#white streak in my hair but no stress now man :p

[heartofwritiing]

Reader: *kisses revivebur*

Revivebur: “what is this?”

Reader: “affection.”

Revivebur: “disgusting.”

Revivebur: …

Revivebur: “do it again.”

[insomniac-dot-ink]

The Rash

It was the Fourth of July weekend and me and my friend Sadie were traveling out of town because our Cheetos flavored Commander and Grief was throwing some sort of rally. We had no interest in being stuck in a city of 600,000 plus people screaming at each other or else sending passive aggressive “apolitical” emails back and forth about parking spaces.

It was time to get out of the city and I told Sadie that I heard about a national park that was worth the run around. She was from the middle of nowhere Indiana and I was from upper New York state where you barely saw another human being in between greasy diners every few miles. Despite the makeup and the heels and the hair product and the suits that our jobs required we were both outdoor girls at heart.

We hopped into my jeep at around six in the morning and it felt like shedding a second skin to finally leave the DC city limits. A tangible buzz seemed to leave my system and we both turned our phones off with a laugh.

“I’m never going back.” I joked and shook my hair out as we opened both windows and felt the whip of wind across our faces.

She glanced at me through the mirror and winked, “don’t tempt me.” We were almost all the way to the Appalachian mountains by the time the sun was high in the sky and I kept yawning despite myself. I was trying to cut coffee out of my diet for the sake of my stomach and my ulcers, but that didn’t stop exhaustion from haunting my every step.

I knew I would probably be back on the brown bean by Monday, but I could pretend for at least a weekend I was going “healthy.” I must have fallen asleep though with my face against the glass, because the next thing I knew we were pulling into a wide parking lot with a spattering of family cars and Range Rovers owned by men who wore rubber toe-shoes unironically.

Sadie whacked me on the shoulder, “you better wake the hell up or I’ll beat you to the top.” She grinned wickedly and we were both scrambling outside and packing our bags to run the trial. There was no helping a competitive streak in the both of us, you didn’t get a high level job in the state department without a little bloody hunger in your veins.

My feet were slapping the dirt path just as Sadie sped away with her brown hair streaming behind her in a thick ponytail. “Better get those knees up!” She teased and jogged up the incline easily.

“Ever hear about the tortoise and the hare?” I called after her playfully, but she was already gone. “Guess who wins!”

The Appalachian trail called the Wellspring Heights was said to be one of the steepest trails in the region, which had sounded exciting up until I actually had to climb it a 40 degree angle.

“Dammit,” I cursed and tried not to slide down the dusty path again with my shoes skidding and small rocks tumbling down in my wake. It was a beige hiking trail that was two-people wide and had dark pine trees on either side that grew at strange angles and collected sticky shadows between them.

The trip was basically a straight line upward and got me panting and straining the whole way. I tried to take deep breaths and thoroughly absorb “the moment” as my stress manager suggested, but my skin began to prickle about an hour in.

I hadn’t seen a human face or a trail dog or even a hint of Sadie for all that time. I was alone.

Being alone in a national park would have been a relief at any other time, I had to deal with enough people on the phone and in-person and on 100-contact forwarded emails. But I was wheezing and my lungs burning by the second hour and still, no one. My sense of unease intensified.

I stopped as I pinpointed the strangeness. There were no sounds of birds. No birds or scurrying steps or even whoosh of wind in the branches above. My eyes went wide and I looked up toward the velvety blue sky. There weren’t any plane trails or sounds of cars in the distance, and on top of that I could have sworn it said it would be a perfectly clear day, but clouds were slowly covering the sun.

They were soft white clouds that simply turned the world dim and mutely grey. And quiet.

“Sadie!” I called just to hear the sound of my own voice. I reached for my phone and realized it was still off and in the car at the bottom of the mountain. “Can you hear me?”

I kept climbing and I glanced at my watch, it was the third hour and we both should have reached the peak of the mountain by then.

Nothing but the overcast sky and trees stood in front of me: faceless thick trees with the same bark and same branches and same scraggly bushes at their trunk. I bit my bottom lip and it felt like when I was a kid and used to see things outside my bedroom window and go running to my mom. I would yell about an impossibly tall man with a long face and sightless empty eyes in the yard.

I would go screaming to her and we would both go investigate with big clunky flash lights and find nothing there. I had ‘an overactive imagination’ she said, I would have to ‘be more brave tomorrow night’ she said. Nevertheless, I wished I could go run to my mom right then.

Only the crunch of my shoes on gravel confirmed that I hadn’t just suddenly lost my hearing. I knew I couldn’t turn back just yet though. “Sadie! We can’t be playing right now.” Had she really run so far ahead and not turned around?

The clouds rippled in a dull gloom and I looked down to see the light shift slightly dimmer. It was as if a lamp shade was tugged down or dip of grey paint spread across the air in a thin film. I frowned at it for a long second.

“Ah!” A sharp yelp came crashing behind me and I turned just in time to see a slim figure go tumbling head over foot down the stony path. Down, down, down with her arms and legs flailing.

She rolled until she was off the path and out of sight.

“What the hell?” I blinked for a few whole seconds as I absorbed that. How had she been behind me? And then I went running for her. “Sadie! Are you okay?”

I practically fell down the mountain myself and jumped over a bush and toward a huge black pine tree with a heap of a person underneath. Her length of long wavy brown hair had fallen loose around her face she lay limply against the trunk, her right arm lay at an awkward angle at her side and some sort of black tree sap or goop clung to her arms and hands.

“Fuck!” I rushed over to her, “fuck, fuck, fuck.” Her face was pale and impassive and I swung my bag around to get a first aid kit out. I dug through bandages and ointment and sunscreen only to hear a deep groan.

“Oh God.” Sadie sat up suddenly and held her head. “No, no, no.” She repeated in monotone and then a single urgent screech erupted from deep within her, “NO!”

“Don’t move!” I said quickly and quietly panicked. She inhaled sharply once and held her arm for a moment with an agonizing grimace on her thin face. “No…” She whispered and her head fell forward as if collapsed: a doll with her support taken out from under her.

“Oh God,” I focused on her bent arm, “That might be broken.” I reached for her but she sharply turned all at once away from me and faced the tree.

“Why didn’t you hear me?” She said with her back to me and a new softness to her words. “I was right behind you. Why didn’t turn around?” “You were right behind me? How?” My eyes were huge and I swallowed painfully. “Wait, one thing at a time, we need to check out your arm.” She shook her head and when she faced me again I froze as her eyes stared back at me, dull and empty and she held up the arm she had been clinging to just a second ago. “What do you mean? My arm is just a bit scratched up.” She showed it and it was covered in the same black tree sap, but perfectly straight besides that.

“But I thought-” “I think I hit my head,” she flinched and rubbed her temples. “God, I wish it was quieter, I have the worst headache right now.” “Quieter?” I sat up perfectly straight I reached for her. I would drag her out of here bridal style if I had to right then.

“Don’t you hear that?” We exchanged a very long look and my lips pinched together tightly. 

“No.”

She scrunched her face up, “maybe you should get your ears checked out.” I stared openly at the sap clinging to her skin and it was suddenly very hard to breath. “Maybe…” I looked left and right, “We should get out of here.” There were still no birds in the trees.

I helped her up and when we got back on the path the sun pierced the clouds and a man with his dog was running up the trial with a huge smile. “Nice day for a run, yeah?” I didn’t say anything back, and Sadie sagged against me as I dragged her to the car and we set our course for the hospital. However, when we got in, a steely look entered Sadie’s gaze.

My stomach plummeted cold and I reached for her to help her in, “Want me to wash that off?” I pointed at the sap-like substance.

She simply hopped into the car. “I just want to go home.” I followed in after and tried to stop thinking about the image of the black goop moving slightly. It couldn’t have been moving. I told myself and we started to drive.

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

“I don’t need to go.” Sadie was itching her arm and shifting in her seat.

“You just hit your head on the side of a mountain!” I protested and kept my sights set on the GPS and the nearest small town hospital in Knoxville.

“It’s fine, I don’t need to go. Grace, I really don’t want to.” She insisted and stretched her fingers before itching her arm again. “I just need to kick back some ibuprofen and get some sleep.” “No,” I put my foot down and steeled myself to take the next exit for the hospital. “We already agreed on this. I need to get you-” “I said,” she reached over and wrenched the steering wheel from my grip. “I don’t want to.” The wheel kept us going straight and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as my friend growled at me. There was something rough and animalistic about the noise she made and I didn’t look at her- not directly at least.

The black tar tree sap had dried and I couldn’t help but notice it was bubbling slightly. Bubbling like water over fire, bubbling like popping pustules or bursting acne: inky and slick and shifting. I felt guilty, but a primal fear gripped my gut. And I let her take us home.

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

I didn’t see Sadie much after that.

She stopped coming to our weekly drinks after work and the people in her department stopped mentioning her to me. It wasn’t that she stopped coming into work though or even stopped sending the occasional text or appearing at lunches now and then. But it was different, the Sadie I knew was loud and competitive and gave her opinions freely when given the chance.

But this one started to fade, slowly at first, and then I barely could barely pick out her face in the crowd or remember her favorite color or how we used to stay up until 2am talking and pouring chocolate on popcorn and playing mario kart with the volume up high.

Maybe it would have stayed that way, the fading, except that a friend of mine was getting married and I was invited to a bachelorette party. I didn’t particularly want to go because Angela was always a bit of a loose canon and a cheap one at that. She was famous for throwing a party with dollar store vodka and a water slide that she stole from some kids birthday party.

I found myself sitting in my apartment that night, alone, and deciding whether to call out sick at the last moment. However, I had called out of the last three socializing events and I could hear my mom’s voice in my head proclaiming “isolating yourself can’t be good for you!” So I sighed and put on my flats for dancing.

I ended up at the party with my purse clutched in my hands and a whirlwind of faces and names that passed me by and that I immediately forgot. They all asked the same question first: who do you work for? I usually got an approving look when I answered. The night dragged on with booze and cocktails and talk about the economy and bad bosses until it was midnight at some club with dark floors, pounding feet, and bright flashing lights.

I had a bad taste of jack and coke on my tongue and a bubbly sensation in my gut. I leaned on the bar and saw Angela wink at a man that wasn’t her fiance and his friend gave me a look of his own that dipped and probed around my edges.

I closed my eyes and thought of the mountains and streams and my old home with two oaks growing back in the backyard. That cleared my senses for a long second.

When I opened my eyes again something drew my attention. She was moving quickly and bouncing back and forth with a shiny brown ponytail waving in the air like a beacon. It took me a long moment to place her, as if I was moving through a thick smog toward a lighthouse.

And then it struck me: “Sadie…” I said softly and Angela came wobbling up to lean on me.

“What are you muttering to yourself about?” I turned to her with a frown, “Did you invite Sadie to this?” I asked without tearing my eyes away from the woman sandwiched between a tall man with a head tattoo and a pretty Asian girl with stark purple highlights.

Angela hiccuped gently. “What?”

“Did you invite her,” I jerked my chin toward the dancing figure. “Sadie.” “Who?” I pushed Angela away and started to force my way through the dancing, sweaty crowd. Sadie, I thought, the Sadie that I did shots with on my twenty-first birthday and ran around in the sprinklers with in our underwear.

The Sadie that held my hand when I got sick in Nick Weizmann's pool and everyone stared at me for days afterward. The Sadie that helped me pick out my first apartment and drove twenty miles in the snow after a breakup to buy me top-notch donuts.

That Sadie was wearing a long black sweater with bright red gloves, orange sandals, and short-shorts. It was altogether bizarre outfit, but no one seemed to care as she looked salaciously around at the people bumping and grinding up against her.

“Hey,” I forced my way past the head-tattoo guy and grabbed for the hand of my friend. “Sadie, why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” She cocked her head to the side and her smile faltered, “What?” She called over the music and drew back.

“Sadie!” I yelled to get her attention.

“Who?”

My mouth fell open, “Um.” I paused for a long moment and examined her as people jostled me from either side. It had to be her, no one else had her exact slightly crooked nose and thin eyebrows that made her look like a Disney villain. “Can I talk to you?” I tugged on her and she pulled back. “Back off lady.” She tore her hand out of my grip, but I was still holding onto the tip of her glove which gave a vicious tearing sound as it was wrenched off.

She gasped, “Don’t touch that!” 

Several people fell away as a hand slithered out of the glove and my face went slack. Her skin was still covered with a thick black tar that covered her fingers and wrists. It was spotty and pieces of her pale flesh still shone through, but stripes of the substance pulsed gently in place.

“Ew!” The girl with the purple hair jumped away and Sadie bore her teeth with a hiss.

“Wh-”

She turned and ran; I followed with weaving and diving steps. I was lucky I was still working out as she moved like a bat out of hell. “What happened?!” I yelled desperately, but the back door swung open with a bang and I had to dive into a black alleyway to follow.

She ran back, past huge green trash bins and boxes and darted toward the edge of the alley. I followed with fire on my heels and a desperation nestled in my heart.

“What happened in those woods?” “Nothing!” She cried and it was a strange and angry sound. “Stop following me, creep.” She whipped around as we reached a high chain-link fence that stopped the alley in a dead end.

I clutched her red glove to my chest and I looked closely at the gunk moving on her hand, “What is that stuff?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She itched her skin with a feverish twitch and her eyes darted back and forth like a caged lion.

“Sadie,” I took several soft steps toward her. “Let me help you.” Her grey eyes met mine with a certain whip-like fervor and she licked her lips with a sharp grin. “How? How could you possibly help me?” She took a dangerous step toward me.

“I don’t know.” I said truthfully. “But I’m your friend and I want to help.”

She snorted cruelly. “Friend?” She shook her head, “what’s my last name?” “That’s easy,” I said quickly but then my mouth just fell open. I was fascinated with the growing stain across her fingers and the edge of the tar inching up her exposed neck. “Easy.” I repeated and Sadie bent her chin down as the liquid mapped it’s way up her face.

“I don’t think so.” She dug her heels in before taking off and bumping into me as she sprinted back into the light of the street. I turned to give chase, but paused when I noticed the bits of black tar now dripping in her wake. It rained off her clothes and fingertips and when she looked back at me her eyes were leaking thick inky droplets of it.

I swore, and then swore again. “Stop!” I called and she stood framed in the pale white street light; Sadie mouthed two words to me, her lips forming them quietly and serenely, but with no sound coming out. They were feeble and I had to read them carefully. She said, ‘help me’ and then ran.

Tar rained off of her as I gave chase and she dodged down another street that I couldn’t see. I tried to pursue, but nothing was around the corner- not even the drops of black liquid. Nothing.

I ran and ran, darting between streets and calling her name until I was hoarse, but everywhere was empty. And when I called her phone number I got an answering machine that said that that number was disconnected. I asked friends and family and coworkers about her, but I was told they had never heard of such a person.

And I soon forgot which name to ask.

[haileykitty69]

28 Detentions Later

It was Friday, and it was the end of school. While most kids were going home, the other kids stayed because they had detention, well some other kids had to stay because they had clubs, Lisa was in one of those clubs. Bart was there because of a prank that ended up having one teacher in a full body cast, Milhouse was there as well since he was with Bart when the prank was going on. Nelson, Jimbo, Dolph, and Kearney was there because bullying of course. There was one last student there, the kids in the class find her mysterious, creepy, and insane. She was wearing a dark gray beanie, she had a white shirt with blue sleeves, red pants, dark pink shoes, her hair was brown and had some blue streaks. Her name was Hailey. Why was she there exactly? Well, let's just say that one kid had to go to the hospital because of her. Why she did it? She heard that kid said something awful about someone she loves. She also did that so she can be with the person who she loved, when he finally came into the classroom, she was really happy to see him. He however wasn't that happy actually, he was more tired. "Darn it, why do you have to misbehave all the time? Why can't you just behave for once? If you behaved, you could of just stayed at home and do stuff like playing video games, watching some movies, having pizza, drinking a lot of soda and eating a lot of candy. But no, you had to do awful things today. It's the weekend for crying out." The male principal sighed. "I'm only here because I love you, Seymour!" Hailey replied. "Well, stop doing bad things then! Okay?" Seymour took off what was part of his suit revealing the lavender shirt he wears with the rose petal pink tie, he was feeling a little hot right now. When he started getting bored, he started doodling, one of those doodles had some kangaroos, and there was even one where he apparently drew one character from My Little Pony what seem to be Fluttershy. Hailey got up from her desk without Seymour noticing, then she started looking at the pictures he was making. "those look really good!" She said as he jumped. "What the- thank you, but please get back to your desk. just because you gave me a compliment, doesn't mean you're gonna get out of any detentions for getting out of your desk. But really, thank you though. You still have detention, but since you're really nice to me, then you can go use your phone to pass the time, listen to some music, watch some videos, or play some games on there." Seymour replied. Then she went back to her desk and went on her phone to make a few drawings on there since she has a drawing app on her phone. Milhouse wasn't feeling so good right now, he felt like he was gonna vomit. "P-Principal Skinner? Can I go to the bathroom?" Milhouse said weakly. Seymour looked at the blue haired boy and noticed that he looked sick. "Dear God! Go straight to the nurse, young man! you don't look well at all! And if she says you're sick, you have to go straight home." then Milhouse left the classroom to go to the nurse. "Wow, He really convinced Skinner. Although I wonder how he was able to make himself look so pale. It was like he really looked sick." Said Jimbo. "Excuse me? but that didn't look like makeup or anything, young man! I think he was actually sick because he looked like a walking corpse! I think he was gonna throw up right there and just collapsed! Besides, he isn't that talented with makeup." Seymour replied.

Milhouse was on his way to the nurse, then he opened the door to meet Lunch Lady Doris dressed as a nurse. "yeah, before you ask, I'm a nurse as well because I get two paychecks for this." She said as Milhouse was confused. "So what's the problem?" "I feel like I'm gonna pu-" Milhouse started vomiting everywhere, This Startled Doris. After Milhouse finally stopped puking, he fall down on the puke covered floor face flat. "Oh my god! Get up! Hello?!?" then Milhouse slowly got up and Doris was relieved. "oh thank god, I gotta tell your parents to pick you u-AAAAAAAAAP!!!" Doris screamed as Milhouse jumped on her.

Bart was completely bored in the classroom, he couldn't do anything right now. Nelson was asleep, Jimbo was whispering with Dolph and Kearney about their plans to escape detention, and Hailey was listening to music while drawing a lot of pictures. They suddenly heard someone screaming, then Lisa ran into the classroom and slammed the door shut, locking it. "LISA! WHAT THE HECK?" Seymour started panting. "It's Milhouse! he's eating everyone alive!" Lisa screamed. "Lisa, I expect this stuff from Bart, but I don't expect you to make stuff like that up. And Milhouse is probably home already. So I'm just gonna unlock this door and you will go right back to your club while I go to the bathroom, I did drank a lot of grape juice." Seymour unlocked the door and Milhouse was standing there. "Milhouse? you're supposed to go home..." Milhouse started getting closer, Hailey saw this and pulled out a gun from her backpack just in case something awful happens. She only has a gun in there in case someone starts a school shooting. "Milhouse?" then Milhouse jumped at him, only to be shot in the face by Hailey. Seymour was completely frozen in fear, he didn't know how to respond to what just happened. He didn't have to go to the bathroom anymore since his pants were completely soaking wet now after witnessing a student getting shot in front of him. Nelson would of done his usual "haw haw" when something embarrassing happens to someone, but after seeing Milhouse getting shot, he didn't know what to do anymore. Bart was silent for a moment, then he started charging at Hailey but then Lisa grabbed him so he couldn't attack her. "YOU KILLED MY FRIEND! YOU MONSTER!" Bart screamed at the top of his lungs as he tried to get out of Lisa's grip. "He was a flesh eating zombie you idiot. didn't you see the blood on him?" Hailey replied. "YEAH, AFTER YOU SHOT HIM YOU JERK!" then Seymour snapped out of it and saw what was going on. "ENOUGH! EVERYONE CALM DOWN! I KNOW SOMEONE JUST GOT SHOT, BUT STOP IT!" everyone stopped except Hailey because she wasn't really doing anything right now. They were really surprised when they heard him yelling that loud. "DEAR GOD! ...I don't know what to tell his parents...oh god...but could you guys just stop...I'm already stressed out with what's going on...please stop...I don't think I can take this...any..." then he broke down into tears, all the students were supposed to see him crying. "I HAD TO DEAL WITH BART'S CRAP! I HAD TO DEAL WITH THE ABUSE MY MOTHER GIVES ME! I HAD TO DEAL WITH MY BOSS YELLING AT ME ALL THE TIME! NOW I HAVE TO DEAL WITH THIS?!? MY LIFE IS ALREADY STRESSFUL!!! I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE! I JUST WANT THINGS TO BE PERFECT! BUT NO! IT JUST KEEPS BLOWING UP IN MY FACE!" Seymour continued crying while Hailey tries to comfort him. Lisa ran up to the door and locked it just in case. "We can't just stay here right now! There's clearly a zombie apocalypse going on! If we want to survive, we need to shoot the ever living fudge out of those brain eating dummies!" Hailey said as she picks Seymour up. "what the- how are you able to- woah!" Seymour was surprised when Hailey started running with him on her back while she has her backpack on. "we also need to get food! And since money has no meaning right now, everything is free! So I can get all the chocolates and sodas I want! EVERYONE, FOLLOW ME IF YOU WANT TO LIVE! and eat a lot of chocolates!" Then she breaks a window with a chair, makes sure there is no more glass shards there, and ran while everyone else even Lisa started following her.

Everything was going great until a bunch a zombies ambushed them. "SCATTER! SCATTER GODDAMN IT!" Then Everyone ran in different directions where the zombies aren't at while Hailey who still had Seymour on her back ran in a different direction as well. When both Hailey and Seymour got cornered by the zombies, Seymour got off her back and started to panic but then she handed him a paddle and took out a shotgun. "Why did you give me a paddle?" Seymour asked. "Ever Watched Shaun of the dead?" Then Seymour jumped when Hailey used the shotgun on the zombies. "kinda, but didn't the other guy used a shovel?" then Hailey shot the other zombie that was about to bite him. "I only have a toy shovel because they were all out of real shovels....but I probably might get a real shovel when we get to the store." Seymour then started to beat the zombies to death with the paddle. When the zombies were all completely destroyed, they continued to get to the store. When they were finally there, Bart, Lisa, Nelson, Jimbo, Dolph and Kearney were surprisingly happy to see them. They got in the store and started to get food, drinks, weapons, and other things. "Now we need to go to a different place so the zombies never find us!" Everyone was confused about what Hailey said. "But didn't we already-" Before Jimbo could say anything, Hailey looks at him. "Hadn't you watched zombie movies? Hadn't you seen someone's tips on surviving a zombie apocalypse? Sure, stores may be a perfect place, but it's actually not good to stay in stores while there's a zombie apocalypse going on." Said Hailey as she grabbed her backpack and puts it on. "You think the mall's a good idea? I could go for those cinnamon pretzels right now." Bart's stomach growled as he kept thinking about the delicious cinnamon pretzels. "Well, if we lock that place up and don't let any zombies in, then yes! And Seymour, no matter what, don't open it for your mother! She could be a zombie!" Seymour was confused about what she said. "um...okay?..."

They went to the mall, Hailey found a car and started hot wiring it, they were surprised to see her make a car work. "Yeah, I saw some videos that teaches you how to make a car work without a key." Then everyone got in the car, Seymour got in the driver seat, but then a zombie came up and Hailey moved Seymour into the passenger seat and started driving extremely fast and started to run over all the zombies. They finally got to the mall and ran inside, there were surprisingly no one in there, and there weren't any zombies in there either. They then locked the place up, and everything had worked out. No one died and they all lived happily ever after, the end!

"Hold on! that's it? that story didn't make sense!" Jessica shouted. "Is it because you weren't in my great story?" Hailey replied. "Hey! calm down! calm down! The story was kinda great and all, but why are you telling us about it in detention?" Seymour asked. "I just wanted to sure a story that I made to everyone." Said Hailey. "Well, Your story sucked!" Jessica snickered. "Young Lady, just for that, you have detention for five months!" Seymour yelled at Jessica. "I'm already in detention, idiot!" Jessica started laughing. "You flithy pig! I'll kick your ass for calling him an idiot!" Then Hailey punched Jessica in the face. "YES! A FIGHT!" Francine cheered. "HAW HAW! Hailey's stronger then Jessica!" Said Nelson. "Why did you have me die in the story?!?" Then Milhouse joined the fight and got knocked out. "Okay, Calm Down everyone! If you all stop fighting, then I will give you all chocolate bars! And they are all milk chocolate!" Seymour then gave them all chocolate bars. "Here's some chocolate, Seymour-Senpai." Said Hailey as she gave him a big half of her chocolate bar. "Oh, thank you. I honestly wasn't expecting you to give me a huge part of your chocolate." Then Seymour ate the chocolate.

The End....for real this time.

[kin-kendry]

Solace

CW: Violence/Murder

AO3

----------

“He’s safe now,” Aneela spoke as they took off through the woods again, leaving the cube behind them.

“Are you sure?” While Kendry trusted the other woman with her life, she didn’t want to underestimate the Lady.

“Well, the cube kept me safe when the Green was destroyed. There are only three people in the entire universe who can access them.”

“And what makes you think that Khlyen wouldn’t find out and lead her directly to him?”

“Papa wouldn’t do that… Not after everything. He kept Yala safe, after all,” Aneela didn’t sound so convinced herself, but she had to hold out hope.

They walked side by side through the trees in silence for hours. The crunch of fallen leaves and twigs, and the gentle breeze rustling the trees became white noise.

Delle Seyah felt like she could finally breathe again. Jaq was safe, and Aneela was back with her. She wasn't dead. While she didn't show it in front of Jaq, Kendry had been heartbroken when she found out that the Killjoys returned without Aneela.

Queens don't cry, remember? Jaq had parroted her words.

This one does, now. She’s a teeny bit broken.

She had cried, several times in fact, while Jaq had slept. Seyah Kendry crying after losing the one woman she loved, the only one she trusted in the universe? Illenore would be laughing in her grave… 

"Kendry?" Aneela's gentle voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

Delle Seyah had stopped walking without realising, and a lone tear track marked her left cheek. She swallowed the lump in her throat and her eyes focused on the woman in front of her.

"I'm sorry, I… I just thought… Gods, I thought I lost you for good," Delle Seyah sighed, suddenly feeling physically and emotionally exhausted.

"I'm here, Kendry. You don't have to worry anymore. I won't ever leave you again, and I will protect you," Aneela said, holding her partner's hands in her own. "I'm not letting you out of my sight."

Kendry collapsed into Aneela's arms. There was an intense need to be held by her, to be as close as possible. It wasn't something she would have ever thought herself capable of feeling or craving. But here she was, eyes glassy and slumped in her beloved's arms. 

"Oh, Kendry. Let's set up camp. You need to rest."

Aneela sat Delle Seyah down on a fallen tree while she began clearing leaves and other forest debris. Not long after, a camp fire was crackling as the sun set and a bedroll was laid out.

"I missed you so much, you know?" Aneela finally spoke once she set herself down next to Kendry, sitting so that they were pressed against each other. 

Delle Seyah was feeling uncharacteristically clingy, so she rested her head against Aneela's shoulder. It made her feel a little better knowing that Aneela was thinking of her even during such a stressful, life threatening time. 

"All I could think about once the Green started crumbling was you and Jaq. For a while I didn't think I'd make it. But you both found me. Jaq, he… He looks so much like me when I was younger. I see Yala in him too. But his personality… He has the same conviction. The same hunger for answers, and a brilliant mind just like his mother."

"Unfortunately he's picked up a lot of the Jaqobis traits," Kendry let out a derisive laugh. 

"I'm sure we can fix that when all of this is over," Aneela smirked.

"When all of this is over I'd like to take you to my home on Qresh. Show you where I grew up. We could rule together, if you're okay with settling with control over the Quad rather than the entire universe."

"Hmm, that sounds like a very tempting offer. I'm not really interested in dominating the universe anymore. I've got more important things in my life now," Aneela tilted Kendry's chin up before pressing their lips together in a tender kiss. “It’ll be good to see my old home planet.”

The two women relaxed against each other, the tension and exhaustion of the past few days melting away. Aneela could help but laugh as she pulled away.

"I still find it so odd that you're human again."

"I can tell you now that it is the worst," Delle Seyah grumbled.

"I'll have to do some tests first, but if you like I could try to convert you again."

"Oh, please. Feeling things, being so vulnerable… It's humiliating."

"And yet, you've proven to be strong and capable even without Hullen blood."

"Yes, well, I suppose survival is what humans are best at, despite everything," Kendry sighed.

Their conversation came to a natural end, and they just sat in silence, watching the sun set until the only sources of light were the moon and their camp fire. They settled down on their bedroll, wrapped in each others arms. Delle Seyah felt safe for the first time since Aneela freed her from that contraption Gander kept her in. Their faces were only centimetres apart. Kendry smiled and cupped Aneela's jaw.

"I love you, Aneela."

"And I love you, Kendry. Now sleep. I know you're tired."

Delle Seyah couldn't have protested if she tried. Her eyes wouldn't stay open and her body was already preparing for sleep. She felt fingers card through her hair, and Aneela's nails massaging her scalp. It was so soothing.

"Good night, little bird," Aneela's voice sounded far away as sleep enveloped Kendry in darkness.

----------

Aneela couldn’t sleep. They were exposed where they set up camp, and she already had time to rest while in hiding. Feeling Kendry’s body rise and fall with her even breaths brought comfort to her. It was a cool, cloudy night and the wind had picked up a little. Their campfire was reduced to a low smolder, so the only source of light was the moonbeams peeking through the clouds. It was calm, and calm didn’t settle well with Aneela.

Had she been less vigilant, Aneela would have missed the almost imperceptible rustle of leaves on the forest floor. The footsteps came closer until they were looming over the two prone bodies. A hand reached out slowly, ready to peel the blanket off the two women. Aneela opened her eyes and gripped the outstretched wrist, snapping it back until she heard bones crack. The potential assailant howled in pain and stumbled back, cradling their hand. Aneela jumped up, jostling Kendry as she did so. Delle Seyah gasped as she sat up, her eyes trying to track whatever was going on. But it was so dark and she could barely make out the five silhouettes. 

Aneela heard the sound of a bullet flitting past her and whirled around to face the next threat. She charged towards assailant, taking one shot to her side before gripping the handgun and crumpling it in her hand. The clouds above shifted and moonlight shone down in streaks upon the camp. Aneela could see that the bandits were covered in pelts and bones, with human skulls worn as helmets. She grinned as the current woman she was focused on cowered at the display of inhuman power. One of the others took a shot at Aneela, blasting clean through her shoulder. The wound healed instantly.

Aneela grabbed the woman by the throat and whipped her around to use as a meat shield. Another shot was fired, piercing through the bandit’s stomach. She shoved the limp body towards the third bandit before turning on the first one she injured.

“Wh-What are you?” The man asked, backing himself up against a tree.

“I’m your worst nightmare. You and your friends thought you found an easy target. Well, you’ve made a very big mistake,” Aneela hissed, her eyes wide and wild.

Aneela ripped one of the pointed bones from the man’s clothing and stabbed him several times in the neck, relishing in the gurgling as he choked on his own blood. The two remaining bandits were already on the run. Aneela grabbed Kendry’s bow and two arrows. She fired both off quickly, each hitting their targets and incapacitating them. The bandits cowered as Aneela approached, their arms and legs too weak to carry them very far. She stomped on their calves and drew a knife from her belt, the polished metal glinting in the moonlight.

“P-Please… We won’t cause anymore trouble. Let us go,” One of them begged.

“I can’t let you do that,” Aneela’s voice was quiet. “I’ve had a trying few days, and I need to let off some steam.”

“Oh god, no! Please no!” The other bandit attempted to escape again, but Aneela was quick.

She kicked the bandit in the face and crushed his neck with her boot, watching as he struggled. The hands clawing at the leather of her boot grew weaker and weaker as the human suffocated, eyes rolling into the back of his head. The other bandit had curled up on the forest floor, weeping and clutching his calf.

“Only one left. Whatever shall I do with you?” Aneela mused aloud as she played with the knife in her hands. “I could spare you, but then you’d run off and tell the rest of your group what happened. I already killed your friends, so I may as well just finish off the job.”

“Aneela, enough,” Delle Seyah’s voice echoed out through the trees as she approached her love.

“Kendry! Have you finally come to join me?” Aneela’s face lit up as she turned to the other woman.

“No, you need to stop this right now,” Delle Seyah wasn’t playing around.

She stopped directly in front of Aneela, looking her up and down. Her pristine white clothes were splattered with blood, and there were a few drops across her face from when she stabbed one of the bandits. Kendry sighed and shook her head, taking the knife from her beloved’s hands.

“I don’t understand,” Aneela frowned. “They tried to attack us. I was protecting you.”

“I know, but being cooped up in a cube for days doesn’t mean you get to massacre everyone in sight,” Kendry said before walking over to the remaining bandit and offering her hand to the poor soul. “Get up. This is the only chance you’re getting.”

The bandit was beyond terrified but took the kind offer, letting Delle Seyah haul him up on to his good leg. As he opened his mouth to express his gratitude, Kendry gripped his head and bared his throat. She made quick work of the man, slitting his neck and dumping him back on the ground. Aneela’s expression morphed from annoyed to confused, and finally settled on a mix of delight and lust.

“But- Why?”

“I wasn’t going to let you have all the fun now, was I?” Kendry smirked as she leaned down to wipe the blood off the knife on the bandit’s pelt. “You didn’t seriously think I’d changed, did you?”

“Oh, Kendry…” Aneela laughed in relief while Kendry tucked the knife back into her belt.

“I enjoyed watching you take down those pathetic ants. You know I love it when you get mad,” Kendry’s voice lowered into a sultry whisper, closing the gap between them.

“I couldn’t help myself. I’ve been itching to hurt something,” Aneela’s hands clenched and unclenched as she took a couple of slow, calming breaths.

“I think I know of a better way to release some of that pent up energy, Aneela.”

Kendry lips grazed Aneela’s and her hands moved to her hips. The kiss was passionate and demanding, both women running on adrenaline from their recent activities. A heady concoction of murder and lust was something Aneela and Delle Seyah found themselves experiencing every now and again, and it made for fucking phenomenal sex. They drew back from the kiss, both breathing heavily and gazing into each others darkened eyes. Aneela caressed Delle Seyah’s jaw, her touch soft and light.

“Gods, I’ve missed you, Kendry.”

[vizhi0n]

Sawney - Part 11

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Ahhh I’m so excited for this chapter. It’s probably my absolute fav and I had fun writing it. I hope a lot of y’all are satisfied with it XD anywho, thank you guys so much for sticking with this story! *sends u a million hearts*

Anywho, if you want to be tagged or untagged, lemme know!

Warnings: Negan’s potty mouth and, finally, smut.

@castielwinchester22 @i-am-negan-trash @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash@genevievedarcygranger @kijilinn @ladylorelitanyfanfiction @lucifers-trash-stash @superprincesspea @doyouhaveavacancy @hannibalssweaters @heartfulloffandoms @strangersangel9 @kellyn1604 @crzcorgi @mypapawinchester @my-achilles--heel @moonypetyr @darkangel66a @backseat-negan @vinylmadwoman @embracetheapocalypsewithme @lovingzombiechaos @jasoncrouse @mcnegan @melodicdolls @itstotalyblue @imjustmakingsuffupagain @jeffreydeanneganstrash @gremlinfuck @originalwinchestervamp @negans-network

The moment Negan dismissed the crowd, and Dwight was toted off to see Carson, he went down to the cells. 

A million thoughts ran through his mind. He considered punishing Mother by making it a spectacle, a public event. The only downside was that Mother was  an enigma. Such an act would only benefit Negan. The others, the rest of the Saviors, they didn’t know.

He was still simmering. He hadn’t spoken a word to Sherry. Gavin had been the one to catch her and Dwight going at it, and from the lack of excuses Sherry gave, he assumed it to be true. Sherry wasn’t the one to be silent. Ever. 

Rules are rules.

Negan prayed none of his men had caught the tremble in his hand. He’d done it nonchalantly, almost stoically before. But the internal wounds caused by Mother and Father had yet to close. He was still weak. 

You’re not them. You’re not.

He entered the cell. Mother looked up, flashing her crooked teeth. The smile made Negan sick to his stomach, and he knelt, placing Lucille on the ground behind him. 

“I heard screams. Did you punish someone?”

“Yes,” Negan answered. 

“How?”

“A hot iron to the fucking face. You might be next if you don’t stop asking questions,” Negan growled. “I fucking came here to take one last good look at you.”

“Finally run out of patience?” Mother crowed. She shifted, restraints rattling. Negan’s heart began to beat faster, and he absently reached for Lucille before catching himself, stopping.

No. Not like this.

“Yeah, I fucking have. People like you don’t deserve a fucking trial or a punishment. Your fucking legacy is dead,” Negan leaned forward. “And soon, you will be, too. My Saviors are going to live on, fucking prosper — you had a chance to prosper with us, but you didn’t. Desa is the only one who made the right decision. I thought I’d let you know that she’s alive before you fucking die.”

That revelation caused Mother’s face to contort in rage. She bared her teeth, lunging, cursing, hair billowing like a halo. Negan met her halfway, planting a knee against her chest, both hands around her throat.

She hissed and scratched like an animal, nails drawing blood. Negan, consumed with bloodlust, did not feel the abrasions against his skin. He squeezed and Mother gasped, trying to draw in air as Negan slowly crushed her windpipe. 

She thrashed, her kicking legs falling limp, her grip on Negan slackening. He continued to squeeze until his knuckles turned white and he could feel cartilage crunch beneath his fingers, long after Mother’s heart had ceased to beat.

He quickly drew his knife and thrust it into Mother’s head. She lay, a corpse, deader than the people she’d lobotomized. 

Negan wiped his hands, standing. When he exited the cell, Fat Joey was waiting for him, a very, very concerned look on his flushed face. 

“What the fuck do you want, Joey?”

“It’s her. The girl. The one from the Estate or whatever,” Joey stammered, tripping over his words. But Negan heard him clearly, crisply, and they sent dread coursing throughout his entire body. “She’s gone. She ran.”

You’ve made a gross miscalculation.

Desa followed the main road for miles, the path towards the Estate clear in her mind. She’d set a goal for herself, and she was determined to complete it. It gave her something to focus on. Something to keep her mind off the sound of Dwight’s flesh simmering away beneath a hot iron —

Don’t think about. Don’t. 

While she’d been confident at first, she was beginning to realize how rashly she’d acted. She had a knife, no gun, no bag of supplies. The trip to the estate would take her at least two days by foot, and she wasn’t entirely sure if there were any outposts on the way. 

She kept walking, anyway. Even as the sun began to set, she continued her trek until she was, finally, forced to stop as a car rolled up behind her, headlights flickering on. 

You tried. 

“You have some goddamn nerve coming out here. What the fuck could you possibly have been thinking?”

Desa didn’t look at Negan. 

“I wasn’t thinking.”

“Obviously. Goddamit, Desa. Come here.” Desa still wasn’t looking at Negan. She felt his hand against the back of her neck as he rounded on her, dipping his head to meet her unfaltering gaze. After a long pause, Negan sighed and said, “What’s the fucking matter?”

“Dwight. You burned him.”

“Yeah, I did. He didn’t follow the fucking rules. I couldn’t let that shit go unpunished,” Negan explained softly. “That’s how we do things here, Desa. I don’t like doing that shit, but it has to be done.”

“Why?”

“He snuck behind my fucking back to get with Sherry—”

“I know that. I don’t care about that. Why did you have to burn his face?”

Negan pinched the bridge of his nose, glancing over Desa’s shoulder. Leaves rustled, followed by the soft groan of a biter as it shuffled onto the road. Negan murmured, “Go get in the fucking car.”

“I’m not going back. Not yet. You’re going to take me somewhere, first.”

Negan spun Lucille, downing the biter in one heavy swing. Pearls of blood dripped from the barbed wire, but Negan didn’t seem to care. Letting out a breath, he turned and said, “You’re in no position to be making demands.”

“If you won’t take me, I’ll walk.”

“The fuck you won’t.”

“Then let’s go. Right now. To the Estate, so I can bury Jack,” Desa could tell that she’d struck a nerve as she pleaded, “Please. After what I did, he deserves…something.”

“Tell me why the fuck you’re out here, first.”

“I was scared. The iron…Dwight…all that scared me. I wasn’t thinking clearly, so I ran. I thought I’d put all that behind me. I thought the Sanctuary was different—”

“It is,” Negan stressed, walking quickly towards Desa. He stopped when he saw her flinch away. “I only punish those who fuck up. Not for some sick, twisted fucking pleasure. I can’t just…ignore the rules that I set up to fucking keep people alive.”

“I don’t know how putting a hot iron against Dwight’s face is keeping him alive.”

“I’m not asking you to fucking understand, Desa. I’m asking you to fucking trust me, know that I’d never hurt you. Not like that. You’ve fucking been through enough shit already for me to be worried about serving a proper punishment,” Negan glanced away. “That’s all I ask, okay? Fucking trust. I’ll take you to Jack, and then we can go the fuck home.”

Desa nodded, silently crawling into Negan’s truck. He revved the engine, rolling down the road with a stoic, fatigued expression on his face. Lucille lay in his lap and Desa absently reached out to run her fingers across the smooth handle. 

“Like her? She’s saved my fucking life more times than I can fucking count,” Negan murmured. “The only woman that’s ever been there for me in this shithole of a world.”

“The only woman? No one else?”

Negan took a second to reply. “Yeah. Pretty fucking much.”

Desa gave a hum of acknowledgment, resisting the urge to doze off. The drive blurred into a few instances, a few conversations here and there, until finally, Negan was pulling up to the Estate.

The place was still fenced off, having been swept somewhat clean by Negan’s men. Bodies had been yanked from within, struck in the head and tossed into a pile in the courtyard. As Negan closed and secured the fence, Desa immediately rushed over. 

No Jack. But she did see Todd. And Allison. Corpses, peppered with gunshots to the head and body. 

Shit. They didn’t get the cellar. 

She turned to Negan, shaking her head. The older man heaved a sigh, hefting Lucille over his shoulder. 

“He’s still down there. I’ll go get him.”

“Not alone.”

“Yes, alone. I wanted to do this. I won’t risk you possibly getting hurt because of my idea—”

“Don’t fucking worry about me. You’re not fucking going alone. Sorry, not fucking sorry.”

Desa rolled her eyes, but tried not to smile. She drew her knife, getting into position and slowly pushing open the front door. No gnashing teeth greeted her — just the blood-streaked tiled floors. and a wall decorated with bullet holes. 

She mentally prepared herself, taking a few breaths. She stopped atop the cellar stairs, staring through the open door. Again, there were no biters. Just an eerie silence from below. She knew Arat and the others had gotten the weapons and most likely shot the place up again, but she still didn’t like the feeling. She never imagined herself going into the cellar again. 

Yet, here she was, under some delusion that giving Jack a proper burial would cleanse her of her sins. 

Behind her, Negan said, “Stay here.”

“Negan—”

“I know everyone down there is fucking dead for good. You don’t need to see it a second time. You said Jack is the only kid?”

“Yeah. He’s got dark hair. Bright shirt. Hard to miss. Negan, you don’t have to—”

He was already gone, stepping briskly down the stairs and into the dimly lit cellar. For five minutes Desa waited, arms at her side.

She nearly wept when he came walking up the stairs, Jack’s body in his arms. He had a solemn look on his face, and Desa rushed to grab the shovel from the utility closet. 

They dug a small grave, barely speaking. And when it was time, Desa helped lower Jack’s body into the pit. They covered him, until only a patch in the dirt was left. The physical exertion left Desa sweating, and it wasn’t until Negan let the shovel gently fall against the grass did she begin to weep. The tears came from a place of exhaustion, pain, and sorrow. 

Negan let her cry, observing as she fell to her knees. It was only until after the last upheaval that he touched Desa’s shoulder, helping her stand. 

“We’ll stay the fucking night, okay? I have a walkie — I’ll radio Simon, let him know.”

They shut and locked the mansions doors. It was now just the two of them, and Desa’s mind became flooded with memories. There had always been noise throughout the building. Residents. Now it was…dead. Dead, except the power. For some reason, the lack of sound made things almost…worse.

“C’mon,” Desa trudged up the stairs, Negan hot on her heels. She was dodging horrific memories, pushing forward until she reached the set of swinging double doors that led to Mother and Father’s room. 

It was grand, with a massive bed and bath, intricate paintings and a desk and chair. 

“This wasn’t my room, before you ask.”

“I could fucking tell. This art style…doesn’t fucking seem like you.”

“Mother liked art. Father thought all the painting were tacky,” Desa snorted. 

“They’d argue about it. Almost like a normal fucking couple.”

“If you exclude the fact that they’re siblings.”

“None of us knew. Some of us suspected,” Desa snorted. “They…they look similar. I just thought they were one of those really well matched couples. Physically, at least. There were other things to worry about, much so that I don’t think many people cared.”

“Why did you want to come up here?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe I wanted to see it because, for the first time, I’m not afraid. Of them. You notice things when you aren’t afraid.”

���What have you noticed?” Negan asked. He was on the other side of the room, hunched a bit. He’d put Lucille against the desk and removed his glove before turning on the lamp, basking the room in a warm orange light. 

“I’ve noticed you.”

Negan lifted his head. Desa’s fingers traced patterns against the bedsheets as he approached, more curious than surprised, almost like he hadn’t heard her correctly. He stopped, his breath warm against her cheek.

“At that moment, Desa’s brain reminded her of how sweaty and clammy her skin was. She made a noise in the back of her throat, shifting away from Negan and saying, “I need to shower before I sleep.”

“So do I. And I’m fucking hungry.”

“Mother and Father hid the foods they liked under the bed,” Desa said. “I’m not exactly sure how much variety there is, but it’s food. We can take the rest back with us.” 

There was no door to the bathroom. The shower was glass, wide and beautifully tiled. 

The bathtub still had her blood in it, dried to the white surface. She quickly looked away, mustering up the courage and forcing herself not to be bothered as she stripped, aware that Negan was staring out of the corner of his eye. 

She showered, and then Negan. After, clad in clothes that had once belonged to Mother and Father, they sat on the bed and devoured cans of food. It wasn’t a gourmet meal, but with the moody, dramatic lighting it felt like the closest thing to a date Desa had ever been on in this biter-infested world. 

“This was a good idea. Staying overnight.”

“These sheets are softer than mine, goddamn,” Negan felt the fabric beneath his fingers, smirking. After a few chuckles, his face went from mirthful to serious. He shifted positions, a telltale sign of nervousness. Then he said, “Desa, before I went after you…I visited Mother. I fucking killed her. I had to end it right there.”

“You sound like you expected me to be upset. I’m not. I could care less how she dies,” Desa grumbled. She hoped the look on her face didn’t betray her words — she wasn’t lying. Mother’s death was a good thing. A very, very good thing. The fact that they were in her former bedroom, eating food she and Father had once shared, made it even better.

“Now we have one fucking left.”

“If he’s still around. Father is smart. He knows he’s outnumbered. He’ll fall back and strike when its time.”

“Even more of a reason to fucking hunt him down.”

“Hey,” Desa reached out, gently cupping Negan’s cheek, running her thumb across his stubbled jaw. “I’m here for you. I am. But don’t let this get to your head.”

Negan turned his head, kissing Desa’s palm as he murmured, “I won’t. I fucking won’t.”

“Do you see yourself in him, Negan? In Father?” Negan didn’t reply. Desa took his silence as admission, saying, “Because to me, you’re not him. You never will be. I told you I was going to try and understand, and I am.”

Negan nuzzled Desa’s palm, letting out a sigh of contentment. For the first time, Desa initiated the kiss, getting on her knees and dipping her head down to press her lips against his. She was hasty — maybe a bit too hasty, skimming her fingers beneath Negan’s shirt in a subtle hint that she wanted the material off his body. He stopped her, gripping her by the wrists.

“I need to make sure that you fucking want this.”

“I do. Do you?”

Negan nodded. Desa glanced down, toying with the the zipper to his pants. She could feel him, hot and hard beneath the palm of her hand. His breathing was ragged, fingers trembling as he tried to control himself. He leaned forward and gave her an open mouthed kiss, teeth nipping at her lower lip while his hands crept up her shirt.

Desa pulled away, saying quickly, “I don’t know how to do this — I’ve never — I’ve never, done it like…slowly. I’ve never done it like this.”

She kept the explanation simple. She didn’t want to think about her first time with Mother and Father. Negan’s inviting, warm gaze was a comfort. 

“We won’t rush. We don’t have to rush,” Negan murmured, continuing to speak as Desa removed his shirt. She traced her fingers across the fading ink on his skin, flattening her palm against the skull on his chest. He added, “Although, I might have to take some fucking time to deal with little Negan.”

“Little Negan?”

“My dick.”

Desa cackled at his bluntness, resting her mouth against his shoulder to stifle her laughter. She wiped tears from her eyes, choking, “You are weird.”

“So are you.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have a name for my vagina,” Desa retorted. Negan lightly swatted her ass, before he slipped a finger beneath the hem of her underwear. Desa had opted out of wearing pants — an oversized shirt she’d found in the closet fit just fine. Her attire allowed easy access to her most sensitive parts, and she deftly removed it without a second thought.

“God. You’re fucking soaked,” Negan purred. “Is that all for me?”

Desa squirmed in Negan’s lap, trying to remain stoic as he hooked two fingers, sweeping them across her clit. They felt impossibly large, easing their way inside her. Negan smirked when she gave an audible moan. 

“I’ve gotta get you ready for me,” Negan grunted. Desa angled her hips, trying her best not to rock against his fingers. He gave a low whistle, growling, “Fuck. Look at you, riding my fucking fingers.”

He pulled away, leaving Desa half-sated. She reached for him, but he raised his slick fingers, popping them both into his mouth. He gave a satisfied groan.

It was the first time a man had made an effort to pleasure her. Her nights with Father hadn’t been anything but unshared enjoyment, all the pleasure on Father’s side. Desa would just…lay there and take it. 

Don’t think about that. Don’t think —

“Negan—”

“What is it, baby?” Negan purred against her skin. He’d pushed his pants and boxers down past his knees before kicking them away. He fisted his erect cock, and Desa fell back against the mattress while he hovered over her, chest heaving. His free hand ripped the thin fabric of Desa’s panties, and in a hoarse voice he said, “Fuck. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you.”

“Good. Fucking good girl,” Negan panted, easing the tip past Desa’s moist folds. She squirmed, whining at the intrusion. It felt foreign, odd — he was bigger than Father. She wasn’t used to being pampered, taken care off. She squeezed the bedsheets, closing her eyes and letting out a soft breath as Negan said, “Shit. Shit, you’re fucking…shit. Does that hurt?”

“A little.”

Negan braced one arm next to her head, thrusting forward abruptly. He leaned down, swallowing Desa’s moans in a kiss. Desa lifted her hips to meet his hard thrusts, mouth open in bliss as he breathily swirled his hips, falling into a steady rhythm stirred on by Desa’s begging. 

She clamped around him the moment he snaked a hand around her throat, applying light pressure to her jugular. Beads of sweat dotted her breasts as she came, falling limp as Negan continued pounding into her, pulling out just in time to paint Desa’s lower stomach with pearls of white. 

Negan rolled onto his back, raising one knee as he steadied his breathing. The dead silence that followed was enough to nearly put Desa to sleep - her limbs were exhausted, pinpricks of pleasure still jolting through her body.

“That was…good. Great,” Desa turned her head, face flushed. Negan chuckled and she corrected herself, adding, “An understatement, I know. It’s hard to form words right now.”

“I have that effect on people. Or, better yet, my dick has that effect on people,” Negan turned his head, flashing crisp, white teeth. 

“I don’t have a reply to that.”

“A laugh would be nice.” 

“Those have to come organically,” Desa grinned back, rolling onto her side and facing Negan. “I can give you a compliment, though. You’re handsome. And I really like you, uh, ‘fucking’ me.”

“I like it, too.”

“Can we…do it again?”

“You’re really asking me that?” Negan draped hand across his forehead. “Fuck, baby. You’re gonna wear me the fuck out.”

“Good. You’re just going to have to keep up.”

[artistic-writer]

Fairytale of New York :: Chapter 2 :: A Captain Swan OUAT Fanfiction

Notes: A very special thanks to @welllpthisishappening for giving this a look over and turning all of my typos into real words :p  I am forever grateful, and hope you enjoy fixing this as much as i am enjoying writing it ;)

Overall Summary: An AU elsewhere fic based in New York. Emma Swan and her best friend Mary Margaret “Snow” Blanchard are ready for a change. After Mary Margaret gets offered a new job at a school in Manhatten, Emma decides to go with her. She takes a job in a traditional, mom and pop diner called Granny’s and soon both of them are finding love in the most unlikely of places.

Chapter Summary: The one in which Snow White meets her Prince Charming.

Rating: T (for now and it will eventually be E)

Word Count:  3602

AO3 [chapter 1] - [chapter 2]

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

Emma stood in the middle of the expansive apartment and looked around her. The sun spilled through the closed window, spreading its warmth across the off white textured wall opposite. It was interrupted momentarily by the removal men who were shifting around boxes of varying sizes but Emma felt the warmth on her face and smiled to herself. Mary Margaret had picked a good one this time.

The apartment was for two people, the central living area opening out in a large T-shape to two separate bedroom areas. Centrally there was bare brickwork, haphazardly washed over with white paint, and the wooden floor glowed a burnt orange under the glow of the sun. The theme flowed throughout the apartment as Emma walked around, the heels of her boots creating a dull echo that bounced off the walls. The kitchenette area appeared around the corner and included a smattering of appliances. The aged cream coloured refrigerator sat in the corner emitting a low hum because the landlord had been blessed with the foresight to turn it on for them.

Emma's tour took her back into the living area at which point she noticed the sun had crept along the only papered wall in the entire place. Light scuff marks on the floor and an oddly shaped fade mark on the textured paper meant whoever had lived here before had kept their couch there, and Emma pointed at the area as the movers walked through the front door with theirs. The space in the lounge was becoming increasingly smaller, boxes and furniture piling higher and higher as they were moved in from the street below. Emma had been right; the apartment was on the fourth floor and each time she saw one of the burly moving guys, she noted the increasing redness of his cheeks that wasn't just from the cold outside.

“Well?” Mary Margaret appeared beside her, one of the lighter boxes in her arms. “Do you like it?” She prodded, tilting the box forward and noticing it was one of Emma's based on the scrawny handwriting.

Emma nodded. “I do,” she smiled, throwing her arm around her friend. “Thank you for finding us a home so I could find a job,” she leaned her head sideways and it rested awkwardly on Snow's.

“You're welcome. Oh!” Snow jolted Emma from her shoulder and perched the box onto of a nearby table the movers had already moved in. She rushed to the window and all but pressed her face to the glass, her eyes searching all around through the gritty specks of street dust that had stuck to the pane. “We have a great view,” she concluded, looking back over her shoulder at Emma. “Imagine what this will look like at night!”

Emma smiled at Snow's enthusiasm. She wasn't sure how she always managed to be so happy about everything, considering they had been through the same life experiences. Emma concluded it was why they got on so well. They were the perfect combination of hopeful and realistic and they fed off of each other's moods. Sometimes Emma thought that she could remain single for the rest of her life as long as she was friends with the woman before, but then she felt selfish for considering Snow's man-less future with her.

“Have you seen the bedrooms?” Mary Margaret interrupted her daydream, quickly heading through the narrowed doorway from the kitchen.

There were three doors in the hall, two on one side and one on the other. Emma gripped at the round, brass handle of the one to the left and pushed it open to peer inside. Snow peaked over her shoulder, noticing that they had discovered the bathroom complete with an over tub shower and single toilet and sink. The room had no windows, was tiled ceiling to floor with plain white tiles and an extractor sat in the middle of the room. The shiny chrome taps were old fashioned but they matched the feel of the rest of the apartment.

“Bathroom,” Emma said quickly, closing the door behind her as she shuffled backward.

Both women turned and looked at two identical doors that were almost lost in the whitewashed brickwork walls. Snow made a move to the first door but Emma stopped her with a strong arm. “How about we pick without seeing them first?” Emma quirked her eyebrow and smirked sideways. “Rock, paper, scissors?” Since they were kids, Emma and Mary Margaret had settled many an argument or difficult life choice by the most childish means.

“Why not,” Snow chirped, pulling the purple woolen gloves that matched her hat from her hands and stuffing them into the stiff pockets of her coat. “Best of three, winner gets first pick,” she prepared her hands, flexing her fingers dramatically.

Emma had her own routine and shook her arms loosely from her elbows to her fingers. The leather of her red jacket creaked at the corners of her elbows and the whole movement made her hair bounce. “No takey backy,” Emma confirmed another rule of their game.

“No takey backy,” Snow balled her fist and pounded in into the flattened surface of her other hand, palm side up in front of her body. Emma mirrored her actions and they met each others gaze with a serious glare.

“On three...” Emma met Snow's single nod with one of her own. “One, Two, Three!”

Both women pounded their fists into their palms, the dull smack of skin on skin echoing in the empty apartment a little less than Emma's boots now that there were more boxes to absorb the sounds. On the count of three, they both held up their hands with their selected gestures. Emma had kept her fist balled and Snow had laid her hand flat.

“Ha!” Snow exclaimed, covering her flattened hand over Emma's with a gleeful chuckle. “Paper beats rock!” she wiggled her shoulders triumphantly and grinned from ear to ear. Emma rolled her eyes and retracted her hand with a pout.

“Lucky start,” Emma shrugged casually, resetting her fist into its balled position on her palm. “One, Two Three!”

Mary Margaret's entire body tensed up as she pounded her fist into her palm, her fingernails digging into the palm of her hand roughly. She was never good at losing. As sweet and infantile as she could be, Emma had always known Snow had a dark streak and nothing made it rear its ugly head like a bit of competition. However tiny. On the count of three for the second time, Emma kept her hand balled once more and a smirk crept across her lips when Snow forced her two fingers into the sideways v-shape of scissors.

“Rock beats scissors,” Emma said victoriously, lightly punching her knuckles into Snow's hand. Snow took a deep breath and pouted angrily, her lips turning white on her face.

“Okay,” Snow announced tensely, running her hands over her face to push away some of the non-visible stress that she felt on her skin.

“Nervous, Snow?” Emma laughed, wiggling her fingers at her friend and then rubbing her hands together. Emma looked between the two doors and arched a brow. “I bet door one has a fantastic view.”

“Shut up, Swan,” Mary Margaret barked low and Emma laughed again. “Let's do this. One, Two, Three!”

Both women balled their fists for a final time and slammed their curled fingers into the open palm of their other hand. Snow watched Emma's hands intently, her eyes flickering up to meet Emma's for a small sign of which direction her friend was going to go with this game. Emma just gave her a friend a sideways grin, enjoying the way losing the lead had made her friend so uncomfortable. On the third count, for the final time, Emma let her fingers spring into scissors whilst adamant her friend would select rock for a third time, Snow laid her hand flat for paper.

Snow's face twisted up into silent expletives she would never mutter and she let out a frustrated growl. Emma simply chopped her fingers against the side of Snow's pretending to cut at the skin with her finger scissors. “You win,” Mary Margaret forced a smile.

“I always win,” Emma chided with a swagger. “You're predictable, Snow,” Emma reached for door number two and let her fingers curl around the brass door knob that matched the bathroom one. Snow looked at her surprised.

“I thought you wanted door number one?” She asked quickly, grabbing the handle in a mirror image of Emma.

“I didn't say that,” Emma frowned.

“You knew I did. And I'd lose and you played anyway,” Snow said a little shocked but humbled.

“I didn't say that,” Emma repeated playfully, finally pushing her door open and letting the afternoon sun bathe her entire body. Giving her friend a grin, Emma stepped inside.

The floor was more worn in this room, tiny cracks visible in the bare wood that creaked slightly under the pressure of Emma's steps. The room was bare, but Emma saw so much potential, imagining instantly where all of her furniture would go. Emma noted the high ceiling, a feature she absolutely loved about the whole apartment, complete with a long finned fan that hung stationary from the white ceiling. The brickwork theme ran into this room too, the hand painted white wash covering three walls and the fourth a solid coloured white wall. Emma decided she would put her bed against this wall.

The window was huge, taller rather than wide, and was a sash design. Emma moved over to it, and slid the lock mechanism, pulling on the bottom of the frame and lifting it open. At the same time, the musty smell of the room escaped and the sounds of the city below washed through the window. The honk of a horn caught her attention and Emma leaned out of the window, noting her window was at the side of the building and the dazzling sunlight was unobscured by any other buildings. Squinting against the sun, she let the wind and cool air flow over her face and whip at her hair before she caught sight of Mary Margaret doing the exact same thing along the building.

“This is perfect,” Snow said, leaning her weight down on her elbows and watching the street below. “I'm so excited for us to be here.”

“Me too,” Emma smiled, perching on the window ledge by lifting one leg and resting her behind to the cool frame. “Our New York adventure,” She let her head fall back against the frame and looked out into the dropping sunset.

“I told you it was an adventure,” Snow uttered matter of factly.

The next few days were a blur. Snow didn't start her new job for another week, so it gave her plenty of time to unpack her things and organize their new home. Emma, on the other hand, had to attend some training for her new job but that wasn't until the next day. Deciding to wait a few days in order to go shopping, they had taken the more adult and executive decision of ordering take out. Emma didn't mind, except that Snow preferred Chinese and she preferred Mexican, specifically tacos.

Tonight, Snow had won, and with a shrill buzz, their door bell had sounded the arrival of their meal. “I'll get it!” She called, whizzing through from the kitchen and grabbing her cash from the shabby chic style side table they had by the front door. It was normally for landline telephones, but because modern society dictated very few people had them anymore, Snow had insisted it was for door keys, wallets and cell phones.

Emma, sitting crossed legged on the couch, almost missed Hurricane Snow as she ran to the door in a five foot six inch blur. Emma blinked quickly, a small laugh escaping her lips as she realised Snow was feeling exactly the same as she was in that moment in time. Starving. They had spent all day organizing the kitchen but to add insult to their injuries, there was no actual food in the kitchen, and now they were famished.

“Leave the delivery guy his arm,” Emma teased with a chuckle.

Snow pressed herself flat against the warm wooden door and peered through the telescopic spy hole. Emma heard her gasp, sucking in all her breath and spinning around to face her friend with a wide eyed grin. Emma cocked her head, puzzled.

“What is it?” She whispered, her own eyes widening as she moved to push herself from the couch at the slightest hint of scandal. Snow bit her bottom lip and balled her fists, scrunching her fingers into the palms of her hands. Her cheeks began to flush the trademark rosy pink and she gulped. “What?” Emma prompted again, a little more forceful than before as she barged Snow out of the way and pressed her face to the spy hole with one eye closed.

In the middle of a fishbowl shaped circle was the delivery guy, except he looked anything but the stereotypical vision of someone who delivered food. Even though he was distorted by the lens, Emma could tell he was good looking. He was tall, his mousy brown hair lightly curled naturally but styled into a short, modern style and he was dressed a little too well for delivery food. He had dark blue khaki pants on, a slightly lighter blue shirt which he had unbuttoned exposing a grey t shirt underneath. His jacket was tan moleskin and he looked far too respectable for a take out delivery guy.

“Take out!” he called out into the hall, fishing into his pocket and pulling out a receipt, the address of their apartment clearly visible at the bottom.

“Oh my god!” Emma mouthed silently.

“I know!” Snow mouthed back, innocently wide eyed.

“Open the door,” Emma mouthed to Snow, pulling herself from the lens and waving her hands at the handle.

Snow shook her head quickly and blushed harder, pushing the cash into Emma's hand. The rubbery bills crumpled in on themselves and Emma flattened her palms in an attempt to show Snow she wasn't going to take them. Emma frowned silently, pushing the cash back at her friend who she swore had begun to sweat a little.

“Just coming!” Emma chimed, impersonating the syrupy sound of Mary Margaret's voice. Snow's eyes nearly bulged from her head and her mouth gaped open, shocked at her friend's poor excuse for an impression. Emma nodded her head towards the door a bit more forcefully, crossing her arms over her chest. Snow slumped her shoulders, a voiceless plea that Emma ignored. She reached for the door handle, twisting it quickly and pulling the door open, hiding behind the now open wooden mass and the wall behind it.

Snow had no time to react and she held her breath as the delivery guy looked up from the receipt in his hand and stumbled over his words.

“Um...” he began, his own expression deadpan embarrassed. His mouth went dry and he couldn't tear his eyes away from the cherub cheeked, black haired beauty in front of him. He finally tore his eyes from Snow's to look at the piece of paper in his hand, its edge crinkled where he was gripping it so tightly. He blinked hard, trying to focus his eyes. “Mary Margaret?” His voice was a quiver and it caught in the back of his throat as he looked up to her again.

Her name on his lips was enough to make Mary Margaret's smile spread wider across her face. She grinned a toothy, open mouth grin at him, her eyes creasing at the corners and her heart skipping in her chest. “That's me,” she breathed, fiddling with the waxy bills in her hands.

“Wow...That's a beautiful name,” he commented idly, forgetting for a second that he might have over stepped a line when his mouth beat his brain to his thought process. Instantly he blushed and looked away quickly, creasing his brow as he sought out the total on the receipt.

Snow just smiled wider and she blushed as she looked sideways to Emma who peaked out from behind the door so that only she could see her. She grinned a fake, forced smile and held up two thumbs at her friend followed quickly by the mimicry for calming one's self with deep breaths and steady hands. Snow looked back to the delivery guy, feeling like she had waited forever for him to find the total and look back to her with his heavenly blue eyes.

“You know what?” He started, unable to focus clearly on the paper in his hand. “It's on me,” he lifted his head to her finally, his sky blue eyes glinting in the dimly lit hallway. He smiled sweetly, his pink lips peaking at the corners as he held out the bag full of take out.

“Oh no, I insist on paying,” Snow blushed even harder and awkwardly reached out her clasped hands full of crinkled bills and small change.

“No, really,” he wiggled the bag at Snow, urging her to take in with a raised brow. “I insist on buying you dinner. I mean...” his cheeks flushed crimson, heat prickling up his neck as the words left his mouth. Snow offered him a smile.

Emma peaked through the crack in the door frame, watching the whole pathetic display of awkward flirting and shook her head a little. She buried her face in her palm, stifling a giggle.

“Do you mean...” Snow began.

“I mean...If you want to...” He stuttered over her.

“I want to,” Snow said eagerly.

“I'm David,” he said finally, his entire body relaxing as he said his name, held out his hand and watched Snow's smile widened on her face.

“Hi David,” she breathed, her shoulders relaxing as she mirrored his demeanor. Snow took his hand, her tiny fingers getting lost in the huge grip of his long fingers. She shook up and down once, never letting her eyes fall from his as she did so, or her smile drift even an inch from her face. “Nice to meet you.”

Behind the door, Emma spied Snow's notepad and pen sitting abandoned on the non-telephone table in front of her. Emma quickly leaned forward, scribbling Snow's cell phone number onto the luminous square of paper before tearing it from the pad silently.

David was so busy smiling at the cutest woman he had ever seen that he almost missed the bright pink, love heart shaped paper note as it fell through the crack in the door to his right. At the same time, David and Snow looked to the floor. David bent down and plucked the love heart shaped note from the floor, holding it in between his fingers and rubbing the paper lovingly. Snow lost her smile and quickly grabbed for the cooling take out bag. “Text me,” she said quickly, rushing back into the apartment and pushing the door closed behind her with a thud.

“Oh my god,” Emma couldn't hold in her giggle any longer and Mary Margaret show her a wide eyed glare from her position against the back of the door. “What?” Emma shrugged innocently.

“I had it under control,” Snow pouted, spinning her body around on the door and peering back through the peep hole lens. David was gone, and Snow felt a wave of panic.

“Yeah, sure you did,” Emma rolled her eyes, grabbing the take out from Snow's hand and heading towards the couch.

“I was about to give him my number! I was!” Snow contested, falling into line behind Emma as she skipped to the couch too.

“Yeah, I saw that,” Emma teased, crossing a leg under herself as she fell back into the enveloping cushion of the couch. “Honestly,” Emma smirked, reaching into the bag to pull out a carton of Chinese and handing the steaming white box to Snow who has fallen into the seat beside her. “It was painful.”

“Not all of us are blessed with confidence,” Snow took the carton and fished around in the bag for a pair of disposable chop sticks. Pulling them free from their plastic packaging, she offered them to Emma and reached into the bag for another pair.

Emma took the chopsticks and popped open her carton on noodles, letting the aroma of soy sauce and chicken waft into her nostrils. She jabbed her chopsticks into the twisted, golden noodles and pulled them from the box with minimal effort. “You're welcome,” she winked, quirking a brow and stuffing the slightly dripping noodle pile into her mouth.

Snow smiled at her, the image of David's face still clear in her mind. He was handsome, polite and had come to her. Emma was also right; she would have just stared at him contently all evening if she could have. It seemed David was as bumbling as she was when it came to flirting, which she found endearing and made her want to know even more than just his name.

“Besides,” Emma interrupted her thought, slurring her words through a mouthful of food. “The way he was looking at you? Looks like Prince Charming has found his Snow white.”

[taehyung-the-baehyung]

COMPANY || three.

◦ pairing: reader x hyungsik

◦ rating: m

◦ word count: 4.4k

◦ mood music: aquaman // jay park

table of contents | one | two | three | four | five | six | 

m a s t e r l i s t

The first thing I got when I was hired was a metal ring with two keys on it: one to his house and one to his office. Like the keys themselves, the two places were hard to distinguish. Hyungsik was always working, no matter where he was. His house was just a building. I didn’t know if he knew what a home was, what a family was, but he certainly didn’t seem to have either. There were countless nights when he just caught some shut eye on the couch in his office. It was hardly enough for a normal man to function on, but then I suppose he wasn’t your ordinary man.

I fiddled with the key, wriggling it in the lock with my phone pressed to my ear against my shoulder. “I am so happy for you! You’re going to have an absolute blast in the city.” I dropped my voice to a whisper as pushed the door open. I tiptoed in, like an intruder who didn’t belong. It felt wrong coming here without announcement, despite the countless number of times I had done it before. The house was neat, spotless actually. It always was. How could a place that hardly anyone ever stepped in have gotten messy?

“I know! And maybe I can even visit you from time to time!” His voice over the light crackle of the line was filled with excitement and relief. “I miss talking to you.” My brother had finally opened the envelope that sat on his desk for weeks and was ecstatic to learn that he was in fact accepted by his dream college. I hadn’t felt this happy in weeks. My entire spirit was light and everything just felt good. I released my phone from my shoulder, holding it again in my hand. I squeezed as though he might be able to feel the embrace I wanted to tackle him in.

I walked through the large, open living area and into the secluded office room in the back of the house. “I know, I miss you too, bud.”

It felt strange every time I walked through Hyungsik’s house. The more I did it, the more it felt normal, the more I wanted a house just like it. But that was a fantasy. No matter how hard I worked, it was unlikely I’d ever truly fit into a world like this. I didn’t want to anyway, but it was hard to complain about the luxuries.

Like his office in the city, this one also had a long wooden desk. It faced towards the window. Yellow oncidiums leant against the rim of the glass that made their home; their time was coming to an end. The thin ring of water from the cup that perpetually stained the wood kissed the cracks that swirled from one end of the table to the other. I shook my head with a silent amused scoff. He was so stubborn. Plenty of wealth, and still Hyungsik put his flowers in drinking glasses. With my hand, I swiped the water from the table, my skin gathering the water into my palm in frenzied droplets. I shook my fingers out away from myself, spraying water off my palm in a haphazard haste. I returned the glass to its place in the corner of the table, then gathered the hefty stack of files from my bag with my other hand and placed them neatly in the center of his desk. I scribbled a note that he should pick up more oncidiums. His were dying.

As I straightened up, I looked around, making sure there was nothing to tidy or pick up. “So how’s work?” My brother asked.

“Eh, the usual, you know: slaving away for the devil boss.” I laughed to myself. The window before Hyungsik’s desk caught just enough of the balcony that stretched out from the living room for me to see the hot tub. Normally on a night like this, the waters would be still, whisking up the light humidity of the air. Instead, I caught the glimpse of a pale arm resting against the tiled wall that lined the perimeter.

“Hello?” My brother spoke again. I blinked, suddenly realizing that I had not heard him.

“Hey,” I said idly into the phone. “Listen, I gotta go, bud.” My attention was entirely elsewhere as I kept my eyes on Hyungsik through the window, pacing through the living room. He faced the extraordinary view from his balcony. I shook my head. Only the rich and spoiled got to enjoy a view like that, and surely they took it for granted– as they did with everything. Hyungsik’s head was down, hands clenched into fists in his hair.

I heard a soft ‘oh’ drop from the other end. “Work?” My brother asked, annoyance gripping his words.

“Something like that,” I mumbled quickly before hanging up and tossing my phone to the nearby couch. My brother was going to his dream college, I would get to see him more often, I was making enough money to help out with the bills, and everything was just going perfectly. Rich and spoiled, or not, who cared? What did I have to lose? As much as I complained about my ‘devil boss’, my mood was too good to turn down the opportunity that just presented itself.

I quickly curled my arm around my back to find the zipper to my dress. I leaned forward, struggling to get the best hold of the thing as my fingers searched for the cool metal. Finally tugging it down my back, I undid my bra with haste and pulled my underwear to the ground. Stepping out of my shoes, I left the puddle of clothes in the living room before quietly opening the door to the balcony. Thankfully, it was silent and Hyungsik didn’t hear. He was still tugging at his hair.

The sight of his muscles carved so delightfully into his back was hard to resist. I could see the charming dimples at the small of his back from his, sunk just below the level of water. The hot tub was bubbling only in the slightest, the white sheets of small bubbles grouping together, scattered in the water. Hyungsik’s hair was wet, slicked back, and I knew the moment he turned around and I saw his toned, wet body, I would be the one to lose it. I was so weak for him, for his body, it was almost pathetic, but whenever he fucked me the way he did, I couldn’t care less.

I carefully stepped into the water, slinking down the rough hot tub steps. The sound of wading water as I walked through caught Hyungsik’s attention. He straightened up and turned around as he watched me walk towards him. “It’s not like you to be in the hot tub on a night like this.” I smirked, pulling the scrunchie from my ponytail and setting my strands free.

“I was just…” Hyungsik trailed off, streaking his tongue across his lip as I drew closer. “Thinking.” He finished with a clenched jaw, sitting down on the hot tub seat.

“Stressed?”

“Well, we do have that important board meeting tomorrow.” He sighed. His eyes were not at all fixed on my face. It wasn’t like I was the most beautiful woman in the world, but Hyungsik made me feel good just by his glances. I bit my lip, seeing just how much I was turning him on. He loved surprises. I stood a couple feet in front of him now.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” It was an important meeting, but we had been preparing for it for weeks in advance. Well, I had been preparing, which meant Hyungsik was prepared. The brat couldn’t do anything on his own if he tried. His successes were mine. I waded closer, placing my hands on his shoulders as I straddled him in the tub, just barely grazing his hardening member. I leant in. “You always do so well, Sir,” I cooed over the curves of his slender ears, pleased with the shaky exhale that left his lips. As dirty as I felt every time I got the notification of a direct deposit after we fucked, it never felt so bad when I was here with him, getting him so turned on, just for me.

Hyungsik remained still, not yet touching me, his arms outstretched across the tiles that were different shades of blue. I wrapped my fingers around the base of his neck, and pulled back to look at him. I sunk my hips lower in his lap, fully pushed up against him as I leaned in to take his bottom lip between my teeth. I rolled myself against him, forcing a moan out of him as his hands found their place against my sides. I was so used to the soreness of his hands against my forever-tender hips, it felt good to have them there again. Today had been a wonderful day, and this was all just making it better. His thumbs grazed the skin underneath as he dipped his tongue in my welcoming mouth, fighting for dominance. The water made it easier to hold my weight over him as I slid my hips against his erection.

I let my hands slide over his wet chest and trace down his toned body, basking in the feeling of his muscles contracting under my touch. I wrapped my hand around his member, squeezing gently through his swim trunks as I continued rolling my hips against him. A surprised groan dropped from his mouth. “Are you teasing me, Princess?” he challenged before harshly attacking my neck. My skin was already covered in the purple patches of his markings. Before they ever had time to fade, I would be somehow pressed up against him again, screaming his name and revelling in the pain and pleasure of his lips sucking against my fragile skin. I was the canvas he could never let go of, forever perfecting. I wondered if he did this with anyone else.

“Maybe,” I hummed. Hyungsik grew restless beneath me, his length pressed against me now. His hair looked amazing, glistening in this soft light of the hot tub as strands clung to his forehead. Maybe it was the ecstatic mood that I was in, but something in me dared to pull his head back by the hair roughly. I sighed at the loss of contact on my neck, letting my gaze wash over his handsome profile. I smirked, staring straight into his eyes. I dragged my tongue along his neck, the faint taste of chlorine water scattering in my mouth. The moan that left Hyungsik vibrated in his throat. It seemed to fade into a shaky profanity as his fingers twitched against my sides, and everything felt so damn good. He didn’t resist at all.

He wrapped his arms around my back, his fingers tracing the ridges of my spine, brushing up and down gently. I left open mouthed kisses along his neck and ear. “Sir, you’re so hot,” I jerked my hips against his, pulling yet another groan out of him. My fingers were lost in his hair, softly combing through the damp strands as I connected my lips with his. I lifted my hips, in favor of using my hands, and pressed myself up against Hyungsik. He sighed into the kiss, sculpting his fingers around my breasts delicately. His thumb grazed over my nipples, sending a quiet shock through me as I worked my hand along his length through his shorts. “These should really come off, Sir,” I purred, pulling the waistband of his shorts before letting them slap into his skin.

Hyungsik stood up suddenly with a frustrated huff, sending my stomach lurching in a quick panic. An alarmed gasp slipped out as I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck, clinging to him. As the warm water slicked off our bodies, a cold shudder charged through my body. Hyungsik placed me roughly on the hard tile at the edge of the tub. I nearly lost my breath as my back made harsh contact with the ground. He placed his palm on my stomach, silently telling me to lie back. He knelt on the seat in the tub, sitting now between my legs, keeping them spread open with a hand on either knee. “That’s enough fun for you, Princess,” he hissed. “It’s my turn.”

The heat of his breath whisked over my core as he settled near my thighs. I shifted my hips anxiously. As his lips moved closer to my core, my toes curled up in the water with anticipation. I just wanted him inside me. If there was anything to compliment this man on, it was that he was exceptionally talented with his tongue.

I propped myself up on my elbows, watching Hyungsik carefully as he ran his tongue over his lips, wetting them. He brought his open palm to cup my heat, both of us moaning at the feeling. I felt so sensitive already, electrifying jolts racing through every point of contact I had with him. He made everything feel good. A shiver ran through me again as I pulled Hyungsik by the arm. “Park Hyungsik, I don’t fucking care what you do to me, just do something.” Bad move.

“You’ve been awfully naughty lately, Princess,” he shot me a dark smirk. “Disobeying, teasing, calling me by my name,” he listed off his grievances, fear growing eagerly in my abdomen. His face fell quickly, now flashing a terrifyingly arousing glare. “Don’t move,” he growled against my skin. Horror struck through my blood at the thought. “And even though you’ve been so bad, I’ll reward you, Princess. I’ll fuck you hard, just like you like. But only if you can stay still. Do you think you can do that for me?” His voice was laced with excitement. He knew I would never dare say no to him.

I gulped, nodding weakly at his words. I cursed myself for melting in his hand like butter every time.

His tongue swirled around my entrance, then sloppily engulfed my core. His lips wrapped around my sensitive nub, gently sucking as I lifted myself ever so slightly. His hands quickly found purchase at my hips, slamming them back down into the cold, hard ground. “Strike one,” he mumbled, shaking through my core. He was working rough now, and I could feel every inch of the grooves of his tongue brush up against me. He slipped inside my entrance for but a moment, before pulling out. Hyungsik watched with pure pleasure as I mewled some semblance of his name between clamped lips.

“Sir,” I whimpered, digging into his scalp with my fingers, tugging at strands of his damp hair. He took hold of my wrists and pinned them down against the edge of the tub, sending electrifying vibrations of pain and pleasure coursing through my entire body.

“Strike two.” He pushed his hot tongue flat against my entrance, striping upwards slowly. I struggled to keep my hips down. I needed more. “Fuck, Sir…” Hyungsik did not say anything, remaining silent as he focused on what he wanted most. “Please,” I whispered, another shiver shaking through me as my back pressed flat against the cold tiles.

“You know how much I like your pretty little sounds, Princess,” he chuckled darkly, flicking his tongue across my clit.

“Don’t stop, please,” I begged, my breaths hyperventilating to keep up with him. “Sir…” I whined, my knuckles turning white as I caught an iron grip on the edge of the hot tub. Still, I needed more. “Sir!” I yelled out, frustrated. It wasn’t enough.

A low growl escaped his throat as he slicked me up with his saliva. The sound of my juices being lapped up my him was enough to make me fall apart for him right then and there. It was almost painful to just lie back and fight every urge in my body that demanded I grind my hips into his face. I wanted him deeper, I wanted him to stay there between my legs forever, but I knew his cock would stretch me out just the way I was craving. He would take my entire body and mold it into himself, fitting his every need, and I couldn’t complain, not when he was fucking me so good like this.

I felt my thighs wrap his head tighter before his fingers slipped down and dug into my thigh. “Strike three.” Hyungsik detached his lips from my heat. “You’re out.”

I cried out in frustration. The feverish pulsing between my legs riled up a new desperation within me. A devilish smirk streaked across Hyungsik’s lips as he ran his tongue along the corners of his lips, humming with satisfaction. He pushed his shorts down under the water, stepping out of them and throwing them onto the balcony floor with a sloshing sound.

“Should we try again, Princess?” I nodded frantically, wanting so badly to feel the steaming white heat of an orgasm. He sneered at that. “Will you behave?”

“Y-yes, Sir.”

And just like that, Hyungsik was once again buried between my thighs. His grip around my legs was tighter now as he lifted them to hook over his shoulder. I knew if I stayed like this for too long, my calves would begin to tingle with numbness, so I fought my body to stay still. I just wanted to cum.

My throat grew dry as Hyungsik dipped his face deeper into me, his wet muscle slipping into my entrance daringly. He hummed into my core with delight and my mouth fixed open with ungodly noises flying out from the back of my throat. Nothing but blissful screams came out, and Hyungsik loved it. His nose pressed against my clit repeatedly as his face pressed into my heat over and over. His hands slip down to my thighs, wrapping around them with a firm grip as he moaned into me.

My head lifted instinctively off the ground as Hyungsik slid two fingers inside of me. He curled them instantly, massaging at my clenching walls. A scream-like moan left from my chest, and I was sure my soul left with it too. The heavenly euphoria I had been floating through from teasing him earlier caught up to me now. Now, I was simply soaking in the hellish agony of my own medicine, his hot tongue pressing up against every inch of my skin, but not where I needed him most.

Having done this so many times before, Hyungsik knew to brush against the spot I wanted him before teasingly curling his fingers away from it. His fingers pulled out and pushed back in at a pace that I swore would unravel me any second. I threw my hands into my hair, hoping to at least rip out some of my hair to survive the overwhelming pleasure. He pulled his fingers out slowly and then pushed them straight back in, not a single hint of gentleness. His tongue still stroked over my sensitive clit. No one had ever drawn out such desperate reactions from me. Only Hyungsik knew my body this well. My orgasm approached me in waves as the heat in the base of my stomach coiled up tightly. “Sir, I’m gonna–” I hardly had time to warm him before my orgasm crashed through my body, my thighs shaking violently around his neck. He fucked me so well I could hardly control myself. My thighs tightened around his head, and I was sure that I was suffocating him.

His fingers didn’t still, even as I came down from my high. My hips had a mind of their own now, writhing and tossing with every plunge of his fingers. “Oh my God, oh my God,” I whined, repeating myself until my whines turned into something far beyond me. “Sir, just fuck me!” I screamed. I couldn’t stay still anymore.

“So desperate,” he hissed.

“I know you must be so hard right now.” The words tumbled from my mouth in slurs. “Your balls must be so tight,” I let my voice swim in the lust that drowned my body. “Just fuck me. Let me make you feel good.” It was shameless, but I was ready to say or do anything just to feel his cock in me. I felt lightweight, floating in and out of consciousness as his fingers continued to work my sensitive walls. I was beyond desperate at this point. It was pitiful actually, but all I wanted was him.

“You know, if you hadn’t waltzed in here all naked and fucking beautiful just when I needed it, I would be denying you for so much longer.” Hyungsik grumbled, sliding his fingers out before pulling me down into the tub. “But you did, and I can’t stop fucking you, Princess.” He shoved his tongue into my mouth, soaking in the flavor or chlorine and cum. “I don’t want to.” He panted.

Hyungsik placed his hands on my ass, dragging me closer into his body. I was right; his erection pressed against my stomach as he held onto me. “Then fuck me like you mean it,” I challenged. It was the easiest way to get him inside me.

It worked. A feral growl rolled from his chest as he slid his hands up to the small of my back. He lifted me, forcing my ankles around his torso. He took hold of his cock, finding my entrance. “As you wish, Princess.”

Hyungsik pushed up into me gently, his hands immediately flying to my sides as my walls gripped around his erection. “Ah fuck–” my breath came out stuttered, my mind being wiped clean. I could feel him throbbing inside me, his chest heaving as a groan left his mouth. He had been more vocal as of late.

“Fuck, you’re still so goddamn tight.” He began moving his hips, slowly at first, knowing all too well that I would lose it soon. Everything was so sensitive, my vision hummed with faded blackness.

“Sir,” I mewled as he increased his pace. Hyungsik’s breath stuttered in his throat as he watched me bounce against his body. His lips found my neck, searching carefully for a spot that had yet to be marked as his. He jerked up into me with a groan. His noises rumbled deep in his chest, vibrating against my stomach, pressed up against him. I arched my back, wishing to somehow feel all of him at once. I grinded against his hips, his cock buried in me to the hilt. “Feels so good,” I breathed, head thrown back in the air, my eyes screwed shut.

“Yeah? Is that right, Princess? Do I make you feel good?” His fingers digging into the flesh of my ass.

“Yes, Sir, oh my God!”

It all felt so different in the water: the slick sounds of our juices moving around, his wet cock slamming into me, the water swishing around us– it was all so filthy I could hardly think straight. Only strings of sounds left my lips, tangoing against his breathy moans as we snapped our hips into each other. I rose my body up, pounding down onto him.

“Keep going, Princess…” Hyungsik’s breath shook as he pressed my chest into him, my breasts flattening against his wet body.

“Oh, Sir…” I managed. “I love when you fuck me.” Sobs threatened to escape me as I drowned my fingers in his hair again. His hips jerked up. “So good and so deep.” Hyungsik’s hips began to move unbearably fast. “You’re the only one,” I cried. “You’re the only one.”

“Shit–” he gasped, digging his fingers into my back as I moved my hips to meet his. I moaned in response. I loved hearing him react to everything. His voice got so deep and raspy when he reveled in my body, but he would drift into soft, beautiful moans and whines as he reached his high. It felt amazing to make him feel like this. Maybe it was what kept me coming back, what kept me from walking away.

I tangled myself deeper in his hair, tugging slightly to hear the delicate gasp that always tiptoed out from his lips. I curled forward in pleasure at that, his hips now hitting a certain angle that sent my vision shocking with an explosion of white. My thighs tensed up, my body freezing with the staggering feeling of another high. Hyungsik took things into his own hands as he seized my hips, shoving his cock up into me. I lost complete control of myself as I screamed into the crook of his neck. I whimpered as he drove the head of his cock into my swollen g-spot over and over and over and over.

His moans began to sound muffled, a layer of white noise hanging around me. Even my heartbeat pounded in my ears louder as his hips continued to ram into mine. “Yes, yes, yes,” he kept saying, his pace growing erratic, but still hitting deep. I couldn’t hear anything else as I sunk into the pleasure of another high.

I choked on a sob, and my thighs began to ache as I still tried to hold my body up on Hyungsik’s thick cock. He was still slamming up into me as he chased his own high. I pulled harder at his hair, yanking a loud yell from him. I was as surprised as he was, but then his hot seed flushed into me and I felt completely dizzy. “Oh my God…”

Hyungsik let out an elongated sigh of satisfaction as he sat slowly down on the seat in the hot tub. We sat there clinging to each other in the warm water as we emerged from our wrecked states. Gradually, the overwhelming ringing in my ears settled.

Hyungsik grunted as I rose off of him. For once he helped steady me, holding on to me as I stumbled slightly. I shook my head, slicking my hair back with my hands. “Wow,” was all I could manage to say.

“You always take such good care of me,” he mused, an eyebrow raised. His eyes darted between mine, fixing finally on my lips. He pursed his own, lost somewhere in his thoughts.

It was a strange thing for him to say. I was after all getting paid for this. Sure, I walked into this hot tub naked by choice, but at the end of the day, he was holding this all above my head. I had been too eager and surprised to say no to such a powerful man. He was young, handsome, successful– what woman in their right mind would have turned him down? Now, a year later, he could easily blacklist me from any job on this side of the world. It only takes a rumor to topple a career. “It’s my job.”

[timesorceror]

A Promise Kept: Alternate End

You know it’s bad when you’ve got AUs of your AUs running around in your head. This one’s been stuck with me for a few days now, and it needs to leave. I have a graphic design senior exhibition to prepare for. >.>

Anyway, this is a kind of offshoot of my sex-on-a-fertility-statue/double impregnation fic, A Promise Kept, (which I recommend reading for this to make sense, but you can try reading it without the extra context if you like) in which Anders’ parents somehow come into the little town he and Fenris have settled in and suddenly find out that A) their mage son is alive and all grown up, B) is married to an elf, and C) is pregnant by and has also impregnated said elf.

I just… I like reunion/reconciliation tropes, ok? Lemme indulge. :P

In a little town without a name that was just outside of a few days’ journey to the city of Amaranthine, there was a midwife. Grizelda, as the townspeople knew her, was standing at her kitchen counter preparing some snacks for her visit to the town healer.

Their healer and his husband were a fine pair that never ceased to amuse the midwife, nor did their astoundingly fierce levels of mutual love and respect cease to cause the older woman to swoon in admiration.

The snacks she was preparing were small hand-held apple pies which she knew the couple loved, though the healer’s elf husband loved them even more.

She was just putting them into a basket and about to head off to their home when a knock came at her front door. Hmm. Must be an out-of-towner. It was, after all, an oddity for one of the locals to bother knocking at Grizelda’s door. Everyone knew that if you needed her help, or indeed–the healer’s, you just walked right on in as long it was light out. 

“Coming!” She called, setting down the basket. Finally, she got to the door and opened it, and in front of her stood an older couple not quite yet as old as she, but obviously well into their adult years. 

“So,” she began, planting her hands on her hips, “if you don’t mind an old thing like me saying so, I rather doubt you spring chickens are here for advice on conceiving babies. Whatcha here for?” 

The woman nodded. She had soft, tawny colored hair with reddish hints and only some scant lightening at her temples along with a few scattered streaks of grey-white to suggest her age. Faded lines streaked her face and forehead from a lifetime born more from stress and worry than laughter. 

“Our eldest daughter has been having some trouble conceiving for well over five years now, and our own midwife can’t seem to help her and her husband with the usual advice. We–we heard…”

“We heard that one of the old statues is here,” said the man. This one was tall, broad shouldered, with a strong jaw, sharp nose, and sun-kissed hair tied back in a long ponytail. His features reminded the midwife of someone, though she couldn’t quite place the memory. 

“One of the…” he frowned, mumbling to his wife, “fruchtbarkeitsstatue?”

“Fertility statue,” said the woman, who looked back at Grizelda with pleading eyes. “Is this one genuine? I know the ones that are… can even enable two who are both or neither male or female to have children.”

So, they knew that such statues existed? Curious.

“Might I ask how you came to know about our… local oddity?” Grizelda asked them, folding her arms across her chest. The man’s lips briefly quirked up in a half smile before growing sad. “You, and it, came recommended by our local midwife. The one we used in our youth,” here the man gestured to himself and his wife, “is at a much greater distance away, and we are not as spry as we were then so that we might vouch for its authenticity personally.”

The man’s wife nodded to concur.

“Our daughter would never say as much, but I know that they would prefer knowing that this worked for someone else before they came to try it themselves. We do not live very close.”

Grizelda snorted, and unfolded her arms to replace one hand on her hips while letting the other hang loosely at her side.

“No one lives very close to here, dear girl, and most of the people here are glad for it. Our healer and his husband in particular seem to like to quiet and the seclusion, and they can actually vouch for the authenticity of the statue if you wish to hear their testimony.”

“Healer?” the husband asked curiously. “A rare treat for such a small town.”

Grizelda smiled. “He is a gem. A former Grey Warden, too. His commander actually paid us a visit not too long ago. A good woman, to not insist on dragging him back to the keep, with or without a babe on the way.” Grizelda chuckled and sighed contentedly before nodding.

“Let me fetch a few things first and then I’ll take you by for a visit. He and his husband are due for a check-in anyway.”

Grizelda went back inside and picked up the basket with the apple pies, tossing in another jar of that spiced jam she knew they had been asking her for lately. She went back out to the couple, though not before leaving Brother Jerrell, her recalcitrant housemate, a note telling him where she’d gone.

On the way to the healer’s home, however, something still niggled at the back of her mind, something about the man’s striking features and the woman’s pleasantly refreshing witty attitude and gentle demeanor. 

But even as she grasped the door handle and entered the healer’s home, she still could not place the thing that troubled her.

“Anders! Are you and that gorgeous elf of yours busy? You’ve got visitors from out of town!” The counter and the surrounding kitchen area of the front room was empty, but Grizelda could hear some shuffling about from around the storage room door that was ajar just ahead and to the right of the hallway that lead towards the back of the house.

“Fenris is having a rest in the clinic,” a voice called out idly from around the slightly open door. “And I’m almost done rearranging some of the elfroot that started springing up in the garden. I mean, I know this stuff can even grow in a desert with practically nothing, but give it some proper care in a nice temperate climate and it grows like nobody’s business. I’ll be with you in a moment!”

“Anders?” The man asked, frowning. “Is that truly the man’s name?”

Grizelda shrugged. “He said it has been his name for a long time, and he finds that the name he was born with no longer fits who he is now. I have never bothered to ask about the particulars of how he acquired it, though.”

Their heads turned when the joints of the storage room door creaked open, and out stepped a tall young man, quite obviously pregnant, with reddish blonde hair pulled back in a horsetail and only a hint of stubble showing on his cheeks. His sharp eyes were a bright, honey colored brown that softened when he caught sight of Grizelda, but then they widened as Anders visibly stiffened with fear when he glanced behind her at the couple she had brought with her.

“No,” he mumbled, likely not intending for anyone to hear, “No, this isn’t real…”

Grizelda frowned, and then when the woman beside her let out a small, half sob, half gasp, the midwife turned around and caught sight of the man again. Suddenly, the connection that had been troubling her since she had opened her door to the older couple, made itself known to her at last.

Anders and the woman’s husband shared the exact same nose. 

The woman took a step towards the healer but he recoiled, his whole body shaking in his panic even as his hands reached down to his belly, likely trying to soothe the child within.

“No!” he shouted. “No, I… I…”

He shot a pleading, apologetic glance towards the midwife, and he quickly whispered, “I’m sorry Grizelda, I can’t do this!” before turning around and retreating back into the storage room, locking it from inside. 

The woman lurched forward and called out a name that was most definitely not Anders, but the only response she got was a gentle thud and scrape against the door, followed by soft, muffled sobbing and the words, “No, no, this is a dream, I’m dreaming, I must be, you will not tempt me!”

The last words were a mixture of a growl and a sob, and at last, the man beside the two women seemed to come to the same conclusion that they had, though his gasp was more subdued than his wife’s had been, and his expression became closed; nearly unreadable. Shortly afterwards, a white haired elf came shuffling grumpily out of the nearby clinic, also obviously pregnant, though perhaps even more so than the healer had been.

“Grizelda,” he grumbled, “kaffas, what is–”

He was cut off by the wife, who approached him but immediately paused when the elf retreated behind the counter after hearing the quiet sobs from behind the storage room door.

“Anders is upset,” the elf growled, glancing at Grizelda as he clutched his belly protectively. “Why is he upset?”

He glanced at the woman, who was still in shock and now in tears, before he looked up and locked eyes with her husband, asking in that same guarded tone, “And who are these people?”

Voices. Anders could hear Fenris’ muffled voice from behind the door.

This might still be a dream, Anders thought as he tried to excuse the images still fresh in his mind. A sympathetic and simultaneously chastising wave of feeling flooded him, and Anders could almost hear what Justice was trying to say: Lying to oneself is unjust. This is not the Fade, and therefore what you have seen is no dream.

Yet Anders was not willing to believe otherwise.

The visitors that Grizelda had brought… were his mother and father.

They were older, more tired, more worn than he remembered, but Anders had never been able to forget his mother’s tear streaked face as she was restrained by one templar and the cast-iron skillet in her hands was removed by another as the boy Anders had once been was carted away in chains.

She had only just managed to escape their grasp to give him her meditation pillow before she was dragged away again and he lost sight of her for what he had long since thought was forever…

But his father was here too.

He would also never forget his father’s face the day the barn burnt down and he was locked in his room until the templars came. Fury and fear. That was all he had been able to see in his father’s face on that day and the day the templars had come. That was why Anders had run; so that he wouldn’t see it now.

Because while Anders had been furious with his father for many years, eventually he stopped as the emotion had grown too cumbersome to keep carrying with him. He thought that his fear had gone with it, but it appeared that it had merely gone dormant, and now it had him hiding in his storeroom, crying quietly every time he thought about his mother being just on the other side and just how badly he wanted to hug her again.

“Mutter,” he keened, and there was a muffled cry of his old name in response.

There was more muffled conversation, and eventually he heard a familiar soft grunt as someone –Fenris, he assumed�� knelt down on the other side of the door and began to speak to him in a low voice.

“Anders,” Fenris addressed him. “Please let me in. I need to talk to you. And since you told me I should probably try not to use the brands while I’m with child, I would rather not have to break down the door to get to you.”

When Anders did not answer, there was a soft sigh and Fenris pleaded once more, “Fool mage, please. You don’t have to let anyone else in. Just me. I merely wish to see that you’re alright.” Anders sniffed wetly, blinking back tears until he finally managed a soft, “Okay,” that he knew only Fenris’ keen elf ears could pick up through the door.

He heard Fenris grunting and shuffling as he likely struggled to stand, and Anders huffed a little as his shifted center of gravity made his own move to stand rather difficult. After a while he managed it, and he unlocked the door but didn’t open it, though eventually Fenris slipped through and closed the door behind him.

Anders shook like a leaf as he stood before Fenris, rubbing his belly as he tried to soothe the child within.

“Th-They’re real, aren’t they?” Anders whispered, voice shaky. Fenris moved him to a couple crate stacks so that they could sit close and hold one another as best they were able. 

“Yes, Anders,” Fenris answered in a low voice. “And while I do not… entirely trust your father, I see myself in him.” Anders sniffed and turned his head to Fenris. “How so?” he asked.

“Mostly I see a little of the fear I once had of you,” Fenris replied. “Fear and apprehension.”

“Not… anger? Fury?”

“No. Whatever anger or fury he might have once had is etched into the lines of his face and the weight that pulls on his shoulders. I do not believe that he harbors any ill will upon you. And your mother…”

“I want to see her too,” Anders admitted sadly. “I’ve wanted to see her again for twenty-five years.”

Then Anders gasped as the child within him shifted and his hands, having previously been in his rapidly diminishing lap, immediately went to his belly to feel the movements. 

“I think her –Sweet Maker– her… grandchildren want to meet her too.”

Fenris nodded slowly. “Perhaps we should let them? But only if you wish it.” Anders scoffed, chuckling. “How can I deny my mother this? Surely she has wanted this as much as I.” He frowned, sighing. “It is Vater that concerns me.”

“Anders,” Fenris sighed. “Would you deny your father something that you would not deny your mother?”

“He gave me to the Templars, Fenris!”

“Likely out of fear,” Fenris insisted. Anders, unable to keep eye contact with Fenris, looked away and grumbled. “Fear of me, yeah.”

“Or for you,” Fenris shot back. “There was regret there too, I promise you.”

Anders turned to Fenris again, and he was a little taken aback that he hadn’t thought about that before. He sighed, glancing between his belly and Fenris’.

“Perhaps you’re right. It was silly of me to hide like this.”

“I would not say that. You have told me more than once that before Justice, you would dream of them, but it was always demons playing their roles.”

Anders nodded. “Tempting me with a thing I could never have. It wasn’t just my parents and their love that I desired, but to never have been–” He cut himself off, swallowing and shaking his head to clear his thoughts. “I desired to have never have been found to have magic at all, and that was a thing that the demons could never give me.”

“But they’re here now,” Fenris added. “And surely they came with a purpose, since they so obviously didn’t expect you here.”

Anders frowned. What use indeed would his parents have of a midwife?

“Alright. I–yes. Let us find out, and quickly. Before I lose my nerve.”

“You shall not,” Fenris insisted, grasping one of Anders’ hands with his own. “Take a little of my own, as you have often said I have an abundance of it. Come what may, we shall stand strong; together.”

Anders smiled and leaned over to press a kiss to Fenris’ cheek.

“Oh, the things you say, darling.”

Anders got up first and helped Fenris to stand before the two of them finally exited the storeroom. Fenris left first, and Anders followed close behind, still grasping Fenris’ hand, however they only found Grizelda at the kitchen counter preparing tea and refreshments.

“Ah,” she said when she’d noticed then leaving the storeroom at last. “I’ve settled your… parents in the downstairs room. Would you like me to draw the curtains back so that people can see you’re busy?”

Her expression was hesitant and apologetic, and Anders couldn’t help but give into the desire to fuss.

“Of course, of course. And please, don’t worry so much about… all this.” He waved a hand, gesturing to the air around them. “You couldn’t have known. It’s not your fault, really.”

Grizelda scoffed. “Nonsense. Now that I’m properly lookin’ at you, I see it, plain as day. Near spittin’ image of that man, you are.”

Anders sighed. “Thanks… for that.”

The midwife raised an eyebrow at him wearily. “So that’s where the bad blood lies, does it? Well. I could always send them–” 

“No,” Anders said in a firm tone, grasping Grizelda’s shoulder tightly. “They came for a reason, did they not? I should see them, at least as a healer if not as their son.” Grizelda merely stared at him for a moment before her lips formed a slight smile. “I don’t know how much of the man you are today is the boy that they raised, but some of it had to have stuck. Your sense of duty to your calling seems to know no bounds, healer.”

As she said this, she gathered up the pot of tea and her hand basket, which she’d placed the teacups in along with its contents that smelled of fresh baked apples and sweetbread.

Ignoring the intense craving that swept over him, Anders scowled as he scampered after her. 

“I just don’t like the thought of not helping someone that’s in need of healing if I’m specifically the only one who can, Grizelda,” he groused. “It’s not right, not just. I would be a terrible healer to refuse my services even to the worst of my enemies while still offering them to others.”

“See,” Grizelda said, setting down the food and drink before spinning around and drawing back the curtains, “incredible dedication. Though, that might be a Warden thing, hmm?”

“Certainly not,” Anders said, scowling. “I was just happy to be out of the cell that the Templars stuck me in for a year and grateful to never have to go back! I was… no. The person I was then most certainly cared less about absolutely anyone but himself.” Grizelda chuffed, glancing back. 

“So what changed?”

Anders ran a hand through his hair as Fenris shuffled around behind him.

“I… left for Kirkwall and ran a free clinic in the sewers for the better part of a decade? I don’t know.” He sighed. “I made a lot of stupid mistakes, nearly got myself killed half a dozen times… made one really big mistake that I know I’d be hanged for if I didn’t have the protection of the bloody Hero of Ferelden…”

There was a soft gasp from behind that had Anders suddenly remembering where he was, and who was in the room. He turned around, and where he had been expecting Fenris, he found his mother, standing not more than a few inches from him.

Anders stood very still as Grizelda quietly left the room, and his mother gingerly reached up to try to push back a flyaway hair that had escaped its binding, only she appeared just able to reach it and fold it behind his ear.

His breath caught in his throat at the featherlight touch, and tears filled his eyes once more, trailing quickly down his cheeks as he struggled to breathe.

“Mutter,” he sobbed, unable to keep it together anymore as she embraced him tightly, pregnant belly and all. He clung to her at least as hard as she clung to him, and as he cried into her hair she chanted something unintelligible as she shared her years of sorrow with him.

“Mutter, you are too short,” he lamented when it grew too uncomfortable to crane his neck to shed his tears into her hair, and she laughed, brushing back tears of her own.

“Short? You, you are so tall!” She sniffed, pulling back and reaching up to stroke the stubble on his cheeks. “Not my little boy anymore, now.” She glanced down between them, and Anders huffed a quiet dismissal. “No, definitely not… as you can see.” 

There was a beat of silence before a throat cleared behind them and Anders looked up as his mother turned her head.

“Son,” his father addressed gruffly. Anders straightened as he met and held his father’s gaze. Anders felt his face crumple a little as he winced, and he pulled away from his mother’s embrace to seek out Fenris for support. 

Immediately the elf was by his side, grasping his hand.

“I would not be so quick to call me such, Vater,” Anders confessed, voice trembling. “A Grand Cleric is dead and the Kirkwall Chantry lies in ruins because of me. I… I do not believe I am worthy–” 

“That is for me to decide,” his father replied in a low voice. Anders could see that ever present fear still lingering there, and the apprehension that came with it. Yet the thing that was the most present was indeed the regret Fenris had mentioned, and somehow at the sight of it, Anders found the courage to let go of the elf’s hand to approach his father, though he still trembled as he did so.

“Wilhelm,” Anders’ mother pleaded softly as they stood close, putting one hand on her son’s arm protectively even as the older man held up a hand.

“Franziska,” he addressed her sternly, looking away from Anders very briefly to chastise her, saying, “Please, stand back a moment.” He looked back and met Anders’ gaze once more.

“I wish to embrace my son properly,” he stated, cracking a slight smile as the tension in his shoulders, and indeed the rest of the room, seemed to lift as the man opened his arms. “Or, at least as much as I am able,” he added in a half whisper as Anders rushed to embrace his father as his mother had embraced him, though there were fewer tears when they were finished. Afterwards, Anders pulled away and turned to introduce his parents to Fenris.

Anders’ father, Wilhelm, or Wil as the man insisted Fenris call him, and his mother, Franziska were not what the elf had expected.

Upon finding them in the kitchen after his rude awakening, he hadn’t expected to like them… but Franziska’s tears were so obviously genuine that she made his own heart ache in sorrow for Anders, and Wil’s eyes had been full of a deep regret in spite of the mixture of fear and concern that lingered there.

Fenris’ heart hurt so much at the thought of what it might feel like to have his children taken from him, never expecting to see them again… and he’d had to excuse himself from the conversation to see if he couldn’t get Anders to let him in the storeroom to talk.

Eventually he was able to extricate the mage from his place of safety and out into the downstairs room where they’d sat down to speak with Rashia some weeks previously. Now they also sat there after Anders’ tearful reunion with his mother and tentative reconciliation with his father. That first smile that Wil had given Anders suddenly reminded Fenris of the way Anders smirked when mildly amused.

However, it was Franziska who reminded Fenris of Anders more. She fussed just like he did once he’d grown comfortable enough to let her close, and currently she had her hands on his belly as she cooed at the children within.

“You know, your husband was conceived from a roll in the grasses near a statue such as the one that blessed you with these little ones,” Franziska confided, and he glanced back at Anders, who was practically inhaling one of the little apple pies that Grizelda had brought.

“Anders? Is this true?” he asked. Anders, once finished, gently wiped the crumbs from his mouth into a small, white cloth. He shrugged sheepishly by way of an answer.

“How I am to know? It’s not as if there’s anyone I know who can corroborate, except Vater,” Anders answered, somehow managing to pout at Wil while scowling at the same time. Wil chuckled. “Oh, we are fairly certain that statue helped in some way. And your siblings, too, though we only visited the statue just the once.” 

Wil frowned, and thumbed his teacup idly.

“By the way, why do you call yourself… Anders?”

Anders sighed. 

“Because the templars couldn’t be bothered to remember my name, and I refused to give it to them when they asked. Besides, even when they merely called me “the Ander boy” after remembering where you were from, I still ended up being called Anders eventually.” He shook his head and sighed again before continuing with, “So even if I had given it to them again, my name still wouldn’t have been my own.

“It took a long time for me to stop caring what I was called and start caring about the person that name belonged to.” Franziska huffed softly through her nose and looked up at her son with sad eyes. “So my little boy…”

“Will always be a part of me, Mutter,” Anders reassured her. “But the name that belonged to that boy? It isn’t mine anymore. I have been “Anders” for too long.”

Fenris caught Anders’ gaze and was suddenly filled with a light pang of sadness for the boy he had once been, Leto, that his sister had lamented the loss of when she had left Kirkwall. The brief talk Anders had begged him to have with her had certainly been productive, and Fenris had even encouraged Varania to find work elsewhere instead of Tevinter… though things were still strained between them when he watched her board a ship bound for Highever from the edge of the Kirkwall docks.

“It is not always our choice to keep the names we were born with,” Fenris added quietly as he rubbed at a spot where the twins were being particularly active. “However, we can to a certain extent choose the people that we become even unto death. Names are important, true, but I find it is often the character of a person that makes one more memorable than another.”

“So well spoken,” Wil mused, even as Anders chuckled. 

“That, and his willingness to call me out on my bullshit have always been two of my favorite things about him,” Anders said smoothly.

“Hnnn. Now that is bullshit,” Fenris said dryly, which only caused Anders to laugh while Franziska giggled. “Husbands indeed. You’ve been together a long time, haven’t you?”

Anders nodded. “We were only… um, married shortly after we arrived here, but we were together for several years in Kirkwall.”

“What was it like? How did you meet?” she gushed, and Anders sighed, shaking his head. “It was nothing like the stories, Mutter. We actually rather disliked each other near to the point of hatred when we first met. It took many years before we could even carry a conversation without insulting each other.”

“And then I got bit by a spider and apparently confessed my attraction to you,” Fenris muttered as he swallowed down one of his own snacks, the taste of the apples so rich and sweet on his tongue. 

“Must have been some spider,” Wil scoffed, to which Anders nodded.

“Mutant. I think it was because there were so many entrances to the Deep Roads around. Something about the Blight and the Fade just makes them absolutely huge in some places. But yeah. I had no idea you even thought about me that way until then.”

“You were attracted to me too.”

“Yes, but I wasn’t about to say so! It took us forever just to be decent people to one another. I wasn’t about to ruin that by confessing.”

“Why not?” asked Franziska curiously, and strangely it was Wil that answered her. “Because you were a former slave, weren’t you?” Wil jerked his chin in Fenris’ direction. “From Tevinter? I heard you use a Tevene curse earlier.”

Fenris nodded solemnly as Franziska fretted, though he caught her hands and gently held them fast.

“Yes, I was. And my experiences colored my view of your son for many years. Or, at least they did until we eventually found that our pasts were so eerily similar to one another.” He seemed about to go into it, but thought the better of it. Franziska smiled at the pair of them sadly, her eyes lingering on Anders.

“I… we heard you talking at the midwife about spending a year in a cell. Did that really happen?”

Anders nodded in a similarly solemn manner. 

“After I was… in the Circle, I made escape attempts… often. The first few times I was trying to get back to you, but then Greagoir threatened me with Tranquility and I stayed put for a while. It helped that I had grown attached to another mage, Karl.” Anders grew quiet and looked down as he idly rubbed circles into his belly. “Karl didn’t like the Circles either, but he thought that they could be changed from the inside if only we could work hard enough.

“So I stayed. For him. I was a better mage, a better person with him around. But then not long after I passed my Harrowing he was transferred to Kirkwall and I started making escapes again. To try and get to him. My sixth one I spent nearly a year in Denerim trying to earn enough coin for a ship from Highever.”

“As… a healer?” his father asked. Anders’ face flushed deeply.

“Um. Sort of. I… might have worked for the Pearl in Denerim as their healer. And not just as their healer.” Franziska merely leaned over to catch his expression and descended into giggles. “So you had a little fun on the job…”

Anders snorted.

“It’s also what got me caught. And that was how I ended up in solitary confinement for a year. I was all sorts of messed up afterwards, and made my final escape while the Blight was going on. Templars didn’t catch up to me until I made it to Amaranthine, but then darkspawn horde remnants swarmed the fortress and the Hero of Ferelden –who also happened to be a mage I was in the Circle with– just up and conscripts me right in front of the queen!” 

Anders laughed shakily and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Sounds like quite a force, this Hero,” Wil mused as he poured himself another cup of tea. Fenris nodded.

“She is. She came by recently because Vigil’s Keep has been need of a healer for some time, but she decided to let us live our lives here instead and merely offered us a place at the keep should we ever need it.”

“Were you not the healer at the keep before, darling?” Franziska asked, frowning, and Anders sighed. 

“Yes, I was. But then Rashia had to leave the keep on Warden business, and her replacement let in a bunch of Templars who wanted to get back at her for killing Ser Rylock in defense of me. Ser Rylock was the templar who tried to drag me back to the Circle when Queen Anora came riding down the highway after the fortress was clear of the most immediate darkspawn threats. There were several who were upset with the commander for it.”

Anders sighed bitterly and grumbled, “These recruits made it past the Joining Ceremony and tried to kill me, but I escaped and ran to Kirkwall where I had hoped to find Karl, but… things didn’t work out that way. When I met Astrid Hawke, I thought I’d found a group of people who might be able to help me get him out of the Gallows safely, but… he had been made Tranquil in spite of Chantry law saying that all Harrowed mages are safe from such a fate, barring actual, physical demonic possession.”

He grit his teeth and angry tears filled his eyes.

“I… couldn’t leave him like that. We made a promise, once… to end the other’s life if we ever…” He rubbed his eyes furiously, trying to clear them. Fenris had turned away to gently grab at Anders’ arm and press close against the mage. 

“I had to… had to kill him and watch the person I had loved and yet never confessed it to just bleed out on the floor of a Chantry…”

“Astrid helped you burn him, didn’t he?” 

Anders sniffed wetly, nodding. “They even asked Sebastian to preside over the burial of the ashes.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“This was before he left Kirkwall for a few years to travel around the Free Marches looking for people to support his claim to the throne. He wasn’t traveling with us then.”

“A prince?” Franziska tittered, moving so that she could sit across from the couple and next to her husband. “My, what a colorful life you have led.”

Anders smiled sheepishly. “I still… I messed up a lot, Mutter. After Karl died, I was angry and bitter and I spent years trying to find a way to free the mages of the Gallows from serving a similar sentence. Mostly I tried to be peaceful, but as the years wore on, it grew harder and harder to manage that. In the end, I was unable to do so peacefully and I did a really stupid thing that… I fear may come back to haunt me.” He glanced down and hugged his middle tightly.

“I don’t want these babies to end up parentless because of my stupidity.”

“Anders,” Fenris hushed him. “You know Rashia would not stand for it. The Grand Cleric turned a blind eye not only to the mages, but the Blight refugees and the elves and anyone who wasn’t someone with means who could pay good coin to keep the Chantry beds warm and soft, tables filled with rich food, and closets full of finely crafted robes. You did. You healed them for free for years, in what amounted to the city sewers, no less.

“And the Grand Cleric also let the Knight Commander make Harrowed mages Tranquil in droves and her subordinates physically abuse those who were meant to be their charges. That city was already about to explode anyway; you just gave it a push. Your Commander is a good woman with no tolerance for bullshit, and even though you weren’t there on her orders, you might as well have been from what she said to you.”

Anders looked over at Fenris and he could see fond weariness in their depths.

“I know. Rashia is just like that. Apparently she did a lot of stupid things too, when she was trying to raise an army to fight the Darkspawn.”

Suddenly the two of them remembered that they weren’t the only two people in the room and they looked up to meet the eyes of Anders’ parents sheepishly. 

“Apologies,” Fenris offered them, ears flattening against his hair. “I get… rather emotional these days. Especially whenever Anders tries to think I’m going to let us leave these three without parents.”

“Three?” Wil gasped, eyeing his son critically. “Three?”

“Warden stamina and a fertility statue work wonders, apparently,” Anders said dryly by way of an answer, at which point Grizelda finally came back with something that suddenly had Fenris’ mouth watering at the smell of it. The midwife had apparently caught the tail end of that conversation and was chortling to herself as she placed a hot lunch in front of the two couples.

“What these boys aren’t telling you,” she said, sitting down on a stool which she’d dragged in from the clinic, “is that they didn’t know the statue was magic and had to find it out the hard way about a month later.” She served everyone some of the thick, meaty soup with rice and spices and vigorously shook a spoon at the pregnant couple with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Gave them about a week to think things over in case they didn’t want kids.”

“You made a bet,” Anders drawled, slightly annoyed, and Grizelda snorted. “I live with a retired Chantry brother who was almost declared an apostate by heresy about seven different times. I have to get my giggles from somewhere. Besides, I figured you’d want to keep it right away, since you dote so much on the village children.” She fixed Fenris with an assessing stare. “You were harder to guess, but… there was always something about you that I pegged as protective. Didn’t expect the twins, though.”

Franziska laughed. “I remember the mood swings. They were more intense with… you, Anders.” The name seemed reluctant, like she was weighing it on her tongue and trying to decide if she liked it. Then she added, “That… reminds me. About what we came here for…”

Anders gave a start next to Fenris, and he looked over to Anders to see his expression knit in confusion. 

“I had wondered about that. Please forgive me for saying so, but I doubt you came to ask for Grizelda’s consult for yourselves…” His lips twitched into a half grin and he chuckled lightly. “I am rather well into my thirties, after all.”

Franziska smiled and echoed his soft chuckle, but afterwards her shoulders fell and she sighed deeply. 

“We came for your sister, actually. Britta.”

Anders gasped and his brows knit with worry, his hands curling slightly against the fabric of his trousers. “Britta? Is… is she okay?” He frowned, leaning back against the settee that he and Fenris were settled on, muttering to himself.

“She was married about… seven years ago? But she and Isaac didn’t start trying for children until about two years later and nothing has worked since.”

Anders folded his arms across his chest, resting them on his belly as he huffed slowly through his nose. “There’s no increased pain when she bleeds? Or cramps in between bleedings? Painful sex? I–argh. There are a lot of things it might be.” Anders shrugged. “And it might not be entirely her fault or indeed her fault at all. A few couples I treated in Kirkwall were various cases of the reverse. Sometimes it’s the father that’s the trouble. Nothing a few potions and better nutrition can’t fix… unless it can’t. Then sometimes…”

“Sometimes magic is necessary?” came his mother’s quiet question.

Anders nodded. “But, in the event that… I couldn’t help, I’m certain the statue could. Grizelda’s been sending people to it for years when they’ve had trouble. Still, if she’s in pain and isn’t telling anyone… ah, that would be just like Britta, wouldn’t it? She was always like that, wasn’t she?”

“Stubborn, kept to herself,” agreed Wil. “She got worse after… after I had you sent away. She hated me for a long time, I think. Karin was younger. I don’t know how much she remembers you, and… Garth…”

“Did you ever tell him he had an older brother, Vater? He was barely speaking when the barn burnt down.” Anders’ voice was soft and sorrowful, yet Wil winced as though Anders had slapped him with his words. “We did. Britta never let us forget about you, and eventually he started asking questions. I’m sure… he’d love to meet you. Especially when he finds out you became a Warden.”

“Not sure about Karin,” Franziska sighed. “She’s got two little ones to look after. Made Britta all the more bitter when she couldn’t…”

“I would love to see her again, Mutter. You’d have to explain to them about, well… this,” he said gesturing to his and Fenris’ bellies, and added, “at least if you intend to bring them back within the next three months.”

“She would come no matter what we told her,” Wil admitted, “but I suppose we should try to explain it as best we can. She won’t wait long after we tell her about you, especially when she finds out she has more nieces and nephews on the way.” Anders laughed, and Fenris found that he couldn’t recall a time when Anders had laughed quite as much as he’d done today.

“How long was your trip out here?”

“About a week, by horse and cart,” answered Franziska. “Two weeks, plus a few days… if we left now…”

“You don’t have to, Mutti,” Anders insisted. “Please, at least stay the day. I… you might have to use some of the clinic beds, but that’s where our spare space is…” He shrugged. “Maker only knows what we’re going to do when these little ones start needing more than the nursery our neighbors helped us put together.”

“Landry said he and Daniel would help us,” Fenris told him automatically as he finished slurping down the rest of his lunch. “And, um. The carpenter. Fasta vass, why can I never remember that man’s name?”

Anders chuckled and pat his back gently, leaning over to nuzzle at an ear, immediately relaxing them both.

“You’ll get it eventually, Fen. It’s okay.”

“Alright, alright,” Grizelda groused, “I’m going to leave before you kill me with your entirely too adorable displays of affection.” She sighed, grumbling as she stood. “I meant to give you an examination today, but you seem to be fine, yes?” Anders nodded. “I don’t think the little one was happy about all of the stress from this morning, but I should be good for the afternoon.”

“Just take it easy!” she shouted after them, but came back to point a finger at Wil and Franziska. “And you come see me tomorrow morning before you leave. I want to know exactly who told you what in case I need to do damage control.”

Franziska nodded. “Of course, yes. These statues should be protected at all costs. We’ll come by, absolutely.”

Grizelda nodded and shuffled out, leaving the couples together.

After a few heartbeats of silence, Franziska finally stood up and clasped her hands together. “Please, you must show me this nursery! Is it upstairs?”

Anders smiled and nodded, and took a few deep breaths before moving to stand. “Whew! That… gets harder every day to do without help.” He looked back at Fenris. “Do you want to come up with us?”

Fenris shook his head. “My nap was interrupted and lunch has made me sleepy again. I might just… not move from here for a while.” Anders chuckled and leaned over to press a kiss against his hair, grasping the arm of the settee for support. “Okay. Vater, do you mind fetching a pillow and blankets from the clinic? They’re not hard to miss.”

“Of course, of course.”

Anders and his mother went upstairs and his father came back with some pillows and blankets and helped Fenris settle comfortably on his side.

Wil knelt on the floor next to Fenris, and he found that his earlier mistrust of the man had dissipated over the course of the morning. “I was afraid,” he confessed, very quietly. “The way Anders told the story of the day his magic manifested…” Wil huffed dejectedly, albeit quietly.

“He must have thought me quite the monster,” Wil whispered, and Fenris hummed in agreement. “Not as much of the monster he once believed himself to be. He is a spirit healer, and from what he tells me, that is how they are able to work their miracles.”

Wil fixed him with an intense stare. “Is there something he didn’t tell us? That you aren’t telling me?”

“I am telling you now, because I know him enough to know that he won’t do it on his own if he believes that telling you will cause him to lose you again. But… you see,” Fenris said as he offered the underside of an arm to Wil, “these brands were a gift from my former master.” He spat the word just enough to give emphasis as he reached down to rub at his belly through the blankets.

“During my years of service and even in the years after I escaped, they caused me so much pain. In fact, the earliest thing I can clearly remember is pain. Receiving the brands. I hated the man who had put them into my skin, and indeed, all magic and those who wielded it.”

“My son mentioned that you disliked each other when you first met.”

Fenris chuffed. “He was being kind. While I do not believe he hated me at first, I certainly hated him. He was grieving for a lover and involving himself in a campaign to give freedom to the mages of the Gallows, yet I only knew that Karl had been a friend who was made Tranquil, and that I feared he wished to bring about another Tevinter.”

Wil nodded solemnly and shifted so that his position on the floor was more comfortable. “My son was always a bull-headed, foolhardy child… but even now I cannot see that he would want such a thing.”

“He did not. However, I was too blinded by my fear. I goaded him. I baited him. He wasn’t innocent either. He gave as good as he got. And we fancied the same man: Astrid Hawke. It was through Hawke that I learned the thing about your son that made me fear him more than his mageblood: he was possessed.”

Wil sat very still. 

“What? No. He can’t–”

Fenris held up a hand. “I am not done. I have told you where I come from, and that even though I call a mage my partner and husband, I still hold a healthy fear for it. If I believed he were a true abomination, I would have killed him a long time ago. Will you let me finish?”

After a silence that felt like an eternity, Wil nodded.

“I have seen abominations. They were commonplace in Tevinter, they were like party tricks; the magisters so often had them appear at the displays of power they called their “social events.” I killed many of them alongside Astrid and your son, and not once did he become one of them. In fact, he harbors as much of a dislike of blood magic as I do. One of the scant few things we agreed on in those early years.”

Fenris took a moment to breathe, wincing and rubbing soothing circles into his belly as the babies shifted.

“I do not believe there was any one thing that made me see past my hatred. Hate is an exhausting emotion. I couldn’t keep it with me forever… or, my hatred of him, anyway. I watched him heal people for free, heal the rest of the party before himself, and even when I refused magic from him, he offered potions and bandages and salves. He hated me as much as I hated him, and still he never failed to offer healing to me. 

“Then came that night with the spider bite, and I think a part of me knew I would die without magical intervention. Anders is as good with antivenins as he is with potions, but those take time to diagnose and brew. So, magic it was. And… it wasn’t like anything I’d ever felt. All magic had ever done was hurt me, but Anders’ magic… didn’t. Even the after effects of his battle magic only made the brands tingle a little. It was only after that I began to ask him questions and really listen to his answers.”

“…but, the possession,” Wil pressed, very quietly.

“He told me why a few months after we… we had started sharing a bed,” Fenris admitted with a slight yawn. He told the story Anders had told him about the Blackmarsh, getting trapped in the Fade, meeting Justice. “And after all was said and done, they were left with a Spirit of Justice in a decomposing corpse with no idea what would happen next.”

Fenris huffed, annoyed. “And Anders, with his bleeding heart, thought he could help return this spirit to the Fade if only he had more time than Kristoff’s corpse could offer. He thought that, as a Spirit Healer, he should be able to handle having a Fade Spirit in his head for a while. Perhaps his deeper connection to the Fade would enable the spirit to return home that way.”

“It didn’t work out, I assume?” Wil asked tiredly. 

Fenris nodded. “The templars who were recruited to the Wardens didn’t approve of him working so closely with the spirit possessed corpse, whether or not they were told he was working on a way to return Justice to the Fade or not. They joined to get back at Commander Amell for what happened to Ser Rylock, so they likely didn’t care what his purpose there was.”

“They forced his hand? Cornered my son and this… spirit?”

“That is what Anders said, yes. And from the conversation that I was present for between Anders and Rashia, I got the impression he barely escaped with his life. Without the spirit’s intervention, I…” Fenris looked down and sighed softly as he rubbed his belly once more. 

“I would not have met Anders. I would not have seen that while he is not perfect and has most certainly done the most stupid or stupid things in the name of mage freedom… I saw a man who gave all he had and then some to the poor of a city that could and did care less for those in poverty. I saw a mage who refused to resort to blood magic in the face of his fears, and a mage who offered magical and non-magical healing to any and all who needed it. There were a few Templars who knew who and what he was, and even though he still wishes the Order didn’t exist, he didn’t refuse them healing either.”

Fenris sighed and blinked a few more times, feeling sleep creeping up on him as the fullness of the food and exhaustion of his interrupted nap began to weigh on him.

“I would not have learned to love him. These… these babies would not exist without him. I–confront him about his spirit if you wish, but I ask that you do not promise that he can see his family again and then take it away. Please.”

He could feel his eyes brimming his tears, but he couldn’t handle the weight of Wil’s gaze and the thought of what the loss of his family might do to Anders so soon after connecting with them after all this time. He turned his face into the pillows and sniffed wetly, unable to hold back a sob.

“I… I need him. I can’t do this without him. I can’t.”

“Hush, mein kind,” Wil soothed, a hand gingerly patting Fenris’ hair and threading fingers through it to massage his scalp as he quietly cried into his pillows. “It’s alright. It’s going to be alright.”

And then Wil started to sing something that Fenris recognized, and he looked up from the pillows when Wil was finished, blinking at him with bleary eyes.

“I’ve heard Anders singing that some mornings to the babies when he thinks I’m still asleep. I don’t know if he remembers the entire thing, but he tries.” Wil chuckled softly. “Hmm. I shall have to see which verses time has stolen from him so that I might give them back. It was a song my father sang to me as a child and that his father sang to him. It should not be forgotten.”

Wil slowly removed his hand from Fenris’ hair and patted the cushion of the settee with it lightly. 

“Sleep now, and do not worry for your Anders. Spirit or no spirit, I… I too have let hate and fear eat away at me for too long. You know the man that my boy has become far better than I; therefore I trust your judgement. That… and I cannot tear my wife from her son again. She might kill me first.”

He offered Fenris a tired smile, and Fenris was almost certain he smiled back.

“Thank you,” Fenris whispered, yawning again, but louder this time.

Wil chuckled quietly. “Go to sleep. We shall wake you for dinner if you are not up by then.” Fenris grunted. “It is merely a nap…”

The other man might’ve said something more, but by then, Fenris was asleep.

Anders had been just about finished showing his mother the nursery when his father had come up and confronted him about Justice. He thought his mother might be horrified when his father started talking about it, but all she had done was sigh and shake her head as she turned to him to ask, “This was one of those stupid things you mentioned?”

“Yes, Mutter,” he admitted, “but since leaving Kirkwall, Justice has been far kinder to me than I ever was to him. I still want to return Justice to the Fade, but… I don’t know if anything short of death will do that anymore.”

He frowned, then added in a more somber tone, “And, speaking of death… he, Justice… has apparently been keeping the taint in my system at bay since… since we joined.” His father had frowned and his mother’s grip tightened on one arm. “What… what do you mean, tainted?” she fretted. “As in… the Blight?”

Anders nodded. “It is how one becomes a Warden, Mutter. I cannot tell you the particulars of how the ceremony goes, but not everyone survives it because it involves darkspawn blood.”

He glanced up at his father, whose expression had kitted into one of serious contemplation. “You… seem to know that, somehow. Don’t you, Vater?”

His father nodded. “I know about the Calling, too. I’m not supposed to, but…” 

He fixed Anders with an almost hopeful gaze. “Does this mean that it will never spread enough to send you into the Deep Roads to die?” His mother’s grip on his arm loosened and tightened again.

“That is what my Commander believes, yes,” Anders answered, and his mother sighed against him in relief. His father nodded solemnly. “Well, if we have this… spirit to thank for that, perhaps… perhaps we should be thankful.” Anders sniffed, smiling slightly even as tears gathered in his eyes.

“I still feel terrible, that I can’t return him home. But since leaving Kirkwall, he… things have been easier. We’re not as angry at the world as we used to be.”

He glanced down and tightened his arms around his middle protectively.

“We’ve got other things to worry about now.” 

Anders glanced up and noticed his father hovering. “Do you… want to touch? She’s not active right now, but maybe if you talked to her…”

“A she, is it?” His father chuckled as Anders grasped his hand and pressed it to his belly gingerly. Anders huffed. “Grizelda thinks it’s a boy, but I’m adamant about it being otherwise.”

“Could you tell… with magic?” his mother asked, to which Anders nodded.

“I could, but Fenris and I wanted to be surprised. Still think it’s a girl, though,” he grumbled, and suddenly he and his father gasped at the same time as a strong movement within surprised them both. Anders saw that his father had to wipe his eyes a bit as he pulled away, expression dumbstruck.

“It still feels like a dream,” his father breathed. Anders hummed noncommittally.

“It feels like that to me every day, and I’m the one carrying the child.” He shook his head in disbelief. “It still baffles me that such a thing is possible, even with magic…” He sighed contentedly as his mother clucked at him, shaking her head. “I still keep thinking about you and that elf of yours, finding out…”

“It was quite the shock, yes,” Anders laughed. “But… I’ve seen and done stranger things than this, and when Grizelda told it that even like this… it was still possible to… to terminate the pregnancy…” 

Anders sighed, shaking his head. “I couldn’t do it. I had to help too many young women in Kirkwall get rid of a few… accidents, and… I suddenly realized how much I wanted it. In Kirkwall, I helped with more births than I could count, but it was almost like the Circle all over again.”

“How do you mean?” His father asked, head cocked to one side.

“Female mages who get pregnant in the Circle don’t get to keep their children, Mutter. It is why I know as much about how to prevent a pregnancy as how to encourage one. Every child that ever made it to term was always taken away at birth. Mothers didn’t get to even name them or kiss them goodbye. I…” Anders sniffed wetly, frowning. “I’m sorry. I don’t like thinking about it much.”

He shrugged and ran a hand through his hair with a soft sigh.

“Anyway… Kirkwall was different in that the mothers actually got to keep the babies I delivered, but there was always a part of me that… that wished one of them were mine. And now…” he looked down again and rubbed a slow circle over his belly with one hand.

“Now this one is. And the two Fenris carries. He still worries a little about whether keeping his was a good decision, but I think it will work out in the end.”

“And that’s why I won’t bother getting up in arms about this… spirit issue,” his father told him seriously, moving to bring Franziska into a one-armed hug. “That elf of yours worried that telling me the truth might hurt you deeply, even though he didn’t anyway.” Anders winced, head low. “Sorry, Vater. I didn’t know how…”

“I know. It’s probably best it came from him anyway. Former slave with a healthy fear of magic still marrying and having children with my mage son? I trust his judgement.”

Anders and his father shared a look for a moment before nodding. 

“Thank you, Vater. I don’t know what else to say…”

His father chuckled. “You could start by telling me how much of those lullabies you remember. I sang a couple bars for your Fenris to help him sleep, and he told me you don’t remember all of them?”

Anders smiled. “I would love to relearn them. We have a small study up here we could use, come, let me show you…”

The entire day felt like a dream, especially after two weeks had come and gone, and once again, the door opened as Anders was in the storeroom, rearranging things while Fenris was scooping potions into flasks at the kitchen counter. 

“Franziska! Wil!” Anders heard Fenris exclaim from within the room, and immediately he set down what he was working with and went to greet them as well. “Mutter!” he exclaimed, his heart lighter than it had ever been. “Vater…” He hugged his mother and pressed a quick kiss to her hair before hugging his father and receiving a hearty pat on the back that made him tear up again at the memories the gesture brought up.

“You’re back,” he breathed, still unable to believe it. “So then… you brought…?”

“Bruder… is, is it truly you?” A small voice called from the door, and Anders froze as he met the eyes of the woman who stood there.

Her hair was the same tawny color with reddish hints as Franziska’s, though her eyes were a darker, richer brown, more akin to the color of Wil’s eyes. Her face was all Franziska, though there was a definite sharpness to her nose that harkened to Wil’s features. She was staring at Anders, mouth agape, eyes wide. There was no sound but for the conversation of two men outside, unaware of what was currently taking place.

“Britta?” was Anders’ equally quiet question, and that caused the woman to blink rapidly as she immediately glanced down at the swell of his belly. She shuffled forward, a hand gingerly outstretched, and Anders shuffled with her to meet her in the middle, take her hand in his; pressing it gently against him. The baby kicked and she gasped, looking up at Anders, still wide-eyed though now those eyes were shining with unshed tears.

She reached up with her other hand to cup his cheek, and Anders closed his eyes. “Britta…” he whispered again. “I missed you… schwester.”

He opened his eyes again when she laughed and found the woman shaking her head in disbelief. “No, no! You…” She snorted, gently pressing a finger square in the center of his chest. “What was the name of our neighbor’s cat?” 

Anders snorted. “Which one? The scrawny black one that almost got kicked by Vati’s plow-horse about three different times, or the orange and white one that looked like someone smushed its face in with a shovel that had kittens in our barn? I’m not sure either of those had names… other than, well. The things that Vati called them when they got in the way,” he laughed.

At this, the woman squealed with delight and threw her arms around him.

“Oh how I’ve missed you too!” she cried, and Anders nodded as he held her even though she couldn’t see him. “I heard you gave Vati what for all these years,” he told her as two men he didn’t recognize walked in and closed the door behind them. 

“Of course I did,” she replied, moving away and glancing down at his pregnant belly with wonder. “I had to. No one else would.”

“I appreciate it,” he whispered. “I really do.”

Then Anders looked up at the two men and Britta turned when he looked up. “Oh!” she exclaimed, gesturing to the taller of the two who was dark or hair with bright blue eyes and a soft features defined only by high cheekbones and a slightly crooked nose. Almost like he’d gotten in a fight as a child and it had never healed right. Anders wondered if he’d left it that way on purpose.

“This is my husband, Isaac.”

Isaac, who didn’t appear to be much phased by Anders’ unusual state, shook his hand firmly, followed by Fenris, who introduced himself as Anders’ husband. (And didn’t that make his heart flutter wildly like a blighted butterfly?) However Isaac moved further in to reveal a young man in his mid-twenties and Anders was suddenly filled with a rather strange sense of having seen this man before.

Only… in a mirror. About… eleven years ago.

“Hello,” the young man greeted him, a shy smile breaking out onto his face. The smile was familiar too. Anders could hardly believe it.

“You… must be Garth,” Anders said in reply. Garth nodded. “Yes. Karin wanted to come too, but her husband was away on business and wouldn’t be back before we left. She’s probably on her way here, though, with her two boys.”

Garth studied him for a moment. “You… really do look just like Vater, but… younger.” Wil snorted. “Thanks, son.” 

“No problem, Vater,” Garth chirped, and Anders suddenly couldn’t resist the urge to reach out to him. The young man brought him into a unexpected hug, even cooing at the child in his belly when a bit of movement brushed from within that was forceful enough for them both to feel it.

“My, that is strange,” Garth breathed. “The statue’s doing, I assume?”

“I helped,” Fenris deadpanned, which caused the young man to descend into giggles as Anders heard Britta groan. “I… yes,” Anders chuckled sheepishly. “To both of those things. Strange, yes. But worth it.”

Garth met his eyes and nodded, glancing at Britta. 

“Britta will be happy. I’m glad I came. I wasn’t certain at first…”

“You were still in nappies when my magic manifested.”

Garth nodded. “So I hear. But it’s thanks to Britta that I know about you, and now it’s thanks to her we got to meet, even thought the circumstances were… less ideal, I suppose.”

Anders nodded, then suddenly he rounded on Britta and gently grasped her by the shoulders. “I… need to talk to you. About… personal things. Fenris?” Fenris nodded, straightening. “I can settle them in the front room if you want to talk to her in the clinic.”

“Would you, love? I would appreciate it. Oh, and Isaac? Would you come too? Yes, thank you.”

Britta frowned as Fenris herded the others into the front room with the chairs and few settees and Anders led her into the small but serviceable room he used as his clinic space, with Isaac following close behind.

“Personal things?” She asked him worriedly. 

“Yes,” Anders sighed. “Mutter told me what she and Vater came here for. You’ve been trying to have children for five years, without success?” Britta’s face pinched a little as she nodded. Beside her, Isaac cleared his throat. 

“You wanted to examine us, healer? To see if there’s something wrong?”

Anders nodded, huffing a little.

“It might not be pleasant, and I’ll need your consent before I start poking and prodding and, yes, putting fingers in places that a brother’s fingers shouldn’t go,” he chuffed softly, catching Britta’s wide eyes and deep flush, “but… I couldn’t stand not knowing if… if you were in pain and not telling anyone.”

He paused, then added with a little more force, “Are you in pain, Britta? During sex? Between cycles? Sometimes such things are signs…”

Britta sniffed, and Anders helped her to sit on one of the beds with Isaac next to her for support. “I… I don’t know,” she said quietly. “Not… that I’ve noticed. Should I? And what if nothing’s wrong with either of us? What then?”

“Then I can tell you that the statue will most certainly help,” he reassured her. “Just… bring lots of blankets. And maybe some cheese and wine. They really help set the mood.”

Isaac snorted and Britta giggled.

“I don’t remember that wicked sense of humor,” she told him with a tender smile as she leaned against Isaac. Anders shrugged. “It was a cultivated talent. Now, which of you would rather go first?”

After two very thorough examinations with both magical and mundane means as well as an array of personal questions, eventually Anders was able to notice (with a little help from Justice) that there was something off about the pattern of Britta’s cycles. Something in her body was causing them to be too short, and therefore the window in which a child could be conceived was very, very small.

“So we could conceive naturally, if we wanted to?” Britta asked, and Anders nodded. “Theoretically, yes. But you’ve been trying for five years, Britta. If you really want a child before your next cycle, I’d go to the statue. Mutti used one for me, apparently.”

Britta sighed, and looked back at Isaac.

“Five years is an awfully long time to wait, dear,” Isaac told her as he stroked her hair. “I would go with you today if that’s what you wanted.”

“Perhaps you’ll want some time to think it over?” Anders asked, but Britta shook her head and clasped her husband’s hand tightly. “No,” she insisted. “I want to go today. I… I’ve waited long enough.” Isaac merely nodded as Britta fixed Anders with a hesitant stare.

“Do we… is there something particular that we have to do?”

Anders couldn’t help but crack a wry smile. “Other than the obvious? No.”

Britta scowled at him. “I’m being serious!”

“So am I. As far as I know there’s not much else to it. Some of the other couples in the village might have a prayer or two you can offer if you like. Fenris and I never said one, but uh…” Anders felt his face flush and he reached back to rub at his neck in embarrassment. “There was, um… a certain amount of reverence involved, certainly.”

“Reverence, hmm?” Isaac hummed as he leaned over to purr sensually into Britta’s ear.  Anders stood up immediately, deliberately turning around. 

“Alright, I’m out!”

“Wait!”

Anders paused, and looked back at the sound of Britta’s voice. 

“What… what do I call you now?” Britta asked quietly, suddenly somber. “Mutter told me you… have a different name now?”

“Anders,” he told her. “It… It is what it is. I’m still–still your brother, I just… the boy I used to be… that isn’t really me anymore. Hasn’t been me for a long time.”

Britta nodded. “That’s alright. I’m just… glad to see you again. Anders.”

The sound of his name coming from his sister’s lips brought a lightness to Anders’ heart, and he left the two hopefully soon-to-be parents in the clinic to go out and spend time with his husband and the rest of his family.

Two months passed, and only a few days after his parents had arrived with Garth, Britta, and her husband, Isaac, Karin came knocking at Anders and Fenris’ doorstep with her husband and their two children. 

Anders hadn’t been able to stop himself from cooing over the babbling toddler who was his niece, nor his swaddled infant of a nephew. The months old babe brought about such a strong maternal instinct in him when he held the child, he almost hadn’t been able to let go.

Karin had just laughed and gently patted his shoulder, saying, “Soon, you will have your own to hold, yes?”

“Very soon,” Anders agreed. “We’ve only a little less than two months now, if we manage to carry to term.”

“You’re enjoying the sex, I hope?”

Anders had flushed, but Fenris had snickered and nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yes. It is sometimes difficult, given the state of things, but… we manage.”

Despite his embarrassment, Anders couldn’t agree more.

There was also good news from Britta when Anders and Fenris were exactly three weeks shy of their due dates. Karin had come and gone, promising to come back for a visit again when his nephew was older, but his parents, Isaac, and other siblings had temporarily settled in the village (with help from Grizelda and several of their neighbors) in anticipation of the births of the new additions to their family.

Britta came to Anders one morning with a worried Isaac trotting at her heels, complaining of several symptoms that were very familiar to Anders. He still took them aside to the clinic, gave her a quick examination, and took Britta’s hands in his as he smiled at her excitedly. 

“You’re pregnant, Britta,” he whispered, and she burst into happy sobs, clinging to her brother and her husband both.

Anders and (miraculously) Fenris’ due dates came and went, however, much to the amusement and sympathy of all who knew them, until about a week later when Fenris finally went into labor.

The clinic was small, so there were not many people present helping the elf as his labor progressed, though Anders’ own labor pains started just as Fenris was nearing his time to push, and (of course, as was Anders’ luck) rapid labor set in not long after his waters broke as he was changing into the robes Grizelda had provided them.

More visitors came, but only Sora, Grizelda’s elven midwife-in-training, was let in to assist with the births, which went smoothly. Anders and Fenris brought a son and two daughters into the world, which they named Karl, Sage…

“…and Franziska,” Anders finished, looking up at his mother with a tired smile.

Franziska, so touched by Anders’ gesture, could hold back the happy tears that rolled down her cheeks as Anders handed their youngest daughter for his mother and father to hold.

Eventually though, they gave their granddaughter back to their son, who would fall asleep next to his husband with their children nestled in their arms.

A long, hard road lay ahead of them, but when Anders woke the next morning to find the fruits of his and Fenris’ labors still sleeping soundly, he was not afraid. He had his mother, his father, and his siblings back, and even more besides: a niece and nephew from his youngest sister, and another one growing in Britta that would arrive sometime next spring.

To be a mage that was able to rejoin with his family, create one of his own, and have a partner who would do his best to assure him that he would not lose those things for as long as they lived? 

Anders had never dared to dream for so much, but in this little village without a name, sometimes even the most impossible of dreams could come true.

[siodymph]

Boombox Week Day 5

And here's day 5! I decided to go with a sick fic™ where Junkrat is the one taking care of Lucio. I hope you enjoy! (Also I've been rereading over all my stories and I'm sorry for all the grammar and spelling errors, and in the near future I'm going to go back through and editing it all. Just so you know.)

We're already at the half-way point of the week! It's going by so fast :P But it doesn't have to end on Saturday so I've decided to open up boombox requests until the 22nd. So if there's any story you'd like to see with your favorite DJ and Junker then just send me a request (non-NSFW please)

And as awlays you can read my story under the cut if you like or over on my AO3 if you prefer!

Lucio seldom liked to say he hated things. He always liked to see the best in people, things or ideas. In fact so far there were only four thing’s he’d even admit he actually full-out hated. And they were Vishkar and any other company that thought it was good to enter foreign countries and monopolize their industries, the weird relationship between appropriation and gentrification, people who steal credit for someone else’s art, and lastly getting sick.

And while he had power of helping stop and prevent the first three. There was really nothing he could do when he got sick besides wait it out. And he was a pretty healthy guy, stayed fit and active, ate healthy, made sure he got vaccines whenever he was on tour. It had been three years actually that he’s gone without catching a really nasty, so-bad-you’re-bed-ridden level of sick. But today that three-year streak was being broken.

The team had been traveling a lot in the past few weeks, jumping from one mission straight into another. It had been intense, but nothing Lucio couldn’t handle. But apparently not seeing as now he was stuck in his bedroom with a churning stomach and a migraine throbbing right under his eyebrows. When he’d gone to Mercy for help she thought he simply must have caught a bug while they were traveling and that paired with high stress-levels had finally taken their toll.

Stress? Lucio was probably the most laid back person on the entire team! He never let the pressure get to him. He hadn’t even thought their last few missions had even been that hard, just speed around healing everyone up and avoiding Talon fire. Sure everything had been pretty back to back, their only break being on the jet from one city to the next. And at one point he remembered almost getting shot down by some Talon forces had Hana and Junkrat not come down into the street and protected him. That gave him shivers sometimes still thinking about it. But he was Lucio Correia dos Santos! He rolled with any and all punches! Could brush off anyone, even giant corporations wanting his head on a platter. He didn’t let something like a little pressure knock him down!

But apparently it had because now what had started out as a little headache and the sniffles had transformed in the span of a few days to gross vomiting and sleeping for entire days. Oh well, that three year streak was nice while it lasted. Sure he would of liked avoiding getting sick for the rest of his life. And even though he hated this, he knew that pretty soon he’d be brushing this off and back to his normal self. He’d fought off Talon, and Vishkar, he was certain he could fight off this dumb little bug too.

He counted himself lucky though that Mercy was there to make sure he didn’t get any worse. Gave him some stuff to help keep his white blood cells happy and keep his stomach from completely dissolving itself. But it wasn’t like she could spend all her time taking care of him though, no there were like eight other people who had fallen ill too, not to mention she had her own projects to get done. So when it came to constant care, he had been put in the trusty hand of his boyfriend.

He didn’t understand it. Of all people how did Junkrat not get sick? If anyone he expected Junkrat to be bedridden after all this traveling, not him! Out of everyone here he probably had one of the longer lists of medical problems, a list that included radiation poisoning! Even Roadhog had the sniffles by the time they were back in Gibraltar. He just didn’t get it.

But being one of the few healthy people left standing Junkrat had made it his personal job to look after Lucio. At first he’d sincerely feared Junkrat would kill him on accident. The Junker hardly ever took care of himself, how did he expect to take care of another person?

“Oh come on Froggy!” He’d teased when he first came in. “I can be a healer too! Remember that time I healed Phara in Oasis?”

“That was a glitch! Seriously dude you’re gonna get yourself sick if you keep sitting so close to me.”

But Junkrat ignored his protesting, plopped down in his computer chair and swiveled his way right next to his bed. He didn’t even lean away when a Lucio broke out in a fit of wet coughs. Once he was done Junkrat shoved a box of tissues in his face. “Have a little faith in me, mate!”

While he caught his breath he thought it over. He groaned trying to find the warm spots on his bed he’d been jostled out of in his coughing fit.

Not that he actually had much say in this either way. “Just please don’t kill me.”

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, Froggy! You know I’d never!” He laughed leaning in closer.

“Junkrat no! No! I’m sick!”

Instead of on the lips Junkrat pecked him on the forehead.

“You’re gonna get so sick man.” Lucio groaned, this was going to be a very long week, especially if soon they were both going to be under the weather if this kept up.

Junkrat just giggled and kissed him on the forehead again. “Think I can deal with the consequences mate!”

And once again he found himself being surprised. In the past few days Junkrat had almost never left his side. Pretty much the only reason he’d leave was to get him food. It was all mostly canned crap but still it was keeping him alive. Junkrat had kept most the lights off, only his color-changing lamps, so his migraines didn’t feel even worse. And whenever his stomach got sour Junkrat had held his hair back and softy rubbed his back while he felt like complete utter shit. Somehow he almost always knew what to do.

Near the end of the week when he’d finally gotten his strength back enough to stand and walk around again he decided to ask him while they were in the bathrooms, all the hot water was cranked to their highest settings turning one whole corner of the place into a make-shift steam room.

“Hey Rat? How do you know all this kind of stuff?”

“Wot?” Junkrat mumbled, pulling the towel off of his head so he could see Lucio. Sure enough over the week he’d become slightly congested but nothing like Lucio was going through.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, I love you, but self-care doesn’t really come off as your forte. But you’ve been doing all this stuff like it’s an instinct or something.”

Junkrat shrugged while dropping his towel back over his face. “Eh, kinda gotta learn for survival I guess. Back home if you were bedridden ain’t nobody was there to watch out for you.”

“No one? Not even family?” Lucio asked unsure. He didn’t want to press to far, Junkrat almost never talked about his past and he knew it had to be for some pretty strong reasons.

“Nope, not that I can remember at least.” Junkrat sighed, sitting further back in his spot on a bath tub’s edge. “What I do remember though is if I was sick there was no way I could collect scrap. So I learned fast, picked up any advice I could from old folks who’ld lived before the crisis. Make sure I was never too weak to take protect of me’self. Cause nobody had my back in the whole Outback… besides Hog.”

When he heard that Lucio knew that the sinking feeling in his guts wasn’t from the bug. He couldn’t imagine being a little kid and being so utterly on his own like that. Even as a young adult he’d had his family loving and supporting him as he went into music. “Junkrat, I’m sorry.”

But Junkrat just waved off his apology, “Eh if you ask me I think it turned out alright. Certainly came in handy after me and a few mates got really sick after going into the Omnium. Made sure everyone got back up and running. Made sure I didn’t bleed out or get infected when I got mark I and II here.” He said wiggling his prosthetic arm and leg. Oh god. Did that mean what he thought Junkrat was trying to imply? The thought alone gave him shivers. He almost didn’t hear the last thing Junkrat said.  “And now I’m making sure you get back to your springy self! Lucio? Mate are you feeling- wot?”

Junkrat was at a loss for word when out of the blue Lucio stood up, walked directly up to him and gave him the tightest hug in his life. He could feel his ribs being pressed in Lucio squeezing him like one of those snakes. But it also felt kinda nice, even if he had no idea why Lucio was doing this. So his unsure arms wrapped around Lucio’s frame, trying to reassure him that whatever he was thinking he was fine.

“Junkrat I’m so sorry.” Lucio repeated, sounding even sadder this time.

“Mate don’t worry-“

“No!” Lucio stopped him from brushing off what he obviously wanted to say. He took a deep breath before continuing, still holding him in a tight hug. “I’m sorry you had to grow up like that. Stuff like that isn’t normal, isn’t healthy. And thank you for taking care of me all week but I want you to know that you don’t have to keep looking out for yourself anymore. I have your back. I love you… I can take care of you too.”

Junkrat wasn’t sure what to say to that. The only other person to ever make the promise to him was Roadhog. So instead of saying anything for one of the few moments in his life he stayed silent. Just holding Lucio close, letting him know that he was here, alive and kicking. And that they would always have each other’s backs no matter what.

They would take care of each other.