "I need to know you're real," you ignored him, your voice coming out croaky.

    Alex gently placed his hands on your face, warming them up at the touch of your cold skin. "I'm real. So, are you."

-

    Charles had made sure that you got the best care, he paid for the best hospital, the best doctors, and the best facilities. Alex stayed by your side the entire time, sleeping on the chair next to your bed with his hand entwined with yours, his head near yours. The steady beeping of the heart rate monitor was relaxing, despite the circumstances that it was used for.

    One of the doctors had been a mutant with the ability to heal, which was incredibly lucky. You were certain that Charles had found him using Cerebro and called for him somehow. You never asked for details, just like how he never asked you for any details about what you went through. He knew you would tell him in time. You had only a few bruises and cuts left. But you would let them heal naturally.

    "How are you feeling?" Alex mumbled as he moved his head to look at you.

    "Tired."

    He offered you a sad smile. "I bet."

    "Thank you."

    "For what?"

    "Saving me," you told him.

    "I'd do anything for you. No matter what."

    "I love you."

    "I love you too."

    You smiled to yourself. This time it felt real. It was real. You laid your head back on the pillow, closing your eyes. "Even fake you proved to be the perfect boyfriend."

    "Great, I'm competing with myself," he mumbled.

    "But it didn't feel as real as this."

    "I'm glad. I'd hope so."

    "I thought you were dead, for the longest time I thought you were dead. That's when I began to imagine you. Because even when I didn't know, I couldn't stand to live in a world where some part of you didn't exist."

    Alex gulped, holding your hand in his, he brought it up to his lips and placed a soft kiss against your knuckles. "I love you. So much more than I can say."

    "He told me that he wouldn't be angry with me if I let go. He said he'd understand. Would you?"

    Alex looked down at the mattress of the bed. "I'd be proud of you," his voice broke. "I'd be so proud of you. Proud that you had fought, proud that you managed to stay alive for as long as you didn't against mutants. I'd love you all the same. Real or fake me, I'd be utterly in love with you. I'd completely understand if you were ready to let go."

    "I'm not ready to leave." You shook your head. "I don't want to leave. Not now. Not for a while."

    "Hopefully a long while."

    "Decades."

    Alex smiled softly, leaning up to place his lips against yours. "I'll spend those decades with you if you'll let me." You nodded your head weakly, pressing your lips back to his.