#why are you somehow completely unaware you’re slowing down and speeding up when you’re this invested in this

[thecommunityoftrustworthysinks]

what IS the deal with people who speed up when you’re passing them. what is even more the deal with people who repeatedly do this so you never pass them despite that they keep returning to a speed slower than you. what’s up.

[strangelysamantha]

 crumbled cookies ☆

jj maybank x plus!reader (fem!reader)

warnings: abuse/hitting, hate speech, fat shaming, bullying, insecurities, swearing, fighting, jj’s dad, luke (yikes!) mad jj, mention of pills. 

words: 3,365.

summary: you decide it would be a good surprise to stop by jjs house quickly to drop off some of your homemade cookies, since you believe he isn’t feeling the best. then, unexpectedly jj's dad comes home with an unwelcoming embrace, which ruins the surprise.

request? nope, but requests are open :)

a/n: i randomly thought about this, i obviously don’t believe that us plus size baddies should ever be insecure, but i thought it would be a nice little angst imagine with fluff at the end! if you could, please comment and like if you enjoyed it, thank you! after i write a few requests i will proofread my stories :)

my masterlist

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jj hadn’t answered any of your texts, usually this would worry you, but you understood that sometimes he just needed some space to be alone. you surprisingly were used to this because he always disappeared, and if he genuinely needed you, he knew where to find you. it also wasn’t bothering you because he had only been MIA for a few hours.

you, assuming that jj was just overwhelmed, decided to stay home and bake homemade cookies. jj always complimented your cookies, he loved taste testing them, and more importantly, he loved how you put so much effort into making them perfect, even if you were only making the cookies for him. jj wouldn’t admit it, but he definitely didn’t see you as just a friend. he didn’t know how he viewed you. he was too confused for his own good with his emotions. all he did know was that he depended on you, and that he never wanted to lose you. it would ruin him,  especially if he had done something to intentionally lose and hurt you.

you preheated the oven, excited to use a new cookie flavor for jj. you danced lightly to the music playing in the background of your kitchen, softly humming along as you gathered the dry ingredients, mixing them together. it was a fun little game you guys played, where he’d try and guess what extra ingredients you added that affected the cookie's flavor. he almost always got it wrong, but he was so cute sitting there always trying to guess it right, when he didn’t even know that much about cooking anyway.

unbeknownst to you, you were completely unaware of his feelings, despite the same feelings bubbling in your heart too. jj was your best buddy, and obviously you guys had flirtatious banter but it was nothing too serious. it didn’t help that every girl jj had a one night stand with, was the complete opposite of you. how could he like you, when every girl he fucks was not only skinny, but also rich, and mysterious?

pope wasn’t on your side either. he would always express how nauseated he felt when jj would jokingly flirt with you, and openly play with your feelings. he was quite vocal in scolding you when you would tell him that jj blew you off, or jj had pissed you off. deep down you did agree with pope, he wasn’t wrong.

a beep was heard from the oven as it was fully preheated. you had fully completed the cookie dough, now adding the most important ingredients. you decided to be nicer, and chose an easier flavor for jj to guess. you did this just in case something was seriously wrong he could at least be lifted up for guessing it right. m&ms and hershey’s kisses would be mixed together, creating a chocolate m&m hershey cookie, with added caramel on top. you quickly evenly separate the dough, before placing it in the oven waiting for it to rise.

the timer in the kitchen went off as you pulled the cookies out of the oven, careful to not burn yourself. you stick a knife into the cookie to ensure it was fully cooked before smiling contently to yourself. you let them cool off as you got dressed and prepared to go to jjs house.

you added caramel before sliding four cookies into a ziplock baggie. the cute baggy had a drawn on heart and a nice message for him. you didn’t expect to stay long, and you honestly didn’t even know if he would be home.

when you arrived to jjs house it looked vacant and abandoned. the nerves finally catching up to you as you realize he hasn’t talked to you all day. you knock on the front door, waiting for a response but you are left standing there waiting. you frown before hesitatingly walking down the steps. you look up when you hear a car approach, and a glimmer of hope flashes your mind as you thought it was jj, but instead it was his dad.

your heart was beating fast, and you didn’t know what to do. you waited to see if luke would talk but he just looked at you confused, and obviously annoyed. you shook your head quickly, “i’m so sorry, i was just going to drop these off for jj, but he’s not here so i’ll be on my way.” you smile softly, and start to walk away but his strong arms grab yours. you’re startled since his reaching for your elbow was quite unexpected.

“well you are already here. might as well get it over with.” his voice was unrecognizable as his emotions weren’t clear. you nod shyly. “no really i don’t want to inconvenience you, i can come at another time.” he shakes his head before walking to his door, opening it as the door loosely opens entirely, hitting against the wall to its side. you walk behind him being extra cautious in case he tries to grab you again.

you walk straight to the kitchen to set the bag of cookies on the counter, which was no use since right when you placed the bag, luke had scooped it into his hand reading the note. “oh, so you are the one dating my son?” your face twists in confusion. “no, no. jj and i are just friends.” you laugh awkwardly, swaying from feet to feet. the floors creak beneath you causing you to stop shaking back and forth. “okay good.” his eyes look up and down your figure as his mouth forms into a line. “i wouldn’t want him dating someone like… you.” his words hurt, but you didn’t want to break down in front of him.

you feel uncomfortable under his intense stare so you hurried to put an end to the conversation. “uhm. okay, welll thank you for letting me drop them off, i appreciate it mr. maybank.” you nod softly before he states, “no.” you turn over to him, “no?” you repeat as more of a question. your patience wears thin as you notice the cookies are still in his hand, and he is carefully undoing the ziplock that concealed the cookies.

he pulled a cookie out, before admiring it closely. “chocolate chip m&m caramel cookie. very yummy, very good choice.” you avoid eye contact, trying to focus on anything else displayed in the room. “and it’s still warm.” he stares at you as he takes a bite of the cookie, its crumbs slowly falling from where he sunk his teeth in. “it’s quite good.” you smile softly, “thank you… but-.” he cuts you off completely. “of course you, of all people, would be bringing him cookies. i’m not surprised, i can see you are trying to fatten my son.” his words stung you because this wasn’t what you were expecting. his father seemed intoxicated, and before you could leave it seemed like he still had stuff to say to you.

“yes the cookies are good, but they don’t excuse you for lying to my face. you are just like my ex wife… lying, scheming, going behind my back, but still creating delicious snacks.” you stumble back a little, as shock sets over you. “how did i lie?” you ask, quite confused as you hadn’t even talked to him that much. “i know you’re dating jj! i see his hickies i see that when he leaves this house it’s always to meet with your fat ass.” his words hold no meaning, he was just a lousy drunk taking his anger out on the closest thing to him. you stayed silent, when he suddenly shook his head before grabbing the rest of the cookies and throwing them on the floor, jumping on the bag, completely squishing them.

the once yummy cookies, now downgraded into a small pitiful pile that was brutally smeared against the kitchen's tile. your heart speeds up as his eyes are focused on yours, as if trying to read your emotions. “i’m sorry, but i’m not sure what i did to deserve you ruining my cookies?” your tone comes out sassier than intended which definitely didn’t help your case.

“pick it up.” he threw paper towels towards you, as he waited patiently for you to clean up his mess. you silently obeyed scooping your mutated bakery treat up. you got most of it cleaned, but you ran out of napkins. you bite your lip trying to think of a quick solution to finish picking it up so you could possibly leave, but it’s too late because he’s already grabbing your arm forcing you up. tears stream down your face, while you contemplate your choices.

before you could even register what had just happened, his hand had collided with your cheek, as he screams hurtful comments. “you are good for nothing. i honestly hope that jj didn’t choose you, because if he did, that would make him an embarrassment to this family.” he pushes you to the floor, and you quickly try to stand up so you can leave. you hurry to the door, but he catches you before you could get in your car and drive away. 

“you can't tell anyone about this. i swear if you tell anyone...” his tone is laced with venom and your face scrunches up in confusion. “dont act stupid! god this is why people treat you the way they do.” you look at him one last time before he sends a fast fist to your face, that hits the side of your nose, and your eye. your face begins to pulse as the blood rushes to the quick forming bruise. you couldn't think straight as everything had happened so fast. all you wanted to do was drop off cookies, but somehow you were now being punished just because you resembled this man's wife. your breath is shaky as your tears are starting to slow down, but they are still evident on your cheeks. 

jj’s dad stumbled backwards as if he had finally realized what he had done, before he eventually collapsed on the couch and fell asleep. as he landed on the couch, multiple loose pills fell from his pockets ensuring you that he wasn't mentally in the right place, and he was very obviously intoxicated.

you avoided jj at all costs, which was actually easy since he hadn't even contacted you. you were dreading his routine appearance that was bound to happen soon. you knew it was inevitable, he hasn't missed a nightly check in once, and you had been doing it for months. when you first met the pogues you were slightly scared since you were new in town and you didn't have any friends. so, jj took you under his wing. he quickly became protective over you, which is why he created this elaborate plan to sneak into your bedroom before bed every night. whether it was to just chat, talk about your day, or even just cuddle. you could always expect him at your window at around the same time every night.

usually you would confide in jj, ask for his advice. granted his advice isn't the greatest but it does help that he listens to your problems. not tonight. that wasn't the case. if anything, you wholeheartedly hoped that he would forget, or he would be too busy. he hadn't seen you since before your whole encounter with his father. you wondered if his father had told jj about what he did, and if he did, how did jj react?

you glance at the clock noticing that in the next ten minutes jj would be climbing his way into your window. your body was shaking with nerves as you glanced in the mirror. your black eye was a dead give away that something had happened. could you even tell him the truth? what if you lied, and then he called you out on it saying he already knew about it because his father told him. you contemplated every outcome of the future event that you weren't even ready when he slightly tapped your window. you quickly pulled on sunglasses that easily blocked your eye.

you smile widely, sliding your window up as he gracefully lands on your floor without making a noise, a talent he had perfected. “hey princess!” he has a huge grin on his face, his goofy smile is reason enough as to why you can't break the news to him about what his father did. “hi!” jj pulls you into a hug and you gladly take it. you wrap your arms tightly around his abdomen, as his arms are rubbing your hips. the hug ends and he slowly pulls away, his hands lingering on your hips before he grabs your hand to move to the bed. “do you want to be the big spoon or the little spoon?” jj asked. you waited, contemplating your choices. “either way is fine, you can choose.” you smile as he immediately gets into the little spoon position.

“hey i forgot to ask you why you are wearing those stupid glasses inside.” he laughs lightly as he reaches for them and you completely jump off the bed, scared he actually grabbed them in time. luckily, you were fast enough and the glasses were still settled on your face. “i have a horrible headache, that's all.” you nodded as his face slowly fell, he stood up, moving to sit on the edge of your bed. he glanced up at you. “we can turn the lights off so it isn't as bright in your room.” you shook your head at his compromise. “princess, i need to see your pretty face before i can declare that you are okay.” you hesitated, trying to piece together a quick story that you could tell him to explain how you wounded up with a gruesome bruise. he wasn't going to leave unless he knew you were okay.

he watched you intently, trying to see what you were hiding. “before i show you please promise me you won't freak out.” you reach for his hands and he grabs them in return, slowly nodding. “no, that's not going to count. please tell me that you won't be angry at me.” his heart swiveled up inside his chest as he heard that you thought he would be mad at you. “i promise that whatever you are about to tell me won't make me upset, and that i could never stay mad at you.” you nodded to his words. “okay so you know what you just said?” he tilted his head confused, “yeah?” you breathe in, trying to calm your nerves. “remember that.”

you hesitantly reach your arm up to expose your once hidden eyes. at first it doesn't register so he stares at you blankly. but the moment he saw it, he was already standing up, and freaking out. “hey you said you wouldn't be mad!” he ran fingers through his blonde hair, his eyes wide. “what the fuck…? i said i wouldn't be mad if YOU did something, i never said anything about not getting mad when it involves someone else!” he looks back at you and immediately investigates your eye. his jaw clenched as he looked above you, his hand gripping your chin. “who the fuck did this to you?” you stayed quiet, until he looked down at you waiting for an answer. 

silence fills the room leaving it eerily silent. “i can't tell you jj,” he laughs, shaking his head, “that's a funny joke, now tell me what happened and who the fuck hit you?” you looked away. “jj there's nothing you can do.” he followed along with your shenanigans. “and why is that?” you couldn't look at him so you looked at the floor. your silence was only making him more worried. “who was it actually? who are you protecting!?” he was getting frustrated. “fine. i'll tell you, only because i know you'll find out sooner or later.” he pulled you onto his lap, one hand holding your thigh, while the other grabbed your curvy hip. you took a deep breath before continuing. “okay. earlier today i baked you cookies and i stopped by your house so i could drop them off. but your dad was there, and i was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. it was my fault. okay?” 

he shook his head, his grip on your thigh tightening. “you're telling me that my father gave you a black eye?” his tone was shockingly low as he absorbed every word you said. “yes. and he stomped on the cookies i made you.” his chest started heaving. “i fucking hate him! everything in my life he has to ruin. you, you mean so fucking much to me, and he’s over here throwing punches at you!” you stayed quiet. “jj?” he looked down at you, trying not to get too worked up because the last thing he wanted to do was scare you, “yes princess?” you hesitated with what you were going to say. you leaned your head to rest onto his shoulder.

“i- okay, i really appreciate you, but i can't have you getting hurt because of me. you're not my boyfriend, and you don't have to protect me anymore. i know you feel obligated with that pact we made when i first moved here, but you don't have to inconvenience yourself by coming over here every night, or by fighting people who harass me, or anything. jj, i feel so bad that you are roped into this position because i never intended for this to happen.” he stays silent, “no way am i leaving you. princess, please throw that thought away right now. i’m here for you always. and i am going to continue to protect you because even if i'm not your boyfriend, that doesn't mean i don't want you safe.”

you are so stunned by his response that your breath gets caught in your throat. “what do you mean?” he smiles looking down, his hands finding themselves comfortable around your hips. “what i'm saying is, that i do want to be your boyfriend. i want people to know how much you mean to me, and i want the whole world to be jealous that i have you, and they can't have you. i want to be the one who protects you. so, if you'd want me too, i'd love to be your boyfriend, if not that is completely okay.” you stared at him, “jj, you'll never know how long i've wanted to do this.” he looks at you confused before your lips connect to his. you run your hand through his hair, while the other hand is sitting on his jaw. his hands hungrily grasp your hips as he pulls you closer to enhance the kiss. you both pull away, smiling.

you asked jj to spend the night with you. he agreed, which resulted in him laying on his back as your head lay still on his chest. one of his hands was always touching you, so he could ensure you weren't going to go anywhere. as you slowly fell asleep beside him, he started to think about what his father had done. with anger clouding his better judgement, he stealthily slipped out your grasp, and climbed out your window, set to fulfil the goal in his head.

eek i hope this was good <333. perhaps a part two...???

[persimmonteas]

take a good look

4 times you gaze at him + 1 time he gazes at you

fic cowritten with @shinaus​, art by @annypuff​ <3. you can buy mel a coffee and anny a coffee. please support them! their work is banging and i love them 🥺 

pairing: vampire!shinso x f!reader

word count: ~4.5k

genre: slice of life fantasy (a tinge of coffee shop!AU), fluff, mutual pining, smut

cw: dom!shinso, size kink, daddy kink (inspired by toshi anon), praise kink, some degradation (he says slut 3x), fingerfucking, nipple play, choking, hair pulling, mirror sex, mating press, hickies everywhere, a cunt slap, overstimulation

first time: the coffee shop incident 

Of course your favorite coffee shop is swamped. This place is the only good thing about waking up close to dawn, with drinks always better than what your office has to offer and not to mention the pastries they make fresh.

Letting out a small groan, you decide to wait it out in the line and do your best to hurry with your breakfast before heading into work. Thankfully, you always leave yourself with enough time to actually sit and enjoy whatever you decide to buy that day, opting for it over greasy break rooms or stuffy smoking areas. 

Once the warm mug is in hand, you make quick work to try and find your usual spot only to find it occupied. While you won’t act possessive over a public seat of all things, losing the chance to enjoy glancing out the window and munching down your croissant seems to screw with your brain. 

You act without thinking, making a sharp turn to go sit somewhere else only for your knee to make contact with the underside of another table. Shit, you think to yourself, hearing the clatter of their cup. You helplessly watch liquid run down the table and into the person’s lap. 

You expect them to flinch, dart up from the table or, hell, even yell at you for your carelessness. He doesn’t yell at you and you don’t expect to see the colour of the liquid running down the table onto the floor to be red. Blood red. Fuck. A vampire. Hopefully, one who doesn’t eat you for your stupidity.

Just as you feel your heart sinking down to your stomach, your eyes flick up to meet the man whose day you likely ruined. You don’t see a hint of anger on his attractive features. In his defence, it’s probably because he’s busy looking at the way you’re gawking at him.

His unkempt hair and the deep eye bags adorning his sculpted face somehow make him look all the more endearing. It even looks like he’s wearing the smallest hint of eyeliner. Or are his eyes just naturally like that? Hard to tell. 

You’re pulled out of your thoughts (and staring session) by him breaking eye contact with you to clean himself up, before rising to his feet and doing the same to the table. It makes you come back down to Earth, and thereby remembering your clownery

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—” you start, but are met with a hand held up in front of your face. You furrow your brows in confusion, having assumed his lack of aggression would mean he’d be more understanding but nope.

“No issue,” he grumbles in response, giving his trousers one last wipe down before swiftly weaving through the others in the coffee shop, flipping his hoodie up and taking his leave. Now, you’re even more confused. 

Sure, you spilled something over him and the table, but you would have bought him another one? Paid for his dry cleaning or something maybe? Yet, off he went, moving so quickly you couldn’t ever hope to catch up to him. Fucking vampires, man, you shake your head.

The confusion eventually fades but not completely. You help one of the baristas doing the last of the clean up before settling into the strange vampire’s seat and letting your mind wander as you eat your breakfast. 

second time: gawking at the gym

It’s a common occurrence for you to make it to the gym right as the rush of 9-5s ends, the perfect time in your opinion. Nobody hogging any of the ellipticals, the water cooler always left unoccupied and nothing but time for you to get through your usual routine.

With this in mind, you can confidently say that nothing out of the ordinary ever happens at the gym. Well, could say. 

Carefully bringing your leg around to meet the other on your way off of the exercise bike, you're momentarily distracted by the sound of a nearby treadmill whirring so much hard that it sounds as though it may break. 

Lifting your towel and water bottle, you make your way over in curiosity. It almost seems as if whoever is on the treadmill moves even faster as you approach. Once you make it there, you’re met with the man who seems to be continuously haunting your surroundings. 

Despite his unruly purple hair in a band and all-black gym attire, vamp man still seems out of place. The athletic wear is a complete change of pace, considering the hoodie and leather jacket he was wearing during your first encounter. 

You rid yourself of any wandering thoughts about the man and focus on him being the reason that the treadmill is about to be on its last legs. You can’t bring yourself to look away from him; the sheer speed of his legs is mindblowing.  And a little ridiculous looking if you’re honest with yourself.

The moment is short lived when he slows to a stop, probably thinking the same thing that you are about the poor machine not being able to last another mile. He looks like he’s barely broken a sweat. Fucking vampires, you repeat to yourself.  

Just your luck, he notices your presence as he dabs the side of his not-even-sweating face with his towel. He begins to smirk at your eyes on him. 

“Little rude to stare, isn’t it?” he wonders aloud, voice much deeper and more luxurious than what you remember. Getting caught fills you with deep embarrassment. You stutter out a quick apology before making your way over to another machine. 

Even with your back facing away from any passing people as you continue your routine, you can practically feel his eyes boring into you.

A few minutes is all it takes for you to turn to check if your suspicions are correct. You’re met with his shameless stare. He’s not even making an attempt to hide his gaze either, leaning on one of the back walls as he watches you, large arms crossed over his broad chest somehow making the skin-tight shirt he’s wearing even tighter. 

This is torture, you think to yourself as you give him a polite smile, only to hear him chuckling at your strained smile.

“What? So you can stare but I can’t?” he tries, fully getting your attention once more as you stop what you’re doing. Sighing and smacking your machine, you come off of your machine and make your way back over to him.

Your confidence about approaching decreases as you see the full height difference between you two. You’re a fair bit smaller than he is. He looms over you even with his back still leaning against the wall.

“If you’re trying to stalk me, you’re doing a bad job. It should be me, after all. I’m the predator,” he lightly mocks you. 

You almost stomp your foot. “I am not stalking you!” you protest. “It isn’t my fault that you apparently go to the same coffee shop and gym as me.” 

He levels you with a delighted look. Humans usually don’t take his teasing well but you seem so much fun.

Throwing an annoyed peace sign at him, you make your way out of the gym.

third time: literally just that scene in the first twilight movie without edward doing donuts in his car into the lot

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing out at this time?” The low voice comes from your side, making every muscle in your body suddenly jolt. You just left your friends. Why do creeps seem to have a radar?

Even as you pick up your pace and ignore the question, it only seems to egg him on more. Right as he starts talking to you again, he’s swiftly cut off.

Feeling a small gust of wind at your back despite the calm night, you turn in confusion. Where did the creep go? Your question is answered when you watch him get slammed against the nearest storefront’s shutters. A much taller figure overshadows over him, hand around the creep’s throat. 

Even in the darkness, you can see the purple hair, unruly as ever starting from the collar of his coat. You stride over and pull on Shinso’s coat sleeve in hopes of ceasing his threatening actions—no matter how much the creep deserves the vampire’s ire. After all, you don’t want Shinso to end up with a track record after, like, a century (you’re guessing) without one.

“Shinso,” you say, eyes pleading as you look up at him—unaware of how much he enjoys hearing you so naturally say his name. He meets your stare briefly then rolls his eyes and releases his hold, watching the man scramble away. The chuckle that leaves him at the scene makes you wonder if he’s a sadist. 

Before you can wonder much more, he grips your hand tightly in his own as he leads you farther down the street. The clasp strangely comforting to you despite his freezing skin.

“You really need to stop being so irresponsible,” he tells you, tone almost mocking as he (somehow) takes every right path to your apartment building. There’s no point in questioning how he knows this. After all, for some reason, the world keeps leading you to him in an array of coincidences that are starting to feel less and less coincidental. 

When you let out a scoff, his hand seems to tighten further and you reflexively try to yank your hand away. He just stops in his tracks and turns to face you. There’s a look in his eyes you don’t question, especially since he speaks up before you do. 

“Don’t make me have to watch your every move to keep you out of trouble, I’d like to have a social life too, you know,” he grumbles, before turning to walk away. It leaves you a little dumbfounded to say the least, since you’re not exactly stopping him from having a life. Y’know, with, how totally unplanned these encounters are and all.

fourth time: the confrontation

Apparently, not one thing can be your own anymore. Not that you’re complaining, of course, but the sheer number of coincidences between you and Shinso is extraordinary and only seems to escalate. You keep running into him even in places so busy that you think there’s no chance of running into anybody you know. 

Now that Autumn is in full swing, the nights are colder and the leaves are dappled in brown and red shades. The perfect time to start going on walks through some of the bustling parks you live near. 

You love the scenery, especially the large lake that lies in the middle of your favorite park. As dusk rolls around, you take the chance to get a walk in to enjoy the now barely visible sunlight and to ponder a certain vampire. 

Not even one lap into walking around the lake, you catch sight of the colour that’s been plaguing your thoughts in your peripheral. 

The deep indigo colour is hard to miss, especially when it’s on the head of the vampire you keep running into. Though this time feels a little different since you finally catch him when he’s unaware of you.

Sitting on one of the benches facing the water, he’s wearing his typical hoodie and leather jacket and is holding what looks to be a book. What kind of book a vampire reads is beyond your imagination. 

All you know is that you finally have the opportunity to take the upper hand. Every time you see Shinso, he worms his way out of your questions. Or he leaves in an ominous distinctly vampire fashion.

There’s no reason for him to be everywhere you go, unless ... You want to confirm your hypothesis. 

The plan is simple. You’ll act like you're still out on your casual walk and you’ll walk up to the bench and sit down in a non-suspicious way. You nod to yourself. Perfect, flawless plan. 

It shockingly works … his book must be really good. You get all the way up to the bench without him acknowledging you. Since he’s only taking up one side, you don’t wait for verbal permission to sit down alongside him.

He still makes no indication that he notices you. His eyes never leave the book he has in his hands. You fixate your eyes on the silver ring on his index finger as he flicks through the pages. 

You lean in close and try to keep your smugness about finally startling him from bleeding into your voice when you speak. 

“You know, I’m starting to think you’re conveniently everywhere I go on purpose.”

For the first time ever, he’s the one caught off guard. Shinso flinches away from you and brings his eyes to meet yours. Without his signature smirk or witty comments, he simply gets up to take his leave. 

Well. This certainly isn’t going the way you want.

After your many encounters, you can pick up on his overall mood through his reactions to you. Though, he’s never reacted like this. At least not since the incident at the coffee shop.

The dismissal ignites irritation in you. Why is up to him whether or not you interacted? Taking the opportunity while you still have it, you follow him. 

It isn’t until he passes a large tree just off of the main path that you completely catch up to him. You realize he’ll easily slip away if you don’t move quickly. So you do, hand coming up to hit the tree trunk and essentially blocking his way. 

His eyes widen at you. However, he makes no attempt at escaping. 

“Why do we keep running into each other?” you ask with exasperation, eyes still on him as he moves to lean against the tree. You don’t move your hand, using it to grasp some control of the situation.

“You’re everywhere I go, it doesn’t matter where or when. You’re always there.” The rant is far from needed for him, he knows this already. But, you keep going. 

“What is this? Were we lovers in a past life or something? Do you have some unresolved feelings?” The way you’re rambling makes you impossibly endearing to him. His classic chuckle slipping out stops you in your tracks.

“Nothing of the sort,” he curtly replies. You cross your arms over your chest at his usual demeanor returning. “No such thing as reincarnated soulmates, at least with what I’ve experienced in my lifetime. Though, the feelings department…” As he continues, he leans closer to you. So much so you can almost feel his breath on your face and smell his warm, spicy cologne. 

“Is there a problem if I do have feelings for you?”

You blink at him. What? You don’t think you’ve ever been so caught off guard.. Feelings? Is that what this has all been about? 

Every previous encounter begins to run through your head and you start picking out small things that back up his statement. The lingering stares, teasing words, protective nature. You groan and drag your hands down your face. Man, you didn’t pick up on any of his hints. He must think you’re an idiot. 

Before you can give him an answer, he pushes off the tree, standing over you at full height. Assuming he’s about to attempt to leave once more, you’re surprised to see him turning back in the direction of the bench. When you make no effort to move, he reaches out and pulls you by your coat until his hand is in yours. 

“I’ll take that as not a problem.” A smirk still on his face due to you indirectly feeding his ego. 

Although, now walking beside him, you don’t miss the way his free hand reaches up to rub at the back of his neck. A gesture you recognise as one of his nervous tics. Did you do that to him? You grin at the idea that you make the great vampire feel that way.

“There’s a scooter rental place down by this side of the lake.” His voice brings you out of your thoughts, realising he’s been trying to hold eye contact with you. “I’ll make a deal with you, if you let me take you out on a ride around the lake, I’ll answer any questions you have, deal?”

The way he’s practically bargaining with you makes you want to laugh, but you keep your face neutral as you agree to his offer. Who turns down taking a romantic scooter ride with a hot vampire? Nobody. 

Of course, he takes any opportunity to tease you, so he rents a smaller scooter so you have to cling onto him.

You don’t complain though. How can you as you enjoy feeling his back muscles flex? Not to mention, he keeps his promise and answers any and every question you have about himself or his past. And, wow, he has an interesting and long past. 

As the sky turns dark and drips stars, you’re left with a feeling rising in your chest that you certainly don’t reject and with the hope of meeting him again—on purpose, this time. A planned event seems likely as you clutch the torn-out blank page of his book with his phone number scribbled across it in your fist.

one time: he gazes at you

“Hitoshi. You already have better night vision than me. This is so extra!” you protest, stumbling through the dark apartment as your vampiric boyfriend maneuvers you to ... his room, you think. 

Hitoshi just rubs soothing circles on your back and you just know the fucker is smirking. You hear the light click on. 

“You can take the blindfold off.” 

Tugging the blindfold off, you stare at the new object Hitoshi bought for his room. 

“Baby, this is a mirror.” 

He nods while leaning against his bed, looking infuriatingly pretty per usual. 

“You can’t even see yourself in a mirror. Why?” You arch an eyebrow in Hitoshi’s direction, trying to explain your absolute bafflement at his purchase. 

“In case you’re here and want to check yourself out.”  

You see nothing but innocence plastered on his facial expression but did you trust it? No. 

A mindblowing second later, he stands in front of you, caressing your face with calloused, cold hands. A nice contrast to the sweltering temperature in his room he set for you. Hitoshi leans in to kiss you, gentle but firm. Your hands go up to fist his shirt as he intensifies the kiss. 

He slides his hands down your cheek to stroke your lip and then slowly skims down your body.  

“It would be a great idea to take this off,” he whispers, playing with the hem of your shirt. 

You eagerly nod as he strips you out of your shirt and pants. Awareness of his plans finally clicks when he turns you to face the mirror. 

The remark on the tip of your tongue dies when Hitoshi rolls your nipples through the thin lace of your bra. You arch into his touch as he gently pinches and pulls them. God, your panties are already drenched and nipples hard. 

“Fuck,” you moan as Hitoshi slides your panties to the side. Letting you lean against his corded chest, he hitches one of your legs off the floor. 

“Go on, spread yourself open. Let me see how wet your slutty cunt is,” he murmurs into your ear. 

You hard swallow as you spread your glistening lips open for him, strands of your arousal clinging to your fingers when you pull them away. Hitoshi digs his hand into your thigh.

“Did I tell you to stop?” He sounds amused as he uses his other hand to pull your hair by the roots.

“No, no, daddy, I’m sorry,” you apologize and move your hand back to where it belongs. 

“Good girl, look at yourself. Wrecked without even being fucked.” You stare at yourself in the mirror with a half-lidded gaze. He’s right. With your heaving chest and puffy, soaked pussy, you look like you’ve been railed. But instead, you continue to spread open your aching pussy for your fully clothed boyfriend.

“Daddy, daddy, please touch me,” you plead as you grind against his hard bulge, desperate for any kind of friction. 

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?” If you were any more lucid, you’d have smacked Hitoshi for his lilting tease. 

“Aren’t I always a good girl,” you whine, hands clambering at his thighs. 

He chuckles at that, kissing your head before somehow gracefully crumpling to the ground with you in his lap. In a blink, he has you spread out in his lap as he plays with your clit. He slides a thick finger inside your tiny cunny as he grazes your shoulder with his canines.

“Look at you,” he coos. “You look so good like this, my darling little slut.” 

You don’t even have a retort, too enraptured by the sight of Hitoshi fingerfucking your sopping cunt with his invisible hand. The way your cunt opens for him and gapes in the mirror spellbinding for both of you.

You moan as your hips jerk up. There’s not much more he loves than how your lips part and your legs shake at how he strokes his finger inside of you. 

“More,” you beg. How can he resist your dazed expression? 

“Such a needy baby,” he tsks as he scissors you open with another finger. 

Another strum of your clit and pinch of your nipple and you’re gone, eyes squeezing shut. Your juices surely ruining his pants as you writhe in his lap. 

He cradles your cheek and then grips your chin to turn you back to the mirror. 

“Look at yourself, pretty girl. Such a fucked out mess.” 

You gaze at the bruises blooming over your shoulders and down your neck and shudder, pleased. The aftershocks of your orgasm leave you warm as you languidly suck your juices off Hitoshi’s fingers.  

“Toshi!” you squeal as he gently deposits you on his bed and pulls his clothes off. The bed is purely decorative and for you considering he doesn’t sleep. Although, even with a bed, you guys still fuck over every surface in his apartment. 

Your sensitivity protests fall to deaf ears as he bends your knees to your chest. This time, Hitoshi is the one to spread you open. He slaps your cunt and you claw at the sheets. Pumping two fingers slowly in and out of you, he uses his other hand to roughly pull down your bra.

His chapped lips wrapping around your nipple and cold fingers groping your other breast feel overwhelming. Hitoshi cages you in, sucking wet kisses over your tits, leaving you no room to evade his overstimulation as you squirm to get away from his fingers fucking up into you. 

Your sore nipples and cunt get a moment of reprieve as he moves down to concentrate on marking bites all over your plush thighs. Instantly, you miss being full. 

When he passes your empty, clenching cunt for the third time to suck bruises on your inner thighs, you burst. 

“Daddy, please, please, fuck me!” 

Hitoshi trails kisses up your heated skin to your throat, laving over the hickies he left.

“Beautiful,” he croons as he finally positions his tip against your hole and pushes in. The praise and stretch make you whine. He stills as your tiny cunt clenches around him. Your warm, drenched walls wrapping around his cock makes him toss his head back in pleasure. 

“My patient good girl,” he groans, pulling at your nipples. 

“Fuck—more, daddy, more,” you curse as you squirm, your hips rocking up to meet his shallow thrusts. He doesn’t reply and grazes his fangs over your pulse point as he holds your hips down. 

Your breath hitches—and he abruptly pulls back.

“Did my baby think I was going to bite her?” Hitoshi gives you a lazy smirk as he keeps his vexingly slow pace, watching his cock drag in and out of your creaming cunt. 

His large hand wrapping around your neck makes you squeak and suddenly tighten around him. Your favorite necklace. Knowing he’s using an insignificant fraction of his strength to please you makes your eyes roll back as your breath stutters.

“That’s it, cum for me, pretty girl.” Hitoshi starts a punishing pace as he strokes your clit with his free hand. His dark eyes never leave his hand wrapped around your throat, your ravishing lightheaded face and your bouncing tits. Hitoshi’s furrowed expression as he drags his tongue over his canines in concentration makes you whimper. 

You buck against him, gushing around him and crying out his name.

The way you cum so prettily for him has Hitoshi hissing your name in your ear as he thrusts deep into your spasming cunt, chasing his own release. Intertwining his hands with yours, he presses you into the mattress to pin you down. Before long, his orgasm washes over him. 

You gaze contentedly at Hitoshi as he pulls out, feeling empty already—and then you realize. 

“Hitoshi! I swear to god if I look like a grape again,” you threaten as you try to stand up to head to the bathroom. 

You don’t even take a step before he whisks you into his bathroom, laughing at you and kissing your forehead. 

Well. You suppose looking like a grape isn’t that bad.

[genesisrose74]

Believe It, Baby

AHH HELLO I LIVE!! I am so sorry about my lack of publishing content besides some general community posts as of late - I’ve probably said this before but school is a buttface sometimes :// I’ve been really enjoying the new episodes of Haikyuu so I decided to finish a self indulgent fic to try getting back on track! Kinda like how it worked out so here it is!! Yes, it is Hinata again, how did you freaking know???

Pairing: Hinata Shoyo x Fem!Reader

Words: 2122

*******

“I don’t believe it for a damn second.”

The ginger under scrutiny groans for what seemed the eighth time that day, shooting his friend an exasperated look as they walk into the practice gym. “I swear, Kageyama! She’s in the college preparatory class with Yachi!”

At this, said blonde turns her attention to the entering duo with a curious tilt of her head.

“What’s this about someone in my class?” she inquires politely.

Kageyama glances at Yachi. “Hinata says that he’s dating one of your classmates, which I say is a bunch of crap.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Bakageyama? I’m her boyfriend!”

Tsukishima scoffs from across the gym.

“Sounds like someone had too vivid of a dream last night,” he jeers, Yamaguchi snickering beside him.

Even Tanaka and Noya doesn’t seem to believe the aspiring ace, the former clapping a hand on Hinata’s shoulder with a philosopher’s air about him.

“It’s alright to be single, little man. You don’t gotta go and make something up to look cool.”

Hinata huffs before shuffling to set up the court for practice, while Sugawara takes his position as mother crow by smacking the troublemaker second years upside the head.

“I for one believe you, Hinata,” the silver haired setter declares, smiling when the first year boy beams with happiness.

“Thank you, Suga-senpai! At least someone here does.”

“Mind telling us what she’s like?” Daichi chimes in.

Hinata’s grin blossoms even wider, and his gaze turns excited. “She’s amazing, and really smart, and super competitive! And she’s...also really pretty…” he trails off in embarrassment.

Suga gushes at his flustered state, ruffling his kouhai’s mop of orange hair. “Look at you, all affectionate. She must be special.”

Yachi follows up with a nod of agreement at Sugawara’s statement, joining Hinata on the court for set up.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s her name?” the manager in training questions.

When the middle blocker tells her proudly, the remaining first year boys all bust out in laughter.

“Yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it,” Yamaguchi guffaws. “Isn’t she like one of the smartest students in our grade?”

Hinata nods affirmatively, and Tsukishima shakes his head with a dry laugh. “Try picking a more believable person next time, Hinata. There’s barely even a chance that you’ve ever crossed paths with her before, let alone dated the girl.”

Yachi, on the other hand, takes a moment to ponder on Hinata’s words, not even close to giggling like the rest of her fellow first years.

“You know,” she mumbles to herself, “that’s honestly not that far of a stretch, considering how outgoing she is.”

The orange haired boy offers her a weary half-smile for at least thinking he had a shot with who he claimed, but made no further attempt to emphasize that he was in fact dating said girl. It was clear that nearly none of the team would believe him without solid proof.

Coach Ukai grabs the team’s attention, and from then on leads a rotation of digging drills to help improve everyone’s foundational abilities. This format of training continues for most of practice, such routines making it easier for some of the boys (namely Tsukishima) to laugh about Hinata’s “attempt'' at having a girlfriend in line. Said middle blocker remains in a pouty mood due to such circumstances, but decides to keep it quiet for the time being - lest he dig a bigger hole in which his teammates could tease him.

Soon enough, practice for the day is over, and the Karasuno boys organize their things in the club room before filtering outside. As Hinata waits outside for the rest of his team to come downstairs, the whole team planning on making a stop at Ukai’s store, his phone screen lights up with a soft chime.

Hi sunshine! Did your practice just finish?

The first year smiles, knowing that you must have snuck him a text during your student council meeting, and quickly opens his phone to type something back.

Hi angel!! Yeah, we’re gonna get something at Ukai’s rn

Hinata playfully raises an eyebrow at your fast response, the chat bubble popping up right away. Usually you’re pretty invested in your club meetings, so today’s must be a pretty boring topic.

Wanna save me a meat bun pretty please 🥺

If there’s an extra I will <3

:D hehe thank u love

Tanaka’s voice breaks the ginger’s focus from his texts, the second year shouting about food as he ushers the team towards the school exit. Hinata tosses his phone into his practice bag and catches up with the walking group, his mood significantly improved from just minutes ago.

*****

The town is basked in the soft glow of street lights as the team makes their way down the hill to Ukai’s, currently unaware of a presence in a sprint to get to them.

Your fellow Student Council members had shot a bewildered look in your direction as you scrambled to pack up and hustle out the classroom door. You ushered a quick goodbye to them before stuffing your phone in your skirt pocket, determined to surprise your boyfriend after the council meeting ended early.

Maybe you were starting to regret the idea of running in the god-awful flats Karasuno High enforced in their dress code, but you pushed past the irritation in favor of keeping pace. That meat bun wouldn’t stay hot forever, you reasoned, but in reality the opportunity to see your shining boyfriend truly drove your motivation.

After finally getting a glimpse of a large group near the base of the hill, a spark of victory flames in your heaving chest at your persistence. With a heavy sigh, however, you realize that your competitive ball of energy was likely at the head of the bunch, racing that setter with whom he always argues. Your plight was not over yet.

So, attempting to reign in your eagerness to see the ginger haired boy of your affections, you continue the path down the quite steep hill, this time using the art of determined speed walking. The soles of those forsaken flats on your feet would not be forgiving if you started running again, anyways.

When you finally manage to close in on the team, Sugawara is the first to notice you, observing for a moment before nudging Daichi on his right. The Karasuno captain looks confusedly at his vice captain, the latter’s eyes holding a parent-like intuition.

“I think that’s her,” the silver haired third year murmurs, nodding his head in your direction as you make your way closer.

“Who’s her?” Daichi whispers back, and Suga looks like he’s about to karate chop him in the side.

“Hinata’s girlfriend, Dai!” he hisses. “Look at who she’s focused on.”

Daichi follows your gaze to find the little decoy first year at the end of it, causing him to raise an eyebrow in surprise. “So he really wasn’t pulling Kageyama’s leg.”

The two third years of Karasuno watch you with great interest as you inch your way to the front of their group, more of the boys taking note of your presence with the passing moments.

The only few who don’t seem to notice are the gaggle of first years in the front, many of whom are bickering with each other. Yachi is the only one in your grade to see you as she walks beside Kiyoko, and you give her a small wave before putting a finger to your lips. All she can do in response is nod, mouth slightly agape at the fact that you even acknowledged her in the midst of your pursuits.

“-If there’s an extra bun in the bag today I call dibs!”

“And since when have I ever listened to you, pipsqueak?”

“Who’re you calling pipsqueak, you giraffe!?”

You have to conceal your chuckle at the group’s antics. You’d been told a handful about the first years known as Hinata’s teammates, but had yet to formally meet them due to your consistently busy schedule. Today, you felt it was about time for that to change.

Yamaguchi picks up on you, followed quickly by Tsukkishima when his freckle-faced best friend notifies him with a tap on the shoulder. Even Kageyama, who somehow managed to get into yet another argument with Hinata, slows his banter as he gazes at you, completely bewildered.

The last person left in the dark is - of course - none other than your dumbass of a boyfriend.

“Why did you get so quiet all of a sudden?” the aspiring ace inquires. “It’s ‘cause you realized that I would win the argument anyways, huh?”

The boy jumps when he feels you sidle up next to him, brushing your arm against his own.

“Yes, sunshine, that’s surely the reason.”

The first year whips his head to face your playful smirk, before practically launching himself into you and trapping you in a bear hug.

“You surprised me!” he exclaims with a giddish grin, nuzzling into your figure.

“That was kind of my plan,” you laugh. “Student council meeting ended early, so here I am.”

Hinata didn’t seem to want to let go of you any time soon, so you resorted to taking his face in your hands and pecking his cheeks.

“You gonna introduce me or not, silly?”

The middle blocker was blushing like crazy at this point, reddening with the realization that his entire team was a current audience to the little show taking place.

“Guys, this is my girlfriend,” he gestures to you awkwardly, and you couldn’t hide the small smile that curls on your lips. “You’ve probably seen her with the Student Council before.”

You wave enthusiastically to the team, many of whom are still recovering from the newly confirmed discovery (namely, some very skeptical first years).

“So, he wasn’t joking?” Yamaguchi spoke up, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Aw yeah, Hinata!” Tanaka whistled, “Sorry that I ever underestimated you!”

“Good job, Shoyo!” Nishinoya affirms, jumping on his second year best friend in excitement. “She’s a cutie too!”

The first year squeezes your midsection tighter to your surprise, seeing as his face was practically steaming from previous team comments.

“She is cute,” he mumbles, and the unexpected statement elicits a laugh from your lips.

You tap the ginger’s nose playfully, bringing his attention to your content smile. The sight of it causes him to grin right back giddily, momentarily forgetting the larger group beside him once more. “Saved me a meat bun, Sho?”

He was like this whenever at the other’s house or on a date: mushy, cuddly, affectionate, the whole nine yards of fluffiness. Public spaces involving acquaintances, however, was a bit of a different story, as Hinata got very easily flustered in front of teasing friends. Even without meeting the other team members of Karasuno before, it was quite obvious.

“I always manage to when you ask,” he responds proudly, although a faint frown briefly appears on his features for a moment, “but Tsukishima’s being a bit of a jerk about it today.”

The blond in question sends his fellow middle blocker a look of annoyance, before his expression melts into a cheshire grin as he turns to you.

“Just didn’t want him eating too much, that’s all,” he explains. “Overindulgence isn’t a great habit for athletes, you know. But since you’re actually here and not a figment of Hinata’s imagination, that’s absolutely fine with me.”

“Hey! You saying I’m a pig or something?” the first year pipes up with a glare.

Tsukki smirks. “Or something.”

Sugawara steps in to lessen the obvious tensions between your feral ginger and the smug beanpole, giving them both a deathly glare that practically screamed, ‘don’t make me whoop your asses in front of a student council member’.

You giggled at the team’s dynamic, one that clearly resembled a rambunctious family on their nightly outing together. It really was just as you had imagined the first time your boyfriend described it to you - with maybe a bit more emphasis on the rambunctious than you had previously inferred. But it was actually quite enjoyable to be around.

As the group finally started on their way again after your surprise introduction, Hinata came up beside you once more with a curious glint in his eyes.

“What are you smiling all giddishly about?” he inquires, head tilted a fraction.

You can’t help but chuckle a bit at the question. “I just really enjoy being around your team is all.”

The aspiring ace of Karasuno interlocks his fingers with yours as you stroll along together down the street, his teammates in tow as they observe the situation before them with some remaining bewilderment.

“Good, cause I think they might like you too.”

[whatisthiswritingthing]

Observation Skills - Part One Lindsey Horan x Reader

I have posted this a few times, but the tags never show up... But let's try again!

Disappointed with her previous season in the NWSL, Lindsey starts training at a new gym  where she meets one of the trainers. 

Lindsey Horan wanted to be the best soccer player in the world and that meant putting in the work. Lindsey was willing to put in that work.

Unfortunately, that work meant being at the gym five A.M., six days a week.  The early wake up was hard, and definitely not enjoyed, but it was all worth it every time she stepped on the pitch, every time a medal was out around her neck. With a loss in the previous 2019 NWSL season, Horan was back in 2020 ready for a win.

This is how Horan found herself at the gym early every morning without complaint. She was back in Portland come January following national team camp, ready to put in the preseason work.

Horan found a new gym and a new trainer, the last thing she expected was to not only see someone else at the gym, but that someone else was always there before she even and her trainer got there. Her trainer, Sean, did not seem as surprised when they started Horans new program. Always giving her a sleepy smile and wave before beginning Lindseys workout.

Lindsey could not seem to be as dismissive of the other girl working out, her curiosity was peaked. Horan couldn’t help but wonder about the dedication of this other woman. The woman athletic, that much was a given based off her physique, she had long blond hair and steel blue eyes that cut through Lindsey every morning.

She was only two weeks into her new program and Lindsey could not understand why this woman was always on her mind, or why she started looking forward to seeing her every morning. They had never even spoken, just always seemingly making eye contact throughout their workouts. The other women always with a look of concentration on her face.

This morning was a little different though, the other blonde wasn’t already working out when Lindsey arrived at the gym.

“Yo! Was starting to think you weren’t showing up” Sean called out with a grin.

Horan glanced up from the start of her deadlift and saw the other blonde walking in the gym, again making eye contact.

“And miss out on seeing you?” the other blonde shot back with a smirk, continuing to a stationary bike to warm up.

Horan continued with her set of deadlifts, dropping the final lift with a grin.

“More weight?” Sean questioned, “I want to max out your deadlifts today.”

“Let’s do it,” Horan replied, grabbing more weight to add to her bar.

Lindsey and her trainer added more weight to other side before getting back into position for her lift.

“You got this Horan,” Sean motivated.

Lindsey took a breath, dropped her hips and started to pull the bar up. The weight raised slightly off the ground, but Lindsey dropped it before she could complete the lift. Lindsey stood with a frustrated sigh. Glancing to the other blonde on the bike, they made eye contact, Lindsey saw the focused looked on her face and quickly looked away.

“I can’t get it,” Lindsey said to her trainer with frustration.

“Go again,” Lindsey looked over to see the other blonde getting off the bike and making her way over.

“You have the strength, we just need to tweak your form a bit,” the blonde said.

“Can I help?” she questioned glancing first to Sean, then making eye contact with Lindsey.

“Of course,” Sean nodded.

Lindsey just nodded and made her way back to the bar.

“Awesome,” the blonde started, “set up like normal, but try with a switch grip.”

Lindsey set up like normal, changing her grip.

“Good, now roll your shoulders back and lock them in,” the blonde described.

Lindsey furrowed her eyebrow in confusion, glancing up.

“That didn’t make any sense, did it?” the blonde asked, while stepping closer, turning and demonstrating what she meant.

At the confused looked still on the midfielders face, the blonde stood and walked to the be beside her.

“Do you mind if I touch you?” the blonde questioned.

At Lindseys nod, the blonde placed a hand on her back, “set back up.”

The blonde guided the midfielder into the position she had described. Lindsey was surprised by the question, not used to trainers looking for consent first. She could feel the strength in the grip, but the gentleness as she was guided into position.

“Keep you back tight, keep your shoulder blades together and engage your lats the whole time,” she finished and stepped back, “try that.”

Lindsey followed the instructions and easily pulled the weight. She dropped the weight with a huge grin directed at the other blonde.

“Good work! Bet you could do even more,” she said with a smile, “I’ll leave you guys to it,”

“That’s why you get paid the big bucks,” Sean said with a smirk.

The blonde just rolled her eyes and turned to walk away.

“Wait, I’m Lindsey,” Horan put her hand out.

“Sara,” the blonde replied, reciprocating the handshake.

“Oh yea, guess I should have introduced you guys,” Sean said, rubbing the back of his neck, “Lindsey, this is Sara, she’s one of the trainers here. Sara, this is Lindsey.”

“Yeah, be better Sean,” Sara said, shoving him gently with a smile, “nice to meet you Lindsey. Let me know if you want a good trainer.”

With a wink Sara was putting her headphones back in and walking away.

“She’s a trainer, I have been trying to figure out who else is crazy enough to be here this early,” Lindsey said with a chuckle.

“Yea, Sara is good shit,” Sean replied, “one of the best trainers I’ve ever met. She trains most of the university teams”

“Should I be taking her up her offer?” Lindsey asked with a laugh.

“Honestly, I would not even be close to offended if you ditched me for her,” Sean agreed, leaving Lindsey surprised, “Sara really is one of the best.”

The trainer remained in the midfielders’ mind, periodically making eye contact throughout the rest of her workout. Now, Lindsey seemed to notice more about the blonde. She noticed the flex of her muscles and how defined her back was. As well as the confident way she walked around, but easily interacted with the other gym regulars, always putting a smile on their face.

By the end of her workout, Lindsey was exhausted and confused. Somehow, she both wanted to avoid Sara, but also wanted feel that confident touch on her back again and have Sara make her smile the way she made everyone else smile.

With a sigh she leaned her head back against the head rest in her car, only to drop her chin down to her chest. She knew what this feeling was, and it had definitely never been directed towards another woman.

Lifting her head, Lindsey put her car into gear and began to drive home. Her mind never stopping the whole time, arriving home before she knew what happened.

Gathering her bag, she made her way into her condo, being greeted by Fergie at the door. With sigh she bent down, picking him up and making her way to the couch. Laying down, with Fergie on her chest, Lindsey pulled her phone and called her best friend to try to attempt to sort her thoughts.

As she listened to it ring, Lindsey tried to figure out how and what she was even going to Emily.

“Linessi!” Emily Sonnett greeted as she picked up.

“I think I have feelings for one of the trainers at my gym,” Lindsey rushed out.

“Woah, slow down, say it again in a speed I can understand,” Sonnett laughed.

“Her name is Sara, she’s one of the trainers at the gym and I think I like her,” Lindsey tried again, slower.

Lindsey became anxious when Emily did not respond right away. But then realized her phone was indicting Emily was trying to switch to FaceTime.

Taking a steadying breath, Lindsey accepted the change to the call. Immediately seeing the face of her best friend.

“So, tell me about Sara,” Emily prompted.

“You’re not going to question that it is a woman?” Lindsey asked, shocked.

“Why would I? It doesn’t matter, all that matters are your feelings Linds. And when I can come back to Portland to meet her,” Emily replied honestly with a wink. As boisterous as Emily was, she knew when to hold off.

“Fuck, I miss you Dasani, that was exactly what I need to hear,” Lindsey let out a breath, feeling the tension leave her shoulders, allowing herself to sink further in the couch, feeling Fergie burrow into her neck.

“Good, I’m glad. Now tell me who has you so smitten,” Emily encouraged with a smile.

Lindsey started describing their interaction that morning, explaining how she thought she just enjoyed working out early but then learned today that she was a trainer.

“That doesn’t tell me anything about her other than she knows how to be a trainer,” Emily said with an eye roll, “tell me why you like her, you obviously noticed her before she helped you today.”

Lindsey blushed; Emily was too smart for her own good sometimes.

“She’s pretty, she has long blonde hair, I don’t know how long it is though, she always has it up when she’s working out. The softest blue eyes, they’re almost grey. And so strong, and she just looks strong, you know? She would put everyone to shame at fitness testing,” Lindsey rambled, unaware of how much she had noticed about the blonde.

“Oh! And she has tattoos, which are awesome, I haven’t gotten to really see them though. She just has a confidence about her too, but not arrogant. She was so casual coming over to help but made sure it was ok with both of us. And explained it so well to Sean without being condescending. She even asked if she could touch me before helping adjust me, who even does that?” Lindsey ended her ramble, looking back at her phone to see Sonnett grinning at her.

“So, you’re going to ask for her number tomorrow, right?” Sonnett asked.

“What? Not a chance, I’ll admire from a far.”

“Why? You seem pretty hooked already. And she works there, so she can’t ask you. At the very least, you need to talk to her in person then.”

“I don’t know how to hit on a girl Sonnett!”

“Just do the opposite as every creepy dude has ever done it to you and you’re golden. “

“You’re making it sound like this is so easy.”

“It is easy Linds, just talk to her, flirt a little, see if she responds and then ask for her number. I’m really sorry, but I have to head to my training now, we will continue this conversation later though”

With that, they said their goodbyes and disconnected the call.

Lindsey set an alarm for Thorns training in a couple, then dropped her phone on the coffee table, closing her eyes and snuggling with Fergie.

With a sigh, Lindsey decided she would attempt to get to know the blonde trainer.

[leelysian]

Changbin as your older brother AU 💖✨

genre: fluff, bullet point fic

word count: 2.3k

warnings: swearing

Disclaimer: I do not personally know Changbin. This work is purely fiction and my own idea. I took inspiration from his on screen persona. Please do not translate or re-upload my work.

A/N: hi :) Sorry if this is kinda bad. I’m running out of ideas for this series(?). It’s really hard to write these aus for the members when there’s limited knowledge about them and when you’re trying to make everything seem different without making it seem like they’re all one dimensional and cut from the same cloth. Thank you to everyone who has been reading these older brother aus and thank you for being patient. Please leave some feedback, it really keeps me going. ❤️

☆ Let’s start with you as babies.

☆ Changbin would for sure as kiddy questions like “How did the baby get inside mummy’s tummy?” “When will baby come out?” “How does baby poop?”

☆ Your parents either answered him vaguely or somehow dodged his questions.

☆ Would sleep in your parents bedroom close to your mum to protect her baby bump.

☆ Would be hella excited to feel you kick in your mum’s tummy.

☆ Would say cute things to the baby bump. “Come out quickly baby I can’t wait to play with you.” “We can play with *insert favourite toy* together.” “We’re going to have a lot of fun together.” I am close to tears

☆ Doesn’t care about the gender.

☆ When you were born, he was extremely excited to see you but little Binnie patiently waited till your parents had their moment first until they ushered him to the hospital bed.

☆ He was wide eyed as he held you as if scared to hurt you. He smiled when he stroked your cheek with a finger and smiled wider when you grabbed onto his finger.

☆ CUDDLES, CUDDLES AAAAAAAND MORE CUDDLES

☆ Tried to help your parents take care of you but most of the time failed.

☆ *tries to put pants on you* *gets kicked in the face instead*

☆ The only thing he could properly do was cuddle you as he fed you a bottle and somehow you ate properly if he was the one feeding you when you were being fussy.

☆ *you two fall asleep while he’s holding you*

☆ Adoring/curious stares.

☆ Fed you a bit of lemon for jokes when you were starting to grow teeth and had the time of his fricking life when he saw your reaction.

☆ I’m talking the kind of laughs he does with his whole body.

☆ Helped you learn how to walk patiently. Just laughed when you fell on your butt.

☆ Taught you how to high 5 at a very young age.

☆ You talked to him a lot. Not like he understood what you said because it was mostly babbling but it was fun for both of you.

☆ You broke a lot of his toys. He’d get upset until he got new ones.

☆ The one toy he never shared with you was Gyu, his plushie.

☆ Fast forward you’re older and know how to walk and talk coherently, Changbin is a kid.

☆ Changbin wants cookies but they’re on the top shelf and your mum purposefully put them there so neither of you could reach.

☆ “Changbin what are you doing?” 

☆ Changbin: 👀

☆”I’m gonna tell mum~”

☆ “NO DON’T. If you help me, I’ll give you a cookie then you have to promise me you won’t tell mum.”

☆ Your smart ass contemplated for a few seconds before you agreed, “Ok what do we do?”

☆ “If I lift you up can you grab the jar? Don’t drop it.”

☆ “Yes.”

☆ Somehow both of you managed to retrieve the jar unscathed. Why none of you thought to grab a chair and do it, I don’t know.

☆ One cookie turned to two then three until the jar was half empty and your dad caught you. 

☆ Everyone except you two with crumbs around your mouths in the room:️  

👁️👄👁️

☆ Your dad walked in with brooding eyes. He grabbed a cookie and started eating quietly, “It’s a secret.”

☆ All three of you smiled happily and continued munching on the cookies.

☆ Until a while later your mum walked in and gasped, “YOU ATE ALL THE COOKIES?! *insert dad’s name* YOU WERE IN ON THIS TOO!”

☆ The three of you gulped nervously until you said, “No mum look! We saved a few for you!” The three of you smile innocently.

☆ Your mum sighed and smiled exasperatedly. “This is the last time.” A chorus of agreement sang throughout the room yet nobody meant a single word.

☆ Most of the time you two were hyperactive and played around so much you’d be knocked out cold by the time it was around 9 pm. 

☆ Your parents had to lug you to your shared room.

☆ You two played tag a lot, he was really fast so you’d always get tagged very quickly.

☆ HIDE AND SEEK

☆ Running. So much running. You’re the hyper kids.

☆ Rock paper scissors. Winner flicks the loser’s forehead. Changbin always took the penalty but never really doled it out on you, if he did it wasn’t too hard. 

☆ Races. “LAST ONE IS A ROTTEN EGG!” 

☆ Changbin could easily win, but sometimes he slowed down purposefully to let you win for a change.

☆ Giggles. Giggles everywhere. Giggles all the time.

☆ Pillow forts in your room. 

☆ Tickle fights.

☆ Cuddling together while watching cartoons.

☆ You thought he was cool.

☆ He liked you thinking so highly of him.

☆ Made him want to be even cooler for you.

☆ He’d ruffle your hair playfully.

☆ He’d pinch your nose. “AAAAHHH”

☆ He’d pull your hair.

☆ PIGGY BACK RIDES!!!!!!!!!

☆ Such a joker. It was harmless fun.

☆ Once you doodled on his school notes. He got mad and stopped talking to you.

☆ He rarely got angry at you, sure you two bickered sometimes and sometimes got whiny at each other.

☆ You apologised with a treat you got, instead of eating it by yourself, you gave it to him as a peace offering. 

☆ He didn’t eat it himself, he shared. “It’s okay just don’t do it again. These are important. You’ll know when you get older.”

☆ “Ok. I’m sorry.”

☆ Things became alright again.

☆ Fast forward you’re tweens/teens/young adults.

☆ The dynamic is wild.

☆ You two would always goof around like idiots.

☆ Changbin annoyed you a lot.

☆ “Y/N look over there!” you’re stuck in visible confusion. *smacks your head and runs* 

☆ “CHANGBIN!”

☆ You’re eating chips. “Y/n what’s that?” “What’s what?” *steals bag* 

☆ “When are you gonna stop tricking me?”

☆ “When are you gonna stop falling for that?” 

☆ You get pissed.

☆ Then it escalates into a wrestling match until ultimately you get hurt and start nearly crying in pain.

☆ “FUCK! SHIT SHIT SHIT I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M SORRY HERE YOU CAN HIT ME BACK. PLEASE DON’T TELL MUM! PLEASE STOP CRYING!” 

☆ You’re watching tv peacefully. Changbin walks in with a nerf gun/water gun. “REACH FOR THE SKY!”

☆ The living room turns into a warzone or a set for mission impossible.

☆ You ‘borrow’ his clothes. “Y/N STOP STEALING MY SHIT!”

☆ He ‘borrows’ your charger. “GET YOUR OWN CHARGER CHANGBIN!”

☆ He casually strolls into the living room, sits next to you with feet propped up on the table, snatches the remote when you’re not looking and changes the channel. 

☆ “HEY I WAS WATCHING THAT!”

☆ “Well too bad. I don’t wanna watch it.”

☆ “GIMME THE REMOTE!” “No :}”

☆ Another wrestling match for the remote.

☆ You hide his glasses. Basically keep them with you.

☆ “Hey y/n have you seen my glasses?” “Nope.”

☆ He looks EVERYWHERE. 

☆ You keep them on top of the tv when he’s away. “Hey Changbin found it on the tv.”

☆ “That’s weird I don’t remember putting them there. The heck?”

☆ “Maybe you’re just losing your mind. Already becoming an oldie?”

☆ “I may be old but I can still kick your ass.”

☆ You’re the younger sibling that either grows up to the same height as him quicker or grows taller than him somehow.

☆ He hates it. You thrive on it. “Hehe shortie. Can you even reach?”

☆ So he started working out to tone up.

☆ You’re barely able to lift a heavy box. He picks it up with ease. “Do you even lift?”

☆ He’s washing the dishes. You leave your dish for him and sneak out. “Y/N! I SWEAR-”

☆ You have a lit music taste because of him. 

☆ You’re sleeping, he’s up early. You need to go to school. Instead of waking you up like a normal person, he pulls the blankets completely off of you and tackles you. “Y/N WAKE UP!”

☆ “CHANGBIN YOU CRAZY BASTARD! DO YOU WANNA DIE?!”

☆ You two are eating. He’ll finish eating seemingly at the speed of light and stare at you eating. “I’m not sharing.”

☆ “I didn’t say anything.”

☆ awkward silence

☆ You pass your food to him. “You owe me, pabbit (pig + rabbit)”

☆ Both of you forget about it later on.

☆ He’s hella clumsy.

☆ He’d definitely break a glass or plate or vase.

☆ He’s the type to fix something just enough to make it seem not broken so the next person who uses it would think they broke it.

☆ Anything to not get his ass handed to him by mummy dearest.

☆ You do this thing to annoy him which is basically mock/copy him when he tells you something. 

☆ “Hey you know-” “Hey you know-” “you know that-” “you know that-” this continues a few more times until he screams and tackles you.

☆ You did this thing where you literally jumped on his back when he was unaware and you'd stick to him. The scream was worth bursting your eardrums. Worked every time.

☆ He was built he could carry you.

☆ Another thing is copying his actions.

☆ He yawns, you yawn. He scratches his nose, you copy. He stretches, you stretch. He shifts, you copy. 

☆ “STOP COPYING ME!” “Stop copying me” “I said STOP COPYING ME!” “I said stop copying me!”

☆ “I hate you.” “I love you too bro.”

☆ His friends like you and a lot of times you hang out with him and his friends.

☆ He wears the weirdest stuff just for shits and giggles.

☆ “Hey y/n.” “What?” you look at him and burst out laughing.

☆ Where he got a shark head mask, you had no idea. You had tears running down your face as he started to sing and sexy dance to baby shark.

☆ “STOP I’M GONNA PEE!”

☆ You two say the darndest things.

☆ “I just realised- if vampires can’t go out in the sunlight then wouldn’t the moonlight kill them too?

☆ “How?”

☆ “Moonlight is just the sunlight shining from behind the moon dumbass.”

☆ “Oh shit you’re right.”

☆ Another example of this would be:

☆ “The hospital is the only place you leave without entering.”

☆ Both of you:  👁️👄👁️

☆ You’re eating watermelon. You bite some of the white bit.

☆ “I just realised the worst part of the watermelon tastes like a cucumber.”

☆ awkward silence “wait you’re right.”

☆ “Anyways, here you can wash the plates.”

☆ “Y/N!”

☆ AEGYO FLUFFY GOODNESS

☆ Will use everything in his cuteness arsenal to get what he wants.

☆ You hate to admit it actually works sometimes.

☆ “Y/n~ pleeeaaaseee get me some cookies.”

☆ “No.”

☆ He keeps whining and rocking or shaking you. “PLEEEEAAAAAASEEE”

☆ “FINE!”

☆ Who’s really the older sibling and who’s really the younger sibling?

☆ “You know you could’ve just gotten them yourself with the time it took you to annoy me into getting them for you?”

☆ He just smiles toothily. 

☆ “If you could choose between a giant me or 5 mini me’s which would you choose?”

☆ “Neither I’d rather die.”

☆ “Y/N! WHYYYYY” he whines and shakes you.

☆ He’s always there for you when you need him the most. He’ll always comfort you with tight hugs. 

☆ He’s the type of person to make silly jokes and make you smile or laugh to make you feel better instead of sort of brooding with you.

☆ This is only acceptable with him, if anyone else tried to be goofy when you were upset it wouldn’t work.

☆ Because it’s Changbin’s thing. Only he has that power.

☆ You rarely see him upset. He’s always smiling, joking around and acting cute.

☆ One time, really late at night you saw him in the kitchen sitting with a glass of milk. He hadn’t noticed you. 

☆ This was off putting because you rarely saw him this quiet. He’s always laughing and loud.

☆ He was staring off in the distance, the glass gathering condensation from being out of the fridge and into warm temperature.

☆ “Can’t sleep?” He was startled and shook his head no. “What’s on your mind?”

☆ “It’s nothing.” You sat with a glass of water. “You know you can tell me, right?”

☆ “I know I just don’t wanna bother you.” he said and this confused you. “Why would you be bothering me? That’s absurd.”

☆ He shrugged, “I dunno, seems like all I do is annoy people these days.”

☆ You pat his back. “Hey, that’s not true. Well it only applies to me because you’re my sibling. That’s a thing. Is there anything specific you’re talking about?”

☆ He stays quiet for what seems like the longest time until he unloads. 

☆ You’re not good with words like he is. You try your best to listen and give sensible input. 

☆ Changbin admired that about you. Despite being younger, you were sometimes mature and understanding. You were authentic, you never tried to be something you weren’t.

☆ Which is why he always valued your words. 

☆ Afterwards if he had anything on his mind, sometimes he’d vent to you.

☆ You the ability to make his insecurities disappear simply because he feels stupid for the way he thinks when he talks to you. 

☆ You make his problems miniscule, not in a belittling way but in a way that makes him realise how things could be different or done differently.

☆ Your sense of perception was something amazing.

☆ This is why Changbin believed you were the best sibling he could ask for.

☆ But little did he know, you wouldn’t be able to function properly if he wasn’t the goofy, silly, clumsy, idiotic Changbin who exists today.

☆ He’s just the right type of flavour you need in your bland life.

☆ don’t be shy put some more.

☆ He’s the right balance of a clown, a baby and a guardian angel.

☆ He’s extremely caring, loyal, kind hearted and annoying.

☆ You’d change absolutely nothing.

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

My Little Secret: The Beginning

Summary: When a young vampire comes across a dying outlaw on a mountain, she decides to take his fate in her hands.

Warnings: Brief summary of the end of the game, so spoilers?

The night was cool. Fog held heavy in the air, not a breeze to stir the underbrush. The sounds and scents of nature surrounded the being that swiftly moved through the forest like a panther. Hunger gripped her with iron claws, a thirst that could be quelled by only one substance.

Thunderous sounds of hoofbeats ripped through the quiet night air. Shouts, curses and gunshots were soon to follow. Fresh blood spilled and clouded her senses, pulling her toward the commotion. A burning need sat in her throat, flowing down to her stomach as the fist of hunger gripped her. Fangs, sharp as talons, spiked through and poked her lips. Humans arriving by the droves in pursuit of something, and she had to be cautious.

She kept to the trees, following the explosive sounds as they made their way up into the mountains. She was close enough to hear names: Arthur Morgan, John Marston. They were chasing those two. Through the fog she could make out a plethora of lawmen on horseback. The aroma of gunpowder hung heavy in the air as bullets sprayed mercilessly.

She veered off, knowing she’d be unable to lure one away. They were too focused on prey of their own. Interfering would only turn the attention to her. She made her way to a nearby mountain as the sounds faded.  Lean, powerful muscles leapt up the smooth rock, the steep surfaces just mere small hurdles. She reached the top within seconds, staring out at the landscape beneath her. Perhaps she’d catch wind of a lone passerby somewhere else.

The crowd of policemen were relentless in their pursuit it seems. A few short minutes passed by when the gunshots once again crew closer, catching her attention. She turned to see the two outlaws were now on foot, scrambling their way up the very same mountain.

Their voices, although distant, were not hindered to her enhanced ears. The breathless rasp of one urging the other to run, to leave him behind.

She crouched behind a boulder to peer on in curiosity. They were just yards below her. Their words carried like a breeze, final moments of a heartfelt goodbye rushed by the urgency of the situation. Names murmured to one another in sadness. Brothers. Emotions ran high, and she was curious as to why this chase even begun.

The one, John, left the other, Arthur, to fight the onslaught of lawmen alone. The odds were against him. She expected him to be mowed down, buying his friend only mere moments before they were on his tail again.

But he surprised her. He fought back with a barrage of bullets, effortlessly nailing many of them. He climbed up further, the gunshots becoming quiet as he killed off the rest of them. A seasoned gunslinger somehow escaping an inevitable fate. Her curiosity of him grew, wondering if he’d make it back to the other after a while.

That thought was cut short when another man appeared, creating a struggle between the two. This new opponent was dressed unlike the lawmen from earlier, spouting out anger and insults toward Arthur. The fight grew more intense by the second. The way the opponent spoke to Arthur as they battled out on the ledge below, sharp and venomous.

More blood was spilled. Her fangs dropped down immediately from the scent. She knew she should carry on and feed, yet the scene unfolding kept her interest. The sun would be rising soon, and while she could go another day without feeding, it wasn’t ideal.

More emotions bled out as the fight continued. Arthur, from what she could see, was beginning to falter. It didn’t take much longer for them both to fall onto the stone beneath them. Arthur began to crawl for a gun on the ground, while the opponent got to his feet and taunted him.

And then, a third stepped out of the shadows. She was unaware of his presence, appearing like a ghost in the night. Arthur seemed to be drawn to him. Dutch.

There was a raw plea in his voice. She knew that tone: the tone of someone who knew they were about to meet their end. He spoke about trying to become a better man, how he pushed for those around him to break free. The little heartstrings she had left were tugged for this man. He struggled to speak through his ragged breaths as he lay there. He was dying.

The other two still standing began to part their ways after a tumultuous conversation, leaving Arthur on his spot. In her sharp eyes she could see the defeat written on his bloodstained face.

A swell of emotion hit her, stirring her stilled heart. Try as she did to lock away her human emotions, she often would find herself sympathizing with them.

The near-black expanse overhead began to grow gray with dawn’s incoming. She would have to find shelter immediately. She began to scale back down the mountain, though his weak, raspy breaths continued to echo in her ears. She should leave him. Humans die every day.

Yet his last words kept ringing in her head. He just committed such selfless acts despite being so close to death. Most men she observed weren’t honest; falling to their selfish, dark wills and desires behind closed doors and returning to their normal livelihoods as if they hadn’t a sin on their shoulders. A man like him were as rare as they came. Losing such a good soul to the world would be a pity.

She drew closer to him, listening as both his pained breaths and weak heart had slowed drastically. She paused in place, her stomach churning. The dead would not heal. She knelt beside him, watching as his clouded, bloodshot blue eyes stared out into nothingness. Another pure soul lost to the true darkness of the world. As silly as it was to mourn the man known as Arthur Morgan, it only felt proper as he was truly alone.

The blood leaking from his fresh wounds was rancid, tinged with the poison of disease. It was nothing short of a miracle of how he managed to put up such a fight in those last moments, setting his affliction aside to assure one would make it.

Why must the world be so cruel?

The first weak rays of dawn appeared over the horizon, stinging her flesh with its arrival. Just then his head turned, his chest crackling with one final breath.

Her eyes widened. Perhaps he was meant to survive another way.

Before the sun could burn her any further, she picked his body up and cradled him with ease in her arms. She scurried over to the west side of the mountain, keeping herself to the shadows while she ran at a near breakneck speed. Her shelter was not too far away.

---

Darkness. Complete darkness surrounded him when he opened his eyes. A heavy weight as crushing his chest and he tried to breathe – only to inhale what felt and tasted like dirt. He tried to spit it out, though more and more fell in. He attempted to raise his hands to clear the earth away, though his limbs felt bogged down. Cold, loose soil shifted across his skin in his efforts to be free.

Has he been buried?

Panic began to settle in. Buried alive?

His first instinct was to dig, and dig up. He forced his arms through the moist dirt, clawing forward and forcing himself upright. He pursed his lips and muscled his way through. He had to get out. The further he reached, the lighter the dirt became. His fingertips reached open air and he hastened, hands breaking the surface. The darkness above spilled out to glowing silver. He found purchase on even ground and heaved himself upward, loose dirt falling in front of his eyes as he gulped in cool, fresh air.

The remaining sediment fell from his hair into his face, he spluttered and shook it away, blinking as the scene around him came to focus. He seemed to be in a barn, the smell of old hay filling his nose. The bright moon filtered through a window from the hayloft.

He stood to his feet slowly, confusion beginning to settle in. Where was he, and why was he buried in a barn of all places?

“You’re awake.” A feminine voice spoke from behind him.

He whipped around just as a lantern illuminated, bathing the barn walls in a golden glow. A young woman sat on a crate, a curtain of raven hair shrouded half of her face. Her skin was dark and bright brown eyes reflected the flame. She tucked her hair behind her ear, revealing her face in full. Her round cheeks and curious gaze reminded him of a child. She herself was petite, dressed in a simple skirt and chemise.

“I thought I was too late.” She continued, standing to her feet.

“Too late for what?” Arthur asked. “Who are you, and where am I?”

“You’re in an abandoned homestead in Ambarino,” she explained, stepping closer to him. “My name is Lucia Rosales. And you’re Arthur Morgan I presume.”

Arthur nodded, his confusion only growing. “Why am I here?”

Lucia walked around him slowly, eyeing him up and down as she went. Arthur froze in place, anxiety beginning to pool in the pit of his stomach. His finger twitched toward his gun belt, only to find it was no longer there.

She came to a stop in front of him. She was at least a head shorter than him, her eyes meeting his. “I brought you here, Arthur. I saw you dying on that mountain last night.”

Dying. The memories suddenly flooded back to the forefront of his mind. Gunshots, running, panic and sadness. Bloodshed. Hatred. The struggle to bring that rat bastard down. The betrayal of the one that helped raise him. The ache in his chest finally spreading through the rest of his body, coaxing him to sleep…

Everything at once. So intense it gripped his insides and twisted them. He grabbed hold of a nearby support beam, squeezing his eyes shut, the images flashing vividly behind his eyelids.

He took a deep breath – wait. A deep, clear breath. He wasn’t struggling to breathe. His body didn’t force him to try to cough. No longer did his chest feel heavy with disease. No longer did his body feel fatigued with the tendrils weighing down his muscles.

He turned his attention to Lucia. “Did…did you heal me?” he murmured.

“I did more than that,” she answered with a small smile. “I gave you a second chance.”

“Huh?”

“You know there aren’t many men like you in the world,” Lucia began. “Most I’ve seen are wretched scoundrels. They think they can get away with playing dirty and pretending to be innocent in the eyes of God…” she shook her head, disgust plain on her face. “But you… you’re different. You sacrificed yourself to save another. You fought even when your life was at an end. You spoke about doing good deeds. You tried to become a better person.”

Arthur listened quietly, the bewilderment beginning to surface again. “How could you possibly know any o’ that?”

“Like I said, I saw you dying on that mountain. I heard every word spoken…” Lucia stepped closer, placing her small hand on his chest. He flinched slightly from her touch but hadn’t moved. “The sadness I felt for you was like no other. I thought you deserved more than what cards you were dealt.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “How were you even there? That whole place was full o’ Pinkertons n’ –” he huffed and stepped back, beginning to pace. “This jus’ sounds too bizarre.”

Lucia dipped her head for a moment. “I know it does. But I saved you from death, Arthur.”

“And how exactly did you manage that?” Arthur stopped in his tracks to stare at her. “I had Tuberculosis! That ain’t somethin’ that can heal overnight, Lucia. It’s a goddamn death sentence unless you’re some miracle worker or –”

“Vampire.” She softly interrupted.

“What?”

“I’m a vampire,” she continued. “And now so are you, Arthur Morgan. I gave you my blood and buried us here to begin your transformation, out of the sun. Niños de la noche. We are Children of the Night.”

Vampire. Arthur stared at Lucia, words stolen from his mind. She had to be speaking utter nonsense. Vampires did not exist outside of scary bedtime stories. “I don’t believe you.” He grumbled, scowling at her.

She hissed and her mouth opened immediately, showing a top row of perfectly white teeth. In the blink of an eye two fangs flicked out, as long as wolf teeth and as sharp as eagle’s talons. Arthur jumped and took a step back, his hand raising in defense.

“Now do you believe me?” Lucia said quietly, prompting Arthur to peer at her over his hand. Her fangs somehow disappeared. “We’re much more than urban legends.”

Arthur just stared at her, unable to comprehend what he just witnessed. It’d been so quick that he could have imagined it. He shook his head and turned away. “No…I don’t believe it.”

“Believe what you want, Arthur…” Lucia said, approaching him slowly and raising her hand up to him. “It’s true…feel for a pulse.” She held her wrist out.

Arthur didn’t dare to meet her gaze again, instead looking down at her hand. In the pale moonlight, her dark skin seemed almost devoid of all color. Her veins were prominent, shining blue underneath. Hesitantly he reached out, placing his fingers on her wrist. He waited and…felt nothing.

His eyes widened, slowly lifting his gaze to her face again. She had a solemn expression, staring at him unblinkingly. She stepped forward again, gingerly grazing her hand along the open fabric of his shirt. She rested her palm against his heart.

“You don’t have one either.”

Arthur swallowed hard, his own hand hovering over hers. She moved out of the way as he lay it against his skin. He held his breath and waited…waited…no rhythmic beat to be found. His stomach flipped.

“See?”

He stepped back again, horror ripping through his entire being. “I’m dead!” he exclaimed.

“Undead,” Lucia corrected. “While your human organs ceased to work, another force drives you now.”

He released shaky breaths. How was this happening, and why? Why was he subjected to this? Why couldn’t he have just died on that mountain and be done with it?! “I didn’t ask for this, damnit!” he roared. “Why didn’t ya just leave me?!”

Lucia didn’t react at all to his outburst. She kept her cool expression. “Because you deserve a second chance.” She said. “I wanted to heal you at first…but you were too far gone. Believe me, it wasn’t a decision to be made lightly. Being a Maker is – ”

“A maker?” Arthur interjected. “The hell is that?”

“When a vampire turns someone into another vampire, the original vampire is known as their Maker. It’s a bond like no other. Parent to child, sibling to sibling, even lovers.” She replied, dipping her voice as if speaking intimately. “It is a bond that no human could even understand.”

Arthur stared at her in disgust. “I don’t wanna bond with you, ‘specially since I don’t even know you.”

Lucia nodded once, staring down at her feet. “I…don’t blame you, Arthur. I’m sorry. I just thought someone like you should stay in the world to counter the bad in it.”

Arthur scowled. “My ‘good deeds’ came at a price,” he growled, kicking at a rock on the ground. “I was an outlaw, Lucia. Hell, I still am. I’ve murdered n’ robbed folk for years. The gang I was in, they were my family, they fell to pieces before my eyes…” he sat down on a crate and held his face in his hands for a moment. “I don’t deserve to go on after all the shit I’ve done. Sure, I’ve helped people now n’ then but…it don’t atone to everything else…” he mumbled.

“Your past isn’t what defines you,” Lucia quietly responded. She moved closer to him, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Now you have an eternity to do better.”

“An eternity.” Arthur repeated with a grumble. “Livin’ for that long… I don’t think I can take it.”

“The years will pass without thought. You don’t age nor get sick.” Lucia murmured, pausing when he sighed. “You don’t need to breathe either. That habit will fade over time.”

Arthur shook his head silently. “I didn’t ask for this, Lucia. I was ready to meet my fate. I’d done all I could do…” he voice cracked with emotion. “I weren’t meant to survive.”

“No one knows what their true fate is, Arthur,” Lucia gently chided him. “Not even you. Perhaps I was meant to come across you.”

He scoffed in disbelief. “To turn me into a…a monster…” he grumbled.

“It will take some time for you to come to terms with your new life. It took me a long while…” Lucia sighed and gazed upward toward the ceiling, but her eyes told a much deeper story. “I hated knowing what I was, knowing that I could no longer feel the sun on my skin, enjoy my favorite meals, have a family of my own to grow old with…”

Arthur blinked at her words. He noted the look of longing on her face. Her eyes glazed in the lamplight as if she were about to cry. She sniffed and looked right at him again.

“Until I realized what gifts I have, now I pass onto you. I chose to bring you back because I believe you have so much more to give to the world. It’s up to you whether or not you go through with it.” She finished.

Arthur pursed his lips, unsure how to even consider a response to her. He thought back to those last few moments. The rush to get John to safety while the Pinkertons breathed down their necks. The fight against Micah and those moments of betrayal with Dutch. He didn’t know if God existed, but he truly believed it was his fate to die. Everything had fallen apart, and the list of people he trusted had shrunken by the day. Too many innocent lives lost whether it was by his hand or in front of him. His way of life dissolved. The time of outlaws finally ceased to exist.

He went to take a deep breath, and paused. Breathing was no longer a necessity, but a mere habit. He truly was no longer human.

What was his purpose now?

His stomach churned with hunger. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate. He grimaced from the discomfort, his hand immediately going to his abdomen.

“You’re hungry,” Lucia stated. She straightened up and padded over to the barn doors. She pushed them open, gazing outside. “Come, you’ll need to feed.”

Feed. The word echoed so strangely in his mind. He knew what she meant, and the idea revolted him. At an instant, he felt the pricks of two teeth on his bottom lip. It surprised him, and he ran his tongue along their surfaces. Razor sharp and long, the fangs of a predator.

[cloakedandsoaked]

Celestial North

It was warmer than Dantalion was used to it being, when he visited this place. Barely below freezing, in fact, and the ice was thinner than he would have liked, though there were still several metres of it separating him from the sea below. A glance skyward showed he was as close as the stars could guide him. He would travel on foot from here, and rely on his other senses to find his destination. 

A few kilometres north, he stopped. The feeling of the entire earth spinning directly below him couldn’t be faked.

He cleared a circle some twenty metres across, and smoothed the surface down to a perfect sheen with a wave of his hand. Only the keenest of eyes could spot the reflection of the Cynosure and the surrounding sky, but Dantalion had keener eyes than most. The star declined farther away from the celestial pole than it had sometimes done in the past, but closer than usual. In fact, of the hundred or so times he’d made this journey, only a dozen saw the five-fold light of Polaris as the North Star at all.

When everything was prepared, the demon sat and rested for a moment.

He sipped from a verdigris can that could only be described as incongruent. He would need his strength, and tonight, strength came in the form of aspartame. Chilled fingers drew small loops on the ice.

<You're late.>

The voice caught him off guard. (The voice didn't catch him off guard.) 

The voice seemed even colder than he had expected, laced with a familiar irritation that he probably should have expected. (The voice was exactly as cold as he expected, and, indeed, could not have been otherwise.)

The voice spoke directly to his mind. (The voice, as is most apparent to us outside viewers, was from his mind.)

A figure appeared in the center of the circle, only a meter away, mirroring Dantalion's pose exactly.

Dantalion didn't allow his gaze to linger for long. "I'm sorry, Teacher. I was-- " He reached for a lie: I was tending my garden, and found his mind forcibly redirected to the truth: my library.

<As well as usual?>

"No."

<No.> There was no judgement in the agreement, merely a quiet acknowledgement. The figure tilted its head. <What are they like?>

Dantalion flinched. His forced hallucination was going off script; that was never a good sign. <~A dead tree's root system holds the earth together, and provides a home for many creatures.~> He sat his soft drink aside. <~Honeysuckle and lilac grow on the banks of the river. The waters rise again and again, but each year, the flowers return. The river becomes rerouted by a dam. // Fire, and fire, and fire. // A man follows a mirage in the desert, and finds water. // A copse houses many small creatures, but its resin burns at the cars parked below. // A dust devil. A meal tainted with ash. // A broken pane of glass. // An open cupboard reveals that the mementos within are now moth-eaten. Sour cherry candy, melted, blisters the skin it touches. // Rum burns in a throat and belly. Heirloom china is broken without a thought. // A hatchet strikes a wrought iron fence. Sparks fly. // A grain of wheat gives way beneath a mill. Bread comes later. // Fairy lights and grave dirt and blood and sugarcane. // A flame that appears small, but is really just far away. // A would-be martyr considers recanting.~> He paused, grimacing as he drew out the last image: <~A garden, scorched to the soil, is never replanted. In place of new life, a gift of honey is spilt upon the ground.~>

Is this good enough? It's not an excuse, but is it worthy? Two hundred thousand years, two deaths, and a very long reconstruction had failed to temper his desire to please, even as he tried to stifle the thoughts.

The other figure gave no answer, which Dantalion at least knew to take as a genuine lack of an answer. <Why are you here?>

Dantalion pondered the point for a moment, images flashing through his mind -- crisis, confusion, brokenness, despair -- and tried to find the trail that would lead to a true answer. <I think I broke something vital in me. I need to find out when and why and how, so I can fix it.>

<You noticed you were confused,> the other voice summarised, not incorrectly. 

Dantalion felt his mind suddenly enveloped as if in an embrace, and let himself be taken in whole. This was why he was here, uncomfortable though he knew it would be as his own recent memories began swirling around him like a smoothie in a blender, a trillion thoughts and feelings and sensations reeling about at incomprehensible speed. He knew better than to try and grasp at any individual one, as the disorientation would grow exponentially. Instead, he waited (minutes? surely it could not have been hours) for the spinning to slow to a comfortable twirl. At this speed, he could see the memories tinged with crisis almost as if they had a separate color filter laid upon them, instead of the color being smeared into the total. Spinning, spinning.... stop!

The whirling came to an abrupt stop, one memory focused in his mind: the first domino in the particular line of crises that currently held him hostage. Bingo. But unexpectedly (unexpectedly!), the spinning began anew, disallowing his mind to find purchase in the memory, disallowing any of the analysis he had come to this place expecting.

Another crisis memory presented itself. A pause. 

Again the spinning, again a pause.

Again.

Again.

Addled beyond all prediction, Dantalion grasped at each memory, striking out for purchase with the grip of his mind, only to be forcibly ripped away each time. Each furious pull was agonising, in a way the demon had never experienced pain before, not in his entire existence.

Again.

Again.

Suddenly the voice thrilled across the surface of his mind in a violent bellow. (He had never heard that voice bellow. Such a thing seemed anathema.)

<WHY ARE YOU HERE?>

Stunned, Dantalion skittered back from the other figure in the circle, bum never leaving the ice. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck.

<Why are you here?> the voice repeated, still firm, but (blessedly!) no longer shouting.

The demon, now shaking as if from the cold, took a deep breath. "I notice that I am confused!" he spat. Somehow, repeating his part in the script forced the crest of terror in his gut to ebb into a thing closer to soft alarm. This was what he had come for, not whatever-the-fuck had just happened.

<Let us try again.> This time, the other mind grabbed Dantalion with all the subtlety of a typhoon, pulling him under and into the maelstrom of his own memories.

Gasping and flailing against the current, the demon took his next breath as the churning slowed once more, stopping at a very familiar memory. This time, the greenish tinge of crisis was minimal. Instead, the memory glowed golden with contentment: A folk-styled resort room in Finland, burrowed beneath a stack of blankets with someone he loved. Dantalion clung to the mirage as if to a life preserver, sucking in the warmth like a man's next breath.

He cried aloud when he was ripped from it and thrown into the chaos once more.

The next stop again featured a bed, this time a hospital bed with a lovely, if wan, redhead within. He was bent over her, and this time saw the scene from two impassioned directions. Then, before he could so much as react, he was flung back to spinning.

Again. A London flat.

Again. Magical hands in thick fur.

Golden memory after golden memory, each torn from his bleeding mental grasp like a toenail ripped from its bed by a particularly unforgiving kerb. His physical form sobbed, collapsing forward onto the ice in supplication. <Make it stop, Teacher!> But it did not stop, and the pain continued with each memory shredded from his consciousness.

Some two dozen memories in, he finally submitted, letting his mind be heaved and hurled every which way without resistance, taking only the shortest moment of solace in each pause before the disorientation began anew. Still, it did not stop; fond moment after fond moment found him, all within the past decade. Nor did the confusion cease, for each memory was followed by the careening press of time and rhythm and ways to live that interspersed the few moments of genuine joy he was allowed.

Surely, this time it had been hours when the spinning slowed to a final and complete stop, spitting Dantalion back into himself, a ruined spectre to inhabit the body lying prostrate on the ice. Sense was truly beyond him, now, and with it, speech; he was unaware of his own mental howling, a cant consisting only of why-why-why-why?

Only minutes, though, did it take for him to come back to himself. He grasped for the memories, making sure each was still in its designated place. Safe. They're safe. His mind was still its own. Wild confusion lit his eyes as he dared a glance up at the other figure, who was still sitting quite upright, quite unbothered, quite normal (as much as such a creature could be called 'normal' in the first place). Dantalion flinched when the voice arose once more:

<Why did you fight me so?>

Pain, again, and this time a pain of the heart. They were never meant to be opposed. Not in the beginning, when there were truly two of them, and certainly not now. Why are you here? The question echoed in Dantalion's mind, with no voice needed to call it forth. And then the pain was joined by shame.

"Is this the lesson, then, Teacher? Am I set against myself, a clinging, pathetic thing? No great crisis to undo the Great Duke Dantalion, merely the inability to let go of the past, good or ill?" It was a bit of an intuitive jump, accepting the horrible thing he had just experienced as an object lesson rather than a direct attempt at correction, but, well. They rather did know one another's language. "Have I come all this way to be merely kicked down the road like an empty tin can that doesn't know its place?"

Of course, he was allowed to be a touch bitter, if the mental construct he put so much effort into creating was allowed to torture him. Or so he reasoned.

<Let go,> the voice adjured, though it carried the weight of a command. Such things always did.

Dantalion pushed himself up, grabbed the can of soda which had emptied itself onto the ice in the fray, then stood and brushed the stray crystals from his clothing. He stared at the other for a long moment, heavy with spite and tenderness.

Then, in a blink, both figures were gone, and the circle held only Fresca and starlight.

[the-headbop-wraith]

1_8 Edge

The van was moving when Vivi came to.  She didn’t feel the vibrations crackling through the undercarriage, so she decided they must have moved onto a smoother pavement, maybe closer to home.  Vivi wanted to laugh.  What was home these days?

Voices flutter back and forth, distant and beyond her reception as her brain worked to shrug off the fog of memories from the previous evening.  She felt annoyance at the recollection.

“S’you don’t like the sun?” That was Arthur’s voice.

“It’s tolerable,” another voice.  “But it’s hard to enjoy when you’ve lost your eyelids.”  The bite of that comment sent the conversation flat.  There was a short span of silence, then Vivi heard the unmistakable sounds of shuffling around in the cup holder.

“Would some sunglasses help?” Arthur asked, the pitch in his voice changing as he leaned over into the back of the van.  “These aren’t great, but I’ll get you some better ones later.”

Vivi felt her position shift and uncoiled a bit in response.  She turned her face up to the skull, magenta eyes brightening as they fell on her.  “Sorry.  Didn’t mean to wake you.”  Lewis leaned over to take the thick lensed glasses that Arthur held back.

“I was already awake,” Vivi mumbled.  She gave her eyelids a gentle rub before she raised her attention back to Lewis, who was inspecting the glasses he had been handed.  Vivi bit her lip and tried not to smile.

“What?” Arthur called, when he picked up on the tension.  Vivi covered her mouth.  No argument Lewis was at a disadvantage when it came to expressions as just a fleshless skull, but somehow he managed to express so much.

“Do you have a death wish, Arthur?” Lewis hissed.

Vivi lost it at the horrible squeak Arthur expelled.  “What’d I do this time?!!”

“Arthur,” Vivi chimed.  “Lewis has no ears.”

There was a brief pause as Arthur’s mind sort of clicked.  Sort of.  “Vivi,” he chirped, “you’re awake?  Oh wait….”

“It’s fine,” Lewis said.  He was sporting his pink fluff hairstyle that seemed solid, if it were made by his spiritual fire.  “I’ll figure something out.”  Lewis tried a few times, but failed to make the glasses stay on the edge of his nose.  He inevitably gave up and perched the sunglasses on the edge of one of the cuvees in the vans wall.

The vans occupants resumed their silent contemplative thoughts, as the vehicle rattled down the road.  Vivi began to wonder how long they’d been traveling, and when it was that they resumed.  The time at current must have been noon, warm sunlight soaked through the windshield and filled the interior of the vans back quarters.  There was no sign of Mystery, the pup was probably in the front seat with Arthur.

“Sleep well?” Lewis asked.

Vivi tilted her head back to meet the glimmering flames inside the eye sockets.  It took a moment for her mind to reset and sift through the events of the previous days, what she had learned and what she understood of her relationship with the late Lewis.  Sudden clarity struck her, and she felt afraid for some unexplained reason.  Beyond the haze of influence that area, that zone, had injected in her mind, she found her perception shifting.  It was an unpleasant sensation.

“Yeah, I did,” Vivi said.  “How close are we to the college?”

Arthur answered, leaning up slightly from his seat.  “About an hour, if I speed up,” he said.

Vivi nodded and thought carefully.  She refused to raise her eyes to Lewis face as he watched her.  “Lewis,” she says, “You said your home was gone?”  The skull hesitated, before it bobbed in a nod.  Vivi pondered more over this.  The night had seemed like a dream, she had thought it was a dream.  She knew now it wasn’t, Lewis was here.  Finally, she inquires, “Did we kidnap you?”

Lewis seemed to blank out at this.  Honestly, he had not considered the scenario critically enough, everything had happened too fast to consider (excuse the pun) being spirited away by former friends.  He judged the delicate process of restoring his ‘essence’ had drained too much of him, and that had rendered him unable to consider marginal focus when one was trying to draw back their core and sense of self.  This situation had occurred only rarely, maybe only twice in his new state of existence.  Lewis wasn’t mortified to admit it himself that each and every time the sensation did occur, it had terrified him.

Until now, he hadn’t considered that he was just abducted - by friends of course, but his reluctant company was not anticipated by them and it amused him.

“I think… you did?” Lewis answered.  Vivi slipped out of his arms, and he let her go.  She sat against the wall of the van close to him, her gaze raised over the rim of her magenta spectacles.

“Are you okay with that?” she asked.

Lewis stared at her, trying to understand if there was hidden meaning in her interrogation.  He could detect confusion in her aura, the hollowed pockets of her memories where once a Lewis existed.  He felt the regret roll through his own soul, until he smothered it out with hot pink sparks.  For Vivi, his expression did not shift in the slightest to indicate his inner woe.

“Yes,” Lewis said.  “I think I am.”  He glanced up and caught Arthur’s eyes peering at them, from within the rear view mirror.  Arthur ducked back the moment Lewis had raised his attention.

“We’ve been talking, Vi,” Arthur said.  “Just idle chit chat.  Catching up.”

“Oh,” Vivi said, and Lewis made another odd sound that echoed in her mind.  “A conversation segment I might not be able to follow along with?”

Arthur’s twinge was so palpable, Lewis decided Vivi must’ve felt it.  It was true he and Arthur had discussed some aspects of Vivi’s memory loss and some of their old adventures together, while she was still asleep.  Lewis had kept alert for the event Vivi may have spontaneously awoken, though he had used a small sliver of his power to keep her resting.

“Well, yeah,” Arthur admitted.  “But only because you elected to sleep in.  Otherwise, our conversation would have been the more appropriate… er, what do we do now?”

Lewis met Vivi’s stare when she turned back to him.  They remained locked like this for what felt like hours, the van rattled and groaned as it chugged up and down hills.  Vivi blinked fifteen times every few minutes; but Lewis didn’t blink, but the glow of his ethereal flames would dim and brighten.

Vivi’s eyes became unfocused, as if she’d forgotten what she was doing in the process of completing her task.  “Lewis?” she said, as if seeing Lewis as he was for the first time in their little adventure.  “You’re here.”  Lewis wanted to sigh with exasperation.  “No, I’m sorry,” Vivi quickly said.  She shook her head and closed her eyes.  “You’re here, with us.  But do you know why?”

“No,” he said.  Lewis reached up to tug at his sharp collar and adjusted the locket on his chest.  “I have no idea.”

“Stop fidgeting,” Vivi said.  She set her hands on his and guided his fists down to his knees.  “It’ll be all right.”

“All right?” Lewis hissed.  He chided himself, and adjusted the tone of his voice.  He wanted to stab out and blame Arthur for this, but he couldn’t.  “Nothing feels all right.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Vivi assured.  She withdrew her hands but kept her eyes on Lewis.  “Would you want us to return you to the place where we found you?  Arthur, did you—”

“I was not going back.”  Arthur cut in.  This time he made a point to snag Vivi’s gaze, when she caught Arthur’s eyes framed in the rear view mirror in the vans front windshield.  Arthur had his ‘I’m DONE with this’ face, the skin around his eyes seemed darker and his skin had gone gray  “And I did ask,” Arthur muttered, as his eyes darted back to the windshield and he adjusted their jagged movements on the road.  It was bad policy to drive with one arm, and it was borderline lunacy to take your eyes off that road.

Lewis reached a hand up to cradle his skull.  At the time he didn’t even care, he just wanted to stay with Vivi.  Maybe that had been a mistake, he had never left that place since…. He woke up there.  It was all he knew.  He was so confused.

That’s why none of it mattered now, none of it. Vivi placed a hand on his and leaned toward his face.  “It’s not the end of the world,” she said.

Lewis wanted to laugh.  He wanted to cry.  He wanted to burn a forest down, because his world was over.  Now, he didn’t know what he was doing.

The sun was rising higher in the sky, dragging its light away from the interior of the van.  Arthur made mention that they were getting into more traffic, as they moved from the back roads and returned to the populated highways.  Without a word Lewis retreated into the back of the van away from Vivi, eyes glowing from the dark sockets of his skull.  Vivi had watched his slow progress until he had reached the furthest corner, but didn’t question his movement.  Lewis had seemed agitated and may need time to adjust, and she theorized being torn from his own territory may have jarred Lewis in some way.

Vivi had her own theories and some testimonies from willing spirits, of those bound to specific areas regardless of their direct relationship to a zone.  Most cases regarding spirits noted that they were unaware of this law prior to entering the afterlife and those spirits could not attest for why they would remain in a place of evident emotional trauma.  Vivi’s concerns lay that Arthur had unwittingly uprooted Lewis and relocated him, without his consent.  This incident could hinder a spirit in a psychological sense, but Lewis should be aware of this danger.  But he was a spirit now, he couldn’t be aware of it in the same nature now as he was when he was alive, and now could be vague to those laws that spirits were compelled to obey.

Vivi’s head hurt.

“Do you remember The Frighteners?”  Arthur’s voice cut through the low and rising drag of the engine, as he guides them through traffic.

Lewis raised his head a bit from the top of his collar.  His skull had been idly swaying above the crisp white collar as if debating nesting in the neck of his suit.  “Frighteners?” Lewis echoed.  “Wha—”

“The Frighteners,” Arthur cut in.  “The movie.  Remember?  You and Vivi made me watch it.”  His voice trailed off, as Arthur recalled the unpleasant experience.  Or was it Arthur’s own realization that Vivi would not remember?  “Viv?”

“I remember,” she answered, with hesitance.  “That’s the sci-fi with Michael J. Fox, playing as a medium?  Or something.”

“That’s the one,” Arthur says.  “Frank has that Ghostbusting business, because he can communicate with the ghosts.”

Lewis made a sound that could have been a grumble, or a growl.  “If you’re going to suggest what I think—” Arthur cut him off again.

“No, no!” he pipes up.  “But maybe if we’re running dry on some leads, we could—” Arthur’s voice cut off into half shrieks, as he stuffed his shoulders down somewhere beneath the headrest of the seat.  There was honking as the van swerved between yelps of, “Sorry,” or “not serious!”  Apparently Arthur had taken a shift in the tension as Lewis’ preparation to retaliate, but Vivi had seen no movement from the brooding spirit as he swayed in his corner, his shoulders fading into the sides of the van due to the erratic movement.  Arthur’s anxiety could have just been on a steady rise and his attempt at friendly conversation to ease his unease had the opposite effect?  Whatever motives or rhyme, they were going to crash if Arthur didn’t get control over himself.  He seemed hopeless at this point.

Vivi threw herself to the front seat and took the wheel in both hands, struggling to get them straightened out on the road.  “Move over!”  She crawled over the seat as Arthur shuffled over, pushing Mystery on the middle seat aside with his transfer and dragging the broken prosthetic at his shoulder.  The van was still in cruise mode so Vivi didn’t need to stuff her foot to the accelerator, she just needed to make sure they wouldn’t slam into some idiot that decide to stop on the highway in front of a big, swerving van.  “You’re good!” she snapped.  “Take it easy!  Just chill and re’ax.”

Arthur curled up around Mystery in the passenger seat.  Once settled Arthur didn’t take his eyes off Vivi, face pale and eyes glassy.

“Holy shit,” Vivi sighed.  She shut her eyes to run a hand over her face.  Vivi wanted to probe further into the conversation Arthur and Lewis had exchanged while she was asleep.  The topic of what had happened in the cave at the forefront of her thoughts, she yearned to ask about it and what the two may have discussed over it while she was asleep.  But given the disturbed look Arthur now offered, she decided that the time had not come up.  Possibly, the topic was skirted over and avoided like a plague, which at this current time it was.  If Vivi knew her history, and she usually did, direct confrontation of the subject would benefit no one until it had lost some of its potency.  Or a potential vaccine was synthesized.

“Is it just Frighteners, or The Frighteners?” Vivi asked, hoping to slay the thick apprehension coating the air and walls.

“The Frighteners,” Arthur squeaked.

“Okay.”  Vivi reached an arm over and wrapped her hand around Arthur’s metal wrist, just under the little black band he wore.  He stared at her hand, eyes still vacant.  “Lewis,” she called.  Arthur gave her a distrustful glare, but Vivi ignored it.  “Later, can I take your picture?  We can all take a picture together.”  Mystery nudged her hand with his cold snout, before returning his chin to Arthur’s thigh.

From the back of the van, Lewis answered with a toneless, “No.”

“A personal photo,” Vivi went on.  Traffic on the highway was getting thicker and she needed to keep her eyes fixed to the road, as cars slowed or weaved around slower vehicles.  She saw the large green sign overhead that labeled off the roads, and the one highway she needed to exit off onto.  They were a town away from the college, ten miles.

“Maybe,” Lewis answered.  “Lemme give it some thought.”  His voice faded out.

“Would he even show up?” Arthur muttered.  He said this quietly, as if to keep Lewis from overhearing.  “Or… what?”

Vivi looked over briefly and shrugged.

It was twenty minutes of silence, before they hit the town where in which stood the university that at current funded the Mystery Skulls research.  It wasn’t as rooted in physicality as Harvard, or as esteemed as Princeton, but the school offered a lot of leniency and was an upgrade from the freelance work Vivi’s group undertook when they first started.

The university was up in its age, with new departments and renovations taking up some of the outdated sections.  Rent homes and small community housing was set up around the perimeter of the school, and the roads were small and demanded below fifteen mile an hour travel.  It took some time before Vivi found a descent parking space on a road, amongst parked vehicles from others students on campus.  Up under some fall driven leaves, splashed with golds and ambers that could match the textures of the van.  It was a nice cool, somewhat secluded, and peaceful spot to park.

“Is this good enough?” Vivi asked, as she peered up and out of the tilted windshield.  Arthur mumbled an affirmative, his good hand stroking Mystery’s ears.  “Cool.”  Vivi didn’t move immediately, but drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as the engine of the van hummed.  After some time she turned the key and took it from the ignition, and then spun around in her seat to peer into the back.

“Lewis?” Vivi said.  “Have you… been here before?”

“Depends,” he said.  He seemed to hover up to see through Vivi and the windshield behind her.  “Where are we?”

Arthur hastily gave the name of the university, and when the three of them, excluding Lewis, had begun research for them.  “They don’t ask a lot of us,” Arthur went on.  “Mostly, they pay all our gas.  They never knew about you.  Vivi?”  Arthur looked to the blue haired girl in the driver seat.

Vivi fumbled a bit, turning back to Lewis before she resumed.  “I don’t remember what it was like without you, Lew.  I just don’t.”  At a loss for what more to say, she asks, “So… well, did you want to come in with us?”

Lewis cocked one eye at her.  “Like this?”

Vivi shook her head.  “Can’t you make yourself look… like you did before?  Alive?”

To this, Lewis seemed disbelieving, or suspicious.  He tilts his skull the other way.  “What?”

Vivi sighed and held her hands up.  “I saw you in the mansion,” she says, gesturing, “when you banished the evil spirit – demon.  You looked human, but I don’t think all the way to who you were.  I don’t know.  But, you did look like flesh, and solid.  You didn’t know you could do that – or, that you did that then?”

An odd crackle came from Lewis, like a dry scoff.  “If I did, don’t you think I would use that ability now?”

“Well,” Vivi said, as she adjusted her hair band.   “Afterwards, you did sort of vanish.”  She shuddered at the memory.  “Never mind.  We won’t be gone long.”  She reached out of Lewis sight and when she leaned back up, it was with Mystery clasped in her hands.  Vivi set Mystery in the back.  “Mystery will keep you company.”

Lewis watched Mystery pad over to him and stop to sit before him.  The dog stared up at his skull, and Lewis glowered back.  Meanwhile, Vivi leaned over the seats back, nearly kicking Arthur in the face as she rummaged around for the laptop stashed under the passenger seat.

“Viv, please,” Arthur grumbled.  “You know, I still need to go by my place and get parts to repair my arm.”

“Later,” Vivi said.  She climbed over Arthur and out the passenger door.  “We need a check first.” After Arthur had flopped out, Vivi poked her head back in to check on Lewis one last time.  “You won’t go anywhere?  Right?”

Lewis looked over Mystery’s head to the concerned eyes locked on him.  “Blueberry, I promise you I won’t disappear.”  With these last reassuring words, or echoes, Vivi slammed the door shut.  From the walls Lewis could hear Arthur’s whining:

“I don’t think this’ll be worth much,” he said.

“It’s a great photo,” Vivi said.  “There was a ghost.  We have the docs typed up.  They can’t say no.”

“But if Lewis were to—”

Vivi’s sharp voice cut Arthur off, “He is not some attraction we can pawn off!”

Arthur pleaded back, their collective voices fading from range, “I don’t mean photos of Lewis.  If he just, spooked something.  Made Saint Elmo flames, it can’t hurt..”

Lewis would smirk if he could.  Arthur had always been excellent with debunking faux reports, or finding the intricate scientific explanations in a case in which the skittish home owners thought they were spooked but in truth, it was just a draft or some leaky pipes.  Complete waste of time, but Arthur always brought the logical explanation of a case to the forefront before too much time was wasted.

That was before.

And then, there was now.  Lewis tucked into the back of a van, thinking, as he reached a hand out to pet Mystery.  The dog, or whatever he was, raised his muzzle to press into Lewis’ palm.  “Do you remember me?” he asked, as he ran his hand down Mystery’s shoulders.  “Or did I make you forget too?  Or don’t you care?”  Mystery turned his head away from Lewis’ sleeve and looked the skull in the face, recognition and deep cognition buried in those red eyes.

Lewis had to avert his gaze.  It had been a mistake.  But at the time he didn’t know what else to do, what would be possible.  Ripped, confused, disorientated, he had felt himself adrift in thoughts and emotions.  Raw, in a sense.  What did it feel like to be raw?  What did that even mean?  Torn from your skin, a deep sense of loss and losing piece by piece, scattered on the cold drafts of that gloomy place.  He had reached out for one person, but her sense of concentration was as butchered as his sense of physical presence.  It was selfish, but Lewis… that was the first time he had ever felt pure, condensed terror.  It was then that Lewis realized the penitential truth of existence.  When you die, you still don’t know what happens after death.  It—

A sharp yelping and sharp pricks in his sleeve tore Lewis from his daze.  His fingers snapped open, though it didn’t hurt, he instantly sympathized with Mystery’s pain and released the scruff of his neck.  “I’m sorry!” he snapped.

Mystery unsnagged his teeth from the sleeve and jerked back, but didn’t flee or make further sounds.  Once he recovered, Mystery gave Lewis a curious frown before approaching again and sitting beside his knee.  The dog raised his dark paw to set it on Lewis’ thigh and tilt his snout a little higher to the spirits face.  Skull.

Lewis set his hand on the dogs paw and rested back, in what may have been a more comfortable position.  He heard Mystery whine, and the dog started pawing at his hand with his free paw.  Lewis decided he didn’t like the contact with his hand and removed it, but Mystery leaned over to snag his glove with his sharp canines.  Lewis narrowed his eye sockets, frowning as Mystery tugged at his hand.  It was obnoxious if it was anything.

“What?” Lewis said.  His eyes flicker as Mystery spun away and began nosing around the walls of the van, going between the left and right sides as if searching for something in the cuvees.  “What is it?”  Lewis glides over to the dog, but not before glancing out the windshield should anyone be outside and chance a glance into the van and the strange scene to be played out.  The road and sidewalks were empty, save for birds and a squirrel.  At ease by this notion, Lewis drifted to where Mystery was prodding beneath the driver seat.  “Yes?”

Mystery stuffed his front feet up with his upper body, tensed, then backed up.  With his teeth, the dog dragged out an old beaten up box that had been crushed and stuffed up under the seat.  Lewis eyed it, then the dog that now sat beside it, tail wagging.  Without a word Lewis worked at the crispy tape, the many layers of tape set over the boxes top, until it was open.  Mystery sneezed audibly from the dust to lift off from the box as Lewis brushed it off, and opened the box.

There was nothing inside the box save for some sheets of paper print outs, a few beaten and thin paged notebooks scratched up by layers of notes and pictures.  And a bag.  Lewis ignored the notepads and ignored the tug they demanded from his spiritual presence, he pushed the notepads away as he brought out the bag and set it beneath him on the thin carpet of the cluttered van.  He went through the pockets until he found a phone.

His phone.

Lewis settled down before the box and stared at the phone.  It was by now outdated, it had been for a long time scratched up with a crack in the screen.  That was from when Vivi dropped it, they were fighting over it.  He rubbed his thumb over the thin crackle of lines, not feeling, but sensing their presence.  Like the way he could sense people, or souls.  If he wasn’t focused, the world was colors and lights and darks, sounds were vibrations and smells were tendrils working through his vaporous and languid shape.  He felt more than he saw.  He was no longer a physical obstruction projected into the world, he was a collision of consciousness that existed between the worlds.

He set the phone aside, and set his hands upon the bag.  The grimy texture of too much use, not enough wash.  The fabric once stiff and course was now soft like paper, and folded over in his pseudo physical digits.  Lewis stared at the pristine polished bone of his knuckles, in contrast to the muggy bag that had been forgotten.

Or preserved.

His fingers found the snaps of the bag up under its flap.  Lewis undid them and flipped the flap open, and pulled the opening up and widened it so he could see in.  The soft flutter of his ethereal fire illuminated the foremost contents with a fuchsia tinge.  A lighter, tarnished.  A pair of pants.  Some glass bottle that once held chilled coffee.  Purple shoes.  A shirt with a rip in the sleeve.  A comb.  An cold wallet.  Some lost pictures he refused to look at.  A purple sash.

Lewis piled the contents of the box back inside and haphazardly closed it before shoving it back under the seat, more or less.  He leaned into the wall of the van and set himself to glower on a spot of the floor, clear of clutter.  He wanted to make the spot go away.  He wanted to take the spots place.  Somehow, he wanted to become that spot.  It didn’t make sense but he didn’t want to think about anything else.  Focus on what and where his current state was.

Mystery studied Lewis’ display carefully.  With a whine, Mystery went back to the driver seat and dragged the box out.  Lewis caught his actions and moved, to try and stop Mystery and shoo the dog away.  Lewis didn’t want to hurt or startle Mystery again, and Mystery knew this.  Which is why the dog did not relent, and refused to give in to Lewis’ reluctant efforts.  Mystery snapped the box out and plants his feet on the inner side, despite Lewis irritation and scolding.  Mystery nosed around until he found the pictures and sent a few tumbling to Lewis’ knees.  Lewis reached over to snatch them up, but Mystery shoved himself between the ghost’s hands and the pictures and plucked up one.

Lewis dithers as Mystery offers him the picture.  It’s beautiful.  A nighttime shot, the van in the background beside a large dark house, it’s a full moon and the cameras flash has gone off illuminating the entire area in yellow.  Much too close to the camera is Vivi, wearing her traditional scarf and sweater as blue as the sea.  Arthur in his white work shirt and amber vest has ducked behind a tall figure; his expression is shock, not expecting the picture to have been taken.  For a moment Lewis is dumfounded by the figure Arthur has chosen to hide behind, tall with broad shoulders and dressed in a purple vest—

A sharp spark ignites in Lewis’ soul.  That’s him!  How could he forget?  How does anyone forget what they look like?  In his locket, it’s in his locket… oh fuck.  Lewis set his hand over the heart pulsing on his chest.  When was the last time he looked at that picture?  How long?  He didn’t remember anymore.  He had forgotten so much, too much.  And he made Vivi forget along with him.

He gripped the picture in his fist, before he set his hand down.  Mystery whined, and growled, and whined.  Lewis looked to the dog as he continued making sounds both demanding and consoling.  Lewis set his hand on the dogs head, and then looked back to the picture.  “I know.  I know.”

__

It had taken longer than Vivi had anticipated to get audience with their supervisor.  Mostly because their supervisor wasn’t in, and they had to schedule an appointment with the secretary for a time the following day.  A whole waste as far as Vivi was concerned.  Arthur couldn’t believe she could keep track of relevant and irrelevant information, the history to an area, and balance her check book; but constantly forgot when their supervisor’s office hours would be.  Vivi had asked him to shut up, politely so there would be no ill will for the next hour or so.  On their way back they had stopped to get a snack, get nourishment out of the way before checking up on Lewis and Mystery.  Mystery was not forgotten, and a bag of chicken meat would be his reward for keeping Lewis company.

Some apprehension did enter Vivi more than often as they waited in the nice furnished office.  But that was to be expected, and whenever she could Vivi would turn to Arthur and inquire, “We left Lewis in the van?”

To that, Arthur would go pale and gripping the metal arm set in its sling, he would nod.  And Vivi then satisfied, would nod as well.  “Good.  Then I’m not losing my mind.”

Arthur felt like he was losing his.  As Vivi had so eloquently put it before, they had abducted the ghost of their friend.  And nothing about it felt right.

They were at a powerwalk pace to reach the van, chewing through the last few yards to the parking spot.  Without thinking Vivi had gone to the back, intending to open up the doors and let Mystery out for a break and to have his food.  Arthur barely made a noise of warning when the doors were wrenched open, and Vivi froze up in realization to what she had done.  Though, no one was on the sidewalk or in the nearby area, the campus was almost deserted at the highlight of classes at that point in day.

Nonetheless, she was staring in shock at the face inside.  And Lewis gawked back, as if he had been caught smashing a kid’s piggybank.

Curious to the sudden stupor Vivi had collided with, Arthur had rounded the door of the van and looked into the darken interior.  “Hey.  Lewis.”  As those words were uttered, Arthur’s eyes slid back into their whites and he crashed over the bumper of the van before slumping onto the hard asphalt.

Vivi couldn’t bring herself to save the sudden weight now pooled at her ankles.  She dropped the greasy bag of chicken, and put her hands to her hair as she looked from Arthur to Lewis.  The Lewis she had yet to know, the Lewis she had seen briefly in the mansion, the Lewis snatched from her memories.  The Lewis that had terrified Arthur with a wave of memories fought to be forgotten, but instead their retribution sent him into a dead faint.  That Lewis.

“So,” Vivi choked.  She brought her eyes back to Lewis and swallowed.  “You figured out how to make yourself look alive?”

Lewis seemed to relax but his expression was odd.  “I… what?”

A few yaps came from the van’s back, as Mystery darted out to the bag forgotten on the road beside Arthur.  Arthur was deep out, maybe suffering a mild concussion from the blood dripping from his forehead.  Mystery lapped at the blood, before turning his snout to the bag and tearing into it.

Vivi didn’t interfere with the dog’s business; too engrossed with the befuddled Lewis huddled in the vans back.  Vivi climbed inside and without a word passed the spirit, or half ghost, to rummage through the front seat.  A bit conscious and still unaccustomed to the erratic comings and goings of close proximity with living beings, Lewis swayed back from Vivi as she fumbled around, before twisting back to him.  She held a glistening silver surface and shoved it into Lewis’ face.  “Here.”

Lewis fixed his dark… eyes on the reflection and lost himself in the pool of memories.  If he thought he had lost pieces of himself before, he was to receive a dreary reminder that he had given up far more than he could previously recall.  The question persisted as an echo in his thoughts.  When did I lose so much?

But it was all here now.  His combed hair style, just as he had envisioned it, maybe a little poofier.  His face, but his eyes….  Lewis reached a hand up to touch his face, but stopped and looked at his hand.  Still dark, still clad in polished bone.

Vivi noted his gaze, and gripped her fists on her skirt.  “Yeah, it’s just your face for now,” she said, with a soft undertone of optimism.  “But you didn’t realize you were doing it?”  Vivi wasn’t sure if Lewis had been listening, until he shook his head.  He shook his head, she noted, it did not swivel or sway.  It looked odd to her, but she was so far only familiar with the levitating skull.  It was endearing to see the face that had been torn from her dreams.  Vivi shut her eyes.  “Oh, Mystery!  Don’t eat the bag!”  Vivi spun away from Lewis and ducked out of the vans open back.

Lewis watched her go.  Even if he wanted to remember and absorbed the face he had lost, Vivi antics would always take priority.  He smirked, and almost felt it on his wispy lips.

“Arthur!” Vivi yelped.  “My god, your head!”

[jengajives]

give me money

Sparky knew he wasn’t incredibly smart. He didn’t really pretend to be. When he dropped out of high school junior year, it had been a disappointment but not a great surprise to his parents, who’d conjured up reason after reason to get him out after that. That’s why Sparky was all alone and trying to make his own way at seventeen with no skills and no diploma. But, dumb as Sparky was, he did know one thing. Knew it as well as the workings of his own body. Engines. Sparky knew the language of engines. Now, when it came to driving, he was a complete joke, with laughably slow reflexes and a frame far too tall to fit into a T-180 without folding up all funny. But he knew a track and he knew what makes cars tick and that’s all that really mattered in that often confused head of his. When the Racer family took in this scruffy, ridiculous kid off the streets and pretty much accepted him as their own, Sparky learned another thing he was good at- and that thing being the unbreakable, stubborn attraction to guys that were way, way out of his league. Rex Racer became the principal embodiment of that funny little skill. He was twenty-one, two years Sparky’s senior by the time he came to work for the Racers, and the kind of man who made stunning good looks seem simultaneously effortless and impossibly difficult to achieve. With those casually curated muscles and the chiseled, yet somehow boyish features that constantly looked somewhat pissed, it was impossible to deny he was absolutely gorgeous. When Rex spoke, it was always with the calmest surety- as it every word that escaped him had been thoroughly and completely vetted beforehand. And his driving. He was so young and already getting records and Sparky had never seen anything like it. The added clientele boost from Rex’s electrifying driving was the only reason Racer Motors had been able to hire Sparky in the first place and he wasn’t likely to forget it. Mr. Racer was a man whose trust came at a high price, but who’d never break that bond once it formed. It had taken him a while to completely let his guard down around Sparky- and that was thanks mostly to Mrs. Racer, whose stubborn compassion never seemed to run out. Personally, Sparky thought Rex was more like his father, just a little bit more obvious in his trust or lack thereof. Speed, on the other hand, was his Mom’s spitting image. Sparky liked Speed. The kid reminded him of himself- they were both oddballs with a one track mind and a passion for racing. Someday Speed was going to be a driver and he was going to be great, that much Sparky knew. Rex was a bit of an oddball, too, just... in a different way. He’d had friends in high school- been quite popular, to Sparky’s understanding- but he’d always been... quiet. Not entirely present. Sparky saw it now too- Rex, constantly, had big plans brewing in his mind. He didn’t just want to float through life having fun. He wanted to change things. Having friends must have been easy when you looked like Rex and not an overly lanky, stubbled kid who wore bright orange and had a weird accent and was clearly gay, though. Sparky didn’t think Rex was gay. Not that he had anything to judge it off of, it just seemed like... Rex was too far out of his league to be into guys. That was most of the reason for it. Anyway, at the Racers’, Sparky could fix things. He could rewire transmissions and weld auto bodies and pluck at gear ratios for hours until he was covered with grease and completely unaware of what time it was, and then he could go in and Mrs. Racer would have left a sandwich out for him when he finished up. For the first time in his life, he didn’t feel incompetent. It was a really jarring environment, even if he did love it. Sparky was fixing up the Mach Four that night- just fixing some cosmetic issues and replacing some wiring. Rex had won another big race at Thunderhead- track record- and the family had been up late celebrating. But Sparky snuck out of the party at some point because he still didn’t quite mesh in with the family, and because he was feeling fidgety and he needed to do something with his hands. But only when Rex came walking slowly into the garage did Sparky realize he was a) covered in oil and, b) up embarrassingly late doing work no one had asked him to do. Rex paused in the doorway once he noticed Sparky leaning over the engine, and he quickly cleared his throat. “Hey... What are you doing up? Thought you went to bed hours ago.” “Guess I couldn’t sleep,” Sparky replied, and the lameness of it hurt his brain so he went back to fishing around in the car’s guts. “Thought I’d get her tuned up a little- you wore her out today.” He paused, thought over how weird that sounded, then added, “Beautiful race.” Rex chuckled. He had a really nice laugh and it was bothersome. “You told me that earlier, Sparky, but thanks.” Sparky noticed he was wearing his grey tank top, the one all covered with grease stains and used for working in the garage and not much else, and he had to try not to stare or blush when he really really wanted to. “Looks like we’re a pair of insomniacs. Mind if I join you?” “No problem!” Sparky said, put at ease somewhat by the thought of just working side by side and nothing more demanding than that. He motioned to the open engine. “Here. The converter needs to be adjusted a bit-“ He paused, looking over at Rex. He was standing by the car now, close by, but he looked unfocused and he still had his hands in his pockets. So... preoccupied. That busy mind of his somewhere else completely. “Something wrong?” Sparky asked. His voice seemed to snap Rex out of his reverie, at least for a moment. His hazel eyes focused again, but they looked alarmingly sad. It wasn’t something Sparky was really ready for. “Sparky,” Rex said slowly. “If you had to choose between a hard thing that might make a difference or an easy thing that lets you stay with the people you love, what would you pick?” Sparky took a long pause. “Well... Why do you ask? Are you thinking about signing with someone, cuz I’m sure Pops would understand-“ “No,” Rex said, quickly shaking his head. “Sorry. Forget it. You said the converter needs work?” Without looking up, he reaching down into the engine and started realigning gear and wires- all a clear sign for Sparky not to talk any more, so he didn’t. There were probably fifteen minutes of silence as the two of them worked before Rex finally spoke again, softer this time. “You’re going to do great things for this family, Sparky, you know that?” Sparky paused and took a swallow. “Rex... Is everything okay?” “Someday people might say things about me. They might try to hurt my mom, and my dad. My brother.” Rex looked up, at last, and Sparky was shocked to see emotion in his eyes. “I need you to look out for them, Sparky. I... trust you to do that for me.” He met Sparky’s bewildered gaze and an almost pale-looking blush settled on his handsome cheeks. “I’m going to miss you. I wish you could... No. Just take care of them, okay?” He put a hand on Sparky’s shoulder and the world did a pirouette when Rex leaned over and placed a nervous kiss on the very corner of his mouth. And Sparky stood there in shock as Rex walked away, and he was left standing there for far too long because Rex didn’t come back. He never would come back.

[justlurkingintheshadows]

@nutsandvoltsweek Sorry if this is bad I'm not a writer as much as I'm not an artist, I at least have some more experience with writing though, I know it's not perfect but oh well. I also know it's technically late for my timezone but it's still gonna be the 10th February somewhere.

This is my attempt at a role reversal Nuts and Volts for day 2

Humanity and Ferality

Word count : 2,150

Content tags : Role-reversal, Scientist!Tyrian, Feral!Watts, blood, implied cannibalism, implied self-mutilation/experimentation 

-----------

It wasn't exactly unheard of, the story of the Atlesian who went mad and lost his mind, in his unhinged rage it's said he brought down an entire lab and then disappeared, presumed dead, but now Tyrian knew the truth. Before him stood a ragged man, truly disgraced, soaked in blood that had previously resided inside the team Tyrian had gone with to an unusual site where people complained of moving shadows and nose curdling smells that kept even the Grimm at bay.

It was clear the heaving form wanted to finish off the last one and drag him too away to wherever he had stowed the other bodies, the only evidence that someone had been there being the blood splattered around after a vicious attack, Tyrian wasn't about to let him but he was curious, he supposed the poor guy had to have survived off something all this time, the thought would have made him shudder had he even cared at all. He simply watched the man carefully, neither daring to move, their foe was unpredictable yet somehow they had each other figured out - as long as they stood there like that no one was going to do anything, it was a stalemate of two men frozen purely to wonder if either was going to move first which they knew wasn't actually going to happen.

"Well, this is certainly something I never expected..." said Tyrian in a careful tone hoping his sudden speech didn't kickstart a sudden death, the figure flinched a bit, not used to his victims having any other vocal capability than a scream of terror. Though vision wasn't clear Tyrian was certain of something, it just made sense to him somehow, "Arthur Watts. The illusive one man catastrophe, thought to be dead, but of course that's only because no living soul has actually had chance to escape and tell anyone." The figure flinched again, it was more of a twitch, and Tyrian almost found it amusing, this man was more feral than a Sabyr, more animal than human, he wasn't even a faunus but simply a man who had nothing to lose. It was an ironic comparison to Tyrian's own self. Doctor Tyrian Callows, the scorpion faunus who managed to hide his feature his whole life and aid Atlas in great science feats becoming one of their most trusted with barely any challenge, he was almost more human now, it was hard not to follow their ideologies even if they involved the theory that Faunus were lesser and only useful for labour tasks which the humans were too good for, at one point Tyrian almost found himself hating his own kind because of how truly the humans believed they were in the right, they always thought they were right, and he had loved to prove them wrong. They could try to take everything from him yet he would still have the knowledge he'd come to accumulate and with that knowledge he'd almost brought their empire crumbling down as easily as a flick of a tail, that's what caught the attention of a certain goddess, she'd known he was perfect for the job and must have realised he actually barely needed her as he'd almost achieved what she intended solo, yet she still offered him a place and picked him up off cold bleak streets to give his terrifying, sly and genius mind a sturdy platform from where he could orchestrate a new wave of armageddon; His goddess had sent him on this mission with a group of, what Tyrian could only describe as, thugs (Tyrian thought very little of them and so their fates weighed insignificant in his mind), but he had to admit the ease at which this husk had dispatched them was impressive and showed really the potential danger he should find himself in.

It was perhaps not an insignificant detail to note that had Tyrian not just so happened to turn around at that exact moment the deranged creature would have been upon him hacking away at his aura with all the brutality and speed of a Beowolf, it was quite surprising that anyone could be so far gone that even the Grimm have no desire to come near, Tyrian himself had witnessed the creatures circling the area intending to prey on the mindless drones of a team Tyrian had with him, at first he'd thought they were responsible for the company gradually dwindling but he never once saw them dare to close the distance, they always stayed out there, away, and one could only wonder why. Now it made sense. One by one his lackeys disappeared and there was barely noise of a struggle, perhaps a new type of Grimm was a thought at first but there was never any evidence to back up the claim, it wasn't obvious to assume there was something or someone else lurking around picking them off one by one, leaving the best for last or perhaps just because Tyrian refused to be slowed down and so was at the lead of the group and it wasn't so easy to grab him, especially since he came most prepared for an encounter of any kind as Tyrian always calculated it was more worth it to over-prepare than to be left in a situation with no ability to get out.

He began to wonder if this new monster could even speak lest his humanity have slipped away altogether, but that was soon answered for him. The demented fellow had been watching this odd stranger in his territory, seemingly frustrated by the fact he'd been seen before it was too late, like an ambush predator once he was spotted he didn't quite know what to do, he'd been spending all these lonely crumbling years attempting to hone his skills to cause as swift an aura break and kill as possible, it hadn't been easy and he'd suffered a lot but he was sure he was better than this and it angered him that this invading doctor had simply turned around and halted his entire strike. He had to at least be thankful that the poor lighting and obscured distance still offered some veil, he was not the 'man' this pest had identified him as any longer, he left that behind long ago.

The voice that came from the sketchy silhouette wasn't clear, but it also didn't completely lack all intelligence, he was aware of that. "I intend to keep myself invisible to anyone who it matters to" came the sound, a bit scratchy and with a little wavering in tone almost to display the insanity, Tyrian had to admit it surprised him to hear sound come from such a thing but he smiled, and, perhaps acting a little too cocky for his own good, made the decision to move towards the crazed mess in an attempt to get a better look, this caused an almost growled "Back off" in response, the tone was chilling but Tyrian couldn't help being thrilled by it, messed up things was what he loved even if it was uncivil of him he couldn't ignore his true natural desire for such.

"You don't have to live like this anymore you know, I have a way to help you if you would accept it. Figures from your past don't even have to be aware of it, unless of course you wanted them to be" offered Tyrian, still keeping his tone careful, he would like to have this mission end well and not with any significant death, he wanted to please his Goddess. He was regarded by cold green eyes that clearly wished to inflict the most painful of harm on him.

"You dare to offer me anything, I have nothing valuable to you, how dare you come here and expect me to comply simply because you asked!" The voice was still broken from disuse, it still brought amusement and intrigue to the curious doctor,

"I didn't expect anything, until a few moments ago I was completely unaware of your existence-"

"And I would like to go back to that" interrupted the corrupt tone, Tyrian ignored him,

"Yet while I find it most fascinating at your sheer ability to eradicate your immediate enemy I find it hard to believe you wouldn't want to exact revenge on the very society that cast you out, what's a few 'immoral' experiments when you're clearly capable of more right? They didn't want you so you tried to destroy them, but you didn't succeed completely. You probably are aware that I think you might be-"

"Helpful to you? Easy to use? Manipulate? Control?!" This was more than a growl, this was a snarl, it caught Tyrian off guard and actually made him jump, it was becoming increasingly obvious that talking simply wasn't going to be enough,

"What would it take for you to find some way to trust me?" Asked the curious scorp almost softly, itching with anticipation of an answer. It took a while for his opponent to respond, it wasn't clear if it was because of outrage or simply no idea of how to react.

"I… to trust you?" Came an unsure sound, "Why would I want to trust you? Why would you want me to trust you? Trust requires closeness and closeness ultimately ends in parting."

Tyrian smiled again, "You're something else, something unique, if even the Grimm fear you just imagine what chaos you could cause with the proper footing to launch yourself from, we're not all that different you and I, while at the same time we're complete opposites. I know of somewhere there'd be a place for you, you'd have to leave this behind of course but you'd be rewarded in time with the exact opportunity your seething twisted soul desires" he could see this was perhaps sounding worthwhile. The reply didn't take long.

"I am not the man I was, I'm not sure if I'm much of a man at all… but you seem to believe I'm useful to you… how so?" The question was unsure almost cautious, it made Tyrian think there wasn't as little humanity left as they both thought, but he was all too happy to answer;

"I'm glad you asked, you see I work for a force this world will never be able to defeat and she only grows stronger with the aid of people like me, and perhaps even more so with you." He was always ready to jump at the chance to mention his Goddess, but took the opportunity to mention his own story, his own achievements, most particularly the ones under Salem's guidance, he exclaimed much glee at recalling events, he especially made sure to add in a little bit of how perhaps the addition of someone like the distorted disgraced ex-doctor Arthur Watts could possibly have influenced the outcome and made it so much easier, he mentioned the research he'd done on him and how he'd lamented at the belief the once great man was now apart from this world in attempt to play right into how he once thought of himself as an esteemed innovator. It seemed to work like a charm, not surprising, if Tyrian Callows knew anything it was how to use a person's own self against them for better or for worse. Eventually the newly revitalised man that was once a husk seemed to smile and said with as much attempt at contentment as his shattered voice could offer,

"Perhaps you are right" and that answer made Tyrian grin, but he continued "however I still feel like I am better off staying lost in the shadows of ruins, I would recommend you just leave" he seemed downheartned at having to say it and Tyrian simply had to ask,

"I cannot allow you to simply stay here, perhaps you could do me a favour" he had a glint in his eye which was observed by Arthur, who seemed perhaps a little uncomfortable and didn't want to ask what favour deciding it be best not to know. That didn't stop Tyrian from asking anyway. "Please step into light, so I may see you properly"

Arthur scoffed "So you can see what's become of me?"

Tyrian simply answered, gently, with a "Yes"

It appeared this was not the expected response. However unable to provide much more of an argument Arthur reluctantly, slowly, carefully, and in every way cautiously, moved closer. As soon as his body was bathed in light Tyrian caught himself being captivated, in awe.

The oddly shaped outline he'd been looking at this whole time was much more distinguished now. He was able to make out all the foreign non-human devices. The recognizable form of a man who in his own despair attempted to make himself into something else. He wasn't just less human in nature, but also in appearance. And Tyrian found it beautiful.

[pcygoldenchild]

Show Me

✨summary: You end up in the studio of Chanyeol’s condo where he brings you to show him something you’ve always kept to yourself. Only convincing you by doing the same thing.

✨warnings: NSFW, mutual masterbation, squirting, dirty talk

You wouldn’t say you didn’t see this coming. You had only had these moments in your dreams. Your many fantasies that would never be fulfilled for the entirety of the life you’ve had on this earth. But here you were, almost sure that anything your mind could think of could happen.

Here you were, in the studio of Chanyeol’s condo. You’d only been in his home for 3 days. After he brought you in from the unfortunate events of your drunken stupor at you friends party at a club. You woke up the next morning not sure where you were but in the arms of one of the most beautiful men you’d ever seen. When he woke up he told you he didn’t want to leave you there alone so he brought you home with him. He assured you nothing happened even though you tried. And for some weird reason you were ok with that. After that you two became rather comfortable in each others presence but you remained quiet for your own good as he was too beautiful.

Now you were sitting in front of him on his desk chair as he kneeled in front of you. You were in nothing but one of his oversized sweaters and panties. He only adorned a pair of sweat pants that left nothing to imagination and hung too low on his hips for you to think straight. He looked at you as if wanting to say something but not sure if he could. He was lightly caressing your thigh sending chills through your body. All you wanted was for him to spread your legs and devour you. How could this man make you have such thoughts? You’d always had a nasty mind. But your lack of experience was to blame for that. The only intimacy you ever had was with yourself, your fingers to be exact.

Suddenly Chanyeol clears his throat. “Can I ask you something Princess?” he asks in a low tone you’ve had yet to hear. That accompanied by the pet name he’s given you was enough to cause the ball in your lower stomach to go spiraling.

“Yes.” You’ve been so shy with him. Only allowing yourself to speak when he spoke to you. You could tell he didn’t like how uncomfortable you seemed but to you, you were just trying to control your thoughts.

“Are you a virgin?” he asks concern lacing his slick words. “I’ve noticed how stiff you seem around me. How much you stare at me. I’ve said some pretty explicit things that you only responded with a blush or nod to. Is this why?”

Well he’s good at reading signs but not completely. All you could do was nod. Your heart was beating so fast for some reason and you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything or look him in the eye.

“Look at me Princess.” You do as told and can’t ignore the way his eyes are dark. “Have you ever done anything?” You don’t know what exactly he means by this so you furrow your brows contemplating on an answer. He notices and gives you a faint smile.

“Have you even had an orgasm Princess?” You blush at his unabashed curiosity. You nod and look down not wanting him to ask you how, but luck is not on your side.

“How?” he asks with his darkly deep tone. You don’t look at him. How could you? When you don’t answer, too embarrassed to speak, he makes you look up at him again.

“How about I ask you questions and you answer me the best you can Princess, hmm?” You nod lost in his trance.

“Have you been given oral?”

You shake your head. This surprises him as you can tell from the obvious raise of his brow.

“So you touch yourself?” he questions.

You nod, now chewing on your bottom lip to somehow ease how much you want to just run away and hide.

“Tell me how Princess?” he asks as his thumbs make pattens in your thighs. Your mind is racing with thoughts. How do you explain how you please yourself?

“H-how?” is all you manage to say.

“Yes. How do you make yourself cum?” he asks completely unaware of how his words are making you soak.

“I-I don’t know. I j-just do.” You couldn’t hide the blush anymore and from would you could see, he enjoyed it.

“What do you think about?” he asks, clearly not liking your blunt answers.

“I don’t know” you say just above a whisper.

“Do you want to know what I think about?” he questions tilting his head. You nod only a little not sure why you’d want to know this.

“If I were to please myself now, I’d think about you. I’d think about how your pretty lips would look around my cock. How your tiny body would be spread wide for me to fuck into my mattress. The way your tight little pussy would feel sucking in my cock. The sound of you screaming my name as I make you cum over and over again.” You’re breathless. He’s too good at using his words and it’s taking everything in you to not react but it’s too much.

You’re breathing hard and he’s not stopping teasing you until you say so.

“I’d think about how good you must taste. God you must taste so fucking sweet. I’d think about how your soft skin turns red when I tell you how much I’ve wanted to fuck you since this morning. No one has ever tasted you? No ones touched you or made you feel full? I’ve wanted to make you cum all over me since you came here.”

You raise your hand to tell him to stop. Too scared to use your voice, or the weak excuse of one you’d have now.

“Princess can you do something for me?” You’re almost unsure if you can function after his torturous ministrations only using his words but you nod nonetheless.

“Touch yourself for me. Show me how you please yourself. Show me how you cum.” You almost moan from his command. Then your reality hits you. You couldn’t manage to say two words to Chanyeol and now he wanted to watch you touch yourself. Minutes passed of your internal discussion and Chanyeol had an idea.

“You can watch me while I watch you. I don’t want to hurt you. If I touch you, I won’t be able to stop there. But I want to see you cum.”

You understand but the fact that you, a virgin with the sex appeal of zero, has this effect on Chanyeol is confusing. But you were beyond turned on and needed a release immediately. What harm could it do really?

You nod and with that he smirks. You look away still embarrassed at what’s to come. He gets up from his squatting position and pulls his chair with you in it to the couch on the wall behind him. He sits on the couch, his back to the back of the sofa and you in the desk chair between his legs. In this position you can see just how hard he is in his sweats. Those goddamn sweats. You can’t help but stare at his size which makes your heart rate speed up. Eventually that would be filling you and you didn’t know how that would work. He noticed you staring and began to palm himself through his pants.

“Princess don’t worry about this now. Relax and show me how beautiful you look when you’re pleasing yourself.” he says in a low dark voice, the effect of his arousal. He looks at you sitting there still and leans forward, hands resting at the hem of his sweater on your things.

“Why don’t we take this off hmm Princess?” You nod and he pulls it over your head. You’re without a bra and suddenly feel red all over. He licks his lips looking at you in only your panties sitting in front of him. He leans back again, the pain in his rock hard cock too much to bare. He slips his angry cock out while looking you in the eye. You look down and groan silently and how big and slick he is.

“Touch yourself Princess. I want to come with you and right now I don’t think I’ll last long.” He sounds like he’s pleading and at this point your too aroused to care, shyness thrown in the back of your head.

You lean back in the chair and run one hand over your perked nipple while the other traces over the wet patch in your panties. You close your eyes to feel more comfortable. You slip your hand into you panties and feel your wetness as your finger glides over your folds. You let out a moan at the much needed attention as you press a finger to your clit, slowly drawing circles. You open your eyes after hearing a deep moan from the almost forgotten man in front of you fisting his cock at a painfully slow rate.

You’ve grown bold now, way too horny to be bashful. You slip your panties off and spread your legs for him to see your glistening pussy on full display. He stops moving for a minute to take in how beautiful you look before him.

“You’re so wet Princess, fuck.” he breathes out while he begins pumping himself again. You go back to rubbing your clit spreading your juices all over. You watch him as you slip a finger in that elicits a moan from you. His eyes flicker between your face and your pussy as your finger moves inside you. You add another just as his speed increases.

“Chanyeol” you moan, eyes falling shut as your other hand comes to move on your clit. Chanyeol moans at hearing his name fall from your lips. He wasn’t touching you, but the sight of him and his hard cock in front of you was enough. You sped up your movements and started to feel the ball in your stomach tighten. You were getting ready to cum and your moans and whimpers were enough to make Chanyeol aware.

“Princess cum for me. Cum on your fingers for me like a good girl. Let me hear your moans.” he moans out groaning in between sentences, his release very near. You let go at his words and your back arches as you feel yourself go over the edge.

“Chanyeol fuck!” you scream and you speed up your fingers in you to ride out your orgasm.

“Oh fuck Princess!” he groans as white lines of his cum leaves his cock and falls on his stomach and chest. His deep groans while his eyes are trained on your cumming form made your orgasm last longer than usual and the unexpected happens. You pull your fingers out and squirt all over chanyeols lap in front of you. You’d never squirted before and this was a surprise to not only you, but Chanyeol. You close your legs, now embarrassed again and sensitive. Chanyeol leans forward, cock now hard again and places his hands on your knees.

“Oh Princess, that was amazing. But now I’ve got to make you squirt in my mouth.”

[cumberhoe]

Eddie Brock x Reader (I’ve Got You)

Summary: You never believed in monsters, especially Venom. So, when your well-meaning neighbor doesn’t turn out to be who he said he was, it takes you by great surprise.

Word Count:1,337

Masterlist 

----

The crappy, run down appartment you lived in had many disadvantages, but one of the things that made it all worth it was the man who lived down the hall. Eddie is the perfect neighbor kind, quiet, great with small talk, and most of all, handsome as hell.

Locking your door one morning before heading to work, you glanced down the hall and noticed Eddie was doing the same thing. With a smile you made as to walk over to him, only to hear his frantic whispers as he scratched the back of his head.

Pausing for a moment, you did what most people would do and just assumed he was wearing an earpiece. Deciding it was best not to bother him, you walked down the staircase and out of the building.

Halfway down, he called to you.

“Morning neighbor, you’re up earlier than usual.” He looked uncharacteristically frantic and exhausted, not to mention a bit twitchy. Maybe he was sick.

“Are you okay Eddie, you don’t look so good. Do you want me to pick you up some medicine at the drugstore later?”

After all, the flu was going around and it couldn’t hurt to be safe right?

“No, no that won’t be necessary. You’re far too kind to me,” he smiled brightly but his mind seemed to be elsewhere.

“Oh- and don’t stay out too late tonight the city isn’t safe around here after dark (Y/N),” even in his apparently sick state, he was still extremely considerate.

“What’s going to happen?” you laughed walking away, “Is a monster going to get me?”

Once out on the busy street, you began walking across the street. News bulletins in store windows were still talking about the destruction of Life Industries rocket and the mysterious disappearance of its founder. A few, here a there, talked about eyewitness accounts of some monster lurking around the city, but no one in their right mind paid any attention to those stories.

After a busy day around the city, you were ready to come home and crash. Most people were afraid to go around the city at certain times and you were starting to understand why as, the shadows themselves darkened and odd noises could be heard in the distance.

Naturally you decided it was best to stop and pick Eddie up some medicine. The drugstore was on the way anyways, and it was a good way for you to get off the streets for a few minutes. Eddie was right, the city really wasn’t safe at night.

Your apartment wasn’t in the best neighborhood and you began to regret staying out so late as you gradually got closer to your destination.

Once the familiar neon lights of the store came into view, you hurried inside and began to scan the aisles for flu medicine and even a thermometer. Worn feet ached as you stood at the register getting the items rung up. The whole day had been extremely busy and now the only thing you wanted to do was to go back to your apartment and go to bed.

Rolling up the plastic bag with your belongings, you stood out on the sidewalk and headed home. The walk wouldn’t be more than five minutes. What did you have to worry about?

After about three minutes of walking, an odd thudding sound came from ahead of you. Freezing in place, you strained your neck in an attempt to get a view of what was happening. No luck. The streetlight directly ahead had burned out leaving this specific piece of sidewalk in complete darkness.

At this point, the best decision was to cross the street and continue your way from there.

You stuck your foot out into the street and began to make your way across, completely unaware of the car speeding down the road.

By the time you realized that the light being flashed at you was actually coming from a car, it was too late. Or so you thought.

A loud metallic crunch split through the air, followed by the continuous whine of the car horn. Something had wrapped around your stomach.

“I’ve got you.”

Feet reconnecting with the ground, you opened your eyes and felt your body gradually begin to relax at the realization that you were still alive.

The relief was short lived.

Before you stood an extremely large, black silhouetted figure.

Sputtering in confusion and fear, you legs seemed to work on their own as you inched backwards. You hands shook so violently that the bottle of medicine you had bought fell from your hands and sprayed pills all over the street.

Leaning closer, the figure’s two white eyes widened, then narrowed as it observed you.

Petrified with fear you just stared right back with huge, horrified eyes. It was Venom: the monster that had been said to be lurking around San Francisco. It was... real.

Regardless of the creature's appearance, it had still saved your life. That had to be a good sign.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” a deep voice growled as two rows of sharp teeth glinted in the flickering light of the half-dead car, “it’s a pleasure to finally get to meet you in person.”

Now your mind was racing. What did he mean? What could he mean?

“I don’t understand,” you practically whispered, backing up a bit more as you did so.

“I guess you wouldn’t,” the creature stood and turned down to the car and to the now unconscious driver, “he told you not to go out at night. This city can be a dangerous place.” The only person who had told you not to stay out late was Eddie. It couldn’t be, could it?

“Do you know Eddie?” leaning a bit closer, you gained some confidence at the possibility that Venom somehow knew your friend.

“I don’t just know him,” turning, the large, black figure crouched at eye height with you, and half of its face folded back to reveal a familiar one, “I am him.”

Now you had lost it.

Screaming, you turned on your heel in a matter of seconds and shot down the street as fast as a bullet. This had all gotten too weird.

“Wait!” Eddie’s voice called after you, but you just kept on running.

At some point your legs began to burn and your pace slowed. Panting you turned back only to see that Eddie was heading down the hill towards you. Too exhausted to run at this point, you turned and waited for what he had to say. If him and Venom had wanted you dead, they would have killed you already. And plus, it was impossible for you to imagine Eddie ever hurting you.

“Just let me explain,” he looked completely horrified by your judgment and what you had just seen, “I knew you weren’t ready to know, but Venom said it would be fine and I was planning on waiting but then that car came while I was passing by and I knew I had to do something and-”

Cutting him off mid-ramble the poor man was having a full-blown panic attack you said, “Okay Eddie just calm down, you’re freaking me out. I don’t know what the hell just happened, but I bet if we sit down and talk it out then I’ll have a better understanding of what’s happening.”

So you two walked in silence back to his apartment where he explained everything to you. From the Life Corporation to living with his parasite. By the time he had finished, it was well after midnight.

“That’s a lot Eddie but still, thank you for saving my life.”

“Well it wasn’t just my idea, I think Venom likes you,” he laughed and then paused for a moment, “and he’s not the only one.”

Blushing a little you smiled. This would be an odd adjustment, but you had liked Eddie for a long time and didn’t even hesitate to tell him.

Let’s just say that night was more than eventful.

[cheeseeatingtrashmonster]

The World I Wanted

For @miraculouspaon for egging me on.

Inspired by this.

Nathalie takes the fight for the miraculous into her own hands. It’s what she wanted. Isn’t it?

Read on Ao3

“Here lies everything

The world I wanted at my feet

My victory’s complete

So hail to the king”

- Everything You Ever, Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog

Nathalie followed Adrien's bodyguard up the stairs and watched him place his unconscious ward on the bed.

"I'll make sure he's okay," she said, brushing Adrien's bangs away from his eyes. "Thank you for carrying him. He's gotten so tall."

The bodyguard left, closing the door without ever having turned on the light.

"Oh, Adrien," Nathalie said, sitting beside him and taking his hand in hers. "How did you get yourself into this?"

He didn't answer, of course. He didn't answer, because she had drugged his food. She knew his exact height, weight, muscle mass, metabolism speed, so she knew how long he would sleep, and how deeply. He was perfectly safe.

"When you wake up, everything will be better." She squeezed his hand, and for a second, she thought he squeezed back. She froze. When he didn't stir after a minute, she slipped the silver ring from his finger and watched it turn black in her palm.

"If only you had known what you were fighting to prevent." She went to the doorway but turned back. She slid Adrien's shoes from his feet, pulled a blanket over him, and made sure his pillow was properly situated. "See you soon."

She found Gabriel in his office. He seemed unaware that he was working in the dark. The screen illuminated his face, casting deep shadows that gave him an even sharper look than normal. She hoped that in a few hours, the aura of deep sadness that seemed to radiate from his very skin would dissipate. Fade like mist in the sun.

Because that's what she was doing. Bringing him the sun.

"Sir?"

Gabriel looked up. He took in his surroundings with a frown.

"What time is it? What are you still doing here? I thought you went home hours ago."

"I just had to take care of something."

He nodded. She had probably said those words to him a hundred times.

"Was there anything else?"

She suppressed a smile. "Go make an akuma."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Just seems like the right time for it."

She let him stare at her, trying to puzzle out what she was up to. But she had honed her poker face for years because of him. There was nothing for him to glean from her expression.

"What do you know?" he asked.

"You'll see."

He went to the painting, looking up at the image of Emilie before triggering the trap door. Nathalie counted to two hundred in her head before she slipped out of the office. She made her way to Gabriel's bedroom and in a box in a secret compartment in a drawer in his desk was the Peacock Miraculous. He had thought she didn't know where it was. That was okay. He wouldn't underestimate her again after tonight. He would finally see what she could do. He would see that she did it all for him. For them.

The Peacock and Butterfly were both meant to enhance the fight without engaging personally. But that didn't mean they couldn't. In an alley close to the sounds of destruction that all of Paris knew to be an akuma victim on the loose, Nathalie became Mayura one last time.

She spotted Ladybug quickly. "Chat Noir! Where are you? I have a bad feeling about this, Kitty."

Such a bright girl, Mayura thought. I hope she adjusts to normal life quickly after this.

It was easier to sneak up on the girl than it should have been. It was easier to take her down with her darts than it should have been. It was easier to slip the earrings from her unconscious form than it should have been.

Maybe the Miraculous of Creation knew it had already lost, that its mate wasn't active anymore.

Maybe the luck had finally run out.

Mayura made sure that the girl was safe and the akuma was freed before returning to the mansion.

"How?" Gabriel asked, meeting her at the front door. "How did you do it?"

"It doesn't matter," she said, pressing the three miraculouses into his hand. "Go get her back."

"Come with me," he said. "Not many people get to witness an all-powerful wish."

There was a small staircase to the lair. It was rickety, musty, narrow. It was also long. Nathalie tried to ignore the dizziness from her time as Mayura, but with every few steps, she slowed her pace a little. Gabriel waited for her, but she could feel his impatience as though she was the empath instead of him.

"You really won't tell me how?" Gabriel asked, holding an earring up to catch the moonlight streaming in through the butterfly window.

"It's not important." She muffled a cough with her sleeve. "Let's bring Emilie back."

Gabriel put the earrings in first. The Ladybug kwami started to cry the moment she recognized who now held her.

"Silence," Gabriel said. The Ladybug went silent. He had more than enough experience controlling kwamis.

The ring took just a moment longer after it was in place for the Black Cat to appear. Before Gabriel could react, the kwami flew, not at his new master, but at Nathalie, stopping inches from her nose.

"You! He trusted you! He trusted-"

"Silence!"

The Black Cat seethed in front of Nathalie a moment more before flying over to hug his Ladybug close.

Gabriel sighed and turned to Nathalie. "My apologies."

"It's- I-I'm fine."

She wasn't. She was shaking like a leaf. Somehow she hadn't realized the kwami knew who she was. She was lucky Gabriel had cut him off when he did. If she was lucky, after all this was over, he wouldn't think to question the kwamis about their former holders. He wouldn’t find out he had been fighting his son this whole time.

“Take this," Gabriel said, handing the Butterfly and Peacock to Nathalie. He adjusted the ring on his finger, felt for the earrings, and took a breath.

"I told you I would fix this, Emilie."

It didn't even sting anymore that he didn't notice she had done all of the work.

"Spots on!"

Pink light flooded the room, scattering the sleeping butterflies. They had just resettled when Gabriel called up the second transformation, agitating them again. A few settled on Nathalie's hair and clothes. She had always had a fondness for the butterflies. She pulled her hair down with gentle movements, giving the insects more room to explore. It was comforting, the familiar tickle of their feet, the brush of their wings, as she watched Gabriel turn into something... darker. Larger. Twisted and powerful. And if she looked at the Being where Gabriel had been standing for too long, she could feel a part of herself breaking.

An echoing voice came from it. "I can see everything. I can do anything. Any trade..."

Nathalie tried to be as quiet as she could in this Being's presence, but her body couldn't ignore the effects of the damaged Peacock for too long. The coughing came back and she doubled over, hair obstructing her view of the Being.

"Stand up," it said, holding a hand out to her. She didn't know what would happen if she took its hand, but she also knew she wasn't allowed to refuse.

The second her fingers touched his, she gasped. It was the first full breath she had managed since transforming. Warmth spread through her from their point of contact. She felt the tension in her shoulders disappear, her lungs clear, her vision sharpen. She straightened further.

"Thank you," she said, letting her hand drop to her side.

The Being didn't respond. It turned back to face the butterfly window.

"I wish for Emilie Agreste to be returned to me. Alive, healthy, whole, for the rest of what would have been her natural life, in exchange for the rest of another's natural life."

With no warning, the Being dropped away, leaving a detransformed Gabriel in its wake.

"What happened?" he demanded, turning on Nathalie. "Did it work?"

"I don't know, Sir." The familiar fear of displeasing her employer crept up her spine, kicking her heart into a faster pace.

"Well? What did you see?"

Her tongue felt heavy and slow. "You... you became..."

The door burst open. Gabriel and Nathalie turned towards the sound. Nathalie found herself dizzy from the sudden movement.

"Gabriel, my love."

Emilie ran across the room and launched herself into Gabriel's arms.

"It worked. It worked! You're here, my Emilie."

Nathalie tried to turn to face them. She stumbled, hitting one of her knees hard on the ground.

"How did you- I remember what happened. Gabriel, how am I here?"

Nathalie turned to see Gabriel cup Emilie's face. The image was blurry and black around the edges.

"There is nothing I wouldn't do, nothing and no one I wouldn't sacrifice to get you back."

Nathalie struggled to stand. She struggled to speak. At the very least, she wanted to congratulate the Agrestes. This was what they had been working for. This was the goal.

Why couldn't she feel her arms?

Unnoticed, floating near the ceiling, Plagg sneered down at the scene. Tikki knew what he had done. She watched the woman with the red streak of hair fall with a sad croaking sound. If Plagg ever asked her, she would tell him that she didn't approve. But if they couldn't do anything to Gabriel... maybe this small revenge could help her hold on until they were rescued. Whenever that would be.

Nathalie realized what had happened when her head hit the floor, the crack bursting stars into her vision. She should have known.

And the worst part?

This was what she wanted.

She had volunteered for this.

Time and again, she had made him choose Emilie over her.

It was only face down on the floor, her hair falling in her face that she felt the tiniest spark of regret.

Neither Gabriel nor Emilie so much as spared her a glance as she fell.

After all. She wanted this.

“I'm so happy you're back.” The moonlight lit their smiles.

Butterflies settled around Nathalie’s still body. This was everything they ever wanted.

“Everything is perfect now.”

They had the world they wanted.

[panda-noosh]

Draped in Gold {Angel!Lance x Reader}

  Words: 7k

  Summary: Some of the things you did made Lance question why it was he who had been chosen to be your Guardian Angel – until the day he actually meets you face-to-face and learns something he never expected.

  Genre: fluff – angst

  Warning: nothing

  Notes: masterlist –  I wrote this in three hours yeehaw.

  ---

    If Lance were to face-palm any harder, he was fairly certain he would give himself a concussion.

   Out of the seven billion people on the planet, he was confused as to why you had been chosen to be taken beneath his wing. Seven billion people, and his skills as a Guardian Angel were being compressed to this one human being who had the attention span of an empty box of crayons.

    Lance found himself gritting his teeth more often than not, thinking back to the time when he had just turned Of Age, when Shiro had handed him his first contract and told him to sign it, taking extra precaution to read through every single guideline, every single bit of information that he had been provided.

   Lance being Lance had been so excited at the concept of finally having a job to do that he had snatched the pen up and scribbled his name on the dotted line before he had even read your name at the top of the sheet.

   And now, years later, he was still left to watch over you as you made bad decisions. He tried desperately to do his job, to interject when need be, but you were just as stubborn as Lance was – if not, more so.

    You didn't even have time for your Guardian Angel nowadays.

    “You know what they say,” Pidge said after Lance had finished complaining about how you had, once again, burned yourself trying to get a ready-made meal out of the microwave. “It takes one to know one.”

  “I'm nothing like them,” Lance insisted.

   Pidge raised her brow, looking at Lance sceptically over the rim of her glasses. Lance bit down on his bottom lip and looked away, refusing to fall victim to the famous Pidge Gunderson Scrutiny.

   He was nothing like you. At the end of the day, he had worked hard to get to where he was, going through every level of training that a Guardian Angel needed – if anything, you just made his job a little easier. He didn't have to do much; he always knew you were doing something stupid, knew that there was hardly anything he could do. He spent the majority of his days walking around headquarters, whistling show tunes to himself, only glancing down at you once or twice in a day to make sure you hadn't yet died.

    But still – seven billion people in the world, and what were the odds that he had been assigned to you?

   ---

   It was a Friday evening whenever Lance felt the pull in his chest.

   Many Angels called it the Pull of Death, though Lance always believed they were being a tad bit dramatic with the title. It wasn't as if you were actually dying – Lance would definitely know if that was the case, and it would come to him in a form much more ravenous than a slight tingle in his chest – but you certainly weren't in good form.

    Lance's energy had been mingled with your own for as long as he could remember, meaning he knew when you were pushing yourself beyond your limits. He had only felt the Pull of Death once or twice, and it had never taken him by surprise – you were a university student after all. It wasn't rare for you to get tired.

   But this time, something pulled within Lance that had him sitting bolt upright in shock. It was like someone had zapped him through with electricity, his attention immediately grabbed.

   He was on his feet before he could think better of it, darting over to the screen pinned up on the far side of his room. He tapped the screen only a few times and your face appeared – your extremely withered face, eyes slipped closed and mouth open. If Lance were any less wise, he would have been convinced that you had just fallen asleep.

   On the floor.

   In the middle of your apartment.

    His stomach flipped. Was that panic? Had you somehow managed to trigger panic within a Guardian Angel?

   “Son of a bitch,” Lance hissed, before crossing himself in apology for his use of bad language.

  He didn't have time to do much else. He needed to get to you, to make sure you were still breathing, that there was still a pulse. As he tugged on his robes and his shoes {Nikes. He had gotten them from a mortal shop a few years back and had found them quite comfortable in comparison to his previous footwear of sandals} he knew he was being over-dramatic – again, if you died, he would know immediately. But in the same breath, you most certainly didn't look like you had long left right now.

    He closed his eyes, clicked his fingers, and his bedroom dissolved away. He was no longer amongst the Angels, but was instead standing in the cluttered living room of your apartment – the living room he tried to avoid at all costs. He didn't like the mess too much. It made him feel claustrophobic.

    But he couldn't think of that right now. He whirled on his heel, spotting you in a matter of seconds. You were lying still, one arm draped over your stomach whilst the other lay palm-down against the cluttered floor, clutching at the fabric of the carpet as if your life depended on it. Maybe it did.

   Lance knelt down beside you, pressed a finger to the side of your neck in his search for a pulse. He felt one, breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't slow, either. Honestly, maybe you had just fallen asleep.

   Nonetheless, Lance reached forward and placed a warm hand on the top of your head. He felt that familiar tug in his chest as his energy seeped from the tips of his fingers and surged into your body at lightening speed, startling you awake almost immediately.

    Your eyes shot open. Lance kept his hand still on your forehead for only a moment, knowing full well you couldn't see him, that you would merely believe you had just woken up of your own accord-

    Suddenly, a hand slammed down on Lance's arm and a scream echoed out in the apartment.

   Lance cried out in both shock and pain as his arm grew numb. You scrambled away from him, eyes wide and bloodshot, skin looking sunken beneath the yellow lights and your own sickness.

   But Lance wasn't concentrating on that. He was concentrating on you – you, who was looking right at him as if it were the most natural thing in the entire world. You, who was currently clutching a vase in one hand, pointing it at Lance.

    “You can see me?” he asked before he could think better of it. Way to be subtle.

   “How the hell did you get in here?” you exclaimed. “I had the front door bolted!”

    “I – uh – No you didn't.”

   “Yes, I did. I'm a student, for crying out loud. I can't afford to get robbed.”

   Lance pursed his lips. You had a mighty fine point.

   He looked over at the door he had, indeed, not come through to see that the bolt was still slid across. He quietly cursed himself – how was he going to explain that? He had somehow unbolted the door from the outside, decided to be kind and bolted it again behind him?

   No. That was a little bit too unbelievable.

   He slowly rose up from the floor, holding his hands up in surrender. He definitely did not want you volleying the vase directly at his skull right now. If he could just get out, he could explain everything to Shiro and find out what the hell was going-

    You burst out laughing suddenly, startling Lance back to the present.

   “What is it?” he asked. “Stop laughing.”

   You shook your head. “Sorry. Sorry. It's just – Are you wearing a dressing gown? What spa did you just come from that lets you steal their robes?”

   Lance frowned and glanced down at his attire – he thought he was dressed quite pleasantly today. His white robes had been a gift from Coran to congratulate him on getting a full score in the Halo Toss.

   “I'll have you know, these are mine,” said Lance.

   “That doesn't make it any better.”

   “Well, it's better than those raggedy clothes you and the other mortals decide to wear.”

   “Coming from the bloke wearing Nike trainers with a set of silk robes. I hope you're wearing something under that or I may have to call the police.”

   “The police won't be able to-”

   “Hold on a minute.”

   Lance froze. You suddenly didn't sound so amused – your voice had dropped considerably, and you were now looking him over with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes.

    “Did you just call me a mortal? As if you're not a mortal?”

   That was the moment Lance knew he had fucked up.

     Why he was still standing in front of you now was completely beyond him. He should have left at the first sign of danger, from the very moment he realised that you could see him – but his curiosity had, as always, gotten the better of him. He wanted to learn more, wanted to know how you were talking to him at the moment, why you were so loose with your words. Of course, Lance had witnessed you take this attitude on with a lot of other people, but he wasn't other people. He was Lance – he was your Guardian Angel, for crying out loud!

    “Uh... I didn't say that,” was Lance's excuse.

   You slowly rose up from the wall, vase still clutched in your hand. “Listen, I may sound calm, but you're scaring me a little bit now. If you're going to kill me, there's no point in beating around the bush. I'd much prefer a quick death.”

   “I'm not here to kill you,” Lance assured, though he couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face at the way you had addressed such a heavy topic. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

   “Right,” you drawled. “You're here to . . . look at the meter?”

    “Meter?”

   “I don't remember ordering takeout, so you're definitely not here to deliver anything to me.”

   You frowned, rubbing at your chin in curiosity. Lance could barely believe his eyes – never before had he met a mortal that was so casual with being in the presence of a Guardian Angel. In your defence, you were unaware of Lance's title, but that didn't make the disbelief shrink in any way. He had once believed that a Guardian Angel and their client had a connection, that the two of them talking to one another could be detrimental to the world because of how close their bond was.

   But you were looking at Lance now as if he was some kind of fellow school mate. He nearly cringed at it – school.

     And then Lance remembered why he was there in the first place.

   “Oh!” he exclaimed. You jumped, dropping the vase. It shattered against the floor.

   You groaned. “Do you mind?”

   “Why were you on the floor when I arrived?” Lance asked, not acknowledging the shards of glass that were now spread out around him. “Are you injured?”

   You frowned, looking up at Lance through the tops of your eyelids as you bent down to retrieve the broken pottery. “No. I – uh – just felt faint, that's all. Why? Are you some kind of doctor? A nurse?”

   “No.”

  “Then I really shouldn't feel obligated to tell you anything about my medical history,” you said. “I think I should be more concerned with finding out how you actually got in my house.”

   “I've already told you – you didn't lock the door.”

  “And I've already told you that I did.”

   “Well clearly not.”

   “You're really not gonna-” You cried out before you could finish your sentence.

   Blood was swelling from the tip of your index finger. You had nicked yourself on a piece of glass.

   Once again, Lance had to remind himself that one more face-palm could lead to a concussion, and he could not afford to be hospitalised right now.

    “Son of a bitch!” you exclaimed, shooting up, gripping your finger tightly. “This is your fault! You shouldn't have distracted me like that!”

  Lance raised a brow. “It's hardly life-threatening, Y/N.”

   “Yeah, well, it bloody hurts.” You groaned, whirled on your heel and started towards the kitchen. This was Lance's chance. He could leave. Maybe you would think you had just gone crazy, that maybe you had banged your head a little too hard on the floor and had somehow imagined an entire stranger standing in your living room.

   But instead he followed you into the kitchen.

   “Let me see it,” he said.

   You glanced at him over your shoulder. “You just said you're not a doctor.”

   “I don't need a degree in medicine to know how to bandage up a slice in someone's finger. Now let me see it.”

   You frowned, but argued no further. Lance stepped closer to you, grabbed a hold of your wrist and started to inspect the damage – as he had assumed, it was nothing major. A mere slice in the tip of your finger, close enough to a paper cut that it almost made him laugh at how dramatic your reaction had been.

    But Lance was still an Angel. He had still been trained in the art of treating human beings, protecting them, and this was his moment to shine.

   So, with the utmost care, he coaxed you towards the kitchen sink and gently placed your finger beneath the cool running water. It would have been easier to use his powers to heal it – it would take only a second with how minor the damage was – but he didn't want to expose his own identity just yet. He would have to in due time, but right now, you were completely oblivious, and that feeling of normal was calming for him.

   “It's hardly life-threatening, Y/N.”

   Lance barely heard you. You were quiet, quieter than Lance had heard you be in a long time.

   He looked up at you cautiously, raising a brow at the whispered words you had just spoken. You weren't looking at him. Your features had relaxed, brows no longer furrowed and jaw no longer tight with strain. You were staring out of the window, mouth open a little bit as you examined the words that Lance had said only a few moments before.

    “It's not,” he assured. “A bandage should have it-”

   “How do you know my name?”

    For a single moment, Lance was fairly certain he had heard wrong. He hadn't been so careless. There was no way in Heaven that he had let his tongue get so loose – that was the word of Pygmy Angels, not him! He had been in this line of work for years now. He was a professional.

   You snatched your hand out of his grip, stumbling back once again. Water droplets splattered to the tiled floor, but you didn't care. You were staring at him with wide eyes, and for the first time since Lance had stepped foot in your house, you looked genuinely terrified.

   For some reason, it broke Lance's heart.

   Again, he did the only thing he could think to do – he raised his hands in surrender, took a tiny step back to give you the space you so clearly needed.

    “How do you know my name?” you repeated, louder this time. “Oh God, you're a stalker, aren't you? My friend was telling me about the campus stalkers all morning, and I thought she was just talking shit.”

   Before Lance could stop you, you were diving towards the phone on the counter. He panicked. Calling the police would out him once and for all, because the police would show up and would be unable to see him.

     It was the panic that had him materialising from his side of the kitchen and appearing next to you, all without taking a single step forward.

   Your head snapped around whenever he landed beside you. A shrill scream escaped your throat, the phone clattered to the counter and you were stumbling back once again. You raised your hand, made to slap Lance across the face in self-defence. He grabbed your wrist before you could do so.

    You whimpered. “Please don't kill me. I didn't even get my EMA this week.”

   “How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not here to kill you?”

   “You can say it all you want. It doesn't mean I'm gonna believe you.” You managed to slip your hand out of his grip. “Who are you?”

   Lance didn't know how to respond. Was there any point in lying any more? It seemed unnecessary now that he had basically exposed his identity all together – he had just appeared at your side without even taking a step forward. You were bound to know by now that he was something beyond human.

    “This whole eerie silence thing you've got going on really isn't doing it for me,” you said. “Just tell me who you are or so help me God I will climb out of the fire escape and cry bloody murder.”

    Lance pursed his lips. “You won't believe me if I tell you.”

   “Try me. I'm five coffees in and I'm ready to believe anything.”

    He sighed and rubbed at his temples. Again, you made everything into a joke. Once upon a time, he had done the exact same thing, but this situation was not one to be taken lightly. He would have to go back to Heaven and explain himself – he had no idea what would happen to you, if the Angels would declare that you knew too much and kill you for the information he had stupidly given to you.

    “I'm an Angel,” he said through gritted teeth. He wasn't sure why the words felt like a grater being dragged down his throat, but they did.

   As expected, the news was met with a heavy silence. You had frozen, injured finger still clutched in your good hand. Lance was relieved that you were no longer looking at him with pure fear in your eyes, but instead looked a little shell-shocked.

   “An Angel,” you repeated.

  “An Angel.”

   You didn't laugh at him. Slowly, you let your hand fall to your side, water still dripping from the tip of your finger. Lance wanted you to laugh. He wanted you to give him some kind of reaction, something to break this god forsaken silence that had engulfed the both of you.

    “Do you know Zarkon?”

   Lance's head snapped up so fast that he was at risk of breaking his neck. “Zarkon?”

  Your cheeks grew red. Quickly, you shook your head and waved a hand through the air, dismissing the idea. “Forget I said anything. It's not important. You're an Angel – cool. You should probably hop on back to Heaven before your fellow Angels get worried.”

    You tried to step around him, but Lance was in too deep now to let the conversation drop at that. He stepped in your way, blocking you from leaving. You scowled and looked up at him.

   “This is my house, you know.”

    “How do you know who Zarkon is?”

   You shrugged. “No reason. I – uh – read about him.”

   Archangel Zarkon, one of the most powerful men in Heaven. Lance had been under the brutes control for his entire life – though he always reported back to Shiro after jobs, it was Zarkon who controlled everything else. It was Zarkon who Lance lived to please.

    “Read about him,” Lance repeated. “You're lying.”

   “Well, that's not a very nice thing to say to somebody who just let you stroll into their house-”

  “You know Zarkon. You've met him.”

    You looked away. Lance saw that barrier in your eyes breaking, that tiny quiver of your bottom lip, the way you clenched your good hand at your side as if to fight off a comment rising to the surface.

     “That's why I can see you,” Lance continued. Too quickly for his mind to keep up, everything was falling into place. “You're not normal, are you?”

    “Oi!”

  “I mean it in the nicest way possible,” Lance assured, placing his hands on your shoulders and forcing you to look up at him. “How do you know Zarkon? You can tell me.”

    “I don't know him personally,” you said, shrugging casually – Lance saw right through it, chose not to comment. “I just – my mum's told me about him a few times.”

   “Your mum knows him?”

   “Very well,” you mumbled.

   “Strange. I've never known Zarkon to associate with mortals before.”

   You scoffed. “Oh, he associated with her alright.”

   Lance frowned. “What do you mean?”

    “Zarkon's my dad.”

   Lance wasn't sure what he had been expecting to hear, but that had most definitely not been it.

   For a single moment, he didn't quite believe you. He was fully prepared to tell you to stop joking around, to hurry up and tell him the truth – but his words faltered whenever he saw the way you gritted your teeth and looked away from him, as if the truth had somehow burned as you said it.

   His hands fell away from your shoulders and you stepped back. You crossed your arms over your chest, refused to look at him now that the truth was out there.

    “You're half-Angel?”

   You winced. “No. I'm a human being. I always have been.”

   “But if Zarkon-”

   “Well, if you wanna get technical with it, then yes! Yes, I'm half-Angel! But I don't associate with that part of myself. The only parents I know are my mum and my step-dad, and that's all I need.”

    “I understand that, but-”

  “There is no but,” you growled, humour long since dissolved away. “The only magical Angel power I seem to have gotten is seeing people like you – which, quite frankly, if Zarkon wants that back, he can have it. It would make my life a hell of a lot easier.”

   “You've seen other Angels?”

   “They wander around the streets fairly often,” you replied. “I see them laughing at the mortals, thinking nobody can see them. You're all a bunch of assholes, by the way.”

   Lance winced. “Some of them can get a bit too big for their boots, I'll admit.”

   “Good.” You turned on your heel. “Now you can leave.”

   “I have to make sure you're okay first.”

   You raised a brow, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Why? Who sent you?”

   “Nobody.” He swallowed the golf-ball sized lump in his throat. “I'm your Guardian Angel, Y/N. It's my job to make sure you're okay, and you definitely didn't look okay when I got here.”

  “Because I was on the floor.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, I can assure you that I'm okay. I just haven't eaten all day and I guess it got the better of me. I'll order some food, sit on the sofa all evening and I should be fine by tomorrow morning – you can even check up on me if you feel like it.”

   Lance could only dumbly nod, not once taking his eyes off of you. He knew he was being unsettling, though it wasn't his plan to make you uncomfortable – he just couldn't help himself. You were half-Angel. He had been looking over you for years now, and not once had he ever put two and two together, not once had he noticed that you had never once mentioned your real father to anyone – in fact, for the longest time, even Lance had been convinced that your step-dad was your real father.

    He remembered the papers that Shiro had handed to him all them years ago. If he had just bothered to read what he was meant to have read, he would have known immediately that your father was Zarkon, that you were a force to be reckoned with.

    Lance materialised from your living room and arrived back in his own room shortly after that. He slumped down on his bed immediately, ducked his head into his hands and rubbed at his temples – again, one more face-palm and he would put himself in a coma. Only this time, the urge to face-palm was purely because of his own stupidity, not yours.

  ---

    “Guardian Lance, please make your way to the head office promptly. Thank you.”

  Lance looked up from the game of chess he had been playing with Pidge, a frown forming on his face. “Me?”

   “No. The other Guardian Lance,” Pidge drawled sarcastically, before kicking him beneath the table. “Go. It'll give me a chance to figure out my next move.”

   Being petty, Lance swiped his lower arm over the chess board as he stood up and made to leave, sending the pieces flying halfway across the room. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from grinning at the cry of annoyance that sounded behind him, though it was quickly blocked by the door closing.

   The head offices of Heaven were either a place an Angel wanted to be, or a place they dreaded. It was purely dependant on what news you were expecting – Lance was being thrown into the sharks tank at the moment, due to the fact that he wasn't expecting anything, which could be just as risky as expecting anything from the meeting you were being called into.

   Nervously, he knocked on the grand, golden double doors and braced himself for whatever sight he may find on the other side – this was the place Zarkon stayed. He wasn't sure if he would be able to look the Elder in the eye after the news he had learned a few days prior – the news he had kept to himself, even though it had been most foolish of him to do so. He should have reported the entire story to the Elders as soon as he got back, but he had convinced himself that it wasn't that important. What could any of them do? Nothing. Which was why Lance thought it was best to hug his experience with you close to him rather than spewing it to everyone willing to listen.

   The doors swung open. Shiro stood before him, dressed in his usual white robes that looked almost too white, an inhuman shade of white. That was Shiro, though – forever keeping his robes clean.

   “Morning,” Lance murmured. “I heard my presence was needed.”

   Shiro nodded and stepped out the way of the door. Lance stepped into the head office, biting on his lower lip as he took in the sight before him – the place hadn't changed in the slightest from the last time Lance had been there, which had been a good number of years ago. The massive mahogany desk with which he had leaned upon when signing that dreaded contract was still sat in the middle of the room. The windows still took up the majority of the walls. The curtains were still pinned back – Lance had never seen them closed. He supposed they never needed to be closed in Heaven.

   But what had changed was the people occupying the room. Last time Lance was here, it had just been him and the secretary, Hunk, but looking up, Hunk was nowhere in sight. In his place was Archangel Zarkon, Archangel Lotor and the head of the Guardians, Takashi Shirogane.

   All of them looked awfully displeased.

   Lance stood before them and bowed as respectfully as he possibly could. His legs felt awfully weak, as if they were going to give out beneath him at any given moment.

    “Elders,” Lance said. “How can I help you?”

   “I think you know,” said Lotor. “It's come to our attention that you've had quite the weekend, Guardian Lance. Exploring the mortal world without permission?”

   Lance closed his eyes. “It was a rash decision on my part, Archangel Lotor. I apologise if I caused any inconvenience-”

   “You did more than just cause an inconvenience,” the Elder snapped. “A mortal saw you.”

   “Half-mortal,” Lance corrected before he could think better of it.

   “A mortal nonetheless. Do you know how much danger you put us in by being so careless?”

   “It honestly wasn't that bad,” said Lance. He was pushing it. He needed to be more formal, needed to be more respectful, but he couldn't bite back his comments at the moment. “Y/N didn't even care that I was there.”

   “But we care that you were there,” Lotor spat. “You broke protocol to go and see to your client, and that was incredibly unprofessional on your part.”

   Zarkon straightened up then. Lance glanced over at him – no wonder Lance had never realised that he was your father. The two of you looked nothing alike. Whilst Zarkon had the stern features of the leader he was, you had a face that was filled with kindness and respect – despite the snarky comments which so often pooled from your mouth.

   “The precautions we have to take to ensure the safety of Heaven is most important,” said Zarkon. “You were made aware that Y/N is one of my children – a child I had no intention of bringing to the earth.”

   Lance gritted his teeth. “I was made aware of that, yes.”

    “Then you will know just how difficult it was for me to face them again. Especially in these circumstances.”

   Lance narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

   Zarkon pursed his lips. He was trying to feign regret, guilt, a human emotion that Lance knew full well he didn't possess – he wasn't kind. Zarkon had never been kind.

    “What do you mean?” Lance repeated, a little louder this time.

   “It is compulsory that the mortals Guardian Angel must bare witness to their execution,”said Zarkon, and every nerve in Lance's body flickered to life almost immediately.

    Never before had Lance purposefully been rude to his Elders. He knew better than to step out of line, knew to keep to his own lane to avoid punishment, but this was something entirely different. Suddenly, Lance was no longer an Angel under these people's control – suddenly, he was your protector. And call it instinct, but every fibre of his being was craving to be by your side, to make sure you were okay. It was similar to the feeling he had gotten the previous night when he had seen you laying on your living room floor – he just needed to get to you, needed to know you were okay and safe.

    But it was increased ten-fold now, because the word execution was a lot more harsh than you simply passing out because of lack of nutrition.

    “No,” Lance said. “No, you can't. You can't do that!”

   “We've been given no options,” said Zarkon. “Any mortal who is given information about our kind is disposed of. You knew that. It was in your contract.”

   Lance closed his eyes again, rubbed furiously at his temples. That stupid contract!

   “Okay, okay,” Lance said quickly, stumbling over his own words. “But this is different, isn't it? That's for mortals only – Y/N isn't a mortal! They're one of us! Surely you can show some mercy?”

  “That's not how it works. Leaving them on earth would be a risk too great for us to take.”

   “Then bring them to Heaven and let them stay here!” Lance exclaimed. “You don't need to kill anyone, okay? We can sort this out, and it'll all be-”

   “Y/N has already made it clear that they do not want to live in Heaven,” said Zarkon slowly. “Which leaves us with only one other option.”

    The doors behind him swung open once again. He heard you yelling, your terrified screams piercing his entire being like a knife to the gut. He whirled around, very nearly dropped to his knees at the sight of you being dragged into the room by two other Angels. Golden chains were tangled around your hands – impossible to break out of. Zarkon had made sure of that when he had them made.

   Lance span back around, desperately searched for Shiro's eyes. His boss – one of his oldest friends – was looking down at his sandalled feet with a look that Lance could only call shame. His lip was pressed between his teeth, his shoulders tense, his jaw even tenser.

   “Shiro,” Lance called. “Shiro, you have to do something. You're on the council. You can stop this!”

   “He has agreed that the risk is too great,” said Lotor, just as you were thrown to your knees in front of them all. Your screaming had stopped. When Lance looked down at you, he nearly wept at the sight of you staring up at Zarkon with tears dotting your eyes – you knew who he was. Somehow, you had recognised him.

    Zarkon didn't meet your gaze. It made Lance even angrier.

    “This is criminal,” Lance seethed. “You're taking innocent people from their homes and slaughtering them because of the mistakes our kind make! It was me who was stupid enough to appear in their living room the other day – they had no choice in that! If anyone deserves this punishment, it's me.”

   “Shut up,” you grunted. “Playing the big hero. You have the back bone of a Twinkie.”

   “Be quiet,” Lance hissed, nudging your leg with his foot. He turned back to the three Elders in front of him. “Just – please. Please don't do this.”

    “Your reasoning is getting weaker, Guardian Lance,” said Lotor. “Have you got anything else to say or shall we continue on?”

    Lance was desperate, pulling at straws at this point – at the end of the day, the rules in the contract had been stated clearly. It was Lance's own fault for not reading them when he was supposed to, his own fault for assuming that his kind – people who were meant to bring good and peace to the world – would never do a thing like this.

   His silence lasted for too long. Lotor waved his hand lazily, and the guards stepped forward, grabbing a hold of your arms and hauling you up. Lance shook his head desperately, tried to speak but no words came out. He could only watch on in horror as you were dragged towards the chair that had been set up on the far side of the room, chains adorning the wood that were strapped to your feet in a matter of seconds.

   You weren't making any noise. You kept your eyes on Lance, slowly shaking your head as if to say It's okay. We both knew this was going to happen.

   Lance had been with you for years, whether you knew it or not. Lance had watched you go through so many difficult times, had watched you pull through when it looked like nothing was ever going to become light again. He had been by your side for that entire time, and now he was watching your final moments. It had been stupid of him to think like this, but he truly believed this would be something he would never have to witness during his time as your Guardian. Not even old age. Not once had he ever imagined you dying, and perhaps that was the reason he was paralysed, incapable of doing anything.

    “To my child,” Zarkon suddenly boomed, startling Lance back to reality. “A half-breed mistake. One of my own mistakes that I am now clearing up once and for all. You are being executed due to your crimes of knowing too much about business which has been kept secret from mortals for generations. Please state your last words.”

   “You sick-” Lance began, but your tiny voice cut him off.

   “Lance.” Just his name, but it sparked something within him that he couldn't explain. He turned his whole attention to you, felt his heart crumble at the sight of the tears leaking from your eyes, dribbling into the corners of your mouth.

   “Y/N,” he said back, just because it felt right.

   “I knew,” you said. “I always knew you were there.”

    The room fell into silence, but Lance didn't care. It was a silence so perfect, so needed that Lance was unable to feel anything but comfort from it. He pursed his lips and nodded to you, telling you he had heard, telling you that those words meant more to him than he would ever be able to articulate.

     All he managed to say was, “I'm glad. And I'll be there for you in your later lives, as well. I promise you.”

    “How sweet,” Lotor exclaimed. “Finish them.”

    And then chaos ensued.

    The knife had been taken from the guards belt. It had been plunged into your chest. It should have killed you.

   But it didn't.

   Heaven erupted into gold at first contact. The tip of the blade broke skin, but no blood came free from your wound – instead, golden light poured from your flesh, doused the room, blinded the people standing watch. Even Lance stumbled back, flinging an arm over his eyes to keep them from becoming any further damaged than they already were.

    And then he heard your laughter; manic, loud, knowing.

    “Idiots,” your voice echoed. “Did you forget that vital part where I'm half-Angel?”

   The golden light dimmed down, and it was just you. The guards had fallen to the floor, were looking up at you in complete shock, but you were smiling. The chains that had once been wrapped around your feet had fallen from your ankles, and you were oh-so-casually rubbing at them.

    “A little bit tight,” you commented. “But I applaud you on your safety. A shame that it's me you tried to chain up.”

   “How did you – That's impossible!” Lotor exclaimed, standing up abruptly. Only seconds before, he had been a tangle of limbs upon his throne, the golden light having affected him just as much as everyone else.

   You smiled at him, bowed. “I'm afraid it is, Mr Lotor, sir. You see, there's a slight difference with being half-Angel and being half-Archangel. It was just my luck that an Archangel decided to hook up with my mother. Now I have these really cool abilities – like not being able to die from a simple mortals blade.”

   You shook your head, glancing down at the guards sprawled across the marble floor. “Amateurs.”

   You looked up then, gave the shocked council one final grin before you were standing up and making your way towards the double doors. “Now, if you all don't mind, I'd like to get back to my apartment. You kidnapped me just after I'd put my ready-meal in the microwave.”

   “Somebody seize them!” Lotor ordered.

   “Oh, please do!” you exclaimed. “I don't mind taking out a few more of you scumbags.”

    The entire room fell still. Nobody dared to grab you, dared to move at all. Even Lance stayed pressed into the corner, watching you with wide eyes, unsure of what to do or how to react to the spectacle he had just bore witness to.

   You bowed once before flinging open the double doors and exiting the room. The only thing left behind was the echo of the show tunes you whistled as you exited Heaven.

   ---

   Lance appeared in your living room and was immediately met by the sound of you hissing out in pain.

   He span on his heel. You were standing by your microwave, the ready-made pasta bake now sprawled across the counter. Clearly, you had burned yourself trying to take it from the microwave.

    “Do you mind?” you exclaimed, spinning to look at Lance. “I swear, if that's the last ready-meal I have, I'm literally never forgiving you.”

  “That was incredible,” was Lance's response, because that was the only thing he could think to say.

    You flushed, features suddenly relaxing. You continued to cradle your burned hand as you shrugged, looking down at the floor awkwardly. “Just keeping myself safe.” You raised a brow. “I thought that was your job.”

  “It is,” said Lance. “But it looks like you're perfectly capable of doing it on your own. You've taken my job.”

    “You can keep it,” you said, before you bristled and quickly added, “It's not like I want to keep you around or anything. But, you know, I don't quite fancy the idea of you being unemployed because of me.”

   Lance couldn't help the grin that appeared on his face. He took a single step closer to you. You raised a brow, took a single step back.

    “You look like you're gonna pounce,” you said.

   Lance chuckled. “And what if I was? Would you stop me?”

    “I might stumble a little bit, but I don't know if I'd stop you.”

   “Do you want to find out?”

  “You sound like such a douche right now.”

    And then he kissed you.

   His hands wrapped around your waist, and he was fairly certain he could feel the golden light bursting from your skin and seeping through his fingertips. He could feel the power thrumming through you, ignored it because the thrumming of your heartbeat was so much louder, was so much more appealing.

    You pressed into him perfectly. Your burned hand was now being ignored as you reached up and trailed your hands through his hair, tugging on the brown strands in a way that he didn't know would drive him crazy, but it definitely did. He didn't know what he was doing. He didn't know if it was right, or if it was wrong, or if he cared at all. The feel of your body pressed against his own had driven any coherent thoughts from his mind.

    He pulled away first, gasped in his attempts to catch his breath. The room was spinning. He gripped onto your arms, leaned his forehead against your own, let the bliss take over for a moment longer.

    “Stay,” you whispered suddenly.

   Lance's eyes fluttered open. He looked down at you, voice soft when he said, “What?”

   “Stay here,” you repeated, louder this time. “I don't want you to leave.”

   “I've never left. I've always been here.”

   “Not like this,” you said. “Just . . . Stay.”

    The choice wasn't really a choice at all – to Lance, it felt more like common sense than anything else. He grinned and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

   “Well, I am your Guardian after all.”

[dragonasheswrites-blog]

The Heaven We Didn’t Choose, Chapter 22: In Which a Queen Babysits

...But it's about time, really.

First: Chapter 1: In Which a Child Makes a Friend

Previous: Chapter 21: In Which a Debt is Repaid

Next: Chapter 23: In Which Traumas Are Addressed

Click here for the story overview.

Sans awoke with a jolt, scrambling up onto the back of the couch he was sleeping on.  His skull was spinning. Where was he? He wasn’t in his old house in Snowdin and it was dark and he was clearly underground, so where-

“Sans?”

He shot a bone without thinking, only registering who had spoken a moment too late.  A wave of his hand redirected the magical projectile and slowed its speed, but it still left a dent in the wall.

Woops.

He slowly raised his head to find Frisk standing in the dark hallway, dressed in some kind of loose matching pants and a shirt.  Pyjamas, probably. Because it was nighttime.  He wasn’t back in the Underground; he was supposed to be sleeping.

What a stupid mistake to make.  Especially when he’d been on the surface for years…but it had never been so utterly dark in his apartment.  Boss always left a light on, somewhere, except in the-

“Sans?”

Frisk hadn’t moved, still standing in the hallway with one hand in the pocket of her pyjama pants, still tense.

“Hey,” he said.  He sounded hoarse, like his voice wasn’t working properly.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Uh…”  That was a good question, actually.  He glanced around, trying to remember where he was.  Had he teleported drunk again? He reached up to rub between his eye sockets-

-and doubled over on the couch when he saw his missing fingers.

It all came rushing back.  Boss, the awful punishment in the basement, the rescue by Frisk and Undyne.  “I. Uh. I…”

“You’re in my living room.  It’s about 4...4:32 AM on Monday, January 9th.  Undyne and I brought you here just about 24 hours ago.  You’ve been sleeping, mostly, since then; you woke up a few times, but you probably don’t remember that.”

He remembered a weird dream about Frisk covered in dust, but that was probably nothing.

“That was the cinnamon rolls,” she said.  He hadn’t realized he’d actually spoken. “I’m sorry; I didn’t even think...most of the monsters who hang out around here know when we’re baking, and - well - it isn’t an issue for Attie and I.”

Sans kept his mouth firmly shut and nodded.  That’s right; humans bled instead of dusting.  He really wasn’t doing well, was he.

“I, um, have your fingers still if you want them back.”

“Okay.”

She walked up to the couch carefully, not making any sudden moves.  On the end table nearby was a pastel pink jar labeled “TOOTH FAIRY,” which she opened.

“Attie let you use her tooth jar,” Frisk explained when she saw him eyeing the container skeptically.  She shook it gently, then tipped it over to reveal something wrapped in those white bits of soft paper that humans used to mop up their gross face leakages.  “Here. Let me know if you need more magic to reattach them; I think I have more Sea Tea in the fridge.”

He unrolled the soft paper to reveal the thumb, ring finger, and pinky of his left hand.  The bits of magic that held each set of bones together were intact, at least; reforming joints was always a pain, so the fewer he had to do the better.  He just needed to connect them back to the partially-fused carpals that formed his palm.

The first finger reconnected with a snap! that sent a worrying jolt of agony through the cracked bones of his palm.  Sure enough, trying to move it resulted in a grinding of bone against bone that had him ripping it right back off.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?”

He nodded, a little woozy from pain.  “M’fine.”

Sans wished he could have taken her up on her offer of Sea Tea - he was even lower on magic than he originally thought - but...he couldn’t form the words.  Something in the back of his mind was whispering how weak, how vulnerable you must look and he just couldn’t...couldn’t ask for more help than she’d already given.  He wished he still had his jacket; hiding sounded great right about then.

She hummed a little, looking skeptical.  “Well, I just wanted to make sure you were alright.  You were screaming, after all.”

He froze.  Screaming? He glanced Frisk over and realized that one hand was in her pants pocket, gripping something.  A weapon? Had she come to try to save him? “Uh. S-sorry?”

“No problem.  You didn’t wake up Attie - somehow - so everything’s fine.”  She looked him over again. “Well, feel free to help yourself to food if you change your mind.  There’s leftovers so you don’t have to cook.”

He had the urge to say something else, but no words came to mind.  Instead he nodded and watched her walk back down the hallway.

Slowly, he let himself back down onto the couch cushions.   Everything felt sore and hollow and he was desperately low on magic.  His poor attempt at an attack earlier hadn’t helped things, certainly.

It was fine.  Really, it was.  He’d operated under worse conditions before.  There was no reason to believe that this was going to take him down.

Standing hurt, though.  He could feel the spots along his spine where his vertebrae had been broken, still sore despite Undyne’s healing magic.  His legs and ribs felt fragile. His left carpals burned where his missing fingers should have been attached, and both palms ached from half-healed cracks, especially his left.

None of that mattered.  He wouldn’t let it matter.

An agonizing ten minutes later, he was slowly - slowly - pouring himself a glass of Sea Tea.  It had taken more blue magic than he liked to keep himself upright, scraping at his already-dry reserves, but the tea helped restore his magic.  Better, he could drink it instead of eating; he didn’t think he could stomach anything solid.

(Heh.)

The boost of magic felt like euphoria, like a rush of power and energy and life that made everything he’d suffered fade away for one brief moment…

Well.  Better reconnect those fingers, then.

He was more careful the second time, concentrating on forming the little pockets of magic that cushioned his bones from rubbing against each other.  Actually doing things properly worked much better than just sticking them on and hoping for the best. He flexed his hand carefully and grinned: it was still painful, especially since his carpals were still cracked, but the fingers were functional.

Getting back to the couch was a little easier too, thanks to the magic boost.  Still shaky, but he made it. He curled up with a soft sigh.

He was safe.  He was safe.  So, so tired, despite what Frisk had said about him sleeping a full day, but not in danger of being dusted.  He wished he could drift back off. So...why was he still on high alert?

It was like he was expecting Boss to crash through the door at any moment, ready to dust him.  Or worse, drag him back to the basement. It was unlikely - Frisk was in full control of her barrier, and her actions implied that she wasn’t happy with Boss at the moment - but the lingering worry remained.  What if this was all a setup? What if Frisk and Boss were...were working together?

Sans could feel his breathing speed up.  It wasn’t likely, not over his bony ass. They got along well, he knew from Boss’s monologues about work, but that didn’t mean they would conspire to torment him.  They were both too busy to spend time on that. Plus, they would’ve had to drag Undyne into it, and Undyne notoriously didn’t answer to anyone but Asgore himself. And she couldn’t lie to save her own life.

Yeah, it didn’t make sense.  So why was it so hard for him to believe that?  Had Boss finally broken him?

His thoughts chased each other through his skull.  Sleep, when it finally came, caught him unawares and dragged him down, down, down…

He awoke abruptly, jostling his bad hand in his haste to scramble upright.  Someone was watching him again, he could feel it.  He glanced around expecting to see Attie, but instead found...Tori?

It looked like she had just walked in the front door.  Frisk was standing nearby, one hand on the doorknob, in the middle of saying something.  Tori, though, was looking right at him.

Sans relaxed slowly, feeling the lingering aches and pains.  His left hand was better, but the cracks across his palms felt like little lines of fire.  His feet...well, his legs were still recovering from being broken, but as that pain dulled he became more aware of the agonizing soreness in the soles of his feet.

Standing felt worse then he remembered, but he managed it.  He wasn’t going to loaf on the couch in the presence of the queen, especially when she was angry with him.  Of course, she hadn’t tried to blast him into dust yet, so hopefully that meant she wasn’t too upset.

Tori was looking at him thoughtfully, no judgement apparent.  It was a little bit unnerving. Wasn’t she angry with him?  He could feel himself shaking under the weight of uncertainty and hunched over a little, trying to hide it.

Thankfully, that was the moment when Attie appeared.  She shuffled into the kitchen in her pyjamas, still groggy from sleep.  “G’morning Mommy, g’morning Granny,” she mumbled. After a few blinks, she turned to Sans and smiled.  “G’morning, Mr. Sans.”

Frisk and Tori managed a little “good morning” back, but Sans just gave a grimace and a nod.  Speaking suddenly seemed like too much effort.

The girl seemed unusually subdued.  Maybe being home wasn’t as exciting as being somewhere new, or maybe she was always shy around Toriel.  That surprised him. She seemed like a friendly kid; friendly enough to latch onto a complete stranger within hours, at least.  Why would she not be the same way around her family?

“Would you like to help me make breakfast, Attie?”  Tori asked, hesitation coloring her voice. It was odd; she was usually so self-assured that it was difficult to compare her to the lonely monster from behind the door.  Watching her try to charm her granddaughter, it was apparent that her issues with kids weren’t quite resolved.

“Toriel’s going to stay here for the day,” Frisk said in his general direction, focused on messing with her hair.  It looked damp; she must have gotten out of the shower not long before. “Feel free to sleep in here, or you can drag some blankets into my office if it gets a bit loud.  I’ve gotta run; meeting with the new ambassador from Japan…” She ran around for a few minutes, gathering shoes and hair pins and a packed lunch (she almost forgot the lunch until Tori reminded her) then abruptly stopped.  Settling her bags around her feet she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and composed herself.

When she opened her eyes, Sans felt a chill go down his spine.   This was the Frisk he was used to: the Frisk of meetings and bureaucracy and politics, the Frisk of little white lies and painted smiles.  It was disconcerting seeing her transform in a matter of moments, from a real human being into something so...determined.

She gave him a painfully polite smile and headed out towards the garage.

Tori and Attie’s breakfast wound up being scrambled eggs and hash browns with some kind of bright yellow sauce.  It smelled pretty good; better than oatmeal, at least.

Then he tried to take a bite.

He just...couldn’t do it.  The idea of eating sounded fantastic, and he was certainly hungry, but once it came to actually chewing all he could think about was Boss shoving food into his mouth to keep him alive.

He stared at his plate, feeling nauseous.

“You are not hungry?”  Tori asked, dishing up extra hash browns and sauce for herself.  “You really ought to eat; healing takes a lot of magic out of you, and you simply do not have the reserves right now.”

Attie mumbled something.

“Do not speak with your mouth full, my child.”

She swallowed and tried again.  “What does that mean? That he doesn’t have the reserves?”

“Well, you see, healing magic draws upon a monster’s energy - or a human’s, I suppose - to repair damage to the body and soul.  For monsters, that energy exists primarily in the form of magic. Without food, Sans will take much longer to recover magic; without magic, Sans will not heal.”

“Oh.”  She took another bite.  “Mr. Sans, you should eat your eggs.  They’re good.”

He gulped.  “I…”

They were both watching him expectantly.

“I...okay.”

He took a bite, trying not to think about it too much.  It sat like a lump of slime in his throat, taunting him.  What if his magic didn’t cooperate? What if he couldn’t digest it?  His hands shook, trying to fight off the imaginary foe that was his breakfast.

“Is it good?”  Attie asked.

“Uh, yeah.”  It tasted like dust in his mouth, but he couldn’t tell her that.  Instead, he forced himself to take another bite.

And another.

And another.

And...he just couldn’t eat any more.  “I, uh, don’t really have the stomach for eggs this morning.  Sorry.”

“Oooooh.  Granny Ree-”

“Finish your eggs, Atlas.”  Tori stood up and gathered her plate and Sans’s, heading into the kitchen.  She reappeared a few minutes later with a glass of that disgusting green juice Undyne favored and set it in front of him.  “Drink this, at least, Sans. You need the energy.”

Gagging down the juice was much easier than choking himself on eggs.  Suddenly, living on liquids for the rest of his life didn’t sound like such a bad idea.

“Attie, go get dressed.  I laid out an outfit for you; please put it on this time.  Then we shall begin your schoolwork.”

Attie did as she was asked with a tiny amount of grumbling and an equally tiny amount of enthusiasm.  Sans considered appealing to Tori’s softer side on her behalf, but he was a little caught up in the idea of laying out an outfit in advance.  Why hadn’t he thought of that?  It would’ve made those early mornings, scrambling to get ready for Undyne, so much easier-

“Sans.”

He gulped.  “Uh, yeah?”

“You and I have some...things to discuss.”

“‘Kay.”  Without his jacket, she could probably see him sweating.

“First, why have you not contacted me in so long?  No, let me finish. It has been eight months since we have seen each other, outside the times when either you or Frisk were in the process of dying.  Even before Frisk’s illness it had been nearly a year since we spoke for more than a few moments. I believe I deserve an explanation, as your queen if not as your...hmm.  Your ally.”

“Tori...I...I guess I just lost track of time.  It all kinda started to run together, y’know?”

She hummed disapprovingly.  “That has happened in the past, but never for so long.  Do you mean to tell me that you lost track of months of time?”

“Well, yeah.  I just had my hot dog stand and sentry duty.  Boss was busy; I didn’t see much’ve him ‘cept in the evenings.  I just...didn’t think about much b’sides that.”

“I tried to call you.  And text you.”

“My phone wasn’t really charged on a regular basis.”  He could read the faint betrayal that Tori was trying to hide, and it hurt almost as bad as the cracks in his vertebrae.  “Tori, I never would’ve ignored you on purpose. You’ve always been a great, um, ally. Maybe even...a friend. I didn’t mean to let you down.”

Sighing deeply, she started to relax.  “Well, it is in the past. You did me and my family a great service by watching Atlas while Frisk was ill, so it is only fair that I repay you.  Especially since Frisk said that you declined payment from her.” Her frown said that she didn’t approve of his altruism. “I have taken the liberty of gathering information from the various properties I own.  While we have no openings in our single-residency units, there are a few groups of monsters who are looking for a roommate. None of them are as far from your previous residence as I would like, but you would still be convenient to public transportation and Mount Ebott.”

“Okay.”

“Since you do not have your hot dog stand - and I am working to get you compensated for the sale; your brother had no right to dispose of it - you have some free mornings.  You will arrive at my home promptly at 10:00 on Tuesdays, beginning tomorrow. I expect you to arrive on time and properly dressed for a morning meeting with a member of your kingdom’s royalty.  I believe that the formal outfit Undyne retrieved for you will suffice. I intend this to be a private event, but you may see others as you come and go.”

“Okay.”

“Our first order of business is the-”

“I’m ready!”  Attie said, dashing into the room and skidding to a stop at her chair.  She was wearing a pink skirt and pale cream and pink striped top, with long sleeves and tights to protect her against the chill.

Apparently, the getup met Tori’s approval.  “Did you brush your teeth, my child?”

“Yyyup!”

“Then come here and let me do your hair.”

She eyed the brush Tori held.  “Can...Mr. Sans do it?”

Sans held his breath.  He didn’t want to get on anyone’s bad side…

“Very well.”  The brush was passed to Sans.  “It is difficult with my large paws, anyways.  The small hairs always pull.”

“Can we do the princess hairdo?”

He thought back.  “The what?”

“The one that looks like a crown.”

Ah, that one.  That had been one of the last hairstyles she’d requested while he’d been watching her, and he thought he actually remembered how it worked.  “Uh, okay.”

It was a little unnerving with Tori watching his every move, but he managed to work the girl’s hair into a braid that went around her head.  He tucked the last little end of hair in with the help of some neat bits of metal Tori called “bobby pins” and turned Attie around to examine his work.

“Okay, yer done.  Go take a look.”

“That is quite impressive,” the queen said, sidestepping her granddaughter and pocketing her bobby pins.  “I had no idea you were so skilled in the art of hair styling.”

“I’m not; we’ve done that one before.”

“Oh?”

“It was...a thing, I guess, back when I watched her.  She found fancy hairstyles and I tried ‘em out. Could never get a french braid to sit properly, but…” He shrugged.

Attie returned in much better spirits and began on her homework.  Tori apparently didn’t take questions; the little girl worked in silence, biting her bottom lip every so often.

“Now then,” Tori said, once she and Sans had retreated to the relative privacy of the living room, “As I was saying, our first order of business ought to be the upcoming trial.  No, do not respond; I am aware of your role, and we can discuss it when...small ears are not around. Frisk completed the interrogation - with my help, of course - and I have the report here.” She handed over a thick folder with a rusty smudge along one edge.

Sans opened it with shaking fingers to find about fifty pages of carefully typed notes on the interrogation of one Graciela Lira.  He nodded, dropping it into his inventory. “So...when’s the trial?”

“Early next month.  The 4th, I believe; a Saturday, so it does not interfere with business as usual.  That does put us on a bit of a time crunch.”

“It does?”  It was rare that he had so much time to prepare, actually.

“We - or, rather, you - must come up with a justification for whatever your verdict is.  The humans will be curious about how we dispense justice; they must believe that this is not a witch-hunt, but rather, a fair and unbiased decision.  We also must get your emancipation finalized before the trial, ideally, so Papyrus does not interfere. I have that paperwork with me as well; we can fill it out here or at the table.”

Sans limped back over to the table and sat across from Attie, who was watching him with keen eyes.  She glanced between him and his paperwork, then quickly went back to her own work when Toriel walked up behind him.

“Now.  We shall begin with Form 3848A: Formal Statement of Independence…”

By the time Tori had walked him through all the stupid little pieces of paper that needed to be filled out to officially declare him independent of the only family he really remembered, it was well past lunchtime.  Attie’s stomach had growled once or twice, but she’d been too interested in what the grown-ups were doing to complain. Or to do her own homework, much to Toriel’s displeasure.

Sans was more tired than anything.  He’d been starved before, and he knew he wasn’t at that point yet, probably thanks to the nasty energy juice.  It took a bit of wheedling and several yawns, but he managed to get himself dismissed to the office to sleep instead of eating lunch.

Frisk’s office was an interesting room.  It had probably been intended as a bedroom, but instead of a bed there was a chair, desk, and several bookshelves.  He was captivated; she had old and new books in English and Monster alike, mostly nonfiction with a few novels tucked away between political biographies.  She probably had more books in this one room than the library in Snowdin had before it was burned down in that turf war.

Sans secretly loved libraries.  When he first left Mount Ebott, he’d spent a few hours every day in the local human library.  The strange looks he’d gotten had faded over time; the barely-suppressed wonder at having so much information in one place had not.

Why had he stopped visiting?  He thought back. Right; the hot dog stand.  It took up more time than he’d expected to make it profitable, even with the regular morning visits from the dogs.  Between that and his sentry job and his own malaise, he just hadn’t gone much of anywhere in a while.

Grinning like a madman, he put his blanket and pillow down next to a particularly well-stocked shelf and curled up against it.  It wasn’t the most comfortable place in the world, and his bones protested, but-

He was standing in the living room in front of the couch, watching Frisk compose herself.  It took her a moment longer than he remembered.

Wait.  He...remembered.

Anomalies in the timeline had been rare since coming to the Surface, but that didn’t mean they didn’t happen.  Watching fear trace across Frisk’s face, he wondered for the first time why that was.

“Attie?”

“Yeah, Mommy?”

The tension in Frisk’s shoulders relaxed, and her mask fell into place.  “Come say good-bye to Mommy; I’ve got to head to work.”

“But I just said good-bye to you?”  Attie shuffled over, still in her pajamas, and gave her mother a hug and a kiss regardless.

“Be good, okay?”

If Frisk noticed Sans watching her, she didn’t react to his stare.  She ducked down to pick her bags back up and hustled out the door.

...What was that about?

He knew she had turned time back each time he killed her, so had she died?  If so, how??  She’d said she was headed to a meeting.  Was there an ambush? An assassination? An accident?

It had happened around lunchtime; hopefully, if she remembered, she could figure out what was going on.

“Sans?  Please come and eat your breakfast.  Or if you are unable to eat, at least drink a glass of juice.  You will not heal otherwise.”

In a daze, Sans sat down and sipped his juice.  Just like last time, Attie asked about healing and Tori explained.  Attie was sent to go get dressed while Tori satisfied her hurt feelings about their friendship.  He tried to respond the same way he had before - he could feel the echo of his previous actions, guiding him - but he wasn’t sure he’d succeeded.

At least the paperwork went a bit faster the second time around.  Not as fast as he’d like, but faster. He finished up a little before lunchtime.

“Oh dear,” Tori said, glancing around.  “Frisk forgot her lunch. And after I reminded her, too.  She must have put it down when she hugged Atlas good-bye. Sans, do you have enough magic to take it to her?”

He didn’t.  He really, really didn’t.  His skull pounded, every bone in his body ached, and he was in no place mentally to transport himself safely.

“Sure thing, Tori.  Let me grab another glass of that juice...stuff...and I’ll be on my way.”

The energy drink gave him a temporary boost, but it wasn’t enough.  He drank the last of the Sea Tea as well. He had a feeling he’d need every drop of magic just to make it to the embassy.

Tori made him change clothes, too, before he left.  His legs felt like they’d barely hold him when he finished shoving them into his pants, and he was sure he could feel every crack in his vertebrae that hadn’t yet fully healed. He pushed the pain away' he could deal with it after he figured out what was going on with Frisk.

Attie escorted him out of the house and through the barrier so he could teleport.  He winced; he hadn’t noticed it the night Undyne and Frisk rescued him, but this barrier was full of worry and hope and quite a bit more fondness than he’d expected.  Under all of that was a powerful feeling, one that would have been frightening if it hadn’t felt so incredibly safe.  Protectiveness, perhaps?  Or something similar?

But it was hardly the time to examine such things.

With a shaky grin at Attie, who was watching him through narrowed eyes, he let himself disappear.