#will it feed me? and is the food poison or just made less than perfectly?

[thedreadvampy]

get over yourself not everything has to be built around what would be the most revolutionary act. some things are about being human. some things are about having reasons to exist within yourself, and having the strength to keep supporting others.

like I'm so sick of the flavour of reactionary leftism that's like Oh If It's Not Radical It's Worthless! like this is how we get burnout in our activist communities. this is why people drop off the radar.

is it radical to eat a sandwich? is it anticapitalist to breathe air? it's against my class interests to pay rent but being homeless is fucking exhausting. it's unjust to buy food for less than it's worth but how useful am I when I haven't eaten?

why do anything if it costs us everything? like this is for real something I struggle to express clearly but feel very very deeply. we are looking for a better society. we need to remain people for that. and people need food and shelter and water and warmth to live but people also need art and friendship and community and joy.

you're going to make a big thing about oh this is denaturing the movement this is an op this is all about reducing resistance to unjust power. but I have been in anarchist and radical community for like a decade or so and I have seen. how it weakens our chances of fighting back when we are too busy cutting back to the bone to let ourselves live. people burn out. and you think this is how the powers we're fighting live? you think they're also cutting the bare necessities out from under themselves? no man obviously fucking not

and that's not to say art is above reproach. art is a way of conveying meaning and ideas and we have to be critical of what it means, what it says, and what it costs. but there's also a difference between eating bread bought from a supermarket that commits wage theft and honey from an overseas farm, vs eating the egg of an endangered condor sprinkled with gold flakes mined exclusively by children. that doesn't mean we should eat nothing it means we should be aware of what we're balancing our enjoyment of food against.

and that's not to say enjoying art or community or food are Intrinsically Radical Acts that will smash capitalism. it's just to say. not everything has to be politically radical and capitalism-smashing to be important.

eating a sandwich is not a radical act but I make a very good sandwich and I'm more able to act when I've eaten.

anyway it's 2:20 and I have work in the morning (not radical but necessary) and I gotta sleep (not radical but necessary) but all things considered. have you tried trying to be happy and help others be happy instead of setting yourself on fire right off the bat?

christ almighty some people are sad fucking miseries huh

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Eleutherophobia Deleted Scene

@eomund42 #might have to post as a DVD extra or whatever  

Yes please!

[This fragment was originally part of Chapter 6 of How I Live Now.  I got rid of it because a) the conversation around Jake’s table was getting too long, b) the tone doesn’t work given how the chapter opens, and c) I accidentally left Rachel and Effilit unsupervised in the yeerk pool, so I needed to retcon that the Tobys were guarding her while everyone else was at the house.]

“Food?  They had enough kandrona for years.”

“Not the yeerks, the hosts!”  I stood up, pacing as I talked.  I couldn’t believe I hadn’t spotted it before.  “The Blade ship only had space for a few months’ worth of food storage, and I know that at least some of that was taken up with bark for hork-bajir or taxxon meat for taxxons.”

Marco made a gagging noise which I ignored.

“Visser Seventeen didn't bother restocking those stores or even checking them.  Humans are omnivores, that’s a big part of what makes us so useful,” I continued, “and the yeerks always assumed that they could feed a human body just about anything that didn’t poison it and it would keep going.”  I turned around, making eye contact with Eva.  She was nodding slowly.  “But what if that’s not the case?  What if they ran through the human food supply they had on board and couldn’t find any alternatives that had all the vitamins or amino acids or whatever that a human body needs?”

“They really don’t know as much about humans as they think they do.”  Eva offered me a tight little smile.  “Edriss wrote up most of the intel they have on us and... Well.  Edriss wasn’t a disinterested party, given that her life depended on her ability to convince the Council that humans were worth the Empire’s time.”

“That would explain why the Blade ship hasn’t been back sooner,” I said, resting both hands on the back of the empty chair.  “They’ve probably been hopping around between planets this entire time searching for a plant or animal source that’s close enough to Earth food.”

“Until they got desperate enough to come back here,” Cassie said.

I nodded.  “Humans can digest just about anything, but that doesn’t mean they can live off it indefinitely.  The yeerks probably found a few partial food sources, and they might have bought themselves some time by forcing one of the hosts to morph a large animal, become a nothlit, and then—”

Marco made his stop-talking-about-cannibalism gagging noise again, this time louder.

“Anyway,” I said, conceding the point this time.  “Maybe there’s no vitamin K in the universe in a form humans can use.  Maybe there’s no calcium.  I don’t know, but whatever it is they’re missing, they’d get desperate enough and have to come back here.”

“So this is a quick trip.  A grab and go.”  Cassie exchanged a glance with Jake.

“Which means that if Rachel doesn’t come back within a few hours they’ll probably leave without her,” Jake concluded.

“And that brings us back to Tom’s original point,” Eva said.  “We need to figure out where the rest of them are hiding.  Immediately.”

<Rachel can tell us right now if we figure out a way to get that thing out of her head,> Tobias pointed out.

Having arrived firmly back at square one, we all sat there in frustrated silence for several seconds.

“Could you contact your illusionist?” Eva said.  “Make, I don't know, a hologram vanarx to threaten it with?”

I glanced over at her.  That wasn’t a bad idea.

“Illusionist?” Marco said.  “What illusionist?”

“Your person who makes the holograms,” I said impatiently.

“We don’t have a person who makes holograms.”  Marco glanced at Jake, who gave a slight nod.  “I mean, maybe if Ax-man asked the Dome ship nicely they’d be willing to whip something up, but that’d take too long.”

Eva leveled a long, unamused stare at Marco.  “I may have been born at night, querido, but I wasn’t born last night.”

Marco looked away, shoulders hunching.

“Eva,” Jake said.  “Please trust us.  We’re telling the truth that we don’t have an illusionist.”

“I know perfectly well that you six did not whip up an entire fake hork-bajir valley in less than three hours using parts you found at Radio Shack,” she said flatly.  “Humans still don't have that kind of technology.  Probably not the andalites either.  So.  Who helped you?”

“Technically...” Ax said.  “Eck.  Nick.  Lally.”  He trailed off.  That appeared to be all he was going to say on the subject.

I looked at Eva.  Eva looked at me.  We were adults, I reminded myself, in a room full of kids.  There was no need to bristle with defensiveness, no need to feel like the only two losers out of the loop.

“You could make a hologram on that scale, with that level of sophistication, right now?” Eva said to Ax.

And now none of the Animorphs were looking at her.

<Those were special circumstances,> Tobias mumbled.

“And the current situation doesn't count as special circumstances?” I looked slowly around at each of them.  Jake wouldn't meet my eyes, but Marco leveled me with a hard, defiant stare.

<No, just…>

“You just can’t have the zombies knowing about it?” I asked.

Cassie stiffened.

Jake held up both hands in a placating gesture, looking between me and Eva.  “It isn’t possible, okay?  So leave it.”

I shoved forward to brace both hands on the tabletop.  At least three of them flinched.  “Just like it’s not possible for you to pull an exact copy of Cassie out of your collective asses?  Cut it and it’d bleed, but scan it for life forms and it’d pop up as inorganic.  Hang onto it for over two hours and it wouldn’t demorph, but take your eyes off it for a second and—”  I snapped my fingers.  “It’d disappear into thin air.  You mind telling me how you pulled that one off?”

There was a long silence.  Tobias had developed an apparent fascination with straightening his own feathers.  Cassie just looked annoyed with me.

“Didn’t think I’d notice that, did you?” I asked them, voice flat.

“To be honest?” Marco said.  “No, we didn’t.”

“It's not our secret to tell,” Cassie blurted. “We swear.”

Marco glanced at Jake again.  Jake looked at Cassie, who looked from Tobias to Ax and then back to Jake.  Jake looked back at Marco.

“Since Tom and I are clearly the only ones who give a damn about actually helping Rachel,” Eva said, “perhaps it would be best if we left the room.”

“Chee!” Marco shouted.

We all looked at him.

“That's whose hologram tech we were using,” he said. “The chee.”

It was progress, anyway.  “What’s a chee?” I said.

Jake muttered something about there not being time for all this, but looked up at me and said “There was this species called the pemalites.”

“Yeah, everybody knows about pemalites.”  I frowned.  “Wait, you’re telling me they’re not extinct?”

“They are,” Jake said.  “But they built robotic companions before they died.  And those companions, those chee, were specifically designed to look and sound and even feel like anything they wanted.  The chee can’t commit violence, not even to save a life.  But, yeah, they can make a copy of Cassie — or the hork-bajir valley — on command.”

“Please, you can’t tell anyone,” Cassie said.  “Their existence depends on their secrecy.”

I shrugged.  “I so do not care that the pemalites left behind a bunch of sex bots, and don’t think anyone else will either.  Can they help us?”

“Sex bots?  Sex bots?” Marco spluttered, twisting around to glare at me.  “They're not sex bots, you absolute sixth-grader.”

“’Chee’ literally just means ‘friend,’” Cassie said.

“And you can program them to look like anyone you want because…?” I raised my eyebrows.

Cassie opened her mouth halfway, and left it open.

“Jake?” Marco said imploringly.  “Tell me the chee aren’t sex bots.”

Jake patted Marco on the arm.  “The chee aren’t sex bots.”

“See?” Marco said to me.  “You are a disgusting human being, and oughta be ashamed to open your mouth.”

“Always am,” I said, smiling angelically.

<Anyway, it’s a moot point.>  Tobias glared at me.  <The chee wouldn’t spit on us if we were on fire, even if we could contact them.  Which we can’t.>

“Why, what happened?” I asked.  

Jake suddenly became fascinated with the grain of the tabletop in front of him.  Cassie made a noise of annoyance in the back of her throat, also looking away.

“He was fine,” Marco said loudly.  “Jake did nothing wrong.”

“Who was fine?” Eva asked.

“No one!”  Marco waved his hands.  “I mean everyone!  Everyone was fine.  So don’t worry about it.”

I made eye contact with Eva.  Yep, right back to the feeling we were the nerds being tolerated by the cool kids’ table but not allowed in on the joke.

“Tobias is right,” Cassie said.  “We’re wasting time with this discussion.  The chee are well-hidden enough that we couldn’t find them if we tried.  And even if we did they wouldn’t help.”

“You can’t even ask,” Eva said tiredly.  “You don’t think it would be worth trying to ask for help.”

“They can look like anyone.”  Marco did look genuinely apologetic now.  “Anything.  Trees, rocks, the wall behind them.  They don’t want to be found, and so we’re never going to find them again.”

“Okay.”  Jake ran a hand over his face.  “Okay.  An illusion is a dead end.  We’re on the right track, though.  How else could we get a, um, a yeerk-eating-thing?”

“Varanx,” I provided.  “And we even if we had one for real, it’d just eat Rachel’s brain right along with the yeerk.”

“So that idea’s a bust, but…”  Jake looked around the table.  “But…”

<Is there another way to get it out by force?> Tobias threw in.  <Brain surgery, something like that.>

I winced.  I knew of 10 or 12 people who’d had yeerks removed by force.  Two had survived.  One was in a vegetative state, and the other was, well... Spacey Gervais.  Who lived up to his name.

“Is there anyone among our allies qualified to perform brain surgery?”  Ax looked at Jake.  “Your father, perhaps?”  Then he twisted to look at Cassie.  “Or yours?”

“Not on a human,” Cassie said, even as Jake shook his head.

“That’s also likely to be a dead end.”  Eva was leaning more heavily against the wall, but glared at me when I tried to nudge my empty chair over to her.  “Human brains are strange, and poorly understood by humans and yeerks alike.”

<Rachel’s a morpher.>  Tobias looked from Eva back to Cassie.  <She can heal from any amount of damage that doesn’t kill her instantly.>

“Or leave her comatose,” Cassie said.  “Or otherwise unable to make a mental image of an elephant and then will her body to become that.  And I don’t think Ben Carson himself could get an entire yeerk loose without taking apart most of the host brain as well.”

“No surgery.”  Jake rested both hands on the table, closing the discussion.  “No varanx, real or imaginary.  It seems like we keep coming back to persuasion as the best way to get it out.”

I hated persuasion.  Because I had an idea for persuasion, and I was going to pitch it to the group when hell froze over.

Hell froze over… or Rachel’s life was on the line.

I sighed.  “Yeah.  Fine.  I’ll do it.”

Cassie looked up at me.  “Do what?”

[sukirichi]

hey!! congrats on 500!! could i get breakfast: ingredient 33 + sugar 7 for nanami kento? thanks!!

VIOLET

violet; a flower that symbolizes faith and affection — this was simply one of your promises to Nanami.

meal order: 🥞 + 33 (royalty au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) (no warnings, other than this fic is unedited.)

notes: thank you so much for joining the event and requesting! i honestly loved this idea so much, i still remember how happy i was when i first saw it and i looked forward to writing it. i hope this was what you were looking for! i may or may not have been too deep in the feels with this one. anyways, enjoy and thank you so much! breakfast has been served!

word count: 7k+ 

“Nanami.”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

You looked up from under the golden roof, a small smile on your face. The sun shone down brightly, the calm, gentle air making the flowers in your royal garden dance side by the side, almost as if encouraged by the soft kiss of nature. In this lightning, all the colors popped out vibrantly, a wide array of splashes of life laid out before you. “It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”

Nanami, your bodyguard, followed your line of sight. “Yes, Your Highness.”

Stiff and straightforward as ever, you connoted with a hidden smile. “Perfect,” you announced, lifting your gloved hands in a beckoning gesture. “Come with me. I must inspect the garden. I heard from the staff last night that my new flowers have arrived. I shall see to it that it came in perfect condition,” Nanami nodded beside you and followed you as you trudged all the way out in broad daylight, your hair shining from the sun’s rays.

As if noticing the harsh glare of heat on your skin, Nanami was quick to open your parasol, standing at least a foot behind you. Trained to be obedient flawless in their duties, his footsteps were silent behind you, nothing but the tapping of your heels against the ground heard from the open space.

You were shielded from the heat, but you weren’t satisfied.

With a faux, distressed clicking of your tongue, you stopped in your tracks, whipping around to face your black-suit clad bodyguard. His gaze immediately fell down to your feet, back tilted in a perfect bow. You sighed, “Nanami.”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Do you want to be fired?”

He froze at your words, momentarily looking up at you for a moment before turning to the ground again. “Of course not, Your Highness,” although monotonous, you could detect the slight tinge of worry in his voice, and you felt a smile crossing on your lips when you saw his brows furrow. “I extremely apologize if I’ve done something wrong. I must repent for it and assess my worth as your—”

“You’re not holding the parasol properly,” you cut him off and stepped forward, reaching to his extended arm and placing yourself right next to him until your shoulders were close enough to brush against each other.

Nanami’s jaw clenched at the lack of space, probably worrying that this was disrespectful, completely unaware you enjoyed every single moment of it, especially now that your senses were clouded with both his masculine scent and the calming aroma of flowers.

“If you keep such a distance from me and extend your arm to hold this, you’d tire your arm, and when your arm is strained, then you won’t be able to be fast enough to protect me from whatever harm comes my way. Plus, holding it in this manner leaves my nose to be burnt under the harsh sun! You wouldn’t want your princess to have sunburn, would you?”

“Definitely not, Your Highness. I would not want any harm or trouble your way.”

“So then step close to me. Like this,” you gestured to the both of you, and underneath the parasol, the hesitance swirled all over those pretty blue eyes of his. It made you want to sigh; he worried too much sometimes. “See? Your arm won’t be tired and my nose is perfectly safe under this shade.”

“But Your Highness – this distance—”

“I shall permit it for now. The situation calls for it,” you waved a hand nonchalantly, moving to where you wanted to see the new flowers. Although you couldn’t see him, the lack of warmth beside you was a telltale Nanami was too stunned to move, and you turned around, head tilted challengingly. “Or you’re still questioning the judgment of your princess?”

Nanami frowned, “I am not, Your Highness.”

“Good. Let’s see the flowers then,” You chirped with a clap.

It was the perfect day for a stroll, a rare day where you basked in not having to worry about your princess duties. The sun was out, the skies were clear, and was that a butterfly happily flying in your garden? Now that Nanami had grown comfortable after mentally reassuring himself it was fine to stick close to you, it honestly couldn’t have been better. But you being the sneaky little princess you were, you still had other plans in mind.

Three maids appeared out of nowhere, carrying a basket, a blanket, and a bottle of wine. They all strolled your way with their heads duck down, wordlessly setting out the white and red plaid patterned blanket on the soft, freshly trimmed grass.

You clapped your hands in sheer enthusiasm, “Oh, how perfect timing! It is quite tiring to stroll around this massive garden, don’t you think, Nanami? We should take a break.”

“A...picnic, Your Highness? Out here? Would you not be more comfortable inside—”

“The dining halls are boring and all the staff would be staring at me as I eat,” you plopped down rather ungraciously on the ground, taking off your heels and planting your sock clad feet on the blanket. On any other normal day, your dear Mother would’ve smacked you with her fan had she seen you act this way, but your parents were out of town, and Nanami was the last person who’d ever judge you. You had every right to be free. “It’s not a very comfortable thing, as you must know, and I’d like to enjoy my temporary freedom.”

A few beats passed as Nanami processed your words. A frown still on his handsome face, he studied the comfort of your body on the ground, already moving to open the basket with a cheerful hum. He supposed it wouldn’t be so bad to let you be this way.

“I will follow whatever pleases you then, Your Highness.”

You hid a smile through sucked in cheeks, pulling out the cake and acting surprised even though you’d ordered this days ago, randomly dragging a servant aside to shyly ask her to get you Nanami’s rumored favorite cake from when he went with you on a trip overseas.

“Oh, look! Fondant Cake from the Kingdom of Cherie. Fine, fine wine too, the best from His Majesty’s collection, if I heard it correctly,” you could barely contain your glee when the slightest light glimmered through his guarded eyes, hands reaching down to pat the empty space beside you. “Sit down. I need you to eat this for me.”

“But Your Highness—”

“Lest you want me to be poisoned, Nanami?” you reeled your hand back, gloved hands placed above your chest as horror filled your gaze. Nanami – bless his sweet soul – quickly bent his knees in half. Slowly, with disbelief still crossing his mind, he allowed you to spoon feed him, the chocolate sauce of the cake staining the tips of his lips. “Well? How is it? Is it safe to eat?”

Nanami moaned; pride swelling up on your chest because finally, you could do something for him. He was still too cautious though, and he concealed his delight with a slight clearing of his throat, palms flat on his muscular thighs as he nodded your way. “It is extremely delicious, Your Highness. I believe it is safe to eat.”

“Did you like it?” You already knew the answer, but it wouldn’t hurt to hear it straight from him.

“Yes.”

Thankful that your ears were covered by a frilly bonnet so he wouldn’t see how warmth crawled up at the tips of your ears, you beamed at him, proudly presenting more of the surprised you had in store.

“I have fresh milk cheese from the city of Lein too. Do you know that people travel from all over the world just to visit Lein and have a taste of this cheese? If it were not for our good connections to them, we would never be able to taste this,” you felt Nanami’s curious gaze fall on the delicacy on your hands, a smirk tilting your lips because cheese as quite rare where you were from. Setting it down on a plate, you cut a piece of the dairy, the fork nearly shoved in Nanami’s face. “But just to make sure, of course. We never know people’s intentions – I could be poisoned. You know very well there are plenty of people after the throne and my head.”

Nanami’s eyes widened at your implications, “Princess, please do not speak so lightly of the threats over your life.”

“Why, does it worry you?”

Nanami looked at you like you’d grown two heads. “Of course it does. It is my duty to protect and worry about you.”

“Is it really just a duty?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Nothing,” you said through gritted teeth, pushing the plate towards him again before Nanami could comprehend whatever went on in your head. “Pair it with the cake. Maybe there could be a chemical reaction that is life threatening. Oh, how I fear for my life, Nanami.”

Obediently, Nanami swallowed the food, eyes closed from the flavors bursting through his mouth. It wasn’t too much of a reaction, but there were hardly any when it came to Nanami to begin with, so it was enough for you, and your giggles were stifled beside him. “I believe this one is safe too.”

And so began your spontaneous picnic, with Nanami being flustered the whole time because you insisted on feeding him. He refused many times, claiming that a royal shouldn’t feed a servant, much less spend their time with him this way. Even though you didn’t mean it, you rolled your eyes just to dissipate his worries, lying through your teeth that you were full and you didn’t want to be suffocated in your corset.

You proceeded to tell him of the different ways his precious princess could die of asphyxiation. The more grotesque your storytelling began; Nanami ate everything quietly, still oblivious that you had your eyes on him the whole time.

He ate quickly, not wanting to be rude and take up too much of your time, but you insisted that you didn’t want him to choke and ordered him to slow down. As your lovely and dutiful servant, who was he to defy your orders? So he took his time, and you closed your eyes, leaning back onto his firm shoulders that grew rigid under the contact.

Soon though, Nanami relaxed, and you were about ready to fall asleep when Nanami quietly announced he’d finished his food, thanking you for the meal.

“That was a lovely picnic,” you grinned at him, even if you’d barely eaten anything.

After all, you only asked for servings for one person, lying to your staff that you wanted it for yourself. Should the higher-ups ever hear about you ordering two servants to share it with someone else when it was painfully clear to everyone in the kingdom you had no prince, it would cause chaos.

Nanami followed you as you stood up, the servants taking it upon themselves to clear up the dishes before they left you to your own devices. You walked all the way near the back of the garden, a place private only for the royal members for this was where they kept their most precious flowers. Upon seeing that the ones you’ve ordered had arrived and they were blooming beautifully beside the white roses, you ran to it, gesturing for Nanami to come closer. He leant down to inspect it, watching the way it twirled around your elegant fingers.

“This is called a Violet. It symbolizes faith and affection.”

“It is beautiful,” he commented quietly, his cool gaze sliding over to yours. “It suits you very much, Your Highness.”

Your cheeks warmed at the sudden attention, which was ironic, since wasn’t that what you always wanted? “I think it suits someone else better, if I were to be honest,” you admitted mysteriously, leaving your bodyguard confused for the nth time that day, but as always, he kept silent unless spoken to. Nanami’s eyes drifted to the flowers again, the rule of never looking in the eyes of royals burned right through his head.

Deep down in your heart, you knew it was a bit too early, but you’d always been impatient. You wouldn’t wait for the right time or the perfect opportunity – you preferred to grab moments and create them yourself.

Squeezing the hem of your dress under bundled fists, you finally gained the courage to be as upfront with him. “Nanami, can you promise me something?”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Never forget this flower. When you are feeling down, I want you to remember this lives and blooms here, that it was the Princess’ favorite, and she wants nothing more than to have this whole garden bloom with it,” You knew, you knew painfully that Nanami may never understand your garden referred to your heart and that it bloomed with your affection for him, but was it so bad to hope that one day you may show your adoration for him?

You’d prepared for this – for the possibility that maybe you never could – so you ordered these flowers, wishing silently that someday Nanami might understand the things you could never say.

“When the right time comes, I shall pluck a flower and give it to the person that receives my faith affection, and I’ll create an entire garden for them.”

Nanami absorbed your words, processing them seriously just as a servant should when it comes to their master’s words. A moment later, Nanami nodded once, head bowed in respect. “I’m sure whoever Prince is lucky enough to get your hand in marriage will be absolutely delighted, Your Highness.”

“The person I long for is not a prince,” you hinted, “He sure is charming, however, much to his ignorance.”

Nanami peeked at you under his blond lashes, the confused pout on his face worrisome yet adorable. It made you want to step forward and capture those red lips in a kiss, but you were still his Princess, and he your bodyguard. You couldn’t do it – not now, at least – for his sake. “I am not sure it would be ideal that you marry a non-royal, Your Highness.”

“Tell me, Nanami,” you began, voice turning serious that his ears perked up at the sudden firmness compared to your usually lilted self. “Do you believe love should be constrained by rules and traditions?”

His answer came in an instant, making you wonder if he would still keep to his words if he found out everything. “No, Your Highness.”

You smiled at his answer – longingly, proudly, and at the same time sadly. “And I wholeheartedly agree with you on that.” Without another word, you turned your back on him and walked back inside the large castle, his footsteps finally audible as he followed you.

Funny it was, that you, a royal-blooded woman found so much comfort in the sound of someone’s breathing and footsteps.

“Nanami.”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

You sighed and placed your book down your lap, playfully glaring at the stiff bodyguard who hadn’t moved a muscle ever since he accompanied you in your private library. “You are causing me an uncomfortable amount of stress. I do not like it.”

“What have I done wrong, Your Highness?” his voice trembled again, his back forming that straight, perfect bow that you knew took him years to practice. It probably caused him a lot of pain if his head guard slapped the other servants’ backs just to straighten their spine, and you winced at the idea of it. No one had ever even dared laid a finger on your hair; not without your permission, anyway.

“I sincerely apologize for my shortcomings. I hereby vow to do better in my duties to serve you.”

“As you should. Now come here,” you beckoned him to come closer, sighing louder when Nanami sat a foot away from you, lips pressed into a tight line. “Closer, Nanami.”

Biting his lip – and you nearly couldn’t tear your gaze away from the sight – Nanami inched closer to you, his back still perfectly straight, eyes staring straight ahead, and he was so rigid you wondered if he even breathed at all.

You shook your head with a stifled smile, soft, tireless hands bunching up to release the tight knots of his firm, broad shoulders. You weren’t surprised he felt this hard under your touch; he was a bodyguard, after all, the Princess’ personal one, at that. It made sense he kept himself trimmed, but it didn’t stop the heat spreading all over your skin anyway as you imagined just how firm he was under his clothes.

Eager to get rid of such inappropriate thoughts, you huffed through your nose, continuing to roll your fingers over his back.

“You look so stiff that I cannot focus on this novel I’m reading. Heavens know how shameful it must be that we are getting scholars to study with me this weekend and I am not even halfway done with this classic. It truly bothers me, Nanami.”

“Your Highness,” Nanami’s voice was hushed, his eyes staring directly into yours. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you a massage. If you keep up being this rigid around me, I will lose focus because it makes me uncomfortable, and if I lose focus, I can’t perform my duty well as the princess, and if I am unable to do that, I lose respect, then my title stripped away from me. Terrifying, Nanami. Terrifying, indeed.”

Nanami was silent for a while, his gaze not leaving your focused face. Then, he turned away, his shoulders deflating as he gave in to the pleasure of your surprisingly expert hands. “I am extremely sorry.”

“As you should be,” you commented sarcastically, “Now relax. Pick up a book you like and have some of the biscuits, tea. I cannot focus with you standing around me like a statue. The stone gargoyles do that for us already,” when Nanami didn’t budge a muscle even after you’d finished massaging him, you waved a hand in the air, brow raised challengingly. “Well? Are you defying my orders?”

Nanami shot up from his seat in an instant, “Of course not, Your Highness.”

You pulled the book up higher to hide the wide grin on your lips, watching his curious and slightly dazed staring at the walls upon walls of books stacked upon one another. His wonder of the sight left you wondering just how you managed not to kiss every part of him senseless, for he was so fascinating and far more intriguing than any other universe written beyond these pages.

Nanami’s long, slender fingers finally plucked out a rather thick novel he seemed to find interesting, making his way back to you. He still sat on the other end of the couch to respect your space, and you kept silent this time, not wanting to cross the line.

He may be comfortable around you now, but you knew Nanami better than anyone, and he still held his orders and duties close to his heart that he would never break them no matter what.

It was a compelling quality of his – one you had no idea whether to admire or be irritated of.

Your twinkling eyes studied his stunning features; from his slicked back hair, to his sunken cheeks, all the way down to the sharp point of his nose and to the plumpness of his lips. He was too beautiful that you wondered how he hadn’t managed to be snagged away yet when you were reminded that Nanami was too busy in his duties of protecting you to have time for romance – and for the first time, you felt thankful for the fact you were a royal.

“That is a good one,” you piped up as you read the title of the classic novel. It was a classic about the variegated realms between dreams and reality, one you haven’t read but always wanted to. “Do you mind reading it to me someday? I love the sound of your voice.”

Nanami’s cheeks flushed a bright red at your unexpected compliment, but he nodded anyway, clearing his throat before he spoke. “S-someday, Your Highness, if your schedule allows it so.”

It sounded so much like a promise – and you looked forward eagerly to it.

Finally gaining your focus and determination to study and perform your royal duties now that Nanami had finally taken some time to relax, you did the same, leaning back onto the velvet couch and crossing your legs over the other. “Someday it is.”

“You have to be prepared for your coronation ball,” Rubine, one of the assistants of your dancing tutor made known, snapping her fingers in front of your face when you’d unknowinfly spaced out the window. “Now, up on those toes, back straight and head held high, Your Highness. Let us see if you’ve mastered your dance routine. You must understand it is the most crucial part of the ball and all eyes will be watching you. You cannot afford to make a single mistake.”

Suddenly remembering of why you were spacing out, you winced at the previous phone call prior to Rubine’s arrival. “I am well aware of that, Rubine, but...”

“But?”

“My dance partner, Philippe, just called to say he’s fallen ill and cannot make it today.”

“Ah, Philippe!” Rubine tugged at her hair, dramatically bending forwards to groan, “This is the final rehearsal! Your coronation is so near!” She sat up straight and paced back and forth, her long locks jumping and bouncing as she chewed at her nails. “Well, what shall we do now? We don’t have anyone else to practice with you and I’m only here to substitute for Madam Tee. She’d kill me if she finds out you didn’t rehearse, and I doubt any of the boy servants would know anything about the dance.”

“If I may,” Nanami suddenly spoke up from the corner, tentatively approaching the both of you with one of his hands laid flat on his abdomen. You and Rubine fell silent, his eyes flitting over yours for a moment. “I’ve been with the Princess from all of her dance classes. I know the routine very well,” his tongue darted out to lick at his lips, sending both your mind and heart into a frenzy overdrive. “If Her Highness is comfortable with it, I may be her dance partner for now.”

“That works, I suppose.”

“I’d like to see you dance, Nanamin,” you teased confidently, but no mistake, your heart drummed wildly in your chest at the idea of dancing with the man who’d unknowingly captured both your eye and heart the moment you met him. “Let’s see how good you are then. I warn you though; I’m a very skilled dancer. But please, don’t fret, I won’t criticize you.”

You expected Nanami to at least go along with your lighthearted teasing, but he was Nanami Kento; a very dutiful servant who lived to please and serve his master.

He simply pressed a polite kiss to the pads of your knuckled when you offered it, his eyes still unreadable as he praised, “You are a very good dancer indeed, Your Highness.”

You already knew that, but hearing it fall from his lips hit differently. It suddenly got harder and harder to remember the routine, your confidence slipping into thin air the moment his warm hands wound around the curve of your waist, flattening at the small of your back.

Your breath hitched as you looped your fingers through his larger, calloused ones, and your heart absolutely melted because you fit just perfectly in his hands. Considering that you’d taken off your gloves, you could feel ever callous and scar in his hands, a huge contrast to your soft ones that had never known a day of manual labor.

Nanami was close enough you could feel his breath warm your cheeks, with you staring up at him with wide, blown out eyes. He was still expressionless as ever, jaw tight and brows dipped low, but you could see the softness in his gaze – nearly bordering on adoration.

In that moment, you felt yourself falling harder, and soon, you were both lost in the music.

Nanami was right – he did know the dance. For such an unyielding protector, Nanami danced extremely well, his turns and guidance to your twists flawless.

He caught you in his arms each time, his hands slipping back to hold your waist as if it was second nature for him to hold you like this, to dance with you like this. Everything faded into nothingness at the background, both your gazes captured and enamored by one another. Somewhere in the climax of the dance, your chest pressed flush against his a little tighter, your hands squeezing his a little harder, and you both danced like you were the only ones that mattered in each other’s world.

And in that moment, it felt like you did.

When the music slowly faded out to its ending, you and Nanami were both breathing hard from the strenuous performance that required the utmost elegant execution. Still, his hands remained on your waist, your hand holding him in such a manner that you almost refused to let him go.

But you had to – you knew you had to – and with a broken smile, you pulled away from Nanami.

“Wow,” breathed out Rubine “Princess, I am blown away. You’ve danced better than you ever did with Philippe. You two have got amazing chemistry,” she rubbed her chin at the observation, but you and Nanami were turned away from each other, both of your hearts more conflicted than ever. Rubine, however, remained unknowing of this all. “I guess being around each other all the time adds in to that fact too. That was a very mesmerizing and intimate performance – I actually felt a little guilty that I’m witnessing such moment.”

“I am glad I could be of service to Her Highness.”

Your gaze cut through his, the heat in your eyes loud enough that he was compelled to hold your stare. You immediately softened at his expression; giving in to the pleads of your heart that you were and always will be, utterly and hopelessly in love with him – even if it was impossible he’d ever feel the same way.

Surely, though, it wouldn’t be so much of a sin for a princess to be selfish in a while. “I look forward to dancing with you on the ball, Nanamin.”

“I highly doubt that, Your Highness,” Nanami’s eyes blanked out into an unfathomable expression again, making you wonder if the fondness he held you with when you danced ever existed. “You would be swarmed and surrounded by royals and elites – and I shall be watching out for you from the distance, as always. It’s going to be a crucial event and you have duties to fulfil; a dance with your bodyguard would only ruin the importance of the event,” he reminded you, his words like a slap to your face.

You didn’t have to be scholarly enough to interpret the meaning of his words; Nanami was reminding you that he was servant as you were master, and it simply would not happen. “Who knows what people would say...I only worry about your reputation, Your Highness. Words cut deeper than a knife.”

“I know that,” you agreed with a shattered heart, “I guess I’ll just dream then.”

The coronation went smoother than expected. Until it wasn’t. People from all over the world came, chatting with you about the latest political trends and plans on how you wished to broaden your territories and expand trading systems.

Everything went fine and accordingly to plan until the marriage talk was brought up. Before you knew it, princes and dukes, along with equally socially powerful men came flooding left and right, pressing kisses to your (thankfully) gloved hands and spewing out poetry as if it would impress you. In a way, it did, at least most of them had good taste in literature and were actually well-read, but your eyes kept searching for a certain blond in the crowd, that sinking feeling only growing in the pit of your stomach.

Eventually, it became too much for you.

A neighboring prince asked for your marriage and announced he was good friends with your family, and that about crossed the line and tipped you over the edge until you excused yourself. Growing too tired with all this unnecessary “royal duties”, you disappeared from the crowd, running to the nearest desolated terrace and crying your eyes out.

You never wanted to be a princess.

You never wanted to be born with such luxury, only to pay a price that you couldn’t even choose your own future.

You lost track of time and you no longer questioned why no one looked for you. With each passing second, the crown above your braided hair grew a lot heavier and you slumped across the pillar, burying your tear-streaked face behind your arms. You just felt so tired you wanted to rest – wanted to see Nanami, to run away, to tell him that you loved him.

But he wasn’t there. You hadn’t even seen him the moment you woke up, servants flocking you at every corner as they prepared you for the event.

Your heart ached and you called out for him in broken whispers, wishing that he’d be there to comfort you. “Nanami,” you cried out softly. It was pathetic, really, that the newly crowned queen was crying like a child who lost their toy as you hid from the crowd. “Nanami, where are you, Nanami—”

A pair of arms tugged you into a solid chest, your cheek pressing on top of a rapid heartbeat that raced to no end. Warm, strong arms engulfed you in a hug, a heavy head with a familiar scent falling on the sides of your head that was free from the tips of the crown.

“I thought I lost you, Queen,” Nanami panted, his hold on you growing tighter. Your tears stopped flowing as you fisted his shirt, weakening in his arms and he let you – he knew even the Queen of this prosperous kingdom was still a person and you allowed yourself to grow vulnerable, because this was Nanami and Nanami always caught you.

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned up and pressed your lips to his, the salt of your tears passing to his cheeks.

Nanami stood frozen solid for a second before he kissed you back, taking your breath away because his lips held the same wanting as yours did. Soon, his large hands cupped your face as he pulled you closer to him, sighing into your mouth as if he’s dreamed of this moment as long as you had. Nanami kissed you with so much love pouring from his lips that he didn’t have to tell you for you to know, prompting the dam within you to break.

You were crying – the happy tears flowing endlessly – while his thumbs wiped the tears away.

“I love you,” you confessed as you both pulled away, foreheads pressed against each other. This time, there was no more fear or worry as love shone in both your eyes, your hands still helplessly clinging on to him for dear life. “I love you, Nanami, I’ve always loved you. Please don’t leave me – please don’t.”

“I wasn’t going anywhere, Your Majesty,” he addressed you according to your new title, but nothing has changed for him. “I have loved you too long before, and I’ll still keep loving you if you’ll let me.”

That night, you both shared a plethora of first. The first kiss. The first dance. The first I love you’s that wouldn’t stop spilling from your lips, the confessions accompanied with laughter. It was only the beginning of a wonderful yet unforgettable memory, and you abandoned all the riches and gold in the world because this, right here was your real treasure, and you sealed your promise of your faith affection to him with one last kiss.

Ever since you and Nanami had established your relationship, you felt like you were on cloud nine.

Being Queen didn’t seem too much of a grueling task anymore, not when Nanami was grazing his thumb over your knuckles under the table when you were doing paperwork, not when work days and boring, dreadful meetings always ended with him pulling you aside as everyone left for a quick kiss that soon turned into a heated lip-locking.

This was bliss – to have him right here, to finally be able to express how much you loved him – and you couldn’t get enough it.

You still had no king despite the number of suitors that visited every week, so much so that the maids have grown weary of cleaning up your trash bin filled with unopened love letters. Quite frankly, you couldn’t care less because you already had the love of your life within your arms. You turned everyone down, and it wasn’t a huge deal because you were just crowned Queen and surely you had far better things to do than worry about bringing about an heir, but it had already been a year and your advisors were mad.

They’ve informed you that several cities and kingdoms were losing trust over your reclusiveness, the diplomatic relationship turning strained thanks to your eagerness to deny everyone.

Your tongue slipped inside Nanami’s, his hands crawling under your night gown as his body crawled between your legs, with you sighing romantically into his mouth.

“Your Majesty,” he mumbled through stuttering kisses, his fingers deftly pressing into your curves. Despite your insistence that he addressed you by your name, Nanami requested that he still keep his duty as your bodyguard, and you were too soft to deny him this. “Your Majesty…I think we should put an end to this.”

You stopped kissing him.

Hands falling from his neck, you pulled away from him, eyes hardened into a glare. “What do you mean we should put an end to this? Are you suggesting we break up?”

“Yes.”

You gritted your teeth at how he said this so easily. Before you could open your mouth to retort, Nanami beat you to it, distracting you by pressing soft kisses on the column of your neck, always so gentle and careful to not leave marks where the maids could see.

“I’m only worried about you,” he whispered, “I am ruining your reputation because I am in love with you. Your Majesty, I promise to still serve you and be loyal to you,” Nanami pulled away after leaving one last kiss to the sensitive area of your neck that always had you whining in his arms, but this time, you whined out of desperation, nails digging into his bicep as he stared at you apologetically. “We cannot keep doing this, Your Majesty. We both cannot be selfish enough to abandon the future of our people.”

“Well, what about my future?” you banged your fist on your chest, “What about my happiness, Nanami, ever think about that?”

Nanami wiped away the tears streaming down your cheeks, pulling you into the comfort of his arms instead. He understood your pain better than anyone for he, too, shared your longing.

“I don’t want you to go,” you cried into his shoulder, gripping his shirt tightly that it crumbled beneath your grip. “It’s not a life if it’s not with you and just tell me what I have to do, I’ll abandon my title and I’ll stay with you, we don’t have to—”

Nanami silenced you with a kiss, this one more ardent than the others.

He whispered sweet nothings into yours, broken promises that he’d stay, that you didn’t have to change anything and that you could work it out. You believed him, or at least you fooled yourself that you did, because your hold on him was regretful, angry, begging.

The next morning, Nanami was gone from your chambers.

The next night, Nanami was gone from the servant chambers.

The next week, you were married to Prince Satoru from a Kingdom you’d never even heard of.

Nanami resigned. As per rule of the kingdom, staff didn’t need the monarch’s permission to be dismissed from their post. He wasn’t there in your wedding, and he wasn’t there for the next few days to come. These days stretched into weeks, and two months have already passed before you were silently staring out at your window, wondering what Nanami was doing.

The last thing you heard from him was that he went back to his family’s warm, living a peaceful life and bowing one last time to you before he completely disappeared.

His letter remained in your drawers, his neat cursive informing you that he was a lowly servant, and didn’t deserve you, that he didn’t want to ruin your future and only wanted the best for you. You wanted to hate him for it, wanted to curse him for it – but you only tossed and turned in your bed, staring at the ceilings as you pictured his rare smile over and over again.

You wondered how he was doing.

Was he happy? Was he okay? Did he think of you night before he slept? Did he miss you the same way you craved his touch, his voice, his laugh – everything about him and himself?

A loud rattling caught your attention, your head turning to see Prince, or rather, King Satoru saunter in. He was popular in his kingdom and even rumored to have a harem, which you could see happening because he was flirty and shameless.

It was clear that this was a loveless marriage and he only agreed because he had good ties with your family, also adding in to the fact he was the richest and most powerful out of all your suitors. You weren’t too friendly with him, but you weren’t treating each other like strangers too. You both acknowledged each other according to the title, but it never stretched to the fact he was man and you his wife.

Satoru had never talked to you before other than the common pleasantries, so it surprised you when he sat across you, mirroring that familiar torn and forlorn feeling as he stared at your kingdom.

“You and I,” he began quietly, “We both want what we cannot have, don’t we?”

“Hmm.”

“I know you’re in love with someone else,” Satoru smiled, and your eyes widened when he only chuckled knowingly. “It’s okay, Queen, I promise I don’t mind. In fact, I’m just the same as you – I’m madly in love with my butler you won’t understand.”

You nearly toppled over your seat at the sudden confession that Satoru laughed as he helped pull you up, but it didn’t stop you from blabbering.

“You-you’re in love with Geto Suguru?”

“That I am. I’ve been in love with him since we were kids, to be honest, but people had different expectations and plans for me, as you can see.”

“I,” your throat ran dry, your palms growing sweaty. Surely…you could trust him with this, right? “I’m also in love with my bodyguard, or former bodyguard, anyway. His name is Nanami Kento and he’s currently at his farm and I-I—”

“You want to see him and break this marriage?” Satoru didn’t even have to hear the words come from your mouth before he’s pulling you up to your feet, crystalline blue eyes as vivid as the sky. “Well, what’s holding you back, Queen? Let’s go look for him.”

Satoru dragged you along the hallways, liberated laughter echoing in the large space of the castle before you two saddle up your respective horses, shouting for the gate guards to move away. You’ve never felt this free – and Satoru shared the same glee as yours when he stretched his arms beyond the sky, whooping as he smacked his horse to go faster.

By the time you’ve made it into Nanami’s farm, it was nearly sunset, and both you and Satoru were drained from the long journey.

Nanami was dressed in a plain shirt and worn-out sweatpants, dirt caked on his sunken cheeks when he turned at the sounds of horses galloping, you perched on top of your white stallion proudly. “Nanami!” his eyes widened and he dropped the bucket he was holding, the breath taken away from his chest when you jumped off your horse, crashing him into a huge hug.

“Your Majesty,” he spoke breathily, hands coming up to caress the back of your head. “What are you doing here? And King Satoru? What’s going on?”

You answered him by dragging his collar down until his lips danced with yours. Just like that, all your worries and previous sorrows washed away into nothing as his hands gripped tightly at your hips, kissing you back just as eagerly that even he was crying. This time around, you reached to swipe your thumb over the warm tears, kissing him over and over again to remind him your feelings hadn’t changed.

“Let’s go home, Nanami. I promise I’ll do everything right this time around – just please, come home with me.”

You’ve lost count of the times you’ve prayed to the divine beings over and over again to give you one last chance, fearful that maybe Nanami would still be firm in his belief that he wasn’t good enough for you when he was perfect the way he is.

But then he kissed the crown of your head as a silent form of affection, staring deep into your eyes as he smiled, “Your wish has always been my command, Your Majesty.”

Nanami had his back turned to you, his slender hands plucking the violet flower. Upon hearing your not so sneaky footsteps, he whipped around and laughed just as you roared, making the little girl in his arms giggle, copying your greeting as she hissed her fangs.

“Rawr!”

“Aw, you’re so adorable!” you pinched her little cheeks before peppering them with kisses, your precious daughter laughing at the sudden shower of affection. Nanami laughed, too, the deep sound vibrating from deep within his chest. He held up your baby to kiss the left side of her cheeks while you squished her right, your baby’s cheeks smushed between the adoration of her parents. “You’re so cute – just like Daddy!”

“I am not cute,” he protested dejectedly, although the small smile on his face told a different story.

It wasn’t easy – none of this ever was, but you didn’t regret a single moment of it. The old school traditions of your kingdoms were abolished due to a long, hefty process of appealing to the public and proving that love should never be constrained by rules and traditions, and now Satoru was also happily married with his husband, Geto Suguru. The last letter you got from him informed you they adopted a two baby boys named Megumi and a feisty little girl called Nobara, and you were excited for the children to meet and play again.

Safe to say, it was all worth it. All the moments led up to this were painful and filled with longing, but you’d do it all over again if you could.

Because this was what you promised him – endless faith and affection – and you sealed this lifelong promise with a kiss.

“I love you, King,” you mumbled through his lips, and he laughed as he rocked the baby side to side. The kiss was slightly awkward since her grubby hands were trying to clutch both of your chins, sending you both into fits of laughter.

“I love you too, Queen,” he kissed the top of your head and your crown with it – for you were his woman, his wife, and the Queen who ruled all of his heart – leaning down to kiss his baby’s cheeks before he pulled you both in for a hug. The atmosphere that day was similar from when you first forced him to have a picnic with you; warm, sunny, with the wind encouraging the flowers to dance in sync like how you danced with Nanami when you were younger. Your baby gurgled nonsensically, Nanami smiling to himself as you both stared at the bundle of joy in his arms. “I love you too, Violet. Mommy and Daddy loves you a lot.”

To love him, to hold him, to cherish him – it was a promise you held deep within your soul.

[juliasjustanidiot]

𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗴𝗴𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 | c!technoblade

the struggles of parenting - c!technoblade x reader

synopsis: technoblade thinks he wouldn’t be the best dad when you  tell him you’re pregnant. However, he won’t know until he does it!

pronouns not mentioned, suggests female.

tw: female pregnancy, demon child

wc: 1.7K

italics represent future activities. This can also be seen as a continuation off of the scent of estrogen which was written previously by @faithajo24.

as you stared at your partner, you noticed the look of uncertainty plastered on his face. you patiently waited for him to process the news you had just told him. you honestly didn’t think it would take him ten whole minutes to process the fact that you were pregnant.

what’s there to process? you have a kid growing inside you, boom. you supposed there was also the lugging around a child that you would have to eat double to feed. going to the bathroom more frequently, random mood switches, and constant feeling of dizziness whenever you stand up, but techno didn’t have to deal with that. all he had to do was make sure you had every single food you craved-- which may change by the hour, but that’s not that big of a deal. he also had to rub your swollen feet sometimes, but hey, he signed up for that when he decided to knock you up.

in eight months, there would be a ton of wailing, a whole lotta shit around the place, and nights of listening to loud crying, trying to figure out what the small child wanted. it wasn’t that bad for him. sheesh.

“techno?” you called out after the twelfth minute passed. he just continued to stare at your stomach with wide eyes. the piglin hybrid hadn’t moved from his spot.

“this is not good.” were the first four words he chose at that moment. a large amount of hurt began to settle as you stared at your partner with disbelief.

“what?” was all you could manage to mutter. an expanding feeling of sadness overwhelming you. techno stared up at you meeting your gaze.

“we can’t be parents! i can’t raise a-a” he struggled to form a sentence, failing at getting out how he felt. the shock of practically being rejected consumed you, any happiness you were feeling before all completely disappeared.

“is there something wrong with raising a kid with me?” anger bubbling through your words.

“you? god, no, y/n! it’s not you! it’s me!” he corrected, standing from his chair, reaching out for you. his heart throbbed as he watched you move away from him.

“fuck you.” you uttered, turning on your heel to go to the exit of techno’s cabin. suddenly, you felt a grasp around your wrist, restricting you from moving any further.

“no, y/n. i’m sorry. that came out wrong.” he paused for a moment. he opened his mouth only to close it.

“yes, techno?” you said, your words laced with poison. whatever he wanted to say, he should get it out now before you start lighting things on fire with your new crazy pregnancy mood.

“i just don’t think-” he sucked in a breath, hesitating. “that i would be the greatest dad.” you cocked your head to the side, listening to his reasoning.

at this point, you weren’t sure if you should be angry at your partner for thinking he would be a terrible parent, sad for thinking himself unfit, or happy that you weren’t the problem. you decided to feel all three. “why?” was what seemed to spill from your mouth.

you didn’t understand how technoblade, the man who took in tommy when he finally recognized dream’s abuse, technoblade, the man who let ranboo move in around the area when he had nowhere to go, technoblade, the man that you loved with all your heart, couldn’t see himself as an amazing father to your child.

techno just stared at you, his red eyes expressing his affection for you perfectly. “why don’t you think you’d be the greatest dad?” you repeated, awaiting an answer patiently.

“well… there’s-there's feeding the kid!” you almost let out a howl of laughter. “what do you even feed something that small? it’s ridiculous! if i were to shove anything down that small of a throat, it would choke and die, alright? what more can i say?”

“please don’t shove anything down our future kid’s mouth.”

“i wasn’t planning on it, but it was just a thought and it can happen.”

“alright, kid.” you settled yourself on a chair in front of your kid who sat in their own chair with a chest in between the two of you to act as a makeshift table. “what do you eat?” you mumbled, staring down the smaller version of your now one month anniversary husband, but less piglin, and more cute like you.

the child just gawked at you with a big toothless grin, absolutely radiating with cuteness. “fuck, techno. it’s doing it again.” you called to your husband who was on the floor above, enchanting some armor for your little one, insisting that they needed protection despite the fact that you’ve told him numerous times that the worst thing that could happen to them is tommy getting ahold of them.

“y/n, don’t look them in the eyes! it’s when you look at them there that they get you!” he called from above.

“too late!” you hollered back, sucked into the action of looking your kid directly in their soft eyes.

with a sigh and a grumble, you heard the creaking of techno’s footsteps coming down the ladder to find you propped up on a chair and staring at your child indefinitely with an expression of utter joy as if you were entranced in their absolute adorableness.

he stalked over, picking up the tiny thing compared to him and holding them against his chest. the baby let out a squeal of extreme happiness. he took the spoon you had set down on the chest in front of you and grabbed a spoonful of the supposedly edible concoction you made for your baby.

you watched in awe as techno spoon-fed your child with a calm, affectionate look towards them. it made your heart swell with solitude.

“and-and changing it! changing the shit holder- the diaper! whatever!” he counted off the next reason.

“the… shit holder?” you asked with a look of half amusement and half confusion.

“shut up, alright? i have no clue how to be a dad.”

as you tried to tug the snuggie on your smelly child’s lower half, you struggled and watched it come undone for what you assumed to be the eighth time.

techno walked over and with a grunt said, “you’re doing it wrong.”

you huffed, “ho’kay, if i’m doing it wrong, you do it then.” you said with some attitude stepping to the side from the changing bench he installed for when your baby needed a diaper change.

he let out a small chuckle before taking over, your baby’s face lighting up when they saw they’re father in their line of sight.

swiftly and efficiently, the diaper was on. correctly. way better than you’d ever been able to do and way faster.

“you’re doing that from now on,” you hummed with annoyance, taking your child into your arms and kissing them on the cheek. “i’m not smelling baby shit for more than 30 minutes, trying to put on a diaper when my husband can do it in one.”

techno was about to protest, but stopped and held a smirk on his face. “then you’re throwing these out from now on.” he pointed to the already used diaper.

your mouth hung open before you closed it and bitterly responded with a “fine.”

“crying. what the fuck am i supposed to do if it cries?! what does it want? food? a diaper change? bouncing? fetch?”

“our kid is not going to act like a dog.” you pointed out.

“what the hell does it want when it cries?!”

the hours of wailing you had to deal with while techno was out somewhere was exhausting to say the least.

you had been left at home with your child for a couple of hours and when they started crying, it went on for hours until they got what they wanted. you had absolutely zero clue whatever the hell they wanted.

you have tried everything. you even managed to get phil, ranboo, and tubbo over to try and help you, but everything the four of you tried never seemed to work. you had come to the conclusion that your child was a demon from hell that would stop at nothing to get what it desired. if the shoe fits…

“have you tried putting your baby in rice?” ranboo suggested with a tone that made him sound like he was being completely serious.

“i’ve heard bouncing a child works! i dunno, i haven’t tried it. we’ve never had to deal with michael like this.” tubbo offered. “he mostly just makes little oinks and hops around everywhere.”

“maybe just throw the whole kid away. honestly, it worked for me.” phil shrugged.

“oh! i have nukes if we need-”

“what the fuck-” you spat as you stared at the three of them with shock. “we are not drowning my kid in rice, i already tried bouncing- it didn’t work, and phil, we are not throwing away my kid. and lastly, we are not fucking nuking my kid. at least, not without techno’s input. i can’t believe the three of you are parental figures.”

a few more minutes passed with more bawling, when your husband finally arrived home. “i could hear my baby from outside the house, why is it crying this time?” you, phil, ranboo, and tubbo all turned your head to techno with expressions that made you all look dead. “yeesh, you guys look terrible.” he commented.

“yeah, thanks, babe.” you mumbled, exhausted.

“you guys obviously haven’t tried hard enough,” techno mumbled, “because-” as he reached for his kid and put them in his arms. the demon in your demon child completely disappeared. “it just wanted attention.”

“what the hell?” you heard phil groan.

the three of you joined him in the groan, making you all sound like the undead. “it wanted you, techno.” you complained.

“good luck with that thing. i’m going to sleep. don’t call me next time it does that.” phil got up and dipped immediately, heading to his cabin.

tubbo and ranboo looked at each other and sighed. “we’ve got our own kid at home and i’m just glad he isn’t a demon like this one.” tubbo sighed.

“and michael’s literally from the nether!” ranboo added. “see you guys!”

and with that, they left you and techno and your child that was exuding happiness in his arms alone. “you are the worst.” you grumbled and climbed up the ladder to go to bed.

“i’d just be a terrible father.” techno said, shaking his head disapprovingly. “i wouldn’t know how to deal with it at all.”

“oh, i believe you, babe. i really do.”

·  · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·  ·  

written by me & edited by @faithajo24​

taglist: @aiyncel   @etheriaaly

[yandere-sins]

Poison for Miya Osamu please!

Our good boy! Thanks for requesting ^-^

Poison - “How dumb did you think I was? Of course I knew of your little prank.”

»»———————— ♡ ————————««    

As expected, Osamu was overjoyed when you offered to make dinner for him.

It was one of the rare nights that Atsumu wasn’t around to bother the two of you, and ever since Osamu had instructed you on making basic dishes that didn’t need dangerous tools, you had regained some freedom when it came to food. Much to your delight as well as his.

It was never a big thing that you cooked - or rather prepared - for him, and Osamu was always by your side, watching over your shoulder. In the relationship you two had, there would always be a certain degree of mistrust, but at least it wasn’t as overbearing as when you were with his brother. And eating your onigiri or sandwiches made Osamu as happy as if you had just kissed him, which gave you a lot of plus points with him. It was nice to see him relax after a long day at work too, and it always worked in your favor to please your captors.

Not least because it gave you back your hope. Hope to make a change in your life.

It had been far too long since you started to surrender to what they were saying and doing, just so you wouldn’t get hurt. Regaining the tiny bite of freedom to prepare your own food had made you realize the dependence you had on them for everything. It was their schedule you suited your day to, you justified going to the bathroom to them, and you asked for them to bring home things you wanted to eat. In a way, it was infantilizing, and in another, dehumanizing.

As Osamu was now, you’d never think you could have a chance against him. Even if you managed to trick him, you didn’t want to imagine the lengths he could go to that you hadn’t seen before. The worst you had seen so far probably wasn’t the worst he could be. If the twins were together, you thought your chances to be below zero, but now that it was only Osamu, you hatched a plan. Only, he had to become weaker than he was in his current state.

It had been weeks in the planning, ever since the first few times he let you prepare food for the two of you. Building up trust as you chatted away normally with him while forming rice balls and other cold delicacies, you used a few bad days to push your two kidnappers over the edge enough to sedate you. No one said it would be easy, but it was excruciating not to get caught storing away the sleeping pills they used on you. More than once you were ready to give up and return to pleasing them for your own sake, but you persevered in the end, all for this moment.

“Can you set the table?” you asked him, innocently enough. Even if Osamu had stuck to your side like glue at first, he was now more willing than ever to play pretend with you, especially if you asked him sweetly. Just as if you two had a normal relationship and were fond of each other, that’s what Osamu preferred to believe. Nodding, he set aside his glass of water, brushing his lips to your head before reaching over you for the plates, arranging them at the counter with his back turned. Immediately, you reached into your pocket to retrieve the capsules, opening and spreading them over the white rice balls you had prepared. 

Just as quickly did you wash the leftover casing of the medicine down the drain, pretending to wash your hands before picking up the bowl of rice and bringing it to the countertop on which you usually had dinner at. Osamu had watched you again after setting the table, so you gave him a smile before taking a seat, waiting for him to follow. Everything so far had been going exceptionally well, but you composed yourself to not give away the excitement you felt.

You snatched the one spoon you two usually used together to scoop up some of the rice, trickling soy sauce onto it and holding it up to him. Osamu’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as you offered to feed him, and you calmly, with a big grin, said, “Aah!” to animate him to eat. Seeing his ears grow red in response as he hesitated to take the bite gave you the confirmation that you needed that your plan was working.

Finally, Osamu took the bait you offered. When you quickly scooped up a second spoon to give to him for good measures, he didn’t even raise a brow anymore before eating it. Yes, the boys may be your captors, but they weren’t perfect, and you had been their weakness all along. It didn’t need the second spoon for the medication to hit, but you were convinced that it was better safe than sorry.

It didn’t take long for it to take effect either, and you thanked Atsumu only this once for needing very effective travel medicine. Osamu took a big sip of his water right after the second spoon, and by the way he grew weary and nervous at the same time you knew something felt off to him. “Are you okay?” you asked, feigning worry as you scooped up a third spoon to give to him. “Yeah, just got a bit dizzy there.”

One more can’t hurt, you decided as you gave him a sympathetic smile, knowing he couldn’t resist your kindness, eating out of your hand again. He was barely able to swallow the rice, holding his hand over his mouth, and you saw in his eyes how torn he was between wanting to keep eating with you but also wondering if the food was spoiled.

“I don’t feel so good,” he finally admitted, and you furrowed your brows worriedly. “Do you want to lay down?” you were quick to suggest, and Osamu nodded slowly, not unhappy as you offered to help him back into your room. Seating him down on the bed, you fluffed up the pillow, feeling nothing less than pride that ran through your body as your plan worked out so perfectly. 

“Could ya bring me the water?” Osamu asked as he laid down, and you simply smiled as you complied, returning to the kitchen to fetch his glass.

Patience, you told yourself. Nothing good would come from rushing it now.

However, when you returned, Osamu seemed already out of it, chest slowly rising and falling. His eyes had yet to fully close, and out of your own experience, you knew that it was only a matter of minutes now before he’d fall asleep. You set down the glass, pretending to still be worried as you placed your palm on his head, feeling for temperature. “Are you okay?” you mumbled quietly, and he still reacted with a grumble. He was too awake for your taste. Once he was fully gone, you’d be safe to find the keys for the locks and get everything you needed. But as he was now, you’d still have to wait for a little bit longer.

“I’ll get you a blanket.” Standing up, you turned to leave when a sudden grip around your wrist held you back. Surprised, you snapped back around only for Osamu’s hand to tighten more and more until it was hurting you while he reeled you in.

“You usually need about 5 minutes before it takes effect, don’t ya remember that, [Name]? I do because I always have to hold you down until then.”

His voice was back to normal, no slurred words or grunts and nods this time. Osamu sat up calmly, pulling you closer until you had to kneel down on the mattress to comply with his strength. “W-What are you talking about?” you questioned, feigning ignorance while you were pulled over Osamu and onto the spot next to him on the bed.

“What I’m saying is, we still have another minute or so until the drug ya gave me will put me to sleep. What should we do until then?”

Next thing you knew, Osamu was on top of you, holding you down by your hands and sitting down on your legs to restrain you. “Drug? What drug? I didn’t give you any such thing!” you nervously defended yourself, twisting your wrists in his grip. This should have been way easier, and Osamu should have failed to keep up his strength. Was it his build? Or because you put it into food? Did the medicine affect him so differently than you were used to?

“Come on, [Name], how dumb did you think I was? Of course I knew of your little prank. Didn’t you notice me watching as ya put the damn stuff on the rice?”

Your heart sank as you listened to his words. You thought you were quick and stealthy as you prepared the food, so how could he notice? “Also, I know you hadn’t taken the pills for a while. As I said, you always stop struggling after five minutes, asleep after eight, but your times had been messed up the last few occasions we had to give them to you. I have to know it, I am the one taking care of you, don’t ya know that yet?”

Biting your lip, you felt yourself panic inside. This was bad, pretty bad. Until the sleeping pills really started to work, Osamu was in charge, and he didn’t seem pleased either. When he suddenly let go of your right hand, you quickly clawed into his arm that was still pinning you down by your left, hoping that with combined strength, he’d let go. You completely missed him reaching into his own pocket and bringing his hand to his lips, only noticing the white capsule sticking out from his mouth when he reached around your chin and made you face him again.

But before you could react and slap the pill out of his mouth, Osamu had brought his lips down to your yours, breaking through them even though you struggled to keep your mouth shut. His tongue playing over yours didn’t stop you from rejecting the pill he transferred to you. Osamu didn’t linger for too long - even when he was mad, never overstaying his welcome - but before you could spit it out, he clasped his hand over your mouth. Finally letting go of both hands your hands, you used them to try and pull his hand off you, but before long, he had sealed your nose off as well, giving you no other chance than to swallow if you wanted back your air.

Even though you wanted to pretend to swallow it, Osamu didn’t retract the moment he saw you gulp for the first time, waiting it out until he deemed it most likely that you indeed swallowed. Unfortunately, with enough saliva, it slipped past your tongue and down your throat easily, tears shooting up your eyes as you realized that you couldn’t have stopped it. Only then, Osamu let go, and you snapped for air, frustrated cries escaping you.

“Why did you do that!” you complained, and Osamu didn’t flinch away as you pounded your fists against his chest in anger. “Why did you even swallow the food if you knew I put something in it?!”

For a while, Osamu kept quiet, letting you live out your tantrum before you finally gave up on your anger. Catching your hands as they fell to the sides, he kissed them both gently while you felt more and more drowsy by the second. Only now you realized what he gave you, the feeling very similar to whenever the twins had drugged you before. “Why did you eat it?” you mumbled, the sobs slowly but surely dying out with the rising sleepiness you felt.

“Because I love you,” Osamu said nonchalantly. Suddenly, his whole body seemed to collapse, and you could be glad your arms blocked him from falling square onto you. Up to the last point, he had still made sure you wouldn’t be bothered more by him, as you were able to push him off you, the sleeping pills’ effect almost making it seem like he was dead as he laid beside you.

It had been the perfect plan; you just didn’t think that Osamu was that attentive. There was still a lot you had to learn about the twins, but there would most likely be something new to experience the moment you woke up again and having to face an angry Osamu. But maybe one day. Maybe you could do it another day.

But you had your doubts that it would get any easier from here on out.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Stray Kids Reaction || Cooking For them [Request]

A/n: I’m having really bad writers block right now im so sorry 

Chan:

Who would have thought you would be celebrating your 2-year-anniversary with Chan, not you. You were still sure you were in some kind of coma where all of this was a sick and twisted dream ready to rip the rug out from underneath you at any moment bringing you back to reality.

"What are you thinking about?" Chan's voice woke you from your daydream and you went back to cooking the anniversary meal you'd been dreading making all week. Normally Chan was the one to cook in the relationship but you wanted to give him a break today since it was a special event.

"How I could give you food poisoning." You groaned hoping you were cooking it right, there were so many things that could go wrong. He walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder and watching over everything you were doing.

"Let me cook for you if you're so worried." You tried to push him away,

"No, this is an anniversary present." You mumbled trying not to sound defeated, you really wanted this to be special for him but cooking wasn't your strong point.

"I wanted it to be special." You pouted making him laugh with you, he kissed your cheek.

"As long as you're here it is special." He mumbled into your hair trying to make you feel better but it wasn't working, you knew how hard Chan worked at the studio and you wanted to make it a little less stressful back at your apartment.

"I'm cooking if you want to help you can make sure I'm not overcooking or undercooking anything." You told him looking over at the pots and then smiling back at him.

"Or the only anniversary present you will be getting is food poisoning." You joked trying to make the situation a little lighter and he laughed along with you, checking on the food you were preparing and telling you everything looked perfect so far.

Lee Know:

Lee Know was going home for a small break and he'd tried to convince you to go with him but you were busy with work...Or at least, that's what you told him you were doing. Instead, you were travelling to visit his mum and to get there before he did. You'd met his mother before and you were quite close to her, she even asked you to call her mum instead of by her name which you did.

"He's coming up the driveway now." You smiled at his mum and continued standing in the kitchen to finish cooking with her.

"Umma!" He called out as he walked into the house with a giant suitcase trailing behind him, you stayed in the kitchen while his mum went to greet him.

"I have a surprise." You heard her sing to him and then she came back into the kitchen covering his eyes, you tried to hide your excitement as she laughed at you. She began counting down and then moved her hands from his eyes, as soon as his eyes adjusted to the brighter light they landed on you and he couldn't stop smiling.

"I thought you had work?!" He yelled rushing over to you and tangling you into a tight hug squeezing as tight as he could. The last time you'd gone to see him was when he was leaving for work and he'd missed you.

"Hi." You giggled at him going back to make sure the food wasn't burning, his mum told you to go and catch up in the living room so you left to go and talk about your plans for the weekend.

"I'm seeing Han tomorrow, then I'm hanging with some friends and seeing Grandma." He then began to plan the weekend with you, inviting you out with all his friends and family to make you feel apart of it, he loved spending time with you and every time you got to hang around he cherished it dearly.

Changbin:

You knew how much of tough a time that Changbin was having, he'd been texting you all week about how much stress he was under and you wanted to do anything you could to make him less stressed. You'd convinced Chan to give you a spare key to the dorms and to take the rest of the boys out so you would have the place to yourself. You were going to make him the best meal you could manage, so you were dancing around the dorms singing along to the new SKZ2020 album when he walked through the door, he saw you dancing in one of his hoodies and smiled to himself. He felt instantly relaxed as soon as he saw you there and dropped his bags onto the floor,

"Hi." He breathed coming up behind you and holding you against his chest,

"Hi, how was the studio today?" He stayed silent which meant not good. You sighed and turned around in his arms to face him and smile softly,

"Well, I ran you a bath and laid out fresh clothes so go and bathe and by the time you're out the food should be ready and hopefully it won't kill you." You whispered leaning up to kiss him on the nose. You'd only been dating for three months but you would do everything in your power to make him happy but you had no idea that just you being there was enough to make him happier than he'd been since they debuted.

"Go, before the water gets cold." You giggled at him but he stayed there staring down into your eyes with a smile on his face, he just cupped your face in his hands and brought you closer to him.

"You have no idea how much you make me happy just by being here." He whispered leaning down to kiss you, you smiled against his lips and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Go and bathe, you stink from dance practise." You mumbled against his lips and he chucked pulling away from you and going over to the main dorms bathroom to find the bath you'd ran him while you went back to the oven to make sure nothing was burning or that you hadn't let the kitchen on fire, it was one of the many rules that Felix and Chan had left you to keep things in order.

Hyunjin:

All you'd heard for the last three days was how terrible the food was at the dorms, your boyfriend Hyunjin had done nothing but text you about how now Chan was away Felix was in charge of feeding him and Han who were the only ones left in the dorms while everyone went on vacation to go and see family.

"If I come and cook will you stop complaining at me?" You mumbled over the phone that night, you could even over the phone he had a giant smile across his face.

"We wouldn't hate that idea." You hummed and hung up the phone, stopping by the store on your way to to the dorms to pick up supplies.

"I thought I was cooking tonight," Felix grumbled once he walked into the dorm kitchen to see you cooking for them all,

"Hyunjin and Han kept complaining that you were trying to kill them." You told him not holding back despite Han and Hyunjin screaming at you to shut up,

"You don't like my cooking?" He turned to the boys and you smirked,

"Hyunjin's text this morning was 'I'm going to die if I have to eat one more meal from Felix'." Felix scoffed at them and turned his attention to you,

"Help me out, can you wash up some dishes? I asked them but they said they were busy." Hyunjin slid down the sofa and his attention was back on the movie they'd been watching, Felix began washing up the dishes while watching what you were doing.

"You should teach me, that way I won't kill your boyfriend off." He joked looking as you turned over the meat in the pan, then went back to cooking the vegetables, Hyunjin got up from the sofa and came to your side. Asking if you needed any help,

"Me and Felix have it covered, go and watch your movie." You kissed his lips and he stayed in place wanting to help out as much as he could since he'd forced you to come around in the first place.

Han:

You were in a panic trying to make sure your apartment was perfect, it was the first time your boyfriend of two months would be coming over to your place. You normally spent all your times at the dorms with him and his friends but this time Han had decided you needed some time alone together instead, you'd spent the entire day cleaning from top to bottom. Then you'd spent the last four hours cooking to make sure his favourite meal was made perfectly for him you didn't want a single thing to go wrong because you wanted to make everything flawless for him.

"Shit." You grumbled hearing the front doorbell being rang, you looked at the table and smiled it was laid out ready for you to eat and the food was being kept warm in the oven. You looked down at your jeans and top in the mirror and then rushed to open the front door.

"Han-Ah!" You giggled throwing your arms around him and bringing him into the apartment,

"You're cooking?" He asked looking over at the kitchen, that's when you noticed the take out bag in his hands.

"Did I not mention that?" You groaned, out of all the things you could have done to go wrong it was not telling him that you were cooking for you both that night.

"Shit." You groaned shutting the front door and walking him through to the kitchen,

"You made my favourite?!" You nodded and he put the take out onto the side,

"We'll have it tomorrow or later, I want to eat what my beautiful girlfriend cooked for me," He brought you into his arms and smiled at you, you stared up into his eyes and noticed he was wearing blue contacts,

"Contacts?" He nodded and then went to take them out in your bathroom while still shouting to talk to you through the house,

"We were shooting something secret today." You were smiling widely as he came back into the room and he knew instantly what you were thinking,

"No, I can't. I already told you about the comeback date I can't keep spilling secrets to you." You walked up to him and stuck out your bottom lip giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

"Please Han-ah, it'll be our little secret." You pouted and he groaned closing his eyes, he would give you anything if you looked at him like that and you knew it.

Felix:

"It's an emergency!" He yelled over the phone as you rushed over to the dorms,

"What?! Did you hurt yourself?! Is someone else hurt?!" You panicked hurrying up the staircase to their door, you opened it right away to see Felix standing there with Seungmin, their heads hung low.

"What?!" You yelled wanting to know what was so important that he woke you up at 3 am.

"We burnt the food..." Felix whispered you stared at him and then to Seungmin who was still hanging his head.

"You woke me up at 3 in the morning because you burnt food?!" You asked rubbing your eyes and looking down at your outfit. You were dressed in fluffy pants and a top you'd stolen from Felix the last time you were at the dorms.

"Yes." He laughed pulling you into the kitchen to get you to look at what they'd done,

"How did you mess up pancakes?! It's the easiest thing to cook." You began cleaning off what they'd been trying to cook, and then asked Felix to fetch the ingredients for you.

"Don't cook anything, I still don't understand how you messed this up?" You asked as you put the pan on to heat, you threw your hair up into a makeshift ponytail and got ready to show him how to make the perfect fluffy pancakes.

"Did I ever tell you how much I love you?" He asked trying to soften you up,

"I love you too but I'm still stealing a hoodie in revenge for this." You patted his cheeks and began plating up the pancakes for him and a hungry-looking Seungmin.

"and I'm staying the night but you can bunk with Seungmin." You yawned walking away from the kitchen and  in the direction of Felix's room where you curled up under the sheets ready to just pass out and sleep for a week.

Seungmin:

Seungmin had invited you around to the dorms since all the boys were out for vacation and he wanted to cook with you but you had other plans, he was always cooking for you whenever you went around to the dorms so you wanted to cook for him this time. You brought along everything you needed to make him his favourite meal, that's why you were currently dancing around the kitchen in one of his shirts and singing along to their album. Seungmin watched from the door as you hadn't noticed he was out of the shower yet, you didn't notice him standing there until you heard him chuckling at your attempt to dance along to Miroh.

"Seungmin." You whined hiding behind the wall and peaking out to see him staring at you with a giant smile on his face,

"You looked cute." You poked your tongue out at him and he proceeded to show you videos and photos of you dancing and singing.

"If you show those to anyone else I will never talk to you again." You mumbled staring at the photos and he chuckled,

"I guess it's going to be a quiet night, I already sent it to the group chat." You groaned loudly going to take the meat off the heat before it burnt the dorms down.

"You're evil! Everyone thinks you're this little angel but you're pure evil." You jokingly ranted plating up the food and leaning back into his arms,

"Shut up, you looked cute." He whispered kissing you on the cheek trying to warm you up but you weren't going to give in that easily,

"I get to pick the movie since you've been so mean to me." You giggled at him and he nodded agreeing to it as long as it meant you would talk to him properly again.

Jeongin:

This was a disaster, you were supposed to be making a lovely meal for Jeongin for him to eat when he got home from the studio but you'd messed up everything, you had no idea how it even happened one minute everything was fine and the next the oven was on fire and I.N was reaching for the fire extinguisher.

"It's fine," He assured you as he rubbed your shoulders but you shook your head at him trying not to cry over something that seemed so small but it was a huge deal to you,

"No, it's not. How did I even mess pasta up!? You just boil it." You groaned looking at the oven which was now covered in water and foam from the fire extinguisher, the pasta was well and truly ruined now and there was no coming back for it.

"I mean you did burn the bottom of the pan and then spill oil into the open flame." You groaned at the thought of what you'd done laying your head back against his chest making him chuckle at you, but you didn't find it funny like he did. You found it humiliating that you'd almost burnt the entire apartment down just by making pasta something that everyone, even Felix could do without burning something down.

"I'll order us something." He said as he looked at the oven again, there was no coming back from this, you were never going to live this moment down for as long as you were going to live but I.N was going to keep it a secret, he wouldn't expose you like that just tease you about it privately out of love.

Tagline for Stray Kids Posts: (I don’t know if the people that are on my usual tagpost want to be posted in this too, if you do feel free to let me know) 

@yoongisdumplingcheeks @jooniesdarlingdimples 

[join-the-joywrite]

But suddenly from somewhere out of the blue, I see a different light around you.

For Anon: Julie and Luke, family friends, end up sick together. While cooped up sick at Julie's, a little conversation leads to a lot of secrets.

A/N: skdjje I am so sorry it took me this long to get to it sjjdje and this kind of got away from me once I finally got into writing it oops.

Special thanks to @i-spit-on-fire for the title!! Love you, doll 🥰

Julie Molina had a great friend circle. She loved each of them equally. Well, maybe Flynn got a bit more than everyone else but then again, Flynn had also seen Julie throwing up the last time she had food poisoning so maybe Flynn deserved a little extra love for sticking around past that.

The only person in the circle that could contend for Flynn's level of appreciation in Julie's eyes was Luke Patterson. And it was only because her mom and his dad were childhood friends, which, naturally, led to Julie and Luke growing up childhood friends.

Despite their close friendship, Luke and Julie rarely interacted at school. They had their own, smaller, circles and that was perfectly okay. Their circles merged after Luke and his friends played live music for Julie's theater performance when the radio gave out without warning. Well, to get more specific, it was some time after Alex and Willie started dating and involving both their friends on lunches and hangouts.

So yeah, things were great, school was fun and they all had a bunch of fun together. They even planned to visit an amusement park that Saturday too.

Unfortunately, the trip to the amusement park seemed like it was gonna have to wait.

"I told you not to hug me," Julie grumbled through her stuffy nose.

Luke pulled a face for her. "I didn't. I hugged my mom and then you hugged my mom. I'm not at fault here."

Julie sighed. "You think she's sick, too?"

"Nah, mom's got a great immune system. She probably just has a slight cough."

Just then a coughing bout overtook Julie. Leaning forward in her chair, she took a few deep breaths, relaxing as she felt Luke's hand moving in slow circles on her back. Slowly, her breathing returned to normal and the sharp ache in her forehead subsided. When she sat back again, she leaned her head against Luke. "I hate being sick. This is all your fault."

"We've just been over this. I didn't hug you."

"Potato, pot-ah-to."

Luke rolled his eyes. "You know you're heavy, right?"

Julie's response was to stop half-supoorting herself and drop all her weight on Luke's side, nearly sending them both off their chairs.

"If you weren't so sick, I'd . . . I'd pinch you!"

"You mean, if you had the energy to do it."

"Yeah, whatever," Luke managed to say before he coughed too, albeit much less than Julie. "Think your mom will drop me home?"

"You live right next door, idiot. Obviously."

When Rose walked into the nurse's office, she sighed at the two teens. "We told you two to stay at home. Come on, let's go."

As Rose pulled into her driveway, Luke thanked her for the ride.

"Where do you think you're going, mijo?"

"H-home?" Luke asked uncertainly, his hand on the door handle.

"Your parents are out of town for the weekend."

"Yeah," Luke nodded, "I was gonna stay over at Bobby's but I don't wanna make him sick--"

"Well, Julie's already sick anyway. You can stay with us and when you're feeling better, you can go over to Bobby's."

"But--"

"Mijo, I'm not asking," Rose said, staring at Luke in the rearview mirror, daring him to get out of the car.

Julie snickered at the fear in his eyes as he settled back into the seat and waited until Rose had pulled further up towards the house before attempting to get out again.

"Why don't you two go get comfortable on in the living room, hm? I'll put some food up for you and it'll be ready before you even know it."

Julie yawned as she trudged past Rose and into the house. "Can we sleep instead?"

"Absolutely. Go get some rest, okay? Luke, if you're tired, you can sleep in Carlos' room. He's spending the week with Victoria so it's all yours if you need, okay?"

"Thank you," Luke managed before a yawn interrupted him.

Rose ruffled Julie's hair first, then Luke's. Now, what could she feed them that they'd manage to keep down?

"Sorry I made you sick," Luke mumbled.

Julie shrugged. "It's okay. Flynn said she was gonna drag me on the biggest rollercoaster first so in a way, I'm kinda glad we won't be going tomorrow."

Luke rolled his eyes. "You do this everytime we go. Just get on the rollercoaster. It's not that much bigger than the one we went on last time."

Julie stared at Luke over her bowl of soup. "I passed out."

Luke shrugged. "It makes for a good story!"

"For you!"

"Don't yell, Julie, you don't have the lung capacity."

Julie scrunched up her nose and mocked Luke in a high voice. "You don't have the lunch capacity."

"Oh, real mature."

Julie blew a raspberry at Luke. A raspberry that turned into a cough. Luke was out of his blanket in a second.

"Julie?" Rose called from the kitchen. "You good, baby?"

"I got it!" Luke called back. He knelt in front of Julie as she hunched over and rubbed her back in small circles. "Easy, Jules," he murmured.

"I hate being sick," Julie said for the umpteenth time, resting her chin on Luke's shoulder.

Luke froze, one hand on Julie's arm, the other on her back. What was he supposed to do now? Just . . . hold her?

"I know," he said soothingly, "you'll get better quickly, don't worry."

"Ugh, I hope so." Slowly, Julie pulled away and eased back into the couch.

Luke pouted, only because he wanted to stay holding Julie in a gentle and comfortable embrace. He scrunched his nose up and quickly shook his head. What the hell was that all about?

He was back in his corner of the couch, under his blanket, when Rose arrived with a glass of water for each of them.

"I'm going to get dinner running and when I come back to check on you two, those glasses better be empty."

"Yes, mom," they chorused.

It wasn't really a big thing. Luke called her 'mom' often. Julie even called Emily 'mom' if she happened to be over at Luke's. But that didn't take away from Rose's (or Emily's) absolute delight over being called mom by her honorary child.

"Sorry I made fun of you when you first got sick," Julie mumbled.

"It's okay," Luke said with a slight laugh, half paying attention to Julie and half paying attention to the TV. They'd taken a good nap and were already feeling better. "Karma got you, I guess."

"I guess."

"You got it bad, though," Luke said, glancing at Julie. "I never coughed like that."

"Exhibit A of why I utterly detest being sick. The headache is unbearable sometimes." Julie gave Luke a small smile. "But it's okay. I should already be feeling better by tomorrow."

Julie turned her gaze back to the TV. Luke didn't. He kept his gaze on Julie, watching her carefully. He'd always had the natural inclination to want to care for Julie, but until then it had always been small things. Wanting to make sure her cuts and scrapes got a band-aid. Wanting to check in with a simple text when she was sick. Wanting to be sure her work was up to date when she missed out.

But now . . . now it was a little different. It wasn't really strange, but he couldn't quite understand it. Why, when she complained about her headache, did he want to pull her close and try to distract her from it? Why, when she hunched over coughing, did he want to be by her side, holding her close and trying to ease the fit? Why, when she paid him no attention, did he want to just sit there and watch her?

Julie glanced back and Luke froze like a deer in headlights, his already pink cheeks growing redder. Julie grinned. "Is that the fever or are you shy about something?"

"Definitely the fever," Luke said quickly.

"Uh huh," Julie said with a grin, turning back to the TV again. "I think you're pretty cute too."

Luke shrank into his blanket. "I didn't say that."

"Your face said enough, Patterson."

"You really think I'm cute?"

Julie looked at Luke, who had the blanket wrapped over his head as he pouted at her. His flushed cheeks had calmed to the usual pink whenever he was running a fever. She couldn't help but smile. "The cutest."

He beamed. "I think you're pretty cute too. Wait, that's what you said--"

"Cute," Julie mumbled under her breath, shaking her head and turning back to the TV. She was surprised by Luke suddenly dropping his head in her lap. She grinned, amused. "Hi, there."

"Hi. I want attention."

"Well, mom said she was just gonna make sure Carlos' room is clean enough for you to walk without getting impaled by a Lego brick but I'm sure she'd be happy to listen to your gibberish when she's all done."

"I want your attention."

"And I wanna watch the season finale."

Luke turned over to glance at the TV. "You've seen this episode at least six times. I know because five of them were at my house and youd already seen it once before that."

Julie flicked Luke's nose lightly. "It's my favourite, leave me be."

"Fine, but I'm staying here."

"Okay, just be quiet."

Luke felt like he had left the land of the living when he felt Julie's fingers in his hair. She had absolutely no idea what she was doing and somehow, the fact that she was playing with his hair on autopilot made him giddy.

"Can you put this on the table for me, please?" Julie asked absently, resting her empty glass on Luke's shoulder.

He did as she asked, just managing to reach the coffee table.

"Thank you."

Bored but unwilling to move, Luke began to pick at the threads on Julie's bracelets. She rested her hand on his chest, knowing he'd start whining if she took the bracelets away.

"Who made this one for you?"

Julie glanced at her arm to see Luke playing with a blue string, her name strung on in letter beads, a star bead on either side. "You did."

"Really?"

"I think we were about eight or nine. That was when Flynn got her bracelet set and we spent so many lunches making bracelets. You got jealous because I kept wearing Flynn's bracelets so you made one for me yourself."

"Huh," Luke said, "I don't remember, though."

"Not surprising. You were running a fever then, too. A pretty high one. Your mom gave you cough syrup and you got a burst of creative inspiration. Haven't you heard her tell the story? It's one of her favourites."

"I hear the words 'when Luke was little' and I instantly tune it out."

Julie laughed. "Sounds about right."

Luke watched the smile linger on Julie's face as she watched the episode she knew by heart. God, she was so pretty.

Luke scrunched his nose up again. Yeah, Julie was pretty and yeah, he'd always known that. But in the way he knew Flynn was beautiful and Carrie was stunning. In the way he knew Reggie was adorable and Bobby was cute and Alex was a gorgeous. In the way he knew Willie was magnificent. It was just something he'd always known. He and his friends were hot as hell and that was just a fact that they all seemed to know.

But laying with his head in Julie's lap, watching her unconsciously smile at his own antics, it seemed like a brand new thought. How could someone he'd known his whole life suddenly look different?

"Julie."

"Hm?" Julie didn't look away from the TV.

"You're really pretty."

"Thank you," she said, smiling wider. She lightly tugged a lock of his hair. "You're pretty, too."

"No, I mean, like, really pretty. Like . . . ultra pretty."

Julie scowled at Luke. "What did you do?"

"Nothing! I just . . . I just really like your smile. It's so. . ."

"Pretty?"

Luke nodded. He poked her cheek lightly. "I like when you smile."

"Yeah?" Even if she wanted to, she couldn't hold back a smile.

Luke smiled too. "Yeah."

Caught up with Luke's spontaneous declaration, Julie mised her favourite part of the episode -- the one where they finally had their first date. But Luke didn't.

"When we get better," he said slowly, "when we're not sick anymore . . . Do you think we could go out together? Maybe next weekend?"

Julie nodded. "Absolutely. Flynn already texted about rescheduling--"

"No. No, I mean . . . like a date. Just you and me."

"Oh," Julie said softly, eyes wide.

"Oh? Julie, 'oh' is what you say when you get socks for Christmas."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm just . . . surprised. I thought I worked out this crush thing and then here you are, asking me out and all I can think is that I wasted so much energy trying to stifle it all down when I could've just asked you out myself like two years ago."

Luke blinked up at Julie. "So, is that a yes or a no? I'm a little confused."

"Oh, only a little? Yes, you dork."

Luke suddenly yawned.

"Tired?"

"Only a little."

"Go to sleep," Julie said, using the same tone Rose had used on them both earlier.

Luke thought it was going to be pretty difficult to fall asleep when Julie was sitting there, threading her fingers through his hair like she had no idea how fast she made his heart beat. But it barely took him a minute before he was out completely. With a yawn of her own, Julie quickly followed.

Carrie snickered softly. "Quick!" she whispered. "They're waking up!"

"Okay!" Willie whispered back. "Okay, hold it up."

The bunch of them gathered behind the ridiculously large cardboard posted they'd thrown together the moment they arrived after the text from Rose.

Blinking tiredly, Julie and Luke sat up and took a few seconds to focus on the grinning faces in front of them.

"Congratulations!"

Julie and Luke both turned several shades redder (not by any fault of their ebbing fevers) as the group thrust the banner forward. It's about damn time.

"Shut up," Julie mumbled, retreating under her blanket to hide her face.

Luke scowled. "You could've said something!"

"Watching was funnier," Alex admitted.

As he did, the front door opened and in walked Ray. He took one look at the scene before him and groaned. "I can't believe I lost a full ten dollars."

"You bet on us?" Julie shrieked, throwing the blanket off.

"Well . . . yeah," Ray said, "your Tia is very persuasive."

Julie shrank back into the blanket, groaning in embarrassment.

Rose gasped. "Someone get Emily on the phone! She owes me five dollars!"

"Mom!"

But despite the embarrassment that was their family, Julie and Luke were very happy to have finally admitted their feelings -- to themselves and to each other.

Neither of them could wait for next weekend.

[nyxdelanuit]

My Kingdom for a Bath (Ojiro x Reader)

This is for the BNHarem’s Apocalypse NSFW Collab!! THE MASTERLIST CAN BE FOUND HERE! Be sure to check everyone else’s out c:

NSFW BELOW~ 

It had been two years since the world you had known disappeared. No one could come to an agreement on what had happened. Some said that a quirk had raged out of control, some said that it was an act of terrorism, and others said it was an experiment to fight global warming and deforestation gone awry.

 All you knew was that two years ago, you were visiting your parents in their modest suburban town one moment, and the next, the ground was splitting apart under your feet. It was pure devastation, a reclaiming of the earth sped up by a millennium. From the fissures grew giant redwoods, consuming houses and breaking people along their boughs. Those that were able took to the skies, leaving those like you scattered among the broken ground.

Few lived through that, and fewer still survived the days to come. So dependent on the culture of convenience, not many were able to find ways to feed and shelter themselves. Those with quirks closely related to nature flourished until people flocked to them, relying on their energies to sustain groups double or triple their limit. Those groups tended to die out quickly, the leader succumbing to their frailties or abandoning them altogether. People that were used to farming struggled to till the overgrown soil, barely able to pull together crop enough to feed what was left of their families. And then there were those like you, who lost everything in the fall: no family, no ties, no way of finding out if your friends survived elsewhere.

 You wandered, the only way you were sure you'd survive. It was a surprise to you that you'd been able to survive this long on your own, but while everyone else had tried looting the remains of grocery stores and cafes, you had focused on raiding the bookstores. Books on survival, camping, memoirs of people lost in deserted areas, as many as you could carry, were cradled in your hold. The most useful for this new world were compiled, using a stray pair of scissors you found to carefully cut out the needed pages and bind them to the others with twine. You had tried for the first few weeks to carry them all, covers and all, but the weight on your shoulders prevented you from finding enough food to keep you going.

 They were invaluable, teaching you how to find clean water and how to make simple snares for small game. More than once, you had held a plant close to your mouth before deciding to check your notes, finding it the more poisonous cousin of a mild vegetable. It made you wonder how many others passed that way before you.

 Now you wandered through the central city, normally an hour's drive from your parent's home. It had taken you months to trek here, through the skeletons of cities devoured by ivy and teeming with wildlife not seen in centuries. They were becoming more brazen as of late, and you had wondered how long you'd be able to stave them off with no more than your survival knife at your hip.

 The city looked more eerie than any town you had traversed. The concrete below your feet was reduced to no more than pebbles providing you traction. Redwoods and cedars towered where buildings used to kiss the sky, the structures that still stood consumed in creeping vines and sinking into the loamy soil.

 You weren't immune to missing the comforts of your old life, that is why you were here after all. On the other side of this sprawling city was an old road, tucked into what had been quaint woods. Following the path took you to a modest hotel, one that you hoped was moderately untouched, for that hotel had been known for the only hot springs within your area. Thinking about it only made you aware of the grime that clung to you like a second skin.

 It was so close, you could almost feel the warm embrace of the water against your skin. Washing yourself in the cold rivers and streams only to be covered in pollen and debris the moment you set foot on land had driven you to the edge of sanity, and those outdoor baths would be your only solace. You felt a surge of energy that hadn’t graced you for months, trekking through the ruins of the places you used to visit. It was a melancholy sight, like seeing the places you walked during the day in the lens of the night. It used to be bustling, always busy, and now you were the only soul in sight scrambling over tree roots the size of cars and through brambles that threatened to embed their thorns into your legs as you passed.

 You had made good time on trekking through the overgrown city. You assumed you were a good few miles into the city proper by the time night started to descend. While you weren't able to wait for unassuming prey to fall into one of your snares, you had hidden away a few portions of meat you had smoked in your bag, enjoying your full belly as the embers of your fire lulled you to sleep.

 That was your intent, at least, until the rustling around you started to sound less like the usual small animals scurrying around you and more menacing, larger. Your hand flew to the knife at your side, dulled from daily use, but the only defense you had.

 You wished you still had enough faith in humanity to feel relieved when a man walked into your clearing. You wish you hadn’t seen how far people could fall when their survival was no longer ensured. But your hand stayed planted on the blade as the blonde-haired stranger made himself known. It eased your nerves a little that he was purposefully making himself known. He made no further attempts to placate you, however.

 “Fire is dangerous around here.” The words he spoke were rough, as if he hadn’t needed to use his voice until now. Your eyes narrowed as a tail swung behind him, kicking up dirt and smothering your sad excuse for a fire. The moon was bright enough that it only took moments for your eyes to adjust. The stranger was already turning to leave.

 “The animals around here will not hesitate to turn on you if you keep making yourself known.” With that, he nodded, moving to leave.

 "Wait…" You called out, not knowing why you were trying to reach out to this man. You had gone so long without relying on others, so why were you teasing yourself with the thought of his company? You watched him pause, turning to you. It seemed that something changed within, and he looked over you once more. For a moment, you thought you could see the shadow of who he was before all of this began.

 “How far is it to your group? I could lead you to them if you wish.” His voice was soft, as if he was speaking to a victim of some great tragedy. You supposed you all were, at this point.

 “I don’t… I’ve never had a group.” You stuttered out, your throat catching on words unused for months. “I’m… not from around here.” He nodded, eyes unfocused as he thought.

 "Neither am I. I was stationed here maybe two weeks before…" Before whatever this world had become. It was funny how, when the world falls apart, people became so xenophobic. Anyone unknown turned away to shelter those they had grown with. What a lousy time for you to be so far from your home. "Would you like to come with me? At least for the night?" A fire burned in his eyes, a desire to protect that you had all but forgotten. You found yourself nodding before you could process his request—anything but staying in the ghost of this place, the dark moving in like an unwelcome visitor.

 He moved quickly, naturally, through the undergrowth. His tail, thick and sturdy, providing him extra support as he glided near silently through fallen leaves. He made you feel clumsy and loud despite how far you had come these past few years. He at least had a mind to make sure you were following him alright, adjusting his pace once he realized you had fallen behind.

 The silence of the night, filled only with the chattering of bugs, unnerved you. Unable to take the creeping quiet, you spoke your name. A small offering to the person saving you from solitude. "Ojiro Mashirao." His voice was tenuous, as if the name would offend. It sparked some dull memory in your mind's recesses, some small thread that you were unable to follow. Your rolled his name in your mouth, savoring the syllables as they fell from your tongue.

He turned to you with a soft smile. How long had it been since he's heard his voice from someone else's mouth? How long had it been since you had heard yours? It felt almost foreign at this point. Ojiro had led you to a massive cedar, the branches reaching out to shelter the area with a pitch-black canopy. You watched in awe as he swiftly launched himself onto the lowest limb, his tail propelling him higher and higher.

 He seemed confused when he realized you weren't following. Even if you had wanted to, the nearest branch fell perfectly out of your grasp. You had doubted the large fungi that littered the bark would hold your weight if you tried to scale the tree using them. Ojiro looked almost ashamed as he watched you struggle below.

You were just a lone citizen making your way through this unforgiving world, you didn’t have the advantages of all the training he had. Snaking his way back down to stand before you, he looked down apologetically.

 "May I?" He held his hand out to you, timidly. Touch. Something else you had almost forgotten. Not like you had much of a choice as you placed your hand in his. With no hesitation, he perched you on his back, adjusting his hold before he vaulted into the sky. It was a strange sort of adrenaline that filled you as he raced through the branches. You hadn't felt the wind upon your face this way since the last time you had been in a car.

 He brought you into the main boughs of the tree, thick enough to relax without falling to your death. It seemed as if he had been here for a while. Things littered the branches, sets of clothes, buckets of water, personal effects salvaged from the town. From up here, the animals hidden at your approach wandered around the trunk, as small as ants.

 You weren't ready to let go of Ojiro's firm shoulders, wanting to keep sinking into the warmth he exuded. Yet some sense of propriety still spoke within you, ushering you from his hold. To distract yourself from these feelings, you took the time to really look at your surroundings. Luminescent plants littered the trunk of the tree, and u were so high up that the air started to feel just a touch thinner.

 "Come, I'll set up a place for you to rest. I can't make a fire, for obvious reasons, but if you stay close, I can keep you warm. It gets cold this far up." You nodded, it was logical, but you were still nervous—two years since you had been this close to someone. You watched as he pulled fabrics from branches, settling them in the cradle of the boughs. It was easily big enough to keep a handful of people nestled in its hold. Your eyes stayed glued to his back, watching the muscle tense beneath his shirt. Even that was enough to send a shiver down your spine, so touch-starved that you were aching to run your hands over his back for a taste of someone else's skin.

 He must not have been kidding, laying blankets and scraps of cloth next to the bundle that must have been his. He patted the fabric as he sat in his nest of blankets, ushering you to his side. You slid into the makeshift bed, not bothering with your boots or your clothes. Sure enough, the air turns cold as soon as you stop moving, driving you closer to Ojiro's heat.

 "So, where are you heading, if not to a group?" His voice was barely a whisper, trying to not startle you from your half-awake state.

 “It’s going to sound really dumb… but there’s a bathhouse on the other side of the city. I just wanted an actual bath, even if it’s in a hot spring.” Sure enough, Ojiro chuckles.

 “And after that?” You dazedly shrug, the lull of another body next to you dragging you into sleep.

 “There is no after that.” The last flutter of your eyelashes before they fell still revealed Ojiro looking at you, concern written over his face.

 You awoke with the sun, something your body had gotten used to. Ojiro was nestled into your side, the two of you tangling together in the night. He blinked awake slowly, not making a move to extract himself from your hold. On the contrary, he looked to your eyes, searching for any discomfort. With the part of you that screamed you were acting impolite hushed by the sleep still heavy in your eyes, you moved closer, burying your face in his chest.

 You didn't speak of the morning once the two of you got moving. Ojiro insisted on accompanying you to the bathhouse, and you weren't eager to rid yourself of his presence just yet. His touches became more assured, helping you over obstacles with the support of his hand, wrapping his tail around your waist when you stumbled. Brushes of hands left unspoken but not ignored.

 With Ojiro's help, you were able to get through town much faster than you expected. If you had been by yourself, you would have traveled the roads you used to know, but Ojiro only knew the paths naturally carved into the landscape. Two years of memorizing this city-turned-forest, and by noon you were almost halfway to your destination. It was bittersweet, you weren't sure how you'd react once this taste of his company disappeared. As much as you had adapted, you missed the touch of another. You could only imagine your hands intertwined as someone else's so many times before you started to feel pathetic.

 As you walked, you shared stories of how you had survived this long on your own. Ojiro listened, enthralled, and worried all at once. You had made so many mistakes, had so many close-calls. The fire he had thought burnt out suddenly blazing in his stomach—the need to protect, to cherish. Still, you impressed him with how you swiftly collected edible plants, giving Ojiro ample time to take down a fresh kill for the both of you. It was such a relief, having a decently balanced meal for once. Something both of you were so thankful for, despite the lack of words to voice it.

 The edge of the city was in sight by nightfall. You had hoped that this night would be as peaceful as your first together, but as Ojiro stiffened, you knew it wouldn’t. His hands flew to your waist, gripping you close as he hopped into the nearest tree. While he focused on finding the areas that would best support the two of you, you watched the sounder of boars scrounge through the roots of the tree. You held your breath as they passed underneath. Boars were known to be terribly aggressive, especially in groups. You could only imagine what would have happened without Ojiro by your side.

 You didn't have the luxury of sprawling out that night, instead you were tucked into Ojiro's arms as his tail wrapped around the tree. The two of you had used the knives you carried to cut the green branches into strips, threading and braiding them together to make enough of a rope to secure the two of you together.

 Sleep didn't come easy between the noise below you and your heart pounding against Ojiro. You could feel his heart echo under your fingertips, and could tell he was trying to adjust without jostling you too much. The morning sun warmed your back, the heat of Ojiro's chest dueling with the flush of your face. It was too much, being this close and not being allowed to touch. At this point, you weren't sure what stopped you, yourself, or the fear that Ojiro wouldn't reciprocate.

 It was easy going, wandering through the fields outside the city. It seemed like every place outside of the towns had just become wild instead of the crazy growths that blanketed the buildings behind you. Ojiro still followed you dutifully as you tried to enjoy the calming warmth and dancing grasses around you. It was even harder to find the road that slithered into the adjoining woods with how broken up the path had become. Yet you still soldiered on, the call of the springs ringing in your ears.

 For a moment, you were disheartened. The hotel wasn’t as bad as most buildings, but it still showed the effects of disrepair. Signs hung off the walls, ivy’s climbed and crept through windows, the masonry started to crumble apart. But your hope renewed as you crept around the side towards the back.

 The fences were all but destroyed, some floating through the bubbling waters. Besides that, everything looked… functional. It wasn't as glamorous as you remembered, but the appeal still stood. Ojiro sent you into the dilapidated structure with explicit instruction to avoid any upper floors and to look for some towels while he quickly got to work clearing the debris from the baths. Much of the building had grown damp and musty, the fabrics inside eaten by the bugs inhabiting the walls, but you finally happened upon a room. The doors were cracked ever so slightly, bringing a fresh breeze through the musty air. Hidden in the storage lockers were towels, once fluffy and smelling of lavender, but still usable. The plush against your hand brought another onslaught of excitement coursing through you, running back to Ojiro.

 You breath caught as you returned. Ojiro had done his best to restore the hot springs, and he had stood in the waters, pants rolled up to his knees, trying to place the bamboo fence back into place. His shirt already thrown to the side, letting you admire every dip of his chest and the pull of his muscles as he maneuvered the fencing into place.

 "To give you some privacy." He offered as an explanation after he caught your stare. It could have been the heat of the water, but you swore you caught the hint of a blush as he turned away. You retreated to separate sides of the fence, and you didn't have the heart to tell him that you could see straight through the missing slats. You turned your back to the opening, gratefully peeling the clothes from your body and throwing them into another nearby pool to wash later. Standing bare to the expanse of nature, you slipped into the water. You tried to hold back the groan building in you as you sunk to submerge up to your shoulders in the warm embrace of the water. All the sweat and dirt lifted from your skin, and you couldn't resist moving to stand under a mild waterfall built into the side. In your search, you stumbled upon some real shampoo and various other cleaning supplies, leaving half for Ojiro with his towel. Now you opened the shampoo, scrubbing viciously against your scalp. You repeated this until your hair felt silky against your fingers, running through quickly with conditioner. This was the closest to heaven you could remember, standing under warm water and smelling of lavender and jasmine. Your skin was rubbed a sensitive pink, but pink, all the same, no longer stained by the grasses crushed under your touch or dirt under your nails.

 You had a chance to really look at your body in the dull reflection of dirty glass nearby. You had grown considerably more lean as you learned to survive, but surprisingly not just skin and bone. It gave you a quick rush of confidence. You looked pretty damn good now that you had gotten a chance to wash away all the years of struggling.

 Finally you could just relax, and relax you did. Propped up against the cleanest edge you could find, you let yourself take in the natural wonder around you. You were truly at ease until your sight slipped to the break in the fence. Ojiro faced away from you, body freshly cleaned and shampoo in his blonde locks. The reach of his arms showed off the muscles in his shoulders, and you couldn’t help but admire how the muscles twitched in response to his tail swishing against the surface of the water. Rivulets of water streamed down his body, contouring to the dips and curves as he rinsed the suds away. So lost in following the water down his body, you almost hadn’t noticed Ojiro turning.

 You rushed to hide your staring, ducking your head under the water. You took the time to calm yourself down, to fight the stirring in your stomach at how good Ojiro looked, before breaching the surface once more. Something that was ultimately worthless, as he stood in front of you, reaching out to you in worry.

"Sorry, I saw you slip, and I-" Ojiro's voice faltered as he finally took you in, body not at all concealed by the water around you, and lust blowing out your pupils. It seemed he had also forgotten how bare he was in front of you, the effects of your body on show for you to see. And see you did, eagerly drinking in every facet of his body. The confidence you had found earlier returned, urging you to stand. The cold air enveloped your upper body, sending goosebumps spreading across your arms and pebbling your nipples. Ojiro watched, enraptured by the reactions of your body, but came no closer.

 He didn't mean to at least, but his tail almost seemed to have a mind of its own, slithering towards you. You accepted it with a brush of your hand, lewd thoughts running through your mind. You allowed his tail to trail down your thigh, the tip tickling your sensitive skin, before you slipped your leg around it. Now his tail lay between your knees, and you watched his face as it slowly trailed up your inner thigh. It seemed that this was all he was going to do as his tail pulled away, the red on his face no longer able to be brushed away as a result of the heat, but then he surged towards you. His hands lay on either side of your waist, effectively pinning you to the edge of the hot spring. His head dipped towards yours, a chaste peck placed on your lips. His eyes searched yours, unspoken questions dancing before he allowed his eyes to fall closed, returning to your lips in earnest. You wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him close enough to hook your legs over his lips.

 The water was doing you no favors as he bucked against your heat, and Ojiro could tell too. He wasted no time lifting you out of the water and setting you to sit on the edge. He chased the water dripping down your neck with his tongue, dipping to lap the valley of your breasts. You pushed his hair back from his forehead to watch as he reached up to guide a nipple into his mouth. The warmth of his swirling tongue settled the chill, adding another layer of pleasure to the act. He dropped kisses along your chest as he made his way to the other, a hand trailing down your stomach to prod at your slit. Your legs opened quickly to allow him in, and he groaned against your breast as he dipped a finger into your slick.

 He pulled away to watch your face as he dipped fingers into your cunt, easily stretching you out. You braced yourself on his shoulders, his free hand falling to the small of your back to bring you closer. Ojiro's patience was growing thin if you could judge by how he stole your breath with a kiss, his tongue tracing the seam before dipping in, molding his mouth fully to yours. The sensation of his tongue against yours and his fingers eagerly pressing into your dripping slit.

 The water splashed around his hips as he rutted into the air, quickly pulling his fingers from you. You whined at the loss, eagerly pulling him closer with your legs. He took your suggestion early, adjusting himself to line up with you before plunging in mercilessly. The stretch burned, the water dripping from his cock not a decent lubricant, but it eased with every shallow thrust. You felt yourself grow wet around his length, easing the passage for the both of you, but it still wasn’t good enough. Ojiro’s hands gripped your thighs almost painfully, lifting you from the edge only to settle himself on it, plunging you down onto his lap.

 You were finally full of him, wrapped so wholly around his length. The stone surrounding the sides of the hot spring bit into your knees, but you could hardly care as you rocked yourself on his length. Ojiro groaned, his face falling to place kisses and nips on the juncture of your neck. You were startled as you felt his tail wrap around your waist, the furry tip falling between your breasts. His muscular tail lifted you up, slamming you back onto his length with as much ease as breathing. Your legs fell limp, letting Ojiro use you as a glorified fuck toy. His hands tangled in your hair as he devoured the moans falling from your lips. With his tail fucking you onto his cock, his hands were free to position your legs as he wished, pulling them up to your chest. He was deeper now than anyone had been before, dragging the head repeatedly against a spot that made you writhe in his hold.

 “Please.” He panted against your neck, “Please cum for me, please.” One of his hands drifted in between your bodies as he placed sloppy kisses on your shoulder. He looked almost in pain as he started to draw sloppy circles over your clit, the calloused fingers dragging you to the edge quickly. Your nails bit into his shoulders as you moved in earnest, pleas and moans falling from you like water from the springs.

 The clench of you around his length only spurred him on further, forcing you harder on his cock and rocking your hips against yours before lifting you again. With the rough movement of his tail at your waist, the fingers circling your clit, and his desperate prayers to you, you came with a cry. Ojiro lost himself to your gasps of pleasure, driving himself quickly in and out of your heat until he spilled himself within you, tears pearling on his lashes.

 He was careful with you as he placed you onto the rocks, looking you over for any spots he may have been too rough with you. You heard more than saw him move through the water, coming back to your side quickly. The rough texture of the torn towel in his hand was only slightly softened by the warm water as he took his time cleaning his spend from your legs, laying chaste pecks over every reddening mark on your hips. Ojiro cradled you like something precious before allowing both of you to sink back into the soothing water, enjoying the contrast between the crisp wind and your heated skin.

 “So where are we off to next?” Ojiro murmured against your shoulder.

 “We?” You turned to look at his face over your shoulder.

 "If you'll have me, that is?" You flashed him a soft smile.

 “I don’t think I’m quite ready to leave you behind.” His arms curled around you tighter.

 “I’ll spend every day making sure you won’t want to.”

[happysharkintensifies]

Resolution, Ch.1

Welp. Here it is, folks. the first chapter of my ACOTAR rewrite/re-imagining.

I feel like I might have hewed a bit too close to the original with this. Still, let me know what you guys think.

Chapter 1

The forest was white with snow.

Feyre was crouched low to the ground, her bow and arrow held in a light grip. She shivered silently, breath misting in front of her nose, before it dissipated against the bush she was hiding behind. The cold sent icy fingers through her cloak and ill-fitting boots, and she resisted the urge to stand up and warm herself.

She couldn’t afford to make a noise. Not when she was so close. Not when her prey was finally in her sight.

A deer foraged nearby, a little ways off from its herd. Its ears flicked lazily, nostrils twitching as it nosed around near the trees, completely oblivious to Feyre tracking its every move.

It was close, but not where Feyre wanted it to be. If she tried to reposition, or make the shot now, she ran the risk of making noise and scaring off the rest of the herd. And scaring them off meant more cold, miserable hours tracking them down again.

Feyre couldn’t afford that. Not when she and her family were so close to running out of food. They were down to a loaf of bread and some dried meat. Even if they rationed, it wouldn’t last more than two days.

And so she waited, trying to ignore the cold, the numbing of her fingers, and the flakes that clung to her eyelashes. Winter had been especially harsh this year. Even those animals accustomed to the cold were pulling in deeper into the forest, towards the north. 

Towards Vaenar territory, where the only mortals who would dare to go were either mad or suicidal.

Feyre felt a shiver run down her spine. She fought the urge to check over her shoulder, afraid that she might see some unnatural horror standing silently behind her. Just being in the forest, with the Vaenar border so close, was asking for trouble. There were rumors and warnings whispered back in town; of shadowy beasts that stalked about, eerie voices carrying on the wind, and strange, unnatural persons that slipped in and out of the corner of your eye.

Hunters and trappers would pray desperately, to any higher power that would listen, that they would never run into the Vaenar, or any of their ilk. Rumors still persisted throughout the mortal lands; border towns reduced to splinters, crops burned and poisoned, and people either missing or flayed to the bone. And those rumors were now more and more common.

But it wasn’t like Feyre had much choice. She could either risk her life in the woods, or let her family starve. As far as she was concerned, she would let herself be devoured by a Vaenar before she let the latter happen.

'Not that there’s much of me to devour,' she thought grimly. Hunger had turned her thin and reedy, with a good number of ribs showing. Even now, she felt the hollowness and aching of her stomach.

Her family had mixed opinions, of course. Father had been proud; glad that his daughter had taken up the bow, like her mother. Her younger sister, Elain, was both of the same mind, but she was also fearful; she knew how dangerous the forest could be. And her elder sister, Nesta... Well, Nesta thought she took too many risks and was liable to break her neck one of these days...

A doe ambled into view. Feyre’s thoughts were wiped away, and she tensed. Her grip tightened on her bow, her arrow tracking the animal’s path.

The doe was healthy, a good size for its age. Healthy enough that the meat could feed Feyre and her family for a week. Maybe more.

And it was within good firing range.

Feyre took a deep breath, slowly drawing her bow. She checked, double checked, triple checked her aim, the arrowhead steadily lining up with the doe’s body. One clean shot, into the chest, past the ribs, and through the heart. Then end its misery with the knife.

But then a twig snapped in the distance, and the herd snapped to alertness. 

In an instant, before Feyre could blink, the deer bolted. Frantically, she took aim again, searching for the doe she’d picked out. But the animal had already sprinted away into the trees. Her eyes darted to the other deer, but they had scrambled away as well.

In seconds, no trace of the herd remained, save for loose bark and churned snow.

Feyre’s arms began to burn; her muscles protesting from keeping her bow drawn. Slowly, she let go of the string and felt a lead weight settle in her stomach. That had been her last chance to snag food, and she’d just lost it. Already, she could imagine the looks on her family’s faces as she returned home empty handed.

'No...no no no no… What do I do? Track them again? Can I even track them again? Where do I-'

Yellow eyes peered from the gloom.

Feyre’s breath caught. The wind slowed, then died down. Her heartbeat rose, drumming inside her chest, as if to fill the silence.

A wolf was crouched nearby, unmoving. Even partially obscured by the trees, Feyre could tell it was enormous; large enough that its shoulders were at level with her own. Its jaws alone looked big enough to clamp down on her abdomen and bite her in two.

It was staring right at Feyre, and Feyre stared right back.

A cold, sick fear seeped into Feyre, running down her spine, pooling in her stomach. There were stories of Vaenar that could change their shape, to turn themselves into anyone and anything. They could wear a loved one's face and entice you closer. Or they could make themselves into powerful beats and rip you to shreds.

And that wolf looked far too large to be natural...

She had to run. If that wolf was a Vaenar in disguise, there was no way she could fight it head on. She’d be torn to bloody chunks in seconds.

But then her eyes flicked downward, and she saw, just barely, the twig snapped beneath its heavy paw.

Fear melted away, then boiled to anger. This creature—wolf, Vaenar, whatever it was—had just cost her a week or more of food. Food that could have fed her and her family. And now it was in front of her, staring at her, mocking her for losing her quarry.

Look at you, it seemed to say. Look at your blunt teeth, your weak limbs, your tiny claws. Do you really think, you weak, pitiful thing, that you’ll leave this forest alive?

Feyre grit her teeth in a silent snarl. She lined the arrow up to the wolf’s head and pulled back the bowstring. She’d show this wolf. She’d show this creature what it was to be small and weak.

And if it really was a Vaenar in disguise? Then good riddance. One less monstrosity on this world.

A wet growl rumbled in the wolf’s throat. Its yellow eyes went bright with killing intent, and with a demon snarl, it charged out of the trees in a flurry of snow and twigs.

Paws bigger than Feyre’s own hands tore at the ground. Saliva streamed from its jaws in thick ropes. Its yellow fangs were like tiny daggers aimed at her throat.

Feyre loosed the arrow.

The wolf’s snarl cut off into a whine. It buckled, staggering to a stop as blood spurted from a fresh wound in its side, the arrow sticking out like an angry thorn.

Feyre nocked another arrow. The wolf barked, attempting to resume its charge, but Feyre made her shot again. 

This time it went clear through its throat.

The wolf fell with a thud. It twitched violently, blood spilling from between its jaws, then went limp. The snow around its head was soon painted scarlet. Its mouth moved, but all that came was a wet, choking rasp.

Feyre shot to her feet, another arrow at the ready. Blood was rushing in her ears, and her heart was still thundering in her chest. Scrambling out of the bushes, she drew closer to the beast, and lined her arrow up to its head.

The wolf flicked its gaze up to meet hers, yellow eyes meeting Feyre’s blue-gray. She stopped dead, fingers just shy of drawing the string.

Maybe it was just a trick of the light. Maybe it was just Feyre’s imagination. But she could have sworn that the wolf was pleading with her. It’s pupils were sharp pinpricks, but there was a desperation in them that seemed far too human. And for a strange minute, Feyre felt something that might have been a twinge of guilt.

But then she remembered the deer, the prize that would have been rightfully hers, the meat that could have fed her father and sisters, and her heart hardened again.

“Don’t look at me…”

She drew and loosed for the third time. The arrow sliced clean through the socket and into the wolf’s brain with a sickening wet sound.

The wolf went silent, and the soft rush of wind picked up again. Feyre watched the creature’s body intently, ready to react to the first sign of movement.

But the only thing that stirred was the wolf’s fur, shifting gently in the breeze. There was no sudden rush of snarling and biting. No unnatural spells or devilry. For all intents and purposes, she’d killed a perfectly ordinary— if unusually large —wolf.

‘Not a Vaenar then,’ Feyre thought, lowering her bow. 

Her gaze turned to its fangs, and a shiver ran down her skin. Her bravado melted away, replaced by a fearful realization.

She could have died; if she had hesitated for even a split second, her throat would have been torn open and it would have been her corpse twitching on the ground, her blood painting the snow.

She should have run; put as much distance as she could, scrambled up a tree, hid in its branches. Instead, she’d let her rage take over and acted stupidly.

‘What was I thinking?’

Unbidden, her family came to mind. Elain and Father would be distressed at the lack of food, but would be impressed that she’d felled such a large beast and come out unscathed. And Nesta would scowl at her, berate her for being so foolish and reckless, for letting her emotions blind her to common sense. She’d tell her that Feyre had done the stupid thing again, and nearly gotten herself killed. And so close to Vaenar territory, too...

A low growl rumbled from her belly. With no immediate danger, her stomach had begun to complain again. Feyre gazed miserably around the clearing; the deer wouldn’t be back anytime soon, and it wasn’t like she could stay here and wait.

Which left the wolf, or rather, its pelt. Her family might not eat deer, but at least they’d have some extra spending money. And a wolf pelt of this size would fetch a pretty penny indeed.

Feyre knelt down, setting aside her bow and pulling out her hunting knife. She pushed aside thoughts of her family, and thoughts of the scolding she’d get from Nesta; she’d deal with their concerns later. 

For now, she simply took a deep breath and carefully angled her knife against the wolf’s skin.

Then she made the first cut.

[raineydaywrites]

if i should wake before i die

ao3 link in source!

Summary: Febuwhump day 6: Insomnia

There have been a lot more insomniacs on the Starblaster this plane.

Lup couldn't sleep. It was a relatively recent problem for her. As a child, she'd learned to take every opportunity to sleep or meditate eagerly. It was rare for her and Taako to find a place that was safe enough for that, and refusing to do either always ended poorly for anybody's health.

Even when she'd been having nightmares, it rarely motivated her to give up for too long, usually just switching between mediation and sleep for a little while, depending on which experience involved the most troubling thoughts.

But tonight she tossed and turned unable to get rest of any kind.

They'd had to do this. They hadn't had any other choice- well that wasn't exactly true. They could have tried Lucretia's plan, but that wouldn't have worked much better, and it would have made it really dangerous and maybe impossible to escape to the next plane, so it was, at best, an absolute last resort situation.

That didn't make her feel any better about this plan.

Normally, she'd have qualified something like this as last resort too.

She remembered the robot world, when she had argued so strongly that they couldn't sacrifice other worlds just to stop the Hunger. She'd believed it so vehemently then. She still felt that conviction now. But how was this any better?

Sure, they weren't killing everybody. And they weren't doing anything directly, even. But that didn't change the fact that the devastation was their fault. This plane couldn't handle it forever. And so many people were suffering and dying because of their plan to stop the Hunger.

Yeah, sure, the Hunger was worse. And they had to stop it. But Lup couldn't help but wonder when she'd let her morals slip to this. They hadn't always been this. Somehow, she'd let herself become the kind of person that would do something like this.

And a part of her screamed with self-loathing. Screamed that this was never an acceptable plan. That the only reason they'd all even agreed to it in the first place was because they were so tired of running and suffering.

And they had a right to be tired. But it felt like all they'd done here was push their suffering onto other people instead.

She- she just couldn't do this anymore.

By the time that she was ready, it was the early morning- if this hour could even be called that instead of just late, late, late night. She wanted to leave before anyone could stop her or question her. This wasn't the plan, but Lup couldn't handle it anymore.

Knowing that something she made was destroying whole cities and armies and causing such devastation was more than she could bear. And talking to the others about it didn't help. They all just tried to distract her, or comfort her with statistics, or remind her of why they needed to do this. That wasn't what she needed. She didn't need to forget her problems, or remember the facts of the situation. She was a woman of both thought and action, and she'd spent enough time thinking. She needed to do something.

The hallways were dark, but that wasn't a problem with her darkvision. If anything, it was an advantage, given that not all of her family members had it. What was a problem was that she was tired, emotionally and physically, and her body kept telling her that it was time to rest, even though it wouldn't let her get any.

There was no real danger, anyway. No one would be suspicious of her wandering the ship. She was planning to leave a note, but she hadn't gotten to it yet, so there was no reason for anyone to suspect anything.

She shook her head, forcing the paranoia to leave her mind. She was perfectly safe. It just felt so strange to be hiding something from her family. It was throwing her off.

Her mind was too busy and tired for her to notice the signs that someone was about to turn a corner in front of her, and she walked right into Lucretia before she could stop herself. The two women nearly went down in a pile of limbs, but just barely caught themselves.

"Lup?" Lucretia asked, sounding uncertain. Lup wasn't sure if that uncertainty came from curiosity about what she was doing up at this time, or if it was just because human eyes sucked at seeing in the dark, and Lucretia was just genuinely unsure who exactly she'd bumped into. She decided to answer as if it were the latter, since she didn't want to answer the former anyway.

"Yeah, it's me, Creesh. Sorry 'bout that."

"Don't be. It's as much my fault as it is yours," Lucretia responded, waving one hand as if to dismiss the apology.

"What are you doing up, babe? You should get some sleep," Lup said, her concern for Lucretia and her desire to get Lucretia to leave so she could go about her business unseen out-weighing the fear that the question would prompt Lucretia to ask the same.

"I couldn't," Lucretia said, softly.

"You have to sleep, Lucy," Lup said, voice softening. "I know it's hard sometimes- but it's so bad for you when you don't."

Lup had learned the side of effects of going without sleep or meditation decades before she even joined this mission, and yet they still haunted her. And for humans, who couldn't get away with using meditation to make up for it, it was even worse. Lup couldn't help but be worried for her human crewmates when they weren't getting enough of it.

"Can I make you something?" Lup offered, turning toward the kitchen. "Grilled cheese?"

It was Lucretia's favorite comfort food, she knew, and she rarely turned it down, so Lup was rather surprised when Lucretia shook her head vehemently at the offer.

"No!" She said, louder than she usually would at night, for fear of waking people up.

Lup leaned back a little, surprised at the outburst.

"Okay! I'm not gonna force feed you," she responded, turning it into a joke, even though the thought had definitely occurred to her before, on bad cycles when Lucretia would get so depressed that she stopped eating and started to get too thin for anybody's comfort. It had always been especially upsetting to her and Taako though, even if they didn't admit it. Even before they'd started to admit that their crew was family.

"Sorry," Lucretia said, voice gone quiet again. "I know you were just trying to help. But it's frustrating. Everyone wants to help but nobody is doing anything. It's just all distractions and rationalizations and shitty goofs around here recently."

Lup slumped in on herself a little at that. She understood what Lucretia meant all too well.

"Gods, I know. It's unbearable," she admitted.

Lucretia's expression changed then, went soft, and she reached out and touched Lup's arm softly.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Lup meant to assure her that she was. That she could handle this. The crew knew how badly she was doing with this plan, of course, but saying anything risked her own plan. But the quiet of the night and her own tiredness had her shaking her head 'no' instead.

Lucretia hesitated, clearly unsure of what she could do, before she wrapped Lup up in a tight hug. Lup squeezed back, trying to keep herself from crying, because once she started she wasn't going to stop, and she might spill the details on her plans and end up ruining them.

Lucretia was murmuring comfort to her, but Lup heard her let out a sob of her own, and that was what finally broke her.

They just held onto each other for a long time, crying but less miserable for the sake of being in each other's company.

Lup pulled back eventually, but not all the way. She took Lucretia's hand in her to have something to hold on.

"Come on," Lup said, tugging Lucretia toward the kitchen. "It's not gonna fix anything, but food's not gonna hurt."

Lucretia didn't let go as Lup pulled her along, and she didn't protest anymore.

It wasn't easy to cook with only one hand free, but Lup has always been very good at cooking under less than ideal circumstances. And Lucretia kept handing her stuff when she needed it, often without even needing instruction from Lup. And grilled cheese was basic enough that they made it work.

They sat down at the table, and they kept not letting go, nibbling on their sandwiches in comfortable silence.

"It's not just that I'm mad you wouldn't let me do my plan, you know," Lucretia said, quietly. "I'm not that arrogant. I'm just so afraid of what this plan is doing to us. I always have been."

"Yeah. I think we all know that. We just don't want to talk about it, because we haven't been able to find a single plan that won't hurt people. Yours isn't perfect either, you know?" Lup said, automatically tensing up a little at the topic, given the number of arguments it had already caused.

"I know," Lucretia whispered. Her voice got even softer as she said the next part. "But it wouldn't hurt you. Not like this. It wouldn't put our family in danger like this one does. That's such a selfish way to look at it, I know, but if we're going to have to hurt people either way- I wanted to make sure that we never hurt each other."

Lup was left speechless by the words. Lucretia had never told them that in those words before, and she felt a wave of affection and sadness for her friend.

"Oh babe. Baaaabe. Fuck, I had no idea," she said, and squeezed Lucretia's hand in hers.

"Somebody figured out a way to use the Bulwark Staff as a weapon," Lucretia blurted, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "They- they trap people inside of the shield and bomb them or poison them or bottleneck attack them. I never thought-"

"Lucy," Lup said, choked up on her own emotions. She understood that pain. So well. "Why didn't you tell anybody? We understand- obviously. We want to help you."

"How was I supposed to say that? Even with- this- my device has a smaller death count than any of yours," Lucretia said, and Lup flinched involuntarily. "I didn't want to be- you know, like the person with a sore leg who tells somebody with chronic pain that they know what you're going through when they don't have a clue."

"That's not what telling us that stuff would be," Lup said, voice firm and unwavering. "That would just be- venting to your family. That's what we're here for. Doesn't matter that it's not the same."

Lucretia had started crying too hard to eat her sandwich anymore, so Lup went over to her and squeezed onto the chair she was sitting on, wrapping her arms around her again. And pushing the sandwich away because tear soggy grilled cheese was not on the menu in her kitchen.

Lucretia turned her head to cry into Lup's chest, her body automatically adjusting to Lup's presence on the chair to avoid overbalancing. They were family, after all, comfortable in each other's space even now, when they'd spent weeks circling each other like skittish cats afraid of startling each other.

Lup figured her plans could be put off a little longer. Right now, her family needed her. The world could wait.

[justaghostingon]

A Chance Encounter

Cyrus encounters a stranger wandering in the woods of the dark kingdom, and finds himself sharing a meal. But this strange, fae like girl might have more to do with Hugo and his friends than he could possibly imagine.

Not that he’d notice.

Takes place directly after Cogs in a Steel Heart

Give thanks to @quoththecomic! For letting me use her character Emily.

Read on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27154016

or below the cut

Cyrus hissed as his toe collided with yet another overgrown tree root. This was getting ridiculous. How many unseen tree roots did this dark and twisted forest have? He was almost beginning to miss the eerie black rocks.

No, Cyrus shook his head. He wasn’t that desperate. He’d leave those rocks to Hugo and his friends. He was going home to Mona, and he could brave any amount of horrible tree roots if it meant he’d see her again.

Feeling lighter, he took another step forward, and promptly felt the ground disappear beneath his feet. Cyrus had just enough time to think, Oh no, before a sharp force yanked him upward into the air. Vertigo clashed with blood flow as the world gradually spun back into focus, and Cyrus furrowed his brow as he tried to figure out why the world had turned upside down.

“Gotcha!” A high pitched voice cried, and Cyrus saw a cloaked figure hurrying across the ceiling of the world like a particularly energetic bat. “Wait,” the figure slowed, a frown in their voice. “What are you doing?”

Cyrus blinked. “I’m upside down,” he said. He’d thought it was obvious.

“You’re in my trap!” The figure pulled off their hood to reveal a very angry girl. “I spent all morning on that!”

Cyrus frowned. That was hardly his fault. How was he supposed to see the trap among all the leaves? The girl scowled right back, arms crossed arms crossed in a stance that looked vaguely familiar. Cyrus resisted the urge to ask if she had any relations in the iron kingdom.

A sharp growl came from her stomach, and she slapped a hand over it, a sharp blush flooding the skin not hidden beneath her long hair. The action was so childish it made Cyrus’ stomach twist, feeling like a jerk for making this kid’s life harder. He sighed.

“If you can get me down kid, I’ll give you some of my rations to make up for it,” he offered. The girl hesitated, so Cyrus took a leaf out of Hugo’s book and tried to sweeten the deal. “And I’ll cook.”

The girl waited a moment longer, long enough for Cyrus to feel a little offended. Did she think he couldn’t cook? Sure, Mona did most of the cooking, but he was perfectly capable of feeding himself before she arrived in his life! He opened his mouth, fully prepared to defend his skill, when the girl stepped forward.

In one swift motion she cut the rope and sent him tumbling to the ground. He caught himself with his arms and pushed backwards, flipping to his feet. There were certain advantages to working with alchemists, Cyrus thought as he straightened his shoulders, they had forced him to learn some fairly impressive stunts.

“Join the circus?” the girl asked dryly, one hand on her hip. But Cyrus, who had spent years with Hugo, ignored her quip in favor of rifling through his pockets for his food ration. It was, thankfully, not damaged from when he’d been attached to an exploding firework earlier today.

“I’ll get to cooking,” he grunted as he pulled it out. The girl swiped it out of his hands.

“Not so fast,” she said. “I’m not trusting my food to some stranger who doesn’t know how to tell leaves from a trap. I’ll make this meal.”

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. Last time he checked, cooking had nothing to do with outdoor survival skills. Otherwise people in the cities would have starved long ago. Sure, they were starving anyways, but that was because of corruption, and not from a lack of cooking skills. At least he was pretty sure it wasn’t.

The girl set up the fire, oblivious to Cyrus’ dilemma, and placed a small pan on top that she produced from underneath her cloak. She then pulled out a few vegetables and threw them in the pan with Cyrus’s rations. As she pulled out green herbs too, Cyrus began to wonder how exactly she was able to keep all of it underneath her cloak. Maybe it was magic.

Handling three different things at once didn’t appear to be easy though, and Cyrus saw one of the herb bottles slip precariously to her elbow. He leaned forward and caught it just as the girl did the same. Her hair slipped slightly away from her face, and Cyrus got a glimpse beneath it.

Course grey stone took the place of warm skin, creeping downward like a slow moving poison. Her left eye was an empty white, as unseeing as the marble statues he’d glimpsed in the noble’s district.

The girl reeled back, food falling forgotten between them as her hand automatically went to her hair, holding it back in place to hide the stone. Her body was tense, whether to run or to attack Cyrus wasn’t certain, but he knew he’d have to tread carefully.

He chose his next words with care, knowing they could mean the difference between life and death. What had his grandpa said? Be straightforward? “Are you a fae?” he asked, trying to sound polite.

“Wha…” the girl’s eye widened with surprise. “No!” She shook her head. “Wait, are you?” her single eye narrowed.

Huh. Cyrus had never thought about that before. Was he? He’d always been unusually strong, and keeping up with alchemists certainly wasn’t something ordinary people had much luck with. Still, he’s pretty sure his grandpa would have mentioned if he was a fae. Right?

“I don’t believe so.” He said, “I’ve never checked.” How did someone check these things anyways? Was there some kind of manual of symptoms? How would he explain this to Mona?

The girl let out a sharp laugh, and Cyrus looked up in just enough time to see her press a hand over her mouth. Good. He was glad at least someone was enjoying his dilemma.

“Don’t laugh,” Cyrus grunted with a false frown. “This is an important question! There could be allergies…” What was it that fae were allergic to? Why hadn’t he paid more attention? “...I’d never be able to eat garlic again.” Or was it Ginger?

“I’m pretty sure garlic wards away vampires,” the girl leaned forward, merth in her voice. Cyrus noted some of the tension in her shoulders had lessened.

“Does it?” Cyrus shrugged. “I should probably write that down. Can’t afford to offend my boss.” A cheap shot, but one he knew would have Hugo in stitches, and any other teen with a problem for authority.

Sure enough, the girl gave a snort, Cyrus straightened, pleased with himself as he saw her shoulders finally relax. It was nice to know he still had what it took when it came to dealing with kids.

“I’m Emily,” the girl extended a hand.

“Cyrus,” he said as he took it and gave a firm shake. The food in the pan hissed, and the girl jumped, attention snapping to it as she threw in a few more spices in and pulled it off the fire.

“Food’s ready!” She said as she stirred the pan. Cyrus held out his travel plate obligingly as she dished out half to him. He took a bite and held back a gag. The food tasted disgusting, spices clashing and overpowering each other over raw meat and charred edges. It took all of his self control to eat it without flinching. How had she messed this up so badly? She’d seemed so confident! He wished Mona were here, she’d know how to save it.

Emily devoured the food in front of her with the hunger of the young. Cyrus watched with some amusement as she seemed unable to taste her own cooking, finishing long before he was half way through. She sat back then, balancing her plate on her knee in a lazy fashion.

“You know,” she said, as the breeze ruffled the hair covering her stone eye, “I think you’re the first person to respond to my eye like that. Most people are so horrified they chase me off.”

Cyrus looked up sharply, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. “That’s awful,” he said, and felt a flash of anger at any adults this kid had met before.

“It’s not that bad!” Emily amends, waving a hand in front of her in an effort to seem casual. “I’m good on my own. I can handle anything the forest throws at me.” She nodded her head, as if proud, like this wasn’t the saddest thing he’d heard today.

An image flashed before his eyes, of Hugo waving his hand in disgust as he watched some boys his age running about in the street, a ball between them. “I’m too smart for those imbeciles,” he’d sniffed. “So why would I bother to get to know them?”

“Sound’s lonely,” Cyrus murmured, as he remembered how Hugo’s eyes had followed the ball as it had bounced around. Emily drew back as if he’d slapped her, and Cyrus’ attention snapped to the present.

“Sorry,” he grunted, Emily still looked hurt, and he wished for Mona to know what to say to explain. Yes. Explain. He could do that. “I just got lost in thought,” he said.

Emily raised an eyebrow and Cyrus knew he’d failed at human communication once again. “I used to look after this kid about your age,” he tried again, and Emily’s eyebrow rose higher. “We split company recently, so I guess I was just thinking about him.”

“Oh,” Some of the tension in Emily’s shoulders dissipated and Cyrus could have cried with relief. “What was he like?” Emily asked, glancing to the side as if feigning indifference. “Your traveling companion.”

How to sum Hugo up in a single sentence? Cyrus bit his lip. That wouldn’t be easy. “Proud,” he finally settled on. “And defensive.” Emily cocked her head to one side, hair moving to tickle her nose, and Cyrus knew she wanted him to elaborate.

“He was kinda the worst, to everyone.” He started, because really, there wasn’t any other way to put it. “Like really mean,” Emily blinked, and Cyrus realized he was doing a really bad job of this. He tried again. “He didn’t get along with kids his own age, but always acted like he couldn’t care less, I guess,” Cyrus sighed, “I never realized how miserable he was, until he actually got friends and decided to stay with them.”

“Yeah well,” Emily scowled as she pulled her knees closer to herself. “Sometimes the so-called friends are actually worse.”

“What do you mean?” Cyrus’ brow furrowed. Had he missed something? Was Hugo still in danger?

Emily stiffened at his tone, and Cyrus felt his heart clench. He probably shouldn’t have sounded so concerned. He didn’t want to alarm her.

“Look,” Emily glanced away, not meeting his eyes. “Sometimes people take lonely kids and they try to radicalize them by separating them from their families.” From the bitterness in her voice, Cyrus knew she was talking from experience. He wondered who it was she’d lost.

She glanced up, and apparently read his interest in his face because she continued. “You ever heard of the Saporians?”

Cyrus had to admit he had not. “I’m not the best with countries,” he offered. Which was true enough, as all of Donella’s maps only really focused on ones important to the quest.

Emily gave him a false smile. “That’s fine. Most haven’t. It was conquered by Corona years ago, culture oppressed, the whole deal.” Cyrus nodded, sounded like basic government behavior to him.

Emily twisted a bit of the fabric of her pant leg. “My brother,” she started then hesitated. “He got...radicalized, by a group of friends, way back when we were kids. He thought he was serving his country but people like that? They don’t really care, they just use people's passions to make them into useful tools.”

“You’re lucky you’re such a useful tool,” Donella scowled at Hugo as he glared back after one of their rare fights. “Or I’d have tossed you out years ago.”

Cyrus winced at the memory, remembering how Hugo’s eyes had briefly turned to glass before hiding under their usuall wall of stone. “You got it backwards.” He shook his head. “Anything would have been better for him than staying with us.”

“You shouldn’t sell yourself short like that,” Emily scolded. “You seem like a great dad.” Cyrus bit back a slight chuckle at how completely she’d misunderstood.

“I said I looked after him,” he grunted. “But I wasn’t his father or anything. His mother…” Donella probably cared, deep down. You don’t put up with Hugo that long without caring a little, no matter how useful he might be. He was too much to handle. And there were other moments...but still, he shook his head. “He’s better off with them.” Better off with people who could tell him they loved him, not hide it behind lies and a cold facade. “Besides,” he added as he saw Emily was still apprehensive, “I already made sure the friends were good people.”

“You did?” Emily frowned. “How?”

“I posed as a bounty hunter and tried to kill him,” Cyrus stated bluntly and Emily’s eyebrow disappeared into her hair.

“You did what?” she said.

“I posed as a bounty hunter and tried to kill him,” Cyrus repeated as patiently as possible, mindful that the true brilliance of his plan wasn’t inherently obvious to those outside the thug profession. “And promised not to harm them if they stepped aside.”

“That-,” Emily shook her head, no doubt impressed by Cyrus’ brilliance, “-is the absolute stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Or not. “What if they gave him up?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Cyrus shrugged, feeling that explaining his back up plan, run like hell, would likely only get him laughed at. “What matters is they stuck me to a firework and sent me flying into the sky.”

Emily choked. “They what?”

“They stuck me to a firework,” Cyrus repeated. At her incredulous expression he added, “It was a big firework.”

Emily’s brow furrowed. “And they just happened to have a big firework lying around?”

“Yes,” Cyrus nodded sagely, “the little one seems quite fond of them.” Emily’s shoulders stiffened, and she scrutinized Cyrus like she expected him to tell a bad joke. Cyrus briefly wondered if she knew who he was talking about. But no. That would be too much of a coincidence.

“So you trust them then,” she asked, voice causal. “Even after they blasted you into the sky? That doesn’t seem like the best recommendation.”

Cyrus sighed, looks like he wasn’t getting it across at all. “They know he’s the worst,” he stated. Had he left that part out? “And they still blasted me with a firework to defend him.” There. That got the point across right?

Emily’s brow furrowed as she stared morosely into the dying fire between them. Cyrus didn’t have to see inside her head to know she was deep in thought. It was the kind of expression Hugo would use when he was contemplating a particularly difficult heist he’d have to pull off. Finally she shook her head and pulled herself to her feet.

“It’s been nice to talk to you Cyrus,” she said as she began to kick soil on the fire. “But if I need to start moving if I want to make good use of the remaining daylight.”

A sudden image of Emily sitting all alone and eating her horrible cooking flashed across Cyrus’s mind. His heart gave a strange pang, and he heard himself say, “you could come with me if you’d like.” Emily stopped moving. “My wife would be happy to have you,” Cyrus continued, because he knew Mona would love her. Bad cooking and all. “And you wouldn’t have to wander around in the woods.”

Emily shot him a hollow smile. “Thank you,” she said. “But I can’t. I’ve got a mission to complete. Besides,” She rapped the stone on the side of her face. “I’ve no intention of staying like this forever.”

Cyrus wondered what it was about young folk that had them all running off on quests these days.

“Very well,” he sighed. “But if you ever come to the Iron Kingdom, go to the west district and ask for Mona or Cyrus, someone should point you in the right direction.” If by some strange twist of fate she got there before he did, Mona would make sure she wasn’t chased out of the city for the stone on her face.

“Sure,”  Emily nodded, then shot him a mischievous grin. “And if I see your kid, I’ll be sure to give him your best.”

“Thank you,” Cyrus grunted, but inside he felt his blood run cold. If Emily and Hugo met, he had a feeling whatever kingdom they met in wouldn’t survive the encounter. He hoped Hugo’s friends stayed far away from Emily.

Emily turned, and something slipped from the pouches beneath her cloak. She dove down to catch it, but not before Cyrus saw the smooth wooden carving land on the ground. If Gyrus didn’t know better, he’d have sworn it was a talisman. But that was impossible. Hugo would have told him if one had gone missing. Wouldn’t he?

Emily stuffed it back in her cloak with a look that was almost guilty. “You didn’t see that,” she said.

“Of course not,” Cyrus agreed, sure it wasn’t that important. Emily smiled.

[ambarto]

Break

You ever decide you’re gonna hurt your faves? Silvergifting. Warning: character death, manipulation, mentions of torture.

There was many things Mairon considered himself a master of, and torture was one of those. If pain could be a form of art, then Mairon would be one of the greatest artists of all time, maker of masterpieces that made the whole world shake in fear.

Celebrimbor would also be one of those masterpieces. Once Mairon was done with him, not even the Elf’s own parents would be able to recognize the wretched mess he had made of him. He had invented entire new tools of suffering, just for Celebrimbor, such a brilliant, lovely mind he had that Mairon couldn’t have possibly settled for anything less than the most creative and advanced tortures he could imagine. He had planned to break him, in all ways that were possible.

It was alarming to realize something was going wrong with his plans.

One of the first and most important things he had learnt was knowing how much was too much. Accidentally killing a prisoner was a beginner’s mistake, and depending on the prisoner it could be a great waste of resources. In the millennia he had worked to hone this particular craft, Mairon had perfected the skill of bringing indescribable pain while keeping death far out of the picture.

It had taken him months to break Celebrimbor’s will enough for him to reveal the location of the Nine. Even more, for him to speak of the Seven. Now only the Three were out of Mairon’s grasp, and Mairon had been confident he would have ripped their hiding place out of Celebrimbor’s mouth eventually. Celebrimbor’s will was strong, but that pleased Mairon. He had grown quite fond of the Elf in their years together, it would have been a disappointment for Celebrimbor to crack after a couple whippings. His screams were music to Mairon’s ears, and he fully intended to keep the Elf around for his own amusement even after he had gotten all the information he needed.

But Celebrimbor was dying.

Mairon could not find a reason for it. He knew exactly what he had been doing to Celebrimbor, and it was not enough to put the Elf’s life at risk. There was no explanation for the way Celebrimbor grew weaker and weaker, for how easily he passed out, for how he appeared too tired to even scream.

He lightened the tortures. He ordered his servants to bring Celebrimbor food and water as needed, and of good quality. To force feed him, if necessary. He gave the Elf’s body time to heal, and the meas to do so, but Celebrimbor’s conditions did not change.

He switched the tortures from physical to psychological. He came into Celebrimbor’s dreams, he created visions of despair, playing on all the fears hiding in Celebrimbor’s mind. He came to Celebrimbor in the form Annatar had worn, spoke to him the sweet lies he had fed Celebrimbor for decades, let Celebrimbor think for a moment that it was all over, if only Celebrimbor said the word, if only he crumbled at last.

Celebrimbor only moved closer and closer to death.

It infuriated Mairon. There was no reason, no sickness or poison to justify Celebrimbor’s rapid and unexpected demise. Mairon knew the Elf’s body perfectly. He knew how long Celebrimbor could work before exhaustion caught up to him, all the old wounds and scars he had received in past centuries, which places to touch to make him moan in pleasure. Mairon had spent years observing Celebrimbor, sharing his house and his bed, there was nothing he could have missed.

“What is wrong with you?” he hissed, holding Celebrimbor’s face up. The Elf’s old beauty was no longer there, some would say, although Mairon disagreed. The scars and bruises suit Celebrimbor well, each cut had been delivered with precision, leaving Celebrimbor’s face even improved.

The paleness, however, was not just a product of pain and lack of sunlight.

Contempt shone in Celebrimbor’s eyes. “You should know, Sauron.”

He did not. Days passed, with Mairon going so far as to get healers to take a look at Celebrimbor. They did not find anything he had missed. Mairon hated not knowing something almost as much as not being in control, and the current situation was a mixture of both.

He built a garden of illusions in the cell Celebrimbor was held, and clothed himself in Annatar’s face, and sat with Celebrimbor’s head in his lap. Carefully he pushed away all anger and frustration, and smiled instead as Celebrimbor woke from sleep.

“Annatar...?” Celebrimbor whispered. His face shone with joy for a moment, but the expression fell right after. “Leave me.”

He had spoken, at least. Even words were hard to get from him as of late. And yet Mairon could see that Celebrimbor was only getting worse. “Why? Are you not happy to see me?”

Celebrimbor’s laugh was broken, nothing of the sound it had once been. “Torture me in other ways, I beg you.”

Mairon brushed a lock of dirty hair out of Celebrimbor’s face. “Torture you? My beloved, you wound me. How could you say this is torture? Have we not spend many moments such as this before?”

Celebrimbor closed his eyes. His head shook, cracked lips moving without sound. He did not attempt to push Mairon away, as he had done many times before. He did not move his body at all, only laid, entirely limp.

The connection of fea and hroa was weaker than it had ever been before. Fury mounted in Mairon’s chest, but he forced his voice kind. “Tell me, Celebrimbor. Tell me what is on your mind. If you talked to me, then all of this would be over. I never wished you ill, I only did this because you left me no other choice. Do you not understand? Talk to me, and I will take you to my bed, and cover your wounds in kisses, and never harm you again.”

The motion of Celebrimbor’s chest grew slower. He was slipping from Mairon’s finger, and Mairon was unable to stop it.

“Tyelperinquar!” he called. “Will you abandon me? Did you not say you loved me? Did you lie, when you told me you wished to spend eternity by my side?”

Blue eyes opened again, and almost no light was behind them. “I did,” Celebrimbor whispered. “I was a fool to love you. But you were one too, to allow me to.”

No words nor shouts had any effect on Celebrimbor. Mairon screamed, shook him, even begged him. Celebrimbor was a limp doll in his grasp. His heart still beat, for a while after, but even before it stopped Celebrimbor was as if dead already. His eyes had rolled back into his head after he had spoken those last words, and now they were unseeing.

Mairon put all his magic into keeping Celebrimbor’s fea in place, but it was no use. His powers had never laid in that area. But even a servant of the Feanturi would have never been able to stop death from taking over Celebrimbor, not even Namo himself had the power to keep a fea anchored to the hroa once it was time for it to leave.

He cursed when at last Celebrimbor slipped from him. Rage and fury burned in his heart. Where had he gone wrong? How had he failed this? Celebrimbor should be alive! It was impossible for Mairon to have overlooked even one weakness of his body and mind. He was a master of torture. He knew exactly where to cut, where to push, where to break. Celebrimbor had been well fed for days now, and kept warm, and no harm had been brought to his body-

Mairon stopped in his tracks. He had begun pacing the small cell, and the flames of his anger had scorched the stone, but he did not notice. He still was in Annatar’s form, the one so dear to Celebrimbor, the one Mairon had been using, the one he had foolishly thought would harm Celebrimbor less than injuries to the body.

Elves. Elves. Mairon had made his way into Celebrimbor’s heart in order to manipulate him, it had not been his plan in the beginning, but it had worked well. He had thought it an advantage. He had hoped that things would be easier, if he had Celebrimbor’s love.

How had he been so utterly foolish as to forget that the heart was the one thing of Elves that should never be broken?

[thestarkerisobvious]

The Man Who Inherits The Spellbooks

inspired by @starker-sorbet​        

A snugglefic for @mrstarksbabyy​

With great thanks for the betaread by @mrstarksbabyy

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

It took three nights for Tony to recover from feasting on Mr. Lovelace’s sickness.  They met every night in dreams, holding each other and talking.  As far as  Peter was concerned, he could spend the rest of his life like that, snuggled in Tony’s arms, legs intertwined, skin to skin.  Nothing embarrassed him in dreams.  In dreams, those things didn’t matter.

In real life, Peter hid his erection by angling his body away from Tony, or by turning around completely and bunching up the covers.  When Tony fed, Peter’s stiffening cock, just like the rest of his body, simply relaxed.

But in dreams, Tony made a much more practical suggestion. 

“It is sweet,” Tony crooned, his fingers playing with the hem of Peter’s boxers.  “It is your light.  It is more nourishing than tears, more nourishing than fear.  Like the sweat of your brow, like the touch of your skin, like the warmth of your mouth…”  He kissed Peter, his tongue slipping inside as demonstration.  “It would feed me, Master.  It would heal me.  It would make me strong for you…” 

Peter really couldn’t argue with that logic.  Not while Tony was struggling to recover from saving Peter’s family from Mr. Lovelace.  Tony was still thin and drawn in the dreams where they met, all because Peter had sent him out to fight Mr. Lovelace without specifically saying “And don’t eat up all his cancer while you’re there.”  

Besides, Tony could be very convincing.  And his mouth was so 

perfect; warm and skillful.  Just greedy enough to make Peter feel wanted, just gentle enough to make Peter feel safe.  And Tony’s strong hands, holding him so firmly as he gave himself over to the release, became so tender and soothing when it was over.   

And in the morning, there was no evidence that it had been that kind of dream.  And that kind of dream, Uncle Ben had assured him, was perfectly natural, no matter what the First Devil’s church said.  Peter wasn’t supposed to worry about it.  

So he didn’t.

Peter was so happy dreaming, he never wanted to get out of bed.  He, May and Ben took several days off after the DeSlaughters called them, explaining how they had given Mr. Lovelace a 6 am ride to the hospital.  But those two days were dull, Tony-less days, days of endless interviews with police (now that it was clear Sheriff Bentley’s cousin had brain cancer, they were far more interested in acknowledging all the crazy stuff he had done BEFORE he had tried to visit Peter’s family in the middle of the night with his service pistol in his hand and his 44 tucked into his waistband) and endless visits from Neighbors Bearing Casseroles.  Aunt May explained that, with Mrs. Lovelace being dead and Mr. Lovelace dying in a hospital, the citizens of Devil’s Holler were desperate to complete the Ritual of Casserole with someone.  The DeSlaughters had it worse, casseroles filling up their refrigerator and the freezer in the garage.  The two families ate together every night for a week; great feasts around the Post dinner table as they diligently tried to consume all the food their neighbors had burdened them with.  Peter couldn’t complain – it was hard to complain when you were presented with multiple desserts every night.  He consumed calories dutifully, knowing he was also feeding Tony.  

Finally Tony emerged from under the bed, healthy and strong.  His hair and short-cropped beard were jet-black again, his handsome face carefree.   “Where did these come from?” Peter teased, running his hands over newly formed muscles on Tony’s upper arms, almost as thick as Peter’s own.  He felt a flutter in his stomach as Tony wrapped those strong arms around him to feed, molding their bodies together.

After he fed, Tony held Peter close and explained how he had been instructed to remove tumors from the body as early as the monastery days.  They made him stronger, far stronger than feeding on farm animals, although it took time and “light” before the poison itself was neutralized.  It was an ancient magic that was inherent to his summoning, something he did on instinct, without waiting for orders or even permission.  

“Wait, are you saying you could… is that how Evan Post lived to be so old?  You can cure cancer?”

“Cure?  No.  I do not ‘cure.’  I consume.  Pain is mine to consume, and some krebsartig.  Not all.  There were spells for injuries, the loss of blood, the loss of a limb.  When tasked I could lie down with my charge…”  Here he began pressing his body to Peter’s again, but Peter turned around and pressed his back to Tony’s chest, angling his potential erection the other way.  What Tony did with his mouth was for dreams only.

“…I would persuade the heart to continue beating, long after it longs to cease.  I can prevail upon the lungs…”  He ran strong hands up both sides of Peter’s chest.  “To continue to move.  The brainpan,” he combed tender fingers through Peter’s hair ”to keep it’s light, long after the light wished to depart.  Oh, I can do this for a very long while, when I am strong enough…”

“So you could… if anything happened to Uncle Ben or Aunt May…even though they aren’t Posts… but if they had cancer you could…”

“I am yours,” Tony murmured, kissing the back of Peter’s hands.  “You called me, you named me.  I serve you now, and because they are yours, I serve them.”

“And I could… could I send you into a hospital?  If I did could you…”

“Strangers are more difficult, strangers require the spellbooks.  Mayhap a good, fat swine.  Maybe two…”

“Mr. Lovelace wasn’t a stranger?”

“Philip Lovelace trod upon my covenant ground.” Tony’s growl against the center of Peter’s back covered his arms in gooseflesh.  “His entire body was forfeit to me.  I could have consumed his flesh and left nothing but dust in the road, but my most gentle Master…”  he kissed skin between Peter’s shoulder blades.  “…has forbidden me thus.”

“But you cured his cancer.  I mean you didn’t cure it, it’s all over his body and he’s still dying from it but… but you were taking away his tumors even as you were trying to make him too sick to walk all the way to our house.  I’m not… you did very well,” he said firmly, putting his hand solidly on Tony’s chest.  “You did very well.  You were brilliant.  But you were right, he was far too used to ignoring pain for our strategy to work.  And your Tall Man vision was just beautiful, but he was too crazy to care.  Given how long he was willing to stand there and talk to you.  I can’t imagine anything you could have shown him was scary enough to compete with what was going on in his own diseased head.  Making him think he was going in the wrong direction over and over again, that was brilliant.  It was perfect.  You did well, Tony.  Thank you.

“I just wish… if only you could have told me what was happening, I could have helped you.  Laying down in the middle of our road would have been fine, no one was going to run over him there at 3 in the morning.  And I still would have fed you, you could have eaten all his tumors after you knew he wasn’t walking anywhere.”  He smiled and stroked Tony’s hair.  “And if he had just gone to sleep, I know you would have convinced him to just go to the hospital.  You could have convinced him to do anything.  You’re the dreammaster.”

Tony glowed under the praise, nuzzling his head into Peter’s hand.

That gave Peter an idea.

“Tony, were you… you were… were you a cat that night?  At the door?  It was so late at night I can hardly remember.”

“When I came to the doorstep, yes.  Small, ugly things are easy.  They take little strength.  Being a handsome man for you, that takes nourishment…” he said slyly, slipping the two fingers of Peter’s left hand into his mouth.

Peter let him feed.  He was still sitting on the bed, thinking.  “If you could be… if you were a cat you could have come into the house.  You could have sat next to Aunt May and feed on all her fear and that would have given you the strength you needed to do what you did on the road.:”

“Cats aren’t allowed in the house.”

“What… what?!”

Tony had mumbled the words around Peter’s fingers in his mouth, and Peter couldn’t believe he had heard them right.

“Why did you say that?” Peter said, suddenly pulling his fingers out of his friend’s mouth.  “I never told you that.”

“It’s the Mistress’ rule,” Tony said humbly. 

Peter’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.  He stared at Tony, speechless.

“Cats are not allowed in the house,” was the rule.  It was Aunt May’s rule.  Although Peter had never told Tony that.

Then again, “If it has a name, it is a pet,” was Uncle Ben’s rule, and Peter wasn’t sure he had ever told Tony that either.

“Tony, are you following Ben and May’s rules too?”

“They are the Master and the Mistress of the house,” Tony said quietly, calmly, as if explaining things to a stubborn child.  “They sleep in the Master Bedroom…”

“…where the Patriarch and Matriarch of the family sleep, that’s why it’s called the ‘Master Bedroom’ not because it has a bathroom attached, they told us that when we bought the house,” Peter said, rocked by the revelation.  His head was spinning.  When the realtor was giving them the “Full Disclosure,” which meant explaining where Evan Post’s body had been found in the house, they had described the Post tradition of the leader of the family being announced by who slept in the ‘Master Bedroom.’  The realtor described how, in the Post family, the title of “Patriarch” was NOT passed down, always, from father to son, but sometimes from brother to brother, and occasionally from father to Man Chosen By Daughter.  What he was describing, Peter later learned, was the man who inherits the spellbooks, the man who had the ultimate control of Tony.

“Tony…” Peter said, trying to speak coherently despite the new turbulence in his brain.

“It is… it is good that you… I’m glad that you are going to take care of Aunt May and Uncle Ben.  That’s a good thing.  But Tony?  If either one of them ever says something that starts with “I Wish” you cannot do it unless you ask me first.  No fulfilling wishes… or letting them task you to do something, without asking me first.  And even I can’t task you to do something without using the formula…”

“Aunt May doesn’t want you to watch those naughty shows on the new channels…”

“Stop!”  Peter’s back was turned, but he whipped around now and put his fingers on Tony’s lips.  Just the words “the new channels” sent a guilty thrill through his entire body.

“I know what Aunt May thinks, but I’m the boss of you… I mean… I mean we’re friends, right?”  Tony didn’t even seem to be paying attention.  He was kissing and licking Peter’s fingertips and looking content.

“Besides, I’m nearly 17 and I think I’m at least “Master” of what I see on HBO…”

“You are my master.  You called me.  You named me.  You feed me…”  He gave a lurid smile and took Peter’s entire pointer finger into his mouth and began sucking obscenely.

“Stop, you don’t even feed from that one,” Peter said giggling, pulling his hand away and drying it on the sheets.  Tony moaned and reached for Peter’s hand, but his look was playful.  Peter shook his head.  He had let Tony suck on his fingers for so long it seemed perfectly normal, but just now he was remembering other things Tony could do with his mouth…

“Tony, quit, I’m trying to tell you something very important.  Listen,” Peter said, scolding a little, keeping his hands behind his back.

“I really, really, just-say-nojoke, for serious, really really mean this.  May and Ben don’t know you exist.  When they start talking about what they want or what they wish they aren’t talking to you.  If you get any ideas about doing something for them you must come to me first. 

“I mean it Tony,” Peter continued as he finally gave his hand back to Tony, who kept inching toward it.  “If Aunt May says ‘I wish that horrible man in the White House would just die’ you can’t go making any trips to D.C.  Do you understand?”

“Is the White House still 12 leagues west, 88 and one half-league south?”  he asked carelessly, scraping his beard across the back of Peter’s fingers.

Peter’s mouth opened and closed, but no sounds came out.  

“Two leagues east of Little Island on the Potomac River?”

He smiled slyly at Peter’s reaction.

“I know the way.”

Peter’s jaw hung open.

“Do Woodrow Wilson’s sons still rule the Americas?  Nay… nay t’would be his grandsons…”

“Tony…”

“I know where they sleep…” Tony said with a wicked grin and began kissing Peter’s fingertips one by one. 

“Tony.”  Peter forced the words through his slack jaw, his dry mouth.  “Who showed you to how to journey to the White House?”

“Jedediah Post.”

“The stock market genius… oh god.  Tony…?  Tony could you… can you make people dream things, and then they might do the thing…”  Peter stopped and tried again.  Suddenly his brain was buzzing with possibilities.

“Tony, can you actually use dreams to make people do things they really, really don’t want to do?”

Tony was clearly irritated at this line of questioning.  He dropped Peter’s hand and scooted away on the bed, one arm tucked under his head.  But his eyes were looking up, which meant he was thinking about the question.

After a few moments he said “The Post Patriarchs dreamed about burning the books upon their death.  Dreamed of it over and over.  For three generations, they dreamed of it.”

“But only Evan Post actually did it for you,” Peter concluded.  Tony shrugged.  Then grinned.

“Alright, that answers my question.  That’s… that’s some amazing power you got there.  But it’s important you remember; Aunt May wishes death to politicians on a regular basis, so don’t take it seriously…”

“I can only travel that far if I am fed…”  Tony said, smiling again, sneaking one hand to Peter’s waist, then lower.

“I told you, that’s just for dreams,” Peter said, pushing his hand away.  He didn’t want to have this argument again, so he tried to change the subject.

“Now please answer this question – if cats were allowed in the house, could you be a cat inside the house and be somewhere else at the same time?  It would be a very helpful thing if you could do that… what?”

Tony’s playful look had gone.  He sighed heavily and sat up, pulling his hand away from Peter’s body.  He reached out to touch a place on Peter’s chest, a place just below Peter’s left nipple, but dropped his hand again.

“What?”

Tony did not speak.

Peter put his hands on both sides of Tony’s head and looked him directly in the eye.  “Tony, I really, really, just-say-nojoke, seriously...”

“It will hurt you,” Tony said very softly.

“No.  It won’t… it won’t hurt to tell me. 

“Just give me the information,” Peter said gently.  “Information doesn’t hurt.”

Tony looked up at him warily.  His face was younger, but his eyes were still infinitely old.  He shook his head.  He clearly disagreed. 

[amnachil]

The College Society Chapter 4 Part 9

Next part!

Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey Saturday April 20

What had he said again ? I won't protect you anyway. Right. Fucking joke. Who the hell had he tried to fool ? His past self would've laugh so much at his actual self. He was fucking ridiculous. He perfectly knew Lucy the whore had something in mind. She and bitchy Miranda wanted to catch Liam, he had no doubt about that. Pretty obvious that the loser would take Doll man. They even bring along a third weel for Fatty roommate. Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey had all the reason in the world to go there and fuck the two dickhead right away. So why on earth was he hidden behind a fucking tree ? Why the hell was he only watching for afar uh ? Oh yeah the plan. Because Liam thought he could deal with that alone, the Dean's grandson had decided to trust him. What an idiot I am. Anyway, it would be good for his boyfriend if he was able to do something by himself. It would help his confidence. And a confident Liam was a ballsy and naughty Liam. A win-win situation. If only the baboon manage to escape the so-called witch, that is. The group headed towards the subway and he followed suit. He observed them through a newspaper, which attracted the attention of two old hags. Want to suck my dick ? I'm already dying of embarassment, don't make it harder. For now, Lucy was doing most of the conversation. Miranda tried to cling on to Liam, but he slipped away. Nice one babe. Eventually, they arrived at their destination : a fancy restaurant, which also had a dance hall. Would you believe ! Fuck the site which had revealed the baboon was a walking stomach.

"Sir are you alone ?"

Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey glared at the waiter.

"What do you think moron ? One table, and not far from this group."

The idiot looked at the pointed direction and made a face. Oh please.

"I'm sorry but..."

"Here's my ID. My family owns this place. Any other remark ?"

"No of course not. Follow me sir."

Yes, the junior knew this poor waiter only did his job. But damn he was just so pissed. I'll contact him later for sex. Hope it will make it even.

To say Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey was interested by the way Liam ate was completly wrong. It just happened in front of him so often that he became used to watch. Speaking of, watching the baboon from afar made the junior almost moan in public. Almost. Fuck that. I hate this world. Liam wasn't a messy eater at all. Quite the opposite actually : he had a certain charm and timidy while eating. He always started by his less favorite dish, and at a slow pace. Throughout his meal, his speed would increase. The baboon made always a point at being well-groomed and now wasn't an exception. From his spot, Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey observed him licking his lips several times. And damnit that was hot. The idiotic girls gave many plates to the baboon but they didn't feed him, which probably saved their life from the junior's wrath. Liam's body language was graceful, with no useless movement. His eyes. They're shining so much it blinds me from here. Damn. Damn. The waiter didn't comment on the Dean's grandson weird behavior, but he obviously saw his hard-on. You would be aroused too if your boyfriend was that hot ! Fuck you. Around the fourth or fifth plate (nobody counts those), another thing happened. Liam's belly started to grow. It was nothing but Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey was staring too much to not notice. The baboon had always been attractive. His recently acquired chubbiness made him even more handsome. And when he started to get stuffed... This is terrible.

"Sir, do you want anything with your coffee ?" asked the ever-patient waiter.

Man. I just... Fuck.

"You. Me. Bathroom for a quickie. Is that fucking alright ?" the blond lad suggested.

"We can do that." smiled the other.

When he came back in the room, he felt calmed. His desires were temporaly satisfied and the waiter had been nice enough to forgive him for his rudeness. After that, I'm sure he would've offered me the moon. Fatty roommate was still at their table with Third weel. As for Liam, the two bitches dragged him and Doll Man to the dance floor. For now, the baboon was barely moving, just watching them wriggle like two turkeys. Maybe I should go there and put an end to this ridiculous date ? Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey's phone suddenly rang.

"Best spy of the world to biggest penis of the world." said Nancy when he answered. "Got news for you."

"I'm listenning."

"I managed to track the IP of the moderator of the site in Canada." she revealed. "His name is George Blikes."

One dead man. I swear once I find you dude.

"But that's not all." Nancy continued. "I did a check of his background and bingo ! George is Samy's ex from highschool. Officially they're not in contact anymore but it's easy to keep these things secrets now."

"Samy." Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey muttered.

This... Fucking braindead asshole. Stupid fuckup. She would never see the light again. I need to call D.R. That could wait. Once his boyfriend safe, he would pay the asshole a visit. A very awaited visit. However, he had another problem at hands. Because his boyfriend just broke Lucy's nose with a probably deserved but yet violent punch in the face.

Liam Saturday April 20

"Are you sure you don't wanna dance ?" asked Lucy for the third time.

"I'm fine thanks." the lad politely declined.

Throughout lunch, he had understood two things. Firstly, the witch intented to charm him in order to corrupt his energy. This way, she would poison the unicorns and kill them. Secondly, the force of lights were stronger than he had imagined. It's no surprise the unicorns sent Colton to help me. His friend's dance was so graceful that it fascinated the human sacrifice named Miranda. And Nick was distracting the other, a girl Lucy introduced as Velma. The chestnut lad himself was well-fed and in top form. I can focus on our main ennemy : the witch. She smiled to him.

"Tell me pretty boy, I heard from a friend you were into food games a lot. I have an offer for you." she suggested. "I'll let you do things to me for each additionnal plate you eat. How does it sound ?"

Very evil ? He had yet to find a way to defeat her without violence. Maybe he needed to reason her...

"It's tempting." he lied. "At least the food part."

I wonder what Damian would think about that. Liam could do many things to him while stuffing his face with delicious cuisine. Maybe stripping him one clothe after the other for each plate he finished... And why not make bolder and bolder caresses, going closer to his intimate parts...

"You're dribbling." Lucy hissed. "Are you that much of a feedee ?"

The young lad blushed. Whatever he had been thinking was better forgotten. Or not. (He mentally decided to keep the idea for latter). Anyway back to the main topic. He had a witch to beat.

"Why're you doing this ?" he asked. "What did they promise you in exchange ?"

She blinked, seemingly confused.

"Can't a woman woo a man she finds attractive ?" she countered. "You're my type you know ?"

"C'mon I know you've a purpose... Do you know this is bad ? You shouldn't force people to do things they don't want. You look like a nice girl, you should follow the right path."

He was kinda proud of his little speech. Let's hope it'll make her change her mind. Lucy frowned and took several seconds to think. Maybe something was bothering her ?

"Is it about the money ?" she finally asked. "We can share if that's what you want."

The forces of evil hired her of course. Maybe it was Liam's own father who did such a malevolent thing ?

"Sorry but you won't corrupt me that easily. I don't want any dirty money. And you neither, it only brings problem. What if the cops are after you ?"

He was convinced the police were an army enterily built by the unicorns to maintain order. Lucy grunted.

"Nobody has to know. It'll be fast, just some photo and we're good..." she mutterred. "Don't be a prick."

The chestnut lad was about to decline (again) when his phone rang. Surprisingly, it was his sister Chloe. What is it ? She never calls unless it's important.

"Sorry but I need to take that." he said.

He entered in the bathroom to talk peacefully. A groggy waiter was leaving, but otherwise, it was empty.

"Hi sis." he answered.w "Is everything okay ?"

A muffled noise told him it was not. He had been knowing Chloe for the fifteen years of her life and he could count on one hand the times she had cried. Even as a baby, she had been way more tough than Luka or him. The last time he heard her sobbing was when he had been accused of manslaughter. It was a sound he resented. A sound he was hearing now.

"Chloe ? What it is ? Can you talk ?"

She only cried louder. He cursed his own helplessness. Why was he here and not with her ? What a stupid big brother ! Stop that Liam. Now is not the time to lament on yourself. She needs you.

"I'm here sis. Right here." he assured. "You can cry as much as you want, I won't leave until you're feeling better."

"It's silly." she mumbled. "Sorry for worrying you."

Don't be. Don't do that. She had always been very mature and serious. A commom joke between them was to call her mother number two. But Liam would always worry about her. She was still a teenager. In light of his past actions, she had often kept her feelings for herself to not put any additional pressure on him. That was his beautiful and strong sister, who always protected him.

"I..." she whispered. "I just miss mom. That's stupid isn't it ? I lost a race today and I was so disappointed. I needed someone to talk but heck, all my friends are in another town. My mother is in another town. And I can't call her when I'm like that. She'll blow a fuse and come right away."

He never hated his family's situation more than at this moment.

"Can I tell you my day ?" she asked. "Just for a moment and I'll be fine."

"Whatever you want sis. Whatever you want."

When he left the bathroom, Liam had only one desire. To sleep. Even if it was only three in the afternoon and he had work later. Chloe was feeling better, which was a plus, but it only made him realise how everything was still so... wrong. She's way stronger than me that's for sure. However, the freshman barely got the time to breath. Lucy alsmot went for his throat.

"Welcome back handsome." she chirped. "What took so long ?"

"That's not your business." he replied. "And I'm sorry but I need to go."

He could feel an headache incoming. I'm so tired.

"Certainly not." the girl said. "I didn't suck my ego to hit on a dumbass like you for nothing. Come here."

She grabbed her arm and tried to lead him towards the bathroom. Which was ridiculous because he was bigger and heavier.

"Let me go please." he asked. "I'm not in the mood for anything you want to do."

Lucy ignored him. She strengthened her grip, making him wince in pain. He tried to free himself, but the girl suddenly pushed him on the wall. Her hands find a way to his crotch. And that was the final straw. He has enough of her, her scheme and her rudeness. Couldn't she let him alone ?! Pushed by his instinct, he did what he thought necessary to made her back off. He distincly heard a loud crack when his fist smashed her face open. He felt more than he saw everyone looking at them. He heard her scream of pain. And his slow brain realised he was doing another panic attack.

"You hit me in the face !" she yelled.

All he noticed was the blood. He heard thunder. Someone shouted.

"Kilian !"

No. No no no. A familiar head of blond hair ran towards him. He was back one year ago on this road. The young lad paniced. He knocked whoever tried to grab him over. He glanced at the exit. It wasn't far. Maybe he could go for it.

"Liam Strucker, you're charged of manslaughter by the present tribunal. What do you plead ?"

The chesnut lad ran. His legs moved on their own.

"What do you plead ?"

The crack of Lucy's bones resonated in his mind. He pushed the door and hurtled in the street. He had no time to lose. He needed to go the farthest possible.

"What do you plead ?"

Guilty. I'm guilty of everything. I hurt Kilian. I destroyed my family. I hurt Lucy. I did all that.

Nicolas Saturday April 20

The not-a-date rendez-vous went from 0 to 100 in a split second. The young lad was discreetly trying to play at pokemon while Velma was making the conversation when they heard the scream. The first thing he noticed was Liam's fist, covered in blood. Lucy fell on her knees, writhed in pain. Holy shit. Everything went crazy. Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey left his hideout (not that he was very discreet to begin with) and rushed towards his boyfriend. But this one didn't hear him. He jostled a waiter and ran to the door. Nick barely had the time to get up before his roommate disappeared in the street. What the hell was that ?

"He hit me !" shouted Lucy. "That fucking moron hit me !"

Her friends were already at her side. Miranda was agitated, while Velma only watched from afar. Something is wrong.

"What took him ?" asked Colton. "He's usually better at handling his emotions."

"Dunno dude." the geek replied.

They both came closer. Her nose is broken. That's not pretty.

"He'll hear about me !" Lucy assured. "I swear to god, I will report him ! This prey is crazy ! The hunt is not worth it."

Nick froze. What did she just say ? Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey ordered her to shut the fuck up. He then turned to the boys.

"Doll man, Fatty roommate. We need to find him before he does something even stupider. Any ideas ?"

Colton answered, but the dark-haired freshman didn't listen. The hunt ? His brain was thinking fast. Imagenius talked about a reward. And Beauty admitted her boss was Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey... Is it possible that Liam is the prey ? Is he being used ? It would explain why a lot of their fellow students were interested in him. (Yes Liam was hot, but nobody was hot enough to interest that many people, except maybe this soccer player Muller something).

"Earth to fatty roommate !" yelled the Dean's grandson to get his attention. "Colton is going to the park and I go to Pasta's Place just in case. You go back to your apartment. If he's not here, check with Nate if he has any idea. Okay ?"

Nick ogled him. Could he be only involved for the reward ? Now wasn't the time to think about it. They needed to find Liam. But I will clear that mess up...

When he arrived at the apartment, the dark-haired lad knew Liam would be there. A trail of broken trash can said it all. He entered silently, hoping to find his friend in a better mood than half an hour ago.

"What the hell happened back there dude ?"

Nick shrieked like a girl when a tall shadow blocked his view. A monster !! He heard the sound of chewing.

"Woah chill pal. It's me."

He finally noticed Archie. For someone his size, this damn footballer could be very discreet. He scared the hell out of me that bastard. It wasn't unusual for him to come over and talk with Nate when they were away. He's a friend of Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey... I wonder if he's a hunter ?

"So ?"

"Liam freaked out because of what Lucy did." explained Nick. "I don't know the specifics, but it was related to the hunt or something ? He paniced."

If Archie knew something, he hid it well. He looked at the geek with his two big eyes and grabbed an handful of crips.

"Damn that sucks." he said. "Nate is with him right now so Imma get going. Text me if there is anything I can do."

"Sure."

Nick waited an hour before he sent a text to Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey. To let my poor roommate breathe. Then, himself knocked at Liam's door. Nate opened and outlined a brief smile. Behind him, it was pretty clear that their friend had fallen asleep. He had work tonight, but maybe her boss would be cool about it. Once he was sure everything was under control, the dark-haired lad headed to his bedroom. He heard the Dean's grandson strom into the apartment, but it wasn't his problem anymore. I have a more urgent business. There is something really weird going on and I want to find what. It was for Liam's safety but also to satisfy his curiousity.

*TheSavior opened a private chat with Abeautifulwoman*

< TheSavior : Yo. >

< Abeautifulwoman : You put a period ! Is it your diet ? Look idk how fat you are but I'm sure you can get rid of a few kilo easy peasy ! I believe in yu boss ! >

Yeah I'll come back to you about that. Until now, he hated this whole diet idea with his whole being. But it was necessary.

< TheSavior : It had nothing to do with my diet. I want you to tell me what the hunt is about. >

< Abeautifulwoman : Not you too... Bro I swear this is a dangerous thing. You don't want to be involved >

She already said that to Imagenius. But Nick had more or less understood what it was about. He only needed confirmation.

< TheSavior : Look beauty. My friend is Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey's boyfriend. From what I witnessed today and in the past weeks, I can tell there are a lot of people after him. I know your boss is a hunter, and I know he's not very sympatic, but I do hope he likes me a bit. All I want is to know what is going on. Is my roommate not safe ? Is it Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey's fault ? >

< Abeautifulwoman : ... Who are you ? How can I be sure you're Sav ? This is too much of a coincidence. Are you working for Samy ?! Just know that we're after you. D.R and us won't let you get away with it. >

< TheSavior : are you serious right now ? >

*Abeautifulwoman is disconnected*

The fuck ? Seriously ?! Nick grunted. That idiot ! But if it was a big deal, he could understand her distrust. It hurts, but she gave him some info to work with anyway. Samy uh ? And D.R... He didn't like the idea of Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey being a manipulative asshole who was using Liam. He doesn't even look the part. But it was a possibility. He needed to investigate more... Nick would know everything about the hunters and the famous hunt.

To be continued

When you’re hunting, and the prey is way stronger than you.

Lucy is stupid but no, I don’t encourage violence of any kind. Liam wasn’t right, but he’s human, and it’s well know he can’t control his emotions very well.

Nick is going to the end of it. He will. Maybe! 

[writeforcarat]

Home [Part 2]

—Cat Shelter Volunteer!Wonwoo × Reader (feat. Jun) —Fluff [PART 1]

The next morning, Wonwoo was jolted from his seat behind the reception desk, when he heard the front door open, only to see Jun—his co-volunteer who miraculously recovered from a bad bout of food poisoning overnight—walk into the shelter; the smile that had already formed at the corner of his lips abruptly waning into a pout.

“You okay?” Jun asked. The sudden change in his colleague's expression was too hard to miss.

“Er—” Wonwoo scratched the back of his head, trying to come up with an answer. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You had some bad sashimi over the weekend and now you seem fine.”

“Well, I’m still alive, aren’t I? But it looks like you’re not too happy to see me today. Or were you expecting someone else?” Jun asked with a smirk, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.  

“I just didn’t expect you to come in for work so soon. That’s all.”

Jun threw Wonwoo a look of suspicion before heading off to the locker room to leave his stuff.

Falling back in his seat with a sigh, Wonwoo tried his best to divert his thoughts because the truth was, he had been waiting for you. In fact, he pulled an all-nighter just to finish his project, so he could come to the shelter that day and break some good news to you. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so excited about going to work.

You arrived about an hour later, the signed drop-off form in your hand. Expecting to see Wonwoo, you were quite disappointed to be greeted by an unfamiliar face from behind the reception desk. He was a good-looking young man—handsome, actually—but you couldn’t care less.

“May I help you?” he asked, noticing how you were anxiously looking over his shoulder.  

“I’m sorry—um—I’m looking for Wonwoo.” you said “I’m Y/N. He texted me last night about the cat I dropped off here yesterday.” You placed the drop off form on the desk.

“Ah,” the boy clapped his hands together, then collected the form for filing. “Wonwoo doesn't work here anymore."

"Wait, what?"

Laughing at your bewildered expression, the boy said, "I was kidding. He's at the back. Go have a seat, while I call him.”

“Thanks.” Slightly annoyed, you scooted over to the couches that were exhausted by deep scratches, as the not-so-funny jester disappeared from behind the desk.  

Wonwoo was tending to the cats in the playroom, but mostly looking after the cat you brought in, making sure the other cats don’t bother it. Its injured foreleg had been bandaged by the vet to ensure a speedy recovery.

“Hey, Wonwoo,” Jun called, peeking through door. “There’s a girl named Y/N waiting for you outside.”

“Oh,” Wonwoo’s head perked up, despite trying his best to conceal his excitement. Scooping the spotted white and grey cat he was petting, he stood up to exit the room.

“Last time I checked, people came here to look for cats and not humans like you,” Jun teased, to which Wonwoo responded with a “Shut up.”

“Just saying.”  

Wonwoo found you at the receiving area, flipping through the pages of a pet magazine's back issue. While he did think you looked attractive the first time he saw you (raincoat, wet hair, messed up makeup, and all), he was quite stunned by how beautiful you actually were.

For that day, you deliberately picked the nicest outfit you had—a lavender sun dress, which you paired with white canvas trainers. Although the ensemble was not exactly that special, it was an escape from your usual T-shirt-and-trousers get-up. It also took you a good 30 minutes to fix your hair into a ponytail that looked Pinterest-worthy kind of messy and not downright unruly.

“Y/N,”

You looked up to see Wonwoo, cradling the cat against his chest, walking towards you.

“Oh my, there she is,” you cooed, gingerly taking the cat in your arms from Wonwoo’s. Compared to the last time you saw her, she’s a lot cleaner now and looks much more relaxed. “How is she?”

“After running some tests yesterday, the vet ruled out serious infections and diseases,” Wonwoo said. “So yeah, apart from her sprained leg, she’s perfectly fine.”

“That’s great,” you exclaimed. “Heard that, Kitty? You’re okay!”

Your smile must have been infectious, because Wonwoo was beaming, too. Seeing you overjoyed like that made him inexplicably happy. “And… there’s more good news,” he continued.

“What is it?” You asked excitedly.

“Apparently, Kitty is expecting.”

“Oh my God!” You gasped, the cat stirring in your arms.

“The vet saw it in her X-ray results yesterday,” Wonwoo explained. “We thought we were going to find a fracture or, maybe, something worse, but what we got was something even better.”

“My goodness!” Excitement mixed with disbelief, your emotions were on an overdrive, your brain trying to process the information you’d just received. “She’s going to be a mum?”

“Yes, Y/N, Kitty's going to be a mum!”

You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t want to throw your arms around Wonwoo at that moment, because you did. What you didn’t know was that he felt the same way, too.

Soon enough, visiting the shelter had become part of your daily routine. You’d drop by early in the morning before going to work at the academy. Usually, you’d help out in taking care of Kitty—you decided to name her that, laughing off your lack of creativity—but you didn’t mind looking after the other cats as well. You had even memorised their names and how they looked.

Your presence at the shelter also became the volunteers’ new normal that they even encouraged you to be part of their team—an offer, which you politely declined due to the demands of your actual job. You assured them that you’d help them out whenever you could, though.

Wonwoo was the happiest about having you at the shelter almost every day. Little did he know that aside from Kitty, he was the main reason you visited so often. Together, you’d run errands and chores—some of which he previously did not enjoy doing, but with you around, the tasks he used to hate turned out to be so much more bearable.

You, too, liked spending time with Wonwoo. You especially loved how he’d tuck stray strands of your hair behind your ear as you cleaned after the cats, or how he’d bring you some snacks before you left for work—little gestures that never failed to send butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

One morning, just after refilling the cats’ feeding bowls, Wonwoo finally approached you to ask you out for dinner. The invitation came out as a mumble at first, but when you said you couldn’t understand him, he repeated it, his words loud enough for Jun to turn around and give him two thumbs up. Blood rushed to his cheeks, making him blush in embarrassment.

“I thought you’d never ask,” you smiled and his bashfulness was replaced by elation. You agreed to meet at a restaurant near your academy later that day.

Over dinner, you got to know more things about Wonwoo, like how he couldn’t eat seafood (you ordered pork barbecue and vegetable wraps instead), how enthusiastically he’d geek over videogames, how he’d makes use of puns to make up for his dry sense of humour, and how he’d make this adorable nose scrunch whenever he laughed (okay, you had seen it before, but it was a sight you’d never get tired of).

Everything he did and said were so endearing, and just when you thought you couldn’t find him any more attractive, he’d do something and you’d feel your heart skip another beat.

You capped off that night at a café, your conversations getting deeper and more personal as time wore on. He’d told you about his dream of becoming a singer, which his family dismissed as a waste of time. You'd also opened up to him about why you came to Seoul in the first place.

“I needed a change in my life. A change of environment,” you said, stirring your cup of hot chocolate. “Things back at where I’m from were not exactly working out as planned, so I left to have another start, search for happiness, and, maybe, find a new home, too.”

Your gazes met, and you realised that your eyes were welling with tears. You didn’t want to be a dramatic mess on your first date, but there you were—overwhelmed by bottled up feelings that only Wonwoo was able to draw out from you.

“How about now?” Wonwoo asked softly, taking your hand resting on the table into his. A warm smile formed on your lips at the sight of your hands intertwined. “Are you happy?”

“I think it’s too early for me to answer that,” you glanced back up at Wonwoo, who was looking intently at you. “But right here, right now, I’m feeling so much better... with you.”

Gaaaaah!!! This is my attempt at writing fluff, and I dunno if it’s working at all! Nevertheless, I hope you enjoyed Part 2! I wish I get the time to work on Part 3 soon, which would probably the last instalment of this story. NGL, I still can’t believe this turned out to be longer than I thought it would be.

[lululawlawlu-writes]

The Hardest Part of Living

notes:This fic is for the LawLu Bang 2018-2019 sponsored by @lawlu-events @mushroom-san created this super cute & sweet art work for part 1.

tags: post-apocalyptic au, mentions of suicidal thoughts, terminal illness, attempts at levity

summary: Law is a descendant of humans who were able to survive nuclear annihilation, but radiation, in addition to other man-made pollutants had been seeping into their underground bunker, slowly poisoning them.  Now Law’s the only one left alive. Although he'd made a promise to his departed sister that he would find a cure and live a full life for the both of them, his future seems bleak.

The day he meets Luffy could turn his life around. Luffy has a secret that could be the key to saving him, but neither he nor Luffy knows it yet.

___________________

Part 1: It’s hard to depart from this life when there’s no exit.

Law wrenches open one side the rusty metal medicine cabinet, grainy orange rust particles powdering his fingers. His eyes skim over the contents—old medicine bottles, a safety razor, and a lighter.

His eyes study his face in the rust-mottled mirror on the closed side of the cabinet. He runs a hand over his stubbly, two-toned face, contemplating a shave. Well, he doesn’t have anyone to impress. There isn’t too much chance that he’ll run into anyone worthwhile in the near future either, but what’s the point in being a survivor in a post apocalyptic wasteland if he can’t go about taking as he pleases and looking damn good while doing it. At the very least, making an effort to look decent helps him feel a little less like he’s falling apart from the inside out. 

His aching fingers absentmindedly wander to his cheek to scratch at the itching patch of white that’s blossomed there, flaking off the irritating blanched skin, leaving a burning sensation beneath his fingertips. Attempting a shave is likely a bad idea—he’d probably just end up peeling off half of his face in the process. This dying slowly shit is so goddamn annoying.

He pockets the lighter anyway. It could be useful. He takes up one of the long cylindrical medicine bottles—prescription pain medication, opioids long past their expiration date. He should probably keep those too because why the hell not. If they’re still potent, they might help his chronic aches and addictive though they may be, he isn’t planning on living long enough for that to take effect. At twenty-six he’s already well outlived nearly everyone he’s ever known.  

Struggling with terminal illness isn't exactly Law's ideal way to live. It’s excruciatingly painful, sure but more than anything, it’s annoying as fuck. What good is being stuck in some cruel joke of a life which keeps him half-alive, while he can practically feel himself rotting away like a goddamn zombie.

Law knows he’s been cursed from the start—born with half a lifespan and not much reason to value it. Thanks to the valiant efforts of his ancestors, humans have survived nuclear holocaust—humans, not necessarily humanity.  He tries twice to get the lid off of the pills before he realizes he’s meant to push down as he turns the lid. He’s already scraped his fingers along the ridges of the cap, lost his skin in the process. The pad of his thumb aches; the soft skin on the side of his forefinger gone hot like it’s on fire, protesting the strain of everyday activity. He places the bottle on the cracked marble countertop next to the sink, leaning into it. A grunt of frustration, a little extra leverage, and losing another layer of skin seems to be just what it takes to finally pop the top—nothing like a little extra pain to help him remember just how much he could use some relief before he meets his inevitable death.   He wouldn’t put it past his dick-bag ancestors to have set him up to die like this. They'd probably consider his poor life tragic and beautiful. They were the same people who made death so romanticized in their movies. If those ancient movies are any indication of how people actually thought back then, with their tragedy and self-sacrifice worship, it's no wonder the world has turned out to be a hollow, burned-out shell of what it once was. Hell, he's sure revering such shallow ideals is what got his community in the bunker wiped off the face of the Earth.

Law shakes the bottle lightly, assessing its contents—a handful of chalky little pills. He tips two of them out into his hand where they camouflage themselves against the splotch of white on his palm, similar even in texture. Both look so pale and lifeless. He contemplates dumping the rest into his mouth. There’s a temptation just to hurry things along and end it all before he ends up bedridden, crippled with pain, wasting away because he hasn’t got the strength even to feed himself. But he’s promised he wouldn’t.

Law is sure he isn't going to have a beautiful or meaningful Hollywood-esque death that would serve to inspire anyone. He sure as hell isn't going to come up with some ‘touching’ last words. He imagines his last words will be something like "Aw, fuck," although even a line like that might be too contrived. At least he has plenty of time to think of something better. On second thought, maybe he would actually try giving that flowery last-words bullshit a shot after all, just for the sake of irony. Dying a slow, painful death might not be without it's merits after all.

It’s not that Law actually wants to languish in pain, waiting for death to come around. He would much rather get it over and done with. He would've even tried to put a bullet in his own brain by now, but lack of ammunition and a naïve promise that he’ll find a cure are the only things holding him back. Poisoning so bad it’s seeped into the core of his DNA structure doesn’t really seem like something he can cure, but in retrospect, how could he have refused his little sister’s dying wish for him to keep going. At least she’ll never know he can’t make it a reality.

“Hey, you in the bathroom, You want something to eat?” calls a voice from the other side of the wall, muffled by layers of cracked plaster and rotting drywall.

Law nearly jumps out of his skin—practically tosses the painkillers across the room. He thought he was alone in this abandoned house, if that’s what you’d call it because a half-torched, roofless structure with two of its external walls missing doesn’t really seem like one anymore. He’d checked for any signs of a possible resident when he came in. He’s usually extremely cautious about such things. It wouldn’t take much more than a five-year-old with a stick to take down his weak ass, and he knows that out here in this wasteland there’s likely to be much worse. Still, he’d checked every room top-to-bottom when he’d arrived and hadn’t heard anyone else come in, so who the hell- “I’m Luffy, by the way.” Ok, so Luffy, apparently. “Who are you?” Luffy speaks again, closer this time, as if a breath’s width away from the door.

Law has no time at all to think before the door is shoved aside and he finds a small, opened tin of ham thrust into his hand. The scrawny guy who’s given it to him casually kicks down the toilet lid, taking a seat backward over the toilet. He releases an armful of provisions, presumably for himself, onto the tank of the toilet like it’s perfectly normal to use a toilet as a makeshift table and chair.

“Cheers!” he cries, clinking a tin of ham against Law’s own. He shoots Law a wide, toothy grin and tosses his head back, shaking the tin over his mouth until the ham slides out with a sick, sucking sound. Pale pink jelly-like substance drips from the can onto his face. It runs down his cheek mimicking the line of a thin scar etched under his left eye.

Law eyes the tin of meat in his own hand. This could be some sort of trap. This person could be an organ trafficker or something. Well, it’s not like Law has a lot to live for anyway, although being murdered by a stranger isn’t really how he wants to go. For a guy who wants to get it over with, he sure is being picky about death.

The mass of ham he’s been given does look a thousand times more interesting than the dried-out, flavourless rations he’s recently had the pleasure of surviving on. Its pinkish hue and marbling is indicative of actual meat, if ancient movies are to be believed. He wouldn’t know from personal experience, but the smell of it—that can’t be normal. It smells awful, pungent, somewhat sulfuric—like farts. And if humans of the past voluntarily ate things that stank like intestinal expulsions, they were a lot more messed up than Law gave them credit for. “Good shit, yeah?” Luffy says, eyebrows raised, beaming up at him from his spot on the toilet lid. Maybe this guy is more messed up than Law gives him credit for. He doesn’t even seem to care about the look of the tinned meat or its flatulent odors. Law watches him toss back a third can. The scent alone is starting to make Law’s stomach turn. He cautiously leans in to place his can of ham on the back of the toilet.

“You never told me your name,” Luffy notes, reaching for the new addition to his personal buffet. He passes Law a long, vacuum-sealed packet of crackers instead. Now this is food he can eat. “I’m Law Trafalgar,” he says. The plastic along the perforated line twists around Law’s fingers but doesn’t tear open.

“You from the underground? Your name sounds weird like underground people.” Luffy muses. “I’m from a PPU if that’s what you mean.” Law turns the packet over, attempting to rip it open from the other side.   “What’s a PPU?” Luffy asks around a mouthful of ham. He takes the packet from Law, breaking off the corner of the crackers as he rips it open. “Population Preservation Unit.” Law specifies, taking back the opened packet offered to him. “That’s underground, isn’t it?” Luffy hums in thought, licks the canned ham lid. “It’s getting dark,” he tells him.  “So let me stay at your cool underground base tonight.”

Law hadn’t been offering and he doesn’t want to think of the dangers that letting outsiders in can cause. This time he can’t make an attempt to assuage his fears with the notion that he’s near-death and has nothing to lose. The PPU is almost more of an embodiment of himself than he is at this point. It holds all that he ever was—his culture, his memories, his last connections to his people and their legacy of death and decay. In a way it’s as precious to him as it is painful. He’d rather keep those hallowed metal halls to himself, though he isn’t sure how to refuse Luffy. The guy has just shared a vital resource with him. “Alright, let’s go,” Luffy tells him, jumping up from his spot. It’s not a question. “Show me your home!” Though Luffy’s tone doesn’t sound threatening, Law knows that the matter is not up for debate.

By the time the bunker comes into view, the sun is dipping low on the horizon, spilling crimson hues into the sky as if it’s impaling itself onto the hills in a last-ditch effort to get free of the world. Law feels like he can relate on some level. He wouldn’t mind being free of it all but being impaled is a pretty slow way to go. Slower than a sunset for sure—look who’s being picky about his death again.

The sun may be fading into the distance but a suffocatingly hot humidity still hangs in the air, heavy, blanketing everything. It never really goes away. Law had given up feeling uncomfortable in the heat a long time ago but it still weighs on him. When he’s walking out here alone in the wasteland his brain sometimes likes to fantasize about the inevitability that he could either drown in his sweat or lose all moisture and shrivel up to nothing, become mummified.

He doesn’t get to indulge in such thoughts today. Today he’s with Luffy, and the inane chit-chat he’s offering is enough pull Law’s attention away from his morbid daydreams.

“You got anything to eat at home?” Luffy asks.

“You just ate,” Law points out.

“It’s weird, but I’m so hungry all the time since the thing happened. You think it’s possible to miss someone so bad it makes you hungry all the time?”

Law wants to ask him what the hell he’s talking about, but  his head is reeling and his mind feels blurry, out of focus. It’s physically hard for him to walk distances. There’s a dull aching behind Law’s knees that makes them feel like they’re ready to give out at any second. He can’t help stumbling.

“Traffy, hey, you okay?” Luffy’s saying, “Let’s get you back to your secret underground base quick.”

Law feels his wrists being grabbed and pulled over Luffy’s shoulders but doesn’t have the strength to protest being picked up. Luffy lifts him up around the hips to carry him piggyback. Although it’s cheesy and embarrassing, and he’d rather die than admit it, it’s kind of nice to ride piggyback like people did in those ancient movies he watched as a kid. Here he is, just like Vanessa being carried by Wade in the classic 2023 film, Deadpool 4.

It’s really, really nice, actually. Law feels more at ease than he’s felt in years. It’s not just a matter of giving up, saying that he’s close to death anyway. It’s almost startling for him to realize he actually feels safe. There’s something about Luffy—something genuine in his actions, something disarming in his smile, that makes Law want to trust him. Law sighs, closing his eyes, resting his head on Luffy’s shoulder. Right about now is when the leading role, Wade, would tell his love, Vanessa, something sweet.

“You smell nice,” Luffy tells him softly, and Law feels his heartbeat pick up, tightness building in his chest that he wishes he could blame on his illness, but then  “-like food.” And the feeling is gone. Law still thinks he appreciates the sentiment though Luffy’s words are nowhere near as romantic as the line in the movie. It’d almost be weird if it was romantic. After all, he’s only just met this guy.

Law swears he only closes his eyes for a second, but when he blinks them open, he’s already in the entryway to the bunker and Luffy’s dropping him from his shoulders.

“How’d you know the code for the door lock?” Law asks. He presses the palms of his hands over his aching eyes. “You didn’t break it did you?”

“What do you mean?” Luffy blinks at him. “It was already open.”

Already open?! That shouldn’t be. Law’s blood turns cold in his veins. His every nerve prickles with the chilling realization that he and Luffy are not alone here.

Sure the bunker is visible from the outside, if you’re really looking for it. But it isn’t easy to get past the security codes or penetrate the layers of protective steel by other means. Besides, as far as Law is aware, most salvagers don’t find it worth the trouble to use their resources for breaking into bunkers. He’s been told the kind of outdated, dysfunctional tech they’d find in a bunker just isn’t that valuable.

Law is almost certain it has to be someone who knows him personally, which just puts him at further unease. He doesn’t have friends.