#with her claws digging into his shoulder. while her other hand lays idly by her side

[presidentcircles-assistant]

jimmy and curly from mouthwashing reminded me a lot of r. line and vincent so i drew them with a quote from that

[nelllraiser]

hell’s true north | adam & nell

TIMING: current. LOCATION: hellscape number ??. PARTIES:  @walker-journal & @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: adam follows his compass home. CONTAINS: sibling death (brief references to the bea plot), mass poisoning (from inhospitable domain), parental death mentions.

Vines with the texture of withered leather fingers writhed under Adam’s feet as he stumbled out of a brackish puddle of ichor. Disaster response boots that’d been designed to weather fire, acid, and radiation had eventually yielded before the onslaught of otherworldly environs. Now the ragged soles barely clung to his feet, wrapped tight with bloody strips of bloody demon hide. The most cutting edge kevlar, environment-resistant tactical gear, breathing apparatuses, and deadly military firearms had been gradually ravaged into uselessness by universes full of chemicals and alternative laws of physics that Earthly science had never imagined. As the tactics, preparation, and martial science Adam had once relied on was stripped away in the nonstop battles with demonic flora and fauna, the title of Hunter had become brutally literal. 

Adam spelunked through caverns that formed from the innards of sleeping elder things, scaled cliff sides made of solidified light and shadow, jumped across archipelagos of bone islands floating in stormy skies, climbed up trees the size of skyscrapers whose fruits were embryonic sacks in which monsters gestated, hiked across the savannahs with rolling plains of scalpel-sharp obsidian grass, and tightroped across worlds that were just spider webs of tentacles stretched across abyssal gyres. 

Adam was now a ragged figure where a dauntless soldier had once been, the shreds of his tactical uniform stitched together with leather and pieces of chitin. Once the olympics-ready peak of health, the footballer’s veins were stained with dark lines across his skin and he stumbled across the landscape of grasping roots and tide pools of black blood. His breathing was shallow treks through world after world had wracked the Hunter’s body with alien toxins that even the mutant’s regeneration was failing to fight off. Adam’s vision was blurred with the edges and everything muscle in his battered body begged to just lay down in darkness. 

But the compass in Adam’s hand pointed the way across the hellscape of fire, floating islands of tentacled flesh, and geometric monoliths to old gods that's already sunk into dreaming torpor long before humankind had discovered fire. Adam fought back agony and followed the compass needles across the poisoned land. 

Everything had blurred together by now. Nell couldn’t even clearly remember how she’d gotten to this realm, just that she’d fallen through far too many holes in the ground, off cliff sides, or out of sky-hanging oceans to even begin to remember what world this was. The red skies she’d originally arrived under were long gone, barely a memory after all the worlds that had followed, and all the attacks she'd scrambled to come out of in one piece. Though perhaps calling herself one piece was being generous when she’d resorted to packing the missing chunks of her flesh with whatever she could find that didn’t instantly sting and burn at her open wounds. She didn’t know how long it had been since she’d slept, time still immeasurable in places like these— just that she hadn’t done it since the baykok’s attack. The lack of sleep meant she hadn’t been able to replenish a single shining grain of her magic after she’d been quite literally drained and fed from, her body having nothing but sheer determination to keep her wavering feet from falling out beneath her. 

Something was the very definition of fundamentally wrong with this world in terms of survivability. Nell could feel it in the way each breath felt sharper than the last, and the ugly coughs that had her spitting up black specks on the palms of her hands. None of the places she’d seen could have been described as friendly, but this one felt like it was digging her foot deeper into the grave with every second she stayed. She needed to find a way out if she wanted to make it another hour. Nell was far past the point of finding a way back to White Crest, ready to settle for a hellscape that wasn’t killing the witch with every inhale of her lungs, and go from there if she could manage to last that long. How long had she lasted already? How much longer could she last? She’d always been a fighter, refusing to go down without taking at least a part of her attacker with her. But how could she carve out a piece of a world? How was she meant to rage against an entire realm? Maybe sometimes there was simply nothing to fight against, the hand of Fate snuffing out her life whether she liked it or not. 

And yet she kept walking, limping along as the injury on her leg oozed with some otherworldly infection that promised to kill her if this air didn’t. There was no direction, no plan, just the foolish hope that she’d stumble into a place where she could properly breathe. She walked until she could barely make out a figure on the horizon, squinting her eyes against the bright green and dingy brown of this place while she wondered if this would be the final creature to kill her. But the figure grew closer, and despite her best judgement an uncontrollable wave of hope flooded her chest. “Adam?” she dared to utter, even though she knew it was far too good to be true. Nell and the hellscape had done this before in the form of a tikbalang sending her astray with the perfect illusion of her hunter. “We’re doing this again?” she asked the air in a tone that was resigned to the disappointment of finding another falsehood, the high instantly giving way to a low. “What is it? Another tikbalang?” But this Adam was different. He looked sickly, and past the point of battered— like he’d already knocked on death’s door only for death to tell him to come back in ten or so minutes. They’d call him when they were ready. Why would an illusion-caster show her this? 

Hallucinations had become ever more common as toxic environs and constant otherworldly stimuli wore down Adam’s nervous system. 

Sometimes it was dad, gently reminding him of past lessons as Adam fought his way through nightmarish creatures and tried to find his way through landscapes only possible in other realities. Other times it was James or Terry, come to chat idly about football and girls as Adam trekked across wastelands whose sloping yet flat contours didn’t obey the rules of time and space. Dave gruffly reminded him about knots and the perils of marine warfare as Adam journeyed through rivers that flowed up into the sky and seas of sentint poison. Regan gave pointers on splinting a broken arm with a demon’s bones all while primly reminding him she wasn’t that kind of doctor. Orion nervously recounted facts about obscure demon types as Adam ducked claws and spines while trying to find a weak point. Ariana punched Adam in the arm and reminded him to buck up and put on a tough grin when everything was just pain. Athena gave advice on slowing the poison’s spread through his body with her mixture of tenderness and steel. Kaden brusquely correctly Adam on his stances as the younger Hunter’s limbs trembled with neurological damage, before reminding him to stay alive. Mina kept him vigilant, pointing out dangerous movements and sounds even when every fiber of Adam’s body wanted to sink into oblivion. Morgan spoke gently to him when the horror became too much, her hand on his shaking shoulders when the mental strain of glimpsing elder things sent Adam into seizuring convulsions. Dani reminded him of duty and their ancestral oaths with a concerned smile when ancient deceivers whispered in Adam’s brain, offering easy miracles in his moments of weakness. Luce yelled at him to get the fuck back up and fight when Adam could barely stand and death’s release drew close. Beatrice demanded that Adam remember who he’d come her for, when poisoned dreams threatened to swallow reality entirely. 

So this was not the first time Adam’d met Nell and had to hold back tears when stabbing yet another shapeshifter to death or felt crushing emptiness when it turned out he’d only embraced only empty air. 

Adam looked down at the compass needle, pointing unerringly forward. 

“Hey Nell,” Adam rasped through cracked lips, taking a green stone with a hole through its center from a cord around his neck. He held out the Adder Stone in one hand, gory knife clutched in the other. “When’d you give this to me?” 

Nell looked to the Adder Stone held in Adam’s hand, her solemn resignation to the illusion disrupted by the flickering of uncertainty in her eyes. The compass was a new addition as well, though she recognized the daffodil bloom she’d carefully laid into the face of it, the magic and flowers they’d made together under a full moon. “But I didn’t- I was gonna give you that after the date,” she mumbled, already chiding herself for how easily a couple of emotional trinkets could sway her mind towards what the demon world wanted her to see. But the compass wasn’t what he was asking about. The Adder Stone. Of course she remembered when she’d given it to him- the first of many things she’d gifted in an attempt to keep him safe. 

“After Bea- after we...brought her back.” Nell had masqueraded the gift as a thanks for Adam’s help in bringing her sister back from the ether, but the truth had gone deeper than that. “I said it was for helping protect my family. But I just- the carachs had just given you those visions, and the somnivore thing wasn’t that far off.” It’d been nearly a year ago that she’d delivered the stone, nearly five months after their first meeting at the Ring, and by then she’d already gotten soft for him. “You were hurting and- I didn’t want you to hurt.” Taking the Adder Stone between her fingers, she swallowed hard as she held it before her face, already dreading the moment he’d disappear before her eyes. The motion sent her into a brief coughing fit, the heaves long and loud as her lungs desperately tried to dispel the poison in her system. At the end of it she finally raised the stone’s center to her eye, knowing this vision and her willingness to linger with even a false Adam had already shaved precious moments off the stopwatch that was ticking down the seconds until the poison got the best of her. “Let’s just- let’s get this over with.” It was silly, and she shouldn’t have said it knowing he was nothing more than an exhaustion or demon induced delusion. But she couldn’t help herself as the next words whispered from her lips, trying to find a moment of peace in a land that had never known it. “I miss you. I’ll miss you.”

Finally Nell looked through the stone’s center, still surprised at how solid it felt in her hands, wondering if that was another lie to be chalked up to feeling dead on her feet. Except Adam didn’t fade from view, didn’t disappear into nothingness as she locked her gaze onto his familiar and brown eyes. She gasped, still hardly believing it but reaching out nonetheless, letting the Adder Stone thump unceremoniously against his chest while its cord slackened and her hand found a gentle resting place alongside his cheek. Warmth. Perhaps a little too warm, as if he were running a fever. But there was the unmistakable feeling of life beneath her fingertips, and she didn’t hesitate a moment longer to close the space between them, slipping her other hand into his. Her knees grew even more unsteady, either from shock, barely having the energy to hold herself upright, or both— and for a moment she rested a little more weight against him than she probably should have considering his state. But it was impossible for her not to sink into the first safe place she’d found since the onychorror had snatched her. She’d finally found a place where she was safe in the hellhole. A place where she’d always been safe to crumble, to relieve her walls of their nearly ever-present duties. A place where she knew it was safe to fall because he’d never once stumbled when it came to catching her. “How- How did you- you’re real? Please- either this is a really good mindfuck or-” Or Tate had made good on his deal, and managed to get her hastily doctored sigil back to White Crest. Was it possible something had actually gone right? Had gone so right as to bring the man she loved to her side?

Adam let the knife fall from his hand onto the writhing ground and put his arms around Nell. There was a moment of tenseness, of resigned expectation. But she didn’t turn to mist, slip right through him, or boil up into some hungry thing. Tidal waves of relief and shock at something too impossibly good to be true collided in Adam’s chest. Nell was solid, real. Just a moment Adam couldn’t feel the heat of the burning sky or the poisons of alien worlds killing him cell by cell. 

“I’m real,” Adam assured holding her tight with what strength was left in him. “I’m really here.” He entwined the fingers of their free hands. “I don’t want any other life except one with you in it,” the Hunter confessed, wasting precious water as the tears slid down his bloody and battered face. 

“So uh...here I am.” 

Nell could feel her own tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, an avalanche of relief washing over her near-ravaged spirit, almost still waiting for this moment to break in a way that left her spinning. But the moment never came, and Adam was breathtakingly solid within her arms. For a long breath she savored the peace he brought, like a salve over an open wound. She wanted to bury herself against him, to hide from the world around them and pretend like it didn’t exist, but the fear that he’d disappear if she so much as looked away from his gaze was too great, afraid to even blink lest the break in their eye contact be the blip of time needed for him to dissipate from under her hands. 

She could feel her pulse gain a few extra beats while Adam made his declaration, heart in her throat while she ran his words on repeat through her mind. It was wrong. So wrong that such beautiful words should have to be uttered in a world as ugly as this one, spoken between the gasping breaths of a dying pair. Nell had always known that loving Adam wouldn’t be easy between his constant brushes with death, and the conditioning that often made him feel the need to put humanity’s welfare before anything else in his life. She’d done it nevertheless, having made peace with the fact that maybe he wouldn’t ever wholly be her’s, a part of him always belonging only to his mission. The pieces of him she’d been given had been more than enough. But that didn’t mean his admission didn’t tug at her heart, didn’t make it soar in a way that made a fluttering bloom in chest that had nothing to do with the poisonous air slowly killing her.

“Here you are,” Nell finally managed to repeat in wonder. Hadn’t he been the one trying to convince her to leave him behind should the demon apocalypse commence? He'd told her that she was a part of humanity’s hope for survival, that she should abandon him for the sake of the world. It was his own words that made her know the gravity of him choosing to come for her, to potentially sacrifice one of humanity’s hopes in the form of himself by searching for her in the endless worlds. And that was enough to keep her voice steady and sincere while she spoke. “I don’t want a life without you either.”

Part of Nell wanted to be upset with him, to scold him for being so foolish with his own life by following her into the portal, but she couldn’t manage to speak the words through the temporary moment of solace they’d found in the middle of hell— unwilling to break it. Unfortunately there was something else that needed to be said that would do just as good a job at shattering their moment of quiet. Something she couldn’t ignore. “There’s...something else I need to tell you.” Let her hold onto this shining feeling for just a few more seconds before she brought them back to reality.

Adam had grown up with the knowledge that his life wasn’t his own. It belonged to humanity’s destiny, a merciless idol that generations upon generations of his family had been sacrificed to appease. The abnegation of the self had been soothing in a way, it’d made him brave in a way. It doesn’t hurt to suffer and risk your life again and again if it isn’t truly yours to lose. He tried to never deceive the women in his life. Nobody deserved to be given only part of someone to love. 

Mom and dad had loved each other intensely, and Adam had seen the aftermath after the needs of humanity had demanded yet another sacrifice. At the time he’d thought he’d learned a lesson from Esther Walker’s sorrow, and was determined to never hurt someone the way his father had. 

But after three years of complete radio silence, Adam had spoken with mom and learned too late that he'd gotten it all wrong. As he’d grown, so had she, and neither mother or son were the same broken people that’d parted at Gehena 19. 

Penelope was a person he shouldn’t have loved. She practiced demonology, the very art that’d fucked up the world in the first place. She’d participated in human trafficking and slavery. She’d performed ritual human sacrifice. She’d hunted down bounties without any concern for morality or a higher cause. She aided and abetted supernatural criminals simply because of her personal feelings. When these actions reaped consequences, Nell responded with personal wrath and revenge rather than seeking resolution, splintering tragedy into ever more fractals of repercussion. 

Basically, by every standard he’d been raised to believe in, Penelope Vural was evil, and if she hadn’t been born human Adam would’ve been obligated to kill her. 

But that’s not what happened. At first it’d just been that she was a useful ally. Next it'd just been typical horndog Adam, thinking with the head in his trousers rather than one on his shoulders again. Physical attraction and wary partnership had explained things for only so long however. She was brave, self-sacrificing, vivacious, and free to act according to passion and her free will in a way Adam had never dared to be. Eventually Adam was sharing things with her that he’d never dreamed of telling anyone else. 

He wasn’t supposed to care about someone like Nell, to give her so much of what belonged to the mission. Adam could only love someone also sworn to fight the same war, no one else could understand the sacrifices necessary and what’d inevitably come sooner rather than later. Adam had been introduced to Huntresses his age with the unspoken understanding that eventually he’d find someone to fight alongside and raise children with to pass the sacred charge onto the next generation. 

Adam had drank, partied, and screwed his way into forgetting for a while. Until suddenly, he ended up loving the wrong person, someone who wanted Adam for just himself, war be damned. 

It wasn’t the right thing. 

But what if he just….did y’know?

What he just loved Nell like she deserved without holding back, fight for his own humanity for a change?

Adam just wished he'd had the courage to take that plunge earlier. 

Adam looked parted the embrace slightly so that he could meet her gaze  “What is it Nell?” 

Nell hadn’t planned to fall for Adam Walker, hadn’t even entirely noticed how close she’d let him get until she’d felt like she was on the edge of losing him, delivering the news that August Thompson had died a death far from peaceful— that Adam’s hand had been directly involved in the spellcaster’s demise. Of course she’d known he was one of the people she’d trusted most, one of the only people she’d ever let see her stripped to the core while he’d held her after Bea’s death. It was why she’d asked him to help in the first place. But she hadn’t realized just how much there was to lose until she was standing on the precipice. She’d been convinced that it would be the end, that she’d managed to ruin something before even really letting it begin, and that he wouldn't come back. It turned out she didn't need to worry about him coming back, because he’d never left in the first place. And he kept not leaving, something that had been rare in the life of a witch who had an overzealous temper and a reckless streak a mile wide. 

So when he’d done things others might condemn or draw the line at— killed a werewolf in cold blood, admitted his own bloodlust beneath a full moon, gone on a murder spree fueled by the same moon, considered a demon pact, left her on read in the middle of feeling as if she were about to lose him...there’d been no choice of whether or not she’d grant him the same loyalty, to stay with him just as he’d stayed with her. She’d just wanted him to come home. And he always had. Even now, after fighting his way through literal hell, he’d come home.

Selfishly putting off her bad news for one moment longer, she let months of feeling the sun on her face when he smiled fill her soul, holding onto that feeling as she tried to find the words for what she wanted to say. What needed to be said if they didn’t make it out of this hellscape, and what she should have said much sooner despite being scared. She’d been worried about what he might say in reply, always thinking of that part of himself that she knew he felt he couldn’t give, not sure if she wanted to hear the ‘I’m sorry, but’ that she might get in response. But the man who’d dived into hell for her deserved to hear it, and she wasn’t scared anymore. “You know I love you, right?” He didn’t need to say it back, she’d finally realized that while he’d been walking towards her, knowing loving words could never speak as loudly as his actions had. “I just wanted you to know,” she assured him, letting him know she didn’t need to hear it in return. It wouldn’t change anything. 

Now for the less charming of her news. “Not to...instantly bring the mood down but...the other thing I needed to tell you…” Nell glanced over her shoulder, as if the soul-snatching creature would be there even now as she divulged news of it. “There’s a...slaugh. I think it’s been following me.” Adam would know what it meant, that such creatures only went after those who were generally mere hours from dying, waiting to devour their souls. Nell had glimpsed it as she kept rubbing elbows with death in the hellscape, the being momentarily coming into focus while she’d barely escaped a demon encounter with her life still intact. The creatures were nearly as good at predicting death as banshees were.

Adam followed her gaze towards the burning horizon where plasma storms corrustated in lightning rainbows over living plains of crawling flesh. Slaugh were vultures of the spirit world. As a kid he’d been terrified of the invisible presences that set off his Hunter senses whenever there was a clash between militia forces around the Levant. It’d felt like a blizzard of dark wings, choking him with claustrophobia on empty arid plains covered in bodies shredded by shrapnel.

Mom had assured her son he wasn’t crazy. He could just feel the demons glutted humanity’s senseless wars against itself.  

Adam‘s mind went back to Regan’s prophecy and felt an iron dread settle in his stomach, adding bittersweetness to the joy and relief coursing through his enervated body. 

Adam let the future go and drew Nell close against him again, just letting this moment exist for as long as hell allowed. “We’ll figure it out when we get back to Earth ,” he murmured.

The tension in Nell’s shoulders melted as Adam pulled her back, savoring their togetherness for as long as she could, feeling true hope for the first time since...she wasn’t actually certain how long it had been, not even knowing how many days she’d been stuck in these hell-worlds. She drew a long breath while she was pressed against him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze to assure herself that he was still here- still real even though it seemed impossible that he was. When they got back to Earth. It seemed like a far off hope, like shooting for the moon without any of that bullshit optimism of landing among the stars. “Then you can tell me the plan when we find a place that’s not suffocating us.” He wouldn’t have come without one, right? It was one thing to condemn himself to death, and she wouldn’t be entirely surprised given his generally self-sacrificing nature, whether that had been taught, was natural, or a combination of the two. But it was another entirely to forfeit the life of her as well by diving in without an extraction plan. He wouldn’t have risked the person he was saving.

The slaugh was worrisome enough as an omen of death, but there’d been more to consider when it’s eating of souls was brought into play. Nell still wasn’t all that sure whether she’d want to be raised from the dead in the first place should she perish in the next twenty-four hours, but if the slaugh ate her soul...she wouldn’t have a choice to begin with. You couldn’t raise a body without a soul. 

Again Nell fell silent while she drank in as much as this as she could, the dread in her stomach a constant reminder of how far there still was to go. But with Adam- at least she stood a chance. With Adam they could at least sleep, taking varied watches. And then maybe some of her magic would come back and Adam could heal, and then...well then they’d at least have a fighting chance together, always stronger together. Nell used her fragile strength to bring herself to the tips of her toes, trying to press a gentle kiss to his black-veined cheek before feathering across his lips. “We’ll figure it out when we get back to Earth,” she echoed, recognizing it as another promise they could hold between them. They’d go back to Earth together in the same way they’d fought the dolorphage, the way they’d faced an unknown future beneath the full moon all those months ago, and the same way they’d taken on a demon cult and lived to tell the tale— always together.

[alounuitte]

ignored the warning signs

Transistor, 2.5k words, Asher is sick and Grant comforts him (as does his cat). warnings: vomiting. [sorry for, like, who i am as a person but i see an empty niche and by g-d i have to fill it.]

Leneghan has been restless since before they left for dinner, slinking back and forth between Asher’s shoulders, the tip of her tail twitching occasionally, but he doesn’t start to feel unwell himself until afterwards, as they’re on their way back home. Despite the chill in the air, he feels too warm with his coat on, and there’s a dull ache in his temples that only seems to get worse when he closes his eyes.

Even Grant, talking idly about something that’s probably fascinating, is beginning to grate on him as they take the skyrail back to to the north side of Highrise, though he feels awful about it. Ordinarily he loves hearing Grant talk, whether it’s about his work in administration, or the city, or any number of other interesting topics, but tonight he can’t seem to keep his focus in one place, and his mind keeps wandering away so he can’t keep track of what exactly Grant is saying.

Leneghan meows softly and presses her head against his cheek, and Asher reaches up to scratch her ears, trying to drag himself back to what Grant’s saying, but it’s so hard to pay attention when there’s sweat beading up under his stiff collar, and the faint hum of the railcar gliding along its track is making his legs feel oddly shaky.

“You’re quiet, dear,” Grant says, putting a hand on his arm. “Is everything alright?”

The touch is enough to pull him back into the moment, and he shakes his head to clear it. “I’m just a little tired,” he says, giving Grant a weak smile.

“I thought Leneghan seemed worried about you,” Grant says, a slight frown creasing his brow. “You should have said something.”

“I felt alright at dinner,” Asher replies, “but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. She has been fussing at me a little.”

“Hm,” Grant says, still looking concerned, and squeezes his arm a little tighter before letting go. “We’re almost home, just a bit longer and we’ll get you to bed straight away.”

Asher nods and leans back a bit against the wall of the railcar to steady himself, finding himself a little grateful when Grant is silent, rather than try to continue the earlier conversation.

The skyrail reaches their stop, a block from home, and Asher stumbles a little as he steps out onto the walkway. It was chilly in the car, but outside it’s freezing, and he wraps his arms around himself, suddenly grateful for Leneghan’s warmth across the back of his neck. His head is reeling, though, badly disoriented now that the faint motion of the car is gone, and he sways on his feet as the world seems to spin for a moment.

“Asher?” Grant’s hand on his back helps steady him, and he leans into the touch, grateful for something that feels solid when the walkway under his feet doesn’t.

“I’m fine,” he says quickly, offering a shaky smile. “Let’s just get home.” Dizziness aside, his head feels so heavy that all he wants to do is get back to their apartment and lie down.

The brief walk up the block to their building feels like it takes an hour, and with every step Asher feels worse, though he keeps his head down and tries to ignore it. Even after a long day, it shouldn’t take so long to adjust after getting off the railcar, but the feeling of the ground still shaking underfoot doesn’t fade, and there’s a tightness in his throat that doesn’t go away when he swallows. He tries to focus on Leneghan insistently pressing her face against his cheekbone, raising one hand to scratch under her chin while the other closes tightly around the apartment key in his pocket.

As he climbs the steps to their building, his foot catches on the top stair and his balance goes. Leneghan growls and digs her claws into his shoulders as he stumbles and pitches forward, throwing out his arm to brace himself against the door. His stomach lurches, and dread makes his chest go tight as he feels something thick and hot rushing up his throat. Before he can react, his mouth fills with acid and a stream of vomit spills over his tongue, chunks of the cake they’d shared for dessert pouring onto the steps with a sick splatter.

“Asher!” Grant calls, and Asher feels him put both arms around his waist just as his knees give out underneath him. He slumps back against Grant’s chest, shaking and gasping for breath.

“Oh, God,” he groans, pushing his hair back with one shaking hand. “I’m sorry, God, I’m sorry, I’m—“

“Hush, dear, it’s alright,” Grant murmurs softly in his ear, pulling him back gently and helping lower him to the ground so he can sit down on the stairs. His head is still spinning, making his stomach twist uncomfortably, and he leans forward to let his head fall between his knees. The sight of sick splattered on the toes of his shoes makes him want to throw up again. He swallows hard.

He’s dimly aware of Leneghan pawing at his leg, mewling softly at him, and nudges her away gently with one hand. She must have jumped down from his shoulders when he fell, but he’d rather have her climb up again than try to lay in his lap when he thinks at any moment he might vomit again. On the stairs behind him Grant is at the door; he hears the key click in the lock and the soft creak of the hinges, then a shuffling sound before Grant is beside him again, one hand on his shoulder, the other resting on his knee.

“Come on, let’s get you upstairs,” he says softly, and lifts Asher’s head with one hand to dab at his mouth with a handkerchief. Asher nods miserably, and swallows hard as the movement makes his stomach roil. With Grant’s arm around his waist to support him, he gets to his feet again and stumbles inside through the propped open door, clicking his fingers softly for Leneghan to follow.

“Sorry,” he whispers, his voice shaking, as Grant helps him to the lift down the hall. “I didn’t know I’d...”

“I know,” Grant assures him, holding him close as they step onto the gondola. The shudder of movement beneath his feet makes Asher feel even sicker, the steak he’d eaten at dinner very heavy in his stomach, and he leans his head against Grant’s shoulder, screwing his eyes shut so he doesn’t have to watch each floor fall past them. Leneghan winds between his feet, rubbing her head against his legs; he wants to pick her up again, but he’s sure if he leans down to do it he’s going to throw up his dinner all over the floor of the lift and embarrass himself more than he already has.

When the gondola stops at the landing of their apartment, he feels his stomach lurch into his throat and has to clap a hand over his mouth to choke back another rush of vomit. The taste of acid on his tongue is half-sweet from the cake he’s still hardly digested, and it only makes the urge to gag again stronger. He’s too busy fighting to keep down the contents of his stomach to protest as Grant lifts him from the floor and carries him inside, cradled close against his chest in both arms.

It’s either a miracle or a testament to his willpower that he manages not to be sick on them both, though his feet have barely touched the bathroom floor before he’s pushing Grant away to lean over as he retches, a thick stream of vomit spilling onto the tiles. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out again between heaves, but Grant only hushes him again, one hand on his shoulder to steady him, the other holding his bangs out of the way.

“Come here, dearest, I’ve got you,” Grant murmurs when he’s finished, and helps guide him in front of the toilet, catching him when his knees go weak again and lowering him gently to the floor. He can’t stop shaking, his breath coming in shallow gasps as his heart hammers in his chest, and he can’t be sure if the burning in his cheeks is from fever or simply from shame. Grant gently wipes his mouth and chin with his handkerchief again.

His stomach churns and he leans over the toilet, trying to keep his breathing steady, in the hope that  it might stop him from throwing up any more of his dinner. At his side he hears Leneghan meow quietly, and reaches out blindly to find her face as she rubs up against his fingertips. She pads closer to climb into his lap, and he lets her, now that he’s knelt on the bathroom floor with somewhere better to vomit if - when he does than on himself.

“Let me help you with your coat,” Grant says, and leans against his shoulder to start undoing the buttons. Asher fumbles with one hand to do the same, starting at the bottom, and manages to clumsily undo two before he gags and has to double forward to be sick again. The stream of liquid that splashes into the toilet tastes half like acid and half like alcohol. Had he just drunk too much? He’d only had two glasses of wine, and that with dinner, over the course of an hour and a half; surely he can’t be so intoxicated as to make him this sick.

“Sorry,” he mumbles again as he lifts his head, and hears Grant sigh with gentle exasperation behind him, leaning in to dab at Asher’s lips with his handkerchief again.

“You hardly asked to fall ill,” Grant points out, pulling his coat off his shoulders. “You’re burning up, let me get this off of you.”

Asher nods and lets his arms fall to his sides so Grant can take his coat. Without it he’s suddenly cold, all too aware of the icy tile under him, and he wraps both arms around himself quickly, shivering. He really must be ill, he thinks miserably, and swallows hard as his stomach turns over.

“Do you think you could manage a shower?” Grant asks as he helps slip off Asher’s shoes. “It might do you good, if you can.”

“I suppose I could try,” Asher replies, hunching his shoulders. “Though I don’t know if I’m finished being sick yet.”

“That’s alright,” Grant assures him, idly brushing back his hair with one hand. “There’s no rush, dear, I’ll help you up whenever you’re ready.”

He nods and wraps his arms around himself, groaning as his stomach roils and twists. The bottom of his mouth fills with saliva, and he swallows hard. “I hate this,” he mumbles, hugging his abdomen tighter. “God, Grant, I feel awful.”

“I know, Ash,” Grant replies, rubbing his shoulders with one hand. “My poor sweetheart, I know, I’m here.” Asher whimpers as his stomach clenches, making him gag, and Grant’s fingers tighten on his shoulder as he adds, “It’s alright, now, don’t fight it, just let it happen.”

He leans over the toilet as his mouth floods again, letting his mouth hang open and a trickle of saliva spill over his lip into the water. A moment later his stomach contracts again, and this time when he retches it brings up bits of his dinner in a stream of acid.

At least there’s Grant’s hand, he thinks, steady on his back while he vomits up half-digested chunks of steak, and Leneghan curled up in his lap, purring faintly as she kneads at his leg. He might be miserable, but not too miserable to be grateful for both of them staying here with him. This would be a lot worse without them.

“Sorry about all the mess,” he manages hoarsely when he’s caught his breath. “I didn’t mean...”

“Don’t worry about it,” Grant tells him firmly, leaning in to loosen his collar. “Just take care of yourself, I’ll take care of the rest.” He cups Asher’s face in one hand to press a kiss to his temple before helping to unbutton the rest of his shirt so it hangs loose from his shoulders.

“Sorry about our date,” Asher murmurs, uncurling one arm to catch Grant’s hand.

“Hush,” Grant says, and laughs softly. “There’ll be other dates.”

By now Asher’s not so nauseous, though his abdomen is sore and aching from the effort of purging the better part of his dinner. “Help me up?” he asks, and Grant slides an arm around his waist to support him as he gets shakily to his feet.

With Grant’s help he finishes undressing and steps into the shower, turning the water on hot and hoping it’ll help the chills wracking his shoulders. It turns out his knees are too weak to stay standing for long, so he sits down under the spray and curls up around himself, closing his eyes as the water runs down his back. He doesn’t feel as sick anymore, but exhaustion is settling deep into his bones, and he sits there for a long few minutes nearly dozing off, listening to the sound of the spray and of Grant quietly moving around the apartment.

He does jerk out of his near-trance when his stomach turns over again, and turns to the side so the shower will wash the stream of sick he throws up into the drain. It’s mostly bile, though, just one last mouthful of foul liquid and a few remaining bits of his half-digested dinner, and when he’s finished it feels, much to his relief, like his stomach is finally empty.

When he steps out of the shower, the bathroom is chilly, but he’s grateful to find the mess on the floor has been cleaned up and Grant’s laid out a pair of warm and comfortable pajamas for him to change into. Grant is waiting for him already when he leaves the bathroom, with a hot mug of tea and a gentle smile, holding out one arm as he approaches to pull him close.

“Sorry about all the mess,” Asher murmurs, leaning his head against Grant’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it,” Grant assures him, brushing a hand through his damp hair and turning him gently towards the bedroom. “It’s all taken care of, you just take care of yourself.”

“Thanks,” Asher says, and manages a shaky smile.

“Try to drink a little of this, if you can, dear,” Grant tells him, offering the cup. “It’s ginger and honey, ought to soothe your throat and settle your stomach, and you’ll need fluids after that.”

“I’ll try,” he agrees, taking it, and lets Grant guide him gently to their room. Leneghan is curled up on the bed, waiting patiently for him, and she meows softly as he sits down, hurrying to rub her face against his side.

“Here,” Grant says, bringing the wastebin over to set it by the side of the bed. “In case your tea makes you sick again.”

Asher nods, taking a small sip of tea, and then another, before setting the mug down on the bedside table. “I’m tired,” he murmurs. “Come lay down with me?”

“Of course, my love,” Grant replies as he turns off the light, and Asher feels the weight of him settle into bed beside him. “Of course.”

[sickstarlight]

inspired by a prompt from @just-a-nervous-bean which reminded me of the k/endrells for some reason!

2.5k words of trans/stor h/c ft. these two being married and a’s cat as his service animal, no extra warnings (just puking lol)

—

Leneghan has been restless since before they left for dinner, slinking back and forth between Asher’s shoulders, the tip of her tail twitching occasionally, but he doesn’t start to feel unwell himself until afterwards, as they’re on their way back home. Despite the chill in the air, he feels too warm with his coat on, and there’s a dull ache in his temples that only seems to get worse when he closes his eyes.

Even Grant, talking idly about something that’s probably fascinating, is beginning to grate on him as they take the skyrail back to to the north side of Highrise, though he feels awful about it. Ordinarily he loves hearing Grant talk, whether it’s about his work in administration, or the city, or any number of other interesting topics, but tonight he can’t seem to keep his focus in one place, and his mind keeps wandering away so he can’t keep track of what exactly Grant is saying.

Leneghan meows softly and presses her head against his cheek, and Asher reaches up to scratch her ears, trying to drag himself back to what Grant’s saying, but it’s so hard to pay attention when there’s sweat beading up under his stiff collar, and the faint hum of the railcar gliding along its track is making his legs feel oddly shaky.

“You’re quiet, dear,” Grant says, putting a hand on his arm. “Is everything alright?”

The touch is enough to pull him back into the moment, and he shakes his head to clear it. “I’m just a little tired,” he says, giving Grant a weak smile.

“I thought Leneghan seemed worried about you,” Grant says, a slight frown creasing his brow. “You should have said something.”

“I felt alright at dinner,” Asher replies, “but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. She has been fussing at me a little.”

“Hm,” Grant says, still looking concerned, and squeezes his arm a little tighter before letting go. “We’re almost home, just a bit longer and we’ll get you to bed straight away.”

Asher nods and leans back a bit against the wall of the railcar to steady himself, finding himself a little grateful when Grant is silent, rather than try to continue the earlier conversation.

The skyrail reaches their stop, a block from home, and Asher stumbles a little as he steps out onto the walkway. It was chilly in the car, but outside it’s freezing, and he wraps his arms around himself, suddenly grateful for Leneghan’s warmth across the back of his neck. His head is reeling, though, badly disoriented now that the faint motion of the car is gone, and he sways on his feet as the world seems to spin for a moment.

“Asher?” Grant’s hand on his back helps steady him, and he leans into the touch, grateful for something that feels solid when the walkway under his feet doesn’t.

“I’m fine,” he says quickly, offering a shaky smile. “Let’s just get home.” Dizziness aside, his head feels so heavy that all he wants to do is get back to their apartment and lie down.

The brief walk up the block to their building feels like it takes an hour, and with every step Asher feels worse, though he keeps his head down and tries to ignore it. Even after a long day, it shouldn’t take so long to adjust after getting off the railcar, but the feeling of the ground still shaking underfoot doesn’t fade, and there’s a tightness in his throat that doesn’t go away when he swallows. He tries to focus on Leneghan insistently pressing her face against his cheekbone, raising one hand to scratch under her chin while the other closes tightly around the apartment key in his pocket.

As he climbs the steps to their building, his foot catches on the top stair and his balance goes. Leneghan growls and digs her claws into his shoulders as he stumbles and pitches forward, throwing out his arm to brace himself against the door. His stomach lurches, and dread makes his chest go tight as he feels something thick and hot rushing up his throat. Before he can react, his mouth fills with acid and a stream of vomit spills over his tongue, chunks of the cake they’d shared for dessert pouring onto the steps with a sick splatter.

“Asher!” Grant calls, and Asher feels him put both arms around his waist just as his knees give out underneath him. He slumps back against Grant’s chest, shaking and gasping for breath.

“Oh, God,” he groans, pushing his hair back with one shaking hand. “I’m sorry, God, I’m sorry, I’m—“

“Hush, dear, it’s alright,” Grant murmurs softly in his ear, pulling him back gently and helping lower him to the ground so he can sit down on the stairs. His head is still spinning, making his stomach twist uncomfortably, and he leans forward to let his head fall between his knees. The sight of sick splattered on the toes of his shoes makes him want to throw up again. He swallows hard.

He’s dimly aware of Leneghan pawing at his leg, mewling softly at him, and nudges her away gently with one hand. She must have jumped down from his shoulders when he fell, but he’d rather have her climb up again than try to lay in his lap when he thinks at any moment he might vomit again. On the stairs behind him Grant is at the door; he hears the key click in the lock and the soft creak of the hinges, then a shuffling sound before Grant is beside him again, one hand on his shoulder, the other resting on his knee.

“Come on, let’s get you upstairs,” he says softly, and lifts Asher’s head with one hand to dab at his mouth with a handkerchief. Asher nods miserably, and swallows hard as the movement makes his stomach roil. With Grant’s arm around his waist to support him, he gets to his feet again and stumbles inside through the propped open door, clicking his fingers softly for Leneghan to follow.

“Sorry,” he whispers, his voice shaking, as Grant helps him to the lift down the hall. “I didn’t know I’d...”

“I know,” Grant assures him, holding him close as they step onto the gondola. The shudder of movement beneath his feet makes Asher feel even sicker, the steak he’d eaten at dinner very heavy in his stomach, and he leans his head against Grant’s shoulder, screwing his eyes shut so he doesn’t have to watch each floor fall past them. Leneghan winds between his feet, rubbing her head against his legs; he wants to pick her up again, but he’s sure if he leans down to do it he’s going to throw up his dinner all over the floor of the lift and embarrass himself more than he already has.

When the gondola stops at the landing of their apartment, he feels his stomach lurch into his throat and has to clap a hand over his mouth to choke back another rush of vomit. The taste of acid on his tongue is half-sweet from the cake he’s still hardly digested, and it only makes the urge to gag again stronger. He’s too busy fighting to keep down the contents of his stomach to protest as Grant lifts him from the floor and carries him inside, cradled close against his chest in both arms.

It’s either a miracle or a testament to his willpower that he manages not to be sick on them both, though his feet have barely touched the bathroom floor before he’s pushing Grant away to lean over as he retches, a thick stream of vomit spilling onto the tiles. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out again between heaves, but Grant only hushes him again, one hand on his shoulder to steady him, the other holding his bangs out of the way.

“Come here, dearest, I’ve got you,” Grant murmurs when he’s finished, and helps guide him in front of the toilet, catching him when his knees go weak again and lowering him gently to the floor. He can’t stop shaking, his breath coming in shallow gasps as his heart hammers in his chest, and he can’t be sure if the burning in his cheeks is from fever or simply from shame. Grant gently wipes his mouth and chin with his handkerchief again.

His stomach churns and he leans over the toilet, trying to keep his breathing steady, in the hope that  it might stop him from throwing up any more of his dinner. At his side he hears Leneghan meow quietly, and reaches out blindly to find her face as she rubs up against his fingertips. She pads closer to climb into his lap, and he lets her, now that he’s knelt on the bathroom floor with somewhere better to vomit if - when he does than on himself.

“Let me help you with your coat,” Grant says, and leans against his shoulder to start undoing the buttons. Asher fumbles with one hand to do the same, starting at the bottom, and manages to clumsily undo two before he gags and has to double forward to be sick again. The stream of liquid that splashes into the toilet tastes half like acid and half like alcohol. Had he just drunk too much? He’d only had two glasses of wine, and that with dinner, over the course of an hour and a half; surely he can’t be so intoxicated as to make him this sick.

“Sorry,” he mumbles again as he lifts his head, and hears Grant sigh with gentle exasperation behind him, leaning in to dab at Asher’s lips with his handkerchief again.

“You hardly asked to fall ill,” Grant points out, pulling his coat off his shoulders. “You’re burning up, let me get this off of you.”

Asher nods and lets his arms fall to his sides so Grant can take his coat. Without it he’s suddenly cold, all too aware of the icy tile under him, and he wraps both arms around himself quickly, shivering. He really must be ill, he thinks miserably, and swallows hard as his stomach turns over.

“Do you think you could manage a shower?” Grant asks as he helps slip off Asher’s shoes. “It might do you good, if you can.”

“I suppose I could try,” Asher replies, hunching his shoulders. “Though I don’t know if I’m finished being sick yet.”

“That’s alright,” Grant assures him, idly brushing back his hair with one hand. “There’s no rush, dear, I’ll help you up whenever you’re ready.”

He nods and wraps his arms around himself, groaning as his stomach roils and twists. The bottom of his mouth fills with saliva, and he swallows hard. “I hate this,” he mumbles, hugging his abdomen tighter. “God, Grant, I feel awful.”

“I know, Ash,” Grant replies, rubbing his shoulders with one hand. “My poor sweetheart, I know, I’m here.” Asher whimpers as his stomach clenches, making him gag, and Grant’s fingers tighten on his shoulder as he adds, “It’s alright, now, don’t fight it, just let it happen.”

He leans over the toilet as his mouth floods again, letting his mouth hang open and a trickle of saliva spill over his lip into the water. A moment later his stomach contracts again, and this time when he retches it brings up bits of his dinner in a stream of acid.

At least there’s Grant’s hand, he thinks, steady on his back while he vomits up half-digested chunks of steak, and Leneghan curled up in his lap, purring faintly as she kneads at his leg. He might be miserable, but not too miserable to be grateful for both of them staying here with him. This would be a lot worse without them.

“Sorry about all the mess,” he manages hoarsely when he’s caught his breath. “I didn’t mean...”

“Don’t worry about it,” Grant tells him firmly, leaning in to loosen his collar. “Just take care of yourself, I’ll take care of the rest.” He cups Asher’s face in one hand to press a kiss to his temple before helping to unbutton the rest of his shirt so it hangs loose from his shoulders.

“Sorry about our date,” Asher murmurs, uncurling one arm to catch Grant’s hand.

“Hush,” Grant says, and laughs softly. “There’ll be other dates.”

By now Asher’s not so nauseous, though his abdomen is sore and aching from the effort of purging the better part of his dinner. “Help me up?” he asks, and Grant slides an arm around his waist to support him as he gets shakily to his feet.

With Grant’s help he finishes undressing and steps into the shower, turning the water on hot and hoping it’ll help the chills wracking his shoulders. It turns out his knees are too weak to stay standing for long, so he sits down under the spray and curls up around himself, closing his eyes as the water runs down his back. He doesn’t feel as sick anymore, but exhaustion is settling deep into his bones, and he sits there for a long few minutes nearly dozing off, listening to the sound of the spray and of Grant quietly moving around the apartment.

He does jerk out of his near-trance when his stomach turns over again, and turns to the side so the shower will wash the stream of sick he throws up into the drain. It’s mostly bile, though, just one last mouthful of foul liquid and a few remaining bits of his half-digested dinner, and when he’s finished it feels, much to his relief, like his stomach is finally empty.

When he steps out of the shower, the bathroom is chilly, but he’s grateful to find the mess on the floor has been cleaned up and Grant’s laid out a pair of warm and comfortable pajamas for him to change into. Grant is waiting for him already when he leaves the bathroom, with a hot mug of tea and a gentle smile, holding out one arm as he approaches to pull him close.

“Sorry about all the mess,” Asher murmurs again, leaning his head against Grant’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it,” Grant assures him, brushing a hand through his damp hair and turning him gently towards the bedroom. “It’s all taken care of, you just take care of yourself.”

“Thanks,” Asher says, and manages a shaky smile.

“Try to drink a little of this, if you can, dear,” Grant tells him, offering the cup. “It’s ginger and honey, ought to soothe your throat and settle your stomach, and you’ll need fluids after that.”

“I’ll try,” he agrees, taking it, and lets Grant guide him gently to their room. Leneghan is curled up on the bed, waiting patiently for him, and she meows softly as he sits down, hurrying to rub her face against his side.

“Here,” Grant says, bringing the wastebin over to set it by the side of the bed. “In case your tea makes you sick again.”

Asher nods, taking a small sip of tea, and then another, before setting the mug down on the bedside table. “I’m tired,” he murmurs. “Come lay down with me?”

“Of course, my love,” Grant replies as he turns off the light, and Asher feels the weight of him settle into bed beside him. “Of course.”

[sleepyxdarling]

Princess...[yandere sidon x female reader]

Why am I horny for this shark prince??

Prompt:being engaged to sidon is no easy thing.. especially when he gets jealous.

Triggers:breeding kink, NSFW, obsessed behavior, biting,unprotected sex, blood,

----

"you look beautiful in that dress princess [name], the prince will be most pleased when he returns"

The mention of sidon made your stomach do backflips but not for any good reason. Your husband to be was very charming and loving when out in public but behind closed doors he was truly an animal. You were everything to him and he'd be damned if anyone took you away.

You wanted to take a walk around the domain but knew you couldn't do it by yourself so you asked the guard to join you. The two of you walked around mingling and idly chatting. Things were pretty great..until..sidon returned.

The Zora prince was excited to return from his meeting with the other descendents of the Divine beast protectors. The meeting was important but he longed for the comfort of your body against his as he played with your hair and whispers sweet nothings to you.

Your sweet giggling was the first thing he heard and he felt warmth in your heart before he followed the sound only for his happy behavior to drop. You were giggling at a Zora guard and looked happy..

"my darling! Oh how I missed you!"

Sidon's voice made you snap your eyes at him before you feel his strong arms wrap around you tightly. Despite his bright smile and charming words you can tell he was pissed. His hug was crushing you and you can feel his claws graze your skin as if he was threatening to claw you right here and now.

"welcome..back sidon" you spoke in a calm tone though you had to fight the fear as he looked you in the eyes before giving you a soft kiss on your cheek. The poor Zora guard you were with was shaking as sidon let you go and walked over to him "I will be taking my wife to our Chambers..please let no one inside. We are both quite fatigued" he said sweetly before he placed a large hand on your back and guided you up the stairs to the shared room you both had.

"what are you wearing my scrumptious little minnow?" You could feel sidon's breath on your ear as you both were infront of the door to the room. He gave you a look which made you gulp and slowly open the door before walking inside.

"I..I..I thought I would wear something nice for you sidon" you could feel the tense air choking you as you faced him and watched as he closed and locked the door. Sidon walked towards you simply staring at the dress and each step he took forward, you took a step back until you fell back on the bed.

"my sweet sweet minnow..that dress is beautiful on you but I'll have to punish you for wearing such a thing. Not only that but you talk to one of my guards so casually" his tone was sweet and warm but you knew he was incredibly furious. Sidon got on top of you watching as fear pooled in your eyes.

He loved that vulnerable look in your eyes, it made his feral side lust for you. As he leaned down to kiss your sweet lips he was surprised that you turned your head quickly to refuse his kiss.

Sidon growled lowly and placed two fingers under your chin and forcing you to look at him. He couldn't stand when you looked away from him during intimate moments like these.

"minnow..unless you want to spend the rest of your days in this room then you will let me kiss you" he hissed out before he leaned down and captured your lips in his. That intoxicating taste was one he wanted to taste forever..it was his drug. His hands went straight to your dress and before you knew it he was ripping it right off your body.

You let out a surprised squeak as he pulled back and attacked your neck with kisses "s..sidon! Wait...please I don't-ah!" Your protests turned into a pained moan as you felt his teeth sink into your shoulder. The taste of your blood seemed to release his feral side and cause a pool of fluids to form between your legs.

Sidon needed to claim you as fast as possible before any other man got to you. He pulled back from your shoulder his teeth and mouth covered in blood. He couldn't take the teary-eyed flustered look you were giving him and he shoved his cock inside of you with a low groan.

"my little minnow loves her prince's cock inside of her like this? Your soaking wet! So wet for me!" Sidon groaned as he rocked his hips pushing himself deep in you. He leaned down licking your bite mark on your neck before he started to thrusts in and out of you at a moderate pace.

"a..ah sidon p..please.." your helpless moans made sidon let out a grunt as he thrusts harder and faster now destroying your insides with his cock. "What do you want minnow..? Tell me what you want" he growled in your ear.

"p..please! Don't hold back..ahh! Please sidon!" You begged out and sidon tensed up slightly before his claws digged into your hips as he pounded you so hard you were sure your brain was turning into mush.

"does my princess want my pups? To be filled up to the brim with my seed? I bet you do..then no man would ever look at you! They will know that you belong to me!" His snarling was that of a ravenous beast before he littered your body with bloody bitemarks.

You felt close and sidon knew this so he went as fast and hard as he could, he could hear the bed under you both creak and groan from the speed and roughness he was fucking you.

"s..sidon! I'm going to cum! Ahh! Please let me cum!" Your screams of pleasure were drowned out by his growling

"yes! Love take my seed!" He growled as he slammed deep into you and cummed in you filling you up til your stomach bulged slightly from the amount of cum he poured in you.

You felt sidon lay beside you and hug you close with his cock still inside of you. He kissed your shoulder while he pressed your back against his chest. As you tried to catch your breath you felt him start to move his hips once more which made you gasp.

"s..sidon?!" You squeak out and he gave a soft chuckle adoring your shocked plea.

"I want to see you swelled with my pups..so you can never leave me" he purred in your ear before he ignored your cries about how you were sensitive and he continued to fuck you.

Let's just say no one has seen either of you leave that room for a few days.

[ieattaperecorders]

Something’s Different About You Lately - Chapter 3: Crawling and Many-Legged

Martin gets a song stuck in his head.

Read on Ao3

It galled Jon how at home he was in the institute. How right he felt among the stacks of folders and files, the detritus of academia. He should have taken more pleasure in returning to his flat each evening, a comfort he hadn’t had since the coma. But it always felt like retreating, an unfortunate if necessary pause. Put a simple meal together, do the dishes, shower, sleep a few hours, anxiously kill time until he could return. The archive was where he belonged, and he hated it.

It wasn’t safe there. But it wasn’t safe anywhere - this world had no sanctuary from the forces that gathered at the edges of Jon’s nightmares. In the archive he could still find the people he cared about most, and if he could see them, he could keep them safe.

He was in what Tim called the ‘bullpen,’ where the others had their desks. The ceilings were high there, filled with nooks and crannies where shadows pooled and made you wonder, idly, if something could be hidden up there and spying on you. Sasha was at her desk, posed like an ancient statue, leaning forward on her elbows and reading from a file. Her long black hair was pulled into a messy bun and stuck through with pencils, which seemed unnecessary given she had two at her desk already, and another behind her ear. She seemed intently focused and Jon didn't wish to disturb her, but he had a question to ask.

"Have you seen Martin?"

"Nnnm-nnuh." Sasha muttered. It was either a no, or a meaningless sound she made while hoping he'd stop talking and leave her to read.

"I haven't seen him all day," Jon continued. "I'd wonder if he even came in, except he lives here now."

"Wouldn't know." Sasha looked up, meeting his eyes. She ran a hand through her close-cropped, auburn hair. "The archive is a big place, Jon. Maybe he got lost."

Jon frowned, unhappy at the thought, and turned back towards the stairs.

He found Tim at the bottom of the stairway, leaning against the wall and shuffling papers between his hands. Jon saw glimpses as he moved - lurid reds, yellows and pinks advertising circus acts, the writing all in Russian.

"Have you seen Martin, Tim?" Jon asked. "I need to talk to him about something. It's important."

"Can't help you, boss." Tim shrugged. "You can't keep an eye on everyone, you know?"

Jon might have replied to that, but he heard footsteps coming from further up the stairs, and all the thoughts went out of his head. The footfalls had a cadence that he recognized - the shy, careful tread of a heavy man used to stepping lightly, afraid he might make too much noise. Jon ran towards the stairs, but in his hurry he knocked Tim's hands and all the papers went scattering.

Several steps up already, Jon turned and winced. "Sorry."

Tim smiled, but his eyes were burning and there was smoke in his hair. Blood dripped from where his jaw was broken.

"I don't forgive you," he said.

Jon nodded. He understood. But he still had to find Martin, so he turned and went up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Martin's footsteps were distant and mist-muffled, and Jon had to strain to hear them. As he reached the top of the landing he was certain he saw him - just a silhouetted, but there was no mistaking it. The silhouette vanished around the corner and Jon broke into a run again, following with the relentlessness of gravity. He ran through the hallways, taking turns and looking through doorways, but the fog kept collecting between them. Every time he caught a hint of direction - a shape in the distance, a shadow, a breath - it dissolved just as soon as he came closer.

At one point Jon was certain he could see Martin clearly, sharp and certain as he ducked into a room. Jon reached the door just as it was closing, but when he pulled it open Martin wasn't there. Instead, Jon saw two other figures, quietly speaking to one another.

"Basira? Melanie . . ." Jon looked around the room. "Did Martin come through here? I . . . I thought I just saw him."

Melanie turned, blood trailing down from where her eyes used to be. Her expression was solemn and composed.

"I need to speak to him." Jon continued. "I have something to tell him. There are so many things I have to tell him . . . ."

Melanie shook her head. "He doesn't want to see you."

"You shouldn't be here." Basira came to stand beside Melanie. Her voice was the temperature of white hospital linen, of ice water brought begrudgingly. "You shouldn't have come back."

"I . . . I had to." Jon said quietly.

Basira shrugged, as if it wasn't worth arguing. "We can deal with it later."

A hand fell heavy on Jon's shoulder, and when he turned Georgie was there. Her eyes were just as he remembered them from a hundred terrible dreams, quiet, gray, and disappointed. The woman who wrapped her possessive arms around Georgie was quiet and gray as well, her head was shaved and a section of skull had been removed to expose the brain. She stared at him with eyes like a coroner's report.

"It was never a second chance." Georgie said with finality. "This isn't either."

Jon backed away, uncomfortable with the dead woman's eyes but even more so with Georgie's. Daisy said nothing from the corner where she crouched, jaw dripping, claws kneading the floor. Her gaze spoke clearly without any words, it fell on Jon and shouted, run.

He did run, back into the hallway and as fast as he could. The floor twisted under him, the fog gathered, his scars bled. He ran in any and every direction until he'd lost all sense of where he was or what he was fleeing.

Only then did he finally stop. The hall ahead of him was a dead end - no doors, turns or exits, nowhere to leave to, and at the end of it was Martin. Jon could have wept. He hurried to the end of the hall.

"Martin . . . I have so much I need to tell you," he exhaled, dizzy with adrenaline, with running and relief. "Terrible things are going to happen here . . . ."

"I know, Jon." Martin said.

"No, you don't. You can't possibly." Jon stammered, breathless. "There - - there are people out there, trying to change the world in horrible ways. The Unknowing, and Elias, and - - and Peter Lukas, he's going to hurt you . . . ."

"I know, Jon." Martin's voice was patient, weary. As if he'd explained all this so many times. "I know it all. The Lonely, and the coma, and what you did to the world."

That . . . that was impossible. Martin couldn't know about any of that, could he? It didn't matter. None of it mattered, because none of it was asa important as what he still had to say.

"I love you, Martin," he reached to touch the side of his face. "You mean the world to me. You were the reason I kept fighting, even after all was lost . . . ."

"Yes, Jon." Martin sighed heavily, removing Jon's hand from his cheek. "I know about everything. I lived through it all with you, remember?"

Jon couldn't see properly, and Martin's form kept shifting. His hair was longer, and there were dark circles under his eyes. His clothes were dirty, torn, and stained with blood that wasn't his. He carried a backpack that Jon recognized.

"But . . . you can't." Jon frowned. "None of that has happened yet."

Martin shook his head, a humorless smile on his face. The look he gave Jon lay somewhere between pity and contempt.

"Come on, Jon." He placed a hand against the wall, his fingers curled like knives. "Did you think any of this was real?"

Like a cheap backdrop, the wall came away in Martin's hand, and with it came the rest of the world. Jon saw the awful truth that had been hidden behind the theatrics. Of course . . . of course. How could he have forgotten? He and Martin had never left the tower.

From where he stood Jon saw himself in the center of the Panopticon, right where he belonged. The Archive of the Ceaseless Watcher, forever witnessing, forever recording, a mindless and infinite repository of terror. Beside him was Martin, curled against the warped shell of Jon's body, knees tucked under his chin. Unwilling to leave, unable to die, eyes dim and without any hope.

With despair he beheld the only fate there could ever be for the two of them, and he saw his own mouth forming words. And the words his mouth formed were, "with despair he beheld the only fate there could ever be for the two of them, and he saw his own mouth forming - - "

Jon bolted upright, blinking in the dark of his bedroom. His phone was ringing.

* * *

Cross-legged, Martin sat on middle of the camp bed and checked the time again. He really needed to sleep. Each minute that passed just added to how tired he'd be in the morning. For a while now he'd been relying on black tea and nerves to keep him awake during the day, occasionally supplemented by a sneaky nap when there were still other people in the building. It got him through each week, but he knew he couldn't keep it up forever. What he needed was a solid eight hours. But that chance was gone for the night, so he ought to have been making the most of what time there was.

Instead he set his phone on the stack of boxes that served as a bedside table and picked up a well-worn pocket notebook. There was a writing exercise he'd been working on, one he'd seen online somewhere. You were supposed to put down whatever words popped into your head - not thinking or editing at all. Then, after filling a page, you picked out a dozen or so and tried to make a poem out of them. Martin didn't really expect to produce anything worth looking at even by his own standards. All he wanted was to occupy his mind, focus on something that might settle his thoughts to the point where he could sleep. He looked back over the page he'd been writing on:

walls. door. closed. stuck. trapped. trap. pit. pitted. eaten. perforate. pick. dig. bore. burrow. squirm. scream. wring. writhe. anxious. panic. escape. run. hate. hate this. i hate this so much. so much so much so much.

Lovely. All it needed was an artful splatter of blood and it would be the perfect prop to leave behind after he mysteriously disappeared one of these nights. He flipped the notebook closed.

Laying down was out of the question. Every time he tried, he'd feel something crawling over every inch of his body. No matter how firmly he told himself there would be nothing there, that there was never anything there, it was no use. He'd last maybe a minute or so before leaping up, flipping on the lights and checking himself over for invaders.

No. He would just have to sit up and occupy himself until he dropped off from sheer exhaustion. It would happen eventually, hopefully soon. Meanwhile, he just had to turn his mind towards something calming. Something other than how tired he'd be in the morning. Or how vulnerable he was while he slept. Or how something might stand over him while his eyes were closed without him ever knowing. He just had to stop thinking about the sounds coming through the walls, or what had been in the hollows of Jane Prentiss's eyes. About how that basement had smelled, or how quickly those things had moved, or about wet, writhing segmented bodies crawling over one another, pressing up against this room from the outside until - -

Martin gripped his chest and counted in his head, trying to slow his breathing. This was a really bad night.

He checked the time again to find that less than fifteen minutes had passed, and a frustrated whine slipped out of him. He stared at the phone in his hand and thought about what Jon had said a few weeks ago.

This place is unsettling at night. A second perspective can be a breath of fresh air.

He had told Martin to call him. Jon couldn't get mad at him for calling if he'd told him to, could he? Or, well, he could, but it wouldn't be very fair of him. Really, the way the past month had gone, Martin found he was less concerned about sparking Jon's ire than he used to be. Mostly he was embarrassed at the thought of phoning him up to explain that he couldn't sleep because of phantom worms. What exactly did Martin expect him to do about that, anyway? Check under the bed for Jane Prentiss? Read him a bedtime story?

The image of himself curled up in bed while Jon read Tolkien to him was both ridiculous and embarrassingly appealing. He'd heard Jon do recordings before, once even overheard him singing to himself, and he did have a good voice. In fact, having Jon read something out loud to him, even just over the phone, would probably be really, really nice, whether it helped him sleep or not. Martin would definitely rather be eaten by worms than suggest it.

If Martin did call, Jon would probably say he was being irrational. And maybe he was?

Well. Not too irrational. Everyone had spotted worms chewing and crawling around the institute's baseboards. They probably followed him here, which was great, just a wonderful possibility to consider. What was it that people said about infestations? For every one you see, there's a hundred more you don't see? So actually, yes, he was being extremely rational in general and if anything he should be more concerned that --

something was crawling on the back of his neck down his back crawling squirming wriggling

Martin bolted away from the bed, yanked off his nightshirt and reached frantically around himself. His hands couldn't cover the full expanse of his back, so he grabbed a metal-edged ruler from nearby, swiping between his shoulder blades where he could still feel the slow, slick, trailing something . . . .

By the time he made it to the bathroom, the sensation had faded. He still took the time to examine his back in the mirror, craning his neck to see. No worms. No holes. A few long, red scratches he'd given himself with the corner of the ruler, trailing wide over his shoulders. The florescent light shone off a sheen of sweat between his shoulder blades, and as he watched a drop of it creep down his spine that crawling feeling zipped through him again. That was it. That was all. Just his own sweat and nerves.

He splashed some water on his face before pulling his shirt back on and trudging morosely to the cot, face burning, glad that at least there had been no one around to see. He picked his phone up from where he had dropped it, relieved that the screen wasn't cracked. Looked at the time again. 1:43.

Just someone to talk to, he thought as he opened his contacts. Just a few minutes of another human voice, even if it only told him to stop imagining things and go to sleep. He pressed the call button and the phone rang.

"Yes? Hello?" Jon's voice was groggy, with a sharp edge of irritation to it. "What is it?"

Martin winced. Of course he'd woken him up. He'd said that he kept odd hours, that meant it was all right to call him after ten, not after one. He briefly considered hanging up and pretending that this hadn't happened.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" The edge in Jon's voice increased, dipping into anger. Martin heard him mutter something about automated calls.

"Hi. Sorry." Martin said. "I know it's late . . ."

"Oh. No, no, it's fine." Jon's voice changed immediately, dropping to a gentler tone. "What is it? Is everything all right?"

"I'm not sure." Martin swallowed, mouth dry. "It's probably all in my head, but, well, what you said about another perspective . . . ."

"Of course. What - -" Jon stifled a yawn. "What's troubling you?"

Martin was hit then by just how little had actually happened. A few odd noises and his mind conjuring danger from sweat. Trying to explain the last few hours in a way that didn't sound completely stupid felt impossible.

There was silence on the line for much too long, and then, "Martin? Are you still there?"

"Yeah, sorry. Just hit me how underwhelming this is going to sound," he said apologetically. "Probably wasn't worth waking you over."

Again there was silence. Martin found himself thinking if the worms had been waiting for a particular moment to fall on him, bore through his flesh and eat whatever part of his brain thought phoning Jon at two am was a good idea, he'd be up for it right about then.

"It's fine, Martin. Really." Jon said. "I'm glad you called. I . . . appreciate that you would reach out to me. Obviously I asked you to, but, still."

Martin blinked, surprised at the sincerity in Jon's tone. It was reassuring, and it tied itself up around a handful of other things he'd been feeling lately, enough that he felt able to talk.

"All right, well . . . I think there might be something in the walls."

There was a heavy pause before Jon spoke. "In the walls."

"Yes, in the walls!" The tension that had been winding in Martin for hours hadn't left, and something in Jon's tone made him defensive. "Is that really hard to believe? Infestations usually start in walls, don't they? If those things are, making, I don't know, nests. . . ."

Against his will, Martin found himself imagining what those things would make nests out of. The visual of half a dozen hole-shot bodies entered his mind, curled like mummies between the rooms, mouths writing with larvae and opened as if to scream. He shuddered.

"No, no, it's - - it's a logical concern." Jon said. "But you're not thinking of - - that is, you're not cutting holes in them, are you?"

"Oh." Martin flushed. "No, no. I'm not going to start knocking down walls or anything, if that's what you're worried about. I just hear things through them sometimes. Especially at night."

"What sort of things?" Jon asked. "Er . . . worm noises?"

"Sort of. Well, no. I mean. Maybe?" Martin sighed, "okay, the thing is . . . there's the usual old building sounds. And I know that probably most of what I'm hearing is the pipes, right? But there's other sounds underneath that and - - yeah," he started to pick up speed, talking faster and thinking less about it "- - sometimes it does sound a lot like something's crawling around in there, and that's not even getting into the voices - -"

"Wait, voices?" Jon cut in sharply.

Martin winced. He hadn't meant to mention that part, but he was tired and anxious and couldn't keep a lid on things. It had just slipped out.

"Um. Yes. Sort of," he said quietly. "Sometimes."

"Are they saying anything specific?"

"Not really? Just sort of indistinct, maybe not even words. It's more like. There's a melody to it? Not something you could hum, but . . . it sort of sticks in your head. Sometimes I get it running through my mind during the day, you know, but I only actually hear it at night, so . . . ." Martin trailed off, keenly aware of how insane he sounded.

There was a very long pause on the other end. When Jon spoke again, his voice was slow and careful. "You haven't been sitting up and listening to it , have you?"

Internally, Martin groaned. "Look, I know how it sounds, Jon, I just- -"

"Martin. Martin." Jon raised his voice, covering Martin's protest. "I believe you."

"I - what?"

"I promise, I believe you." Jon said. "Please, just . . . have you been listening to it? The . . . the singing."

It was the fear in Jon's voice more than his actual words that made Martin pause and consider his answer.

"Not on purpose, I guess. I still hear it of course. Sometimes I try to cover it with music or, uh, forest noises, but that never really works. But it's not as if I'm trying to listen."

"Does it . . . ." Jon laughed weakly, "this is probably going to sound like an absolutely deranged question but, does it sound like it's for you?"

Martin couldn't explain the sudden lunge of fear in his gut when Jon asked him that.

"Wh-what?"

"Does it sound like something is singing to you? You specifically?"

The question was strange, but it resonated. There was a feeling he got sometimes sitting up in bed, half-dazed with exhaustion. It was hard to put a name to, but it felt familiar.

Come to think of it, he knew what that feeling reminded him of. It was a boy named Colin from his first year of secondary school. That was back before the growth spurts had turned Martin into the too-big, too-obvious teen he'd eventually become, when he was still a high-voiced fat little boy. Colin had been bigger and older, and he would insert himself into Martin's life at random, meeting him at the corner on his walk to school or sidling up to him in the lunchroom. Hitting him up for any money he might have, which was never very much, or making jokes that Martin felt obliged to laugh along with even though they were at his expense. Sometimes he'd muss Martin's hair in a manner that felt almost friendly, or pinch and poke at his chubby sides in a way that decidedly wasn't.

Martin was fairly sure Colin hadn't had any friends either, and maybe in some other world they could have bonded over that, but Colin didn't want a friend in Martin. He'd marked him as a pushover who would put up with him for the poor excuse for companionship that he sometimes provided. And he'd been right. Colin had been better than nothing.

"It sounds . . . friendly." Martin said after a pause. "But . . . not a nice sort of friendly. More cruel. If that makes sense."

Jon muttered something to himself that Martin couldn't hear, then spoke again into the phone.

"Are you dressed?" He asked.

"I - - What?"

"Are you dressed?" Jon repeated. "Have you got shoes on? Are you wearing clothes that you can go outside in?"

"Um." Martin glanced towards the suitcase where he kept most of his clothing. "I could be in a moment?"

"Good. Get on what you need, then get outdoors as quickly as possible. Take anything essential that you can easily grab. Wallet, phone, keys, that sort of thing. Wait for me just outside the Institute." There was more shifting and dragging, the sounds of him moving things around. "I can get there in about half an hour, depending on the trains."

"Why? What's this about?"

"Just wait for me there." Jon's voice was sharp, but there was an audible current of fear running through it. "And - and don't listen to any singing. I'll be there as quickly as I can."

Before Martin could ask anything further, the call ended.

[starshine583]

New Friends Ch. 18

Ch.1 / Ch. 17 / Ch.19

(Chapter 18! This one’s gonna be a roller coaster!)

Felix was distraught to say the least. Marinette was the sweetest, kindest, gentlest person he knew, and if she was akumatized?

Well, the world might as well end right now.

Felix knew he should transform and help stop her- the screaming crowds assured him of that -but all he could focus on was finding Agreste and making him pay.

His hands clenched into fists, Ladybug’s earrings digging into his palms. 

Yes, he was the one responsible for this. Lila may have been the one to lay the groundwork, but Adrien’s the one who pushed Marinette over the edge.

And now he was going to get what he deserved. 

Despite the growing chaos, the blonde wasn’t hard to find. He was creeping past the panicking students, most likely for a place to hide.

Typical. Felix thought bitterly. Of course he’d try to avoid the consequences of his actions.

“Agreste!” Felix spat, prowling in the model’s direction.

Adrien froze like a deer in the headlights, turning to Felix with a horrified expression. They both knew what he was there for.

“Felix, I really don’t have time-” 

Felix cut him off by grabbing his collar and shoving him up against the wall. Screams and crashes surrounded them, but it was nothing compared to the fury roaring inside Felix’s chest. Adrien hurt Marinette- one of the most precious people in the world -so much that she became akumatized. He put her down and defended a liar and a bully, and he wanted to talk about not having time?

“I don’t care what you have time for.” Felix ground out. “Do you even realize what you’ve done?!” 

He was livid, even more so that Adrien didn’t seem to care. All he cared about was himself. As usual.

Adrien cowered beneath his glare, hands coming up to struggle out of Felix’s grasp. “I-I know, Felix, I know. I’m trying to fix it, but you have to let me go. I can-”

“BUT YOU CAN’T!” Felix snarled. Lies. Empty, pathetic excuses to get out of the mess he’d put himself in. 

Another crash and a fresh series of screams rang through the school.

Felix glanced in the direction of the commotion, desperation and fear briefly washing over him.

“You can’t do anything.” He nearly whispered, letting Adrien’s collar slip out of his hands as he cast his gaze to the floor. 

Marinette was an akuma, probably doing things he knew she’d regret later.

Ladybug’s earrings were heavy in his hands. 

Out of everyone she knew, she’d trusted this sacred magic to him. Twice, in fact. He couldn’t let her down by wasting his energy on some brainless fool who didn’t deserve to look her way in the first place.

So, with a last scowl towards his cousin, Felix took off again, back towards the bathrooms. 

“Wayzz!” He panted once he was safely hidden from prying eyes.

The green kwami zipped to his side, along with another red one.

“You need to use the Ladybug miraculous, or else you won’t be able to purify Marinette’s akuma!” Tikki said urgently, hovering above the earrings.

Felix frowned. “I don’t have my ears pierced.”

As if on queue, the spotted earrings in his hands began glowing. When the light faded, it revealed a pair of clip on earrings instead. 

“Huh.. okay, so what about Wayzz?” He asked next, clipping on the earrings and hoping they stay put during battle.

“If I remember correctly,” Wayzz cut in just then, “You can use more than one miraculous at the same time.” 

Felix raised his eyebrows in surprise, looking to Tikki for confirmation.

The kwami nodded, an encouraging look in her eyes. Ladybug was out, and Chat Noir wasn’t stable as of late. They needed all the help they could get.

With a final nod, Felix closed his eyes and said the magic words. “Wayzz, shell on, and Tikki, spots on!”

~~~~~~

Alya idly scrolled through her phone as she waited for class to start. Lila was retelling her story about going to the zoo with Prince Ali to Rose, who wanted every detail. Adrien hadn’t come into class yet. Marinette and Felix seemed to be late as well, which was odd- for Felix, not Marinette. And Nino-

She spared a glance towards the desk behind her, where Nino sat next to Mylene with a sour expression. He’d stomped his way into class a few minutes ago, spitefully making a point to not sit in the seat next to Adrien. She tried to ask him what happened, but he just shook his head and put on his headphones- a simple sign he didn’t feel like talking at the moment. 

The bell finally rang, but Adrien, Marinette, and Felix still weren’t there. 

“Good morning Class. Today we’re going to review-”

Mlle. Bustier didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence before a large crash sent the classroom door flying off its hinges and across the room. Half the class screamed, while the other half dove for cover. 

Alya was the select few to remain in her seat, swiftly pulling up the camera on her phone. 

“Well!” A voice cooed, and a girl sauntered into the room. She had a deep purple dress that hung just above her knees. The pitch black spots littering the dress brought out her black, half-sleeved leather jacket. Fishnet, fingerless gloves trailed her arms, and matching pantyhose adorned her legs, leading from her dress to her dark purple, lace-up boots with heels sharp enough to kill a man. 

“It seems I’ve caught you all in one place.” She grinned, revealing her uncannily sharp teeth. “How convenient.”

Alya swallowed, suddenly overcome with a paralyzing sense of dread. “M-Marinette?”

The outfit was so out of her range of style that Alya wouldn’t have recognized her had it not been for the signature ponytails. The only difference was that her pigtails were made of small daggers instead of hair, though her bangs were the same. 

The figure’s smile fell, slowly turning to face Alya. 

The reporter nearly dropped her phone from shock. 

Black. Marinette’s eyes were an inky black that almost seemed to swallow you whole. Purple tears smeared her cheeks, similar to paint.

“You may call me Miss Fortune.” The akuma- because what else could it be? -sneered, taking a purple and black handbag from around her shoulders. “On second thought, just don’t call me.” 

Miss Fortune used the strap of the handbag to swing it in the air, vaguely reminding Alya of Ladybug with her yo-yo.

A few brave students ran for the door, but she used the makeshift yo-yo to grab the door and throw it back into the wall, effectively blocking any attempt of escape.

Alya realized too late that she should have taken cover as well, because Miss Fortune swung the purse forward, letting it wrap around Alya’s neck until the open handbag was tied securely to the reporter’s mouth. 

“You want to call me a bully, tell me all my gracious gifts to you were simply manipulative tactics and nothing more? That’s fine with me, but if my gifts meant so little to you, I want them back.”

Alya felt the ropes around her neck tighten slightly, and she gagged. 

Miss Fortune inched forward, her devious smile returning. “Tell me, Alya, all the things I’ve done for you that you took for granted.” 

She choked and gasped, clawing at the string as different events tumbled out of her mouth, her meeting with Ladybug, Marinette’s free babysitting, her and Nino getting together. It felt as if she were being hollowed from the inside out, each word taking some of her hope and happiness from Marinette’s good deeds with it. 

Her chest was starting to feel numb when the sound of shattering glass rang out and someone tackled the akuma to the ground. 

Alya gasped, yanking the purse off her neck with shaky hands. Nino rushed to her side, throwing away the offending item.

The two looked for their savior, expecting to see Ladybug or Chat Noir.

Instead, they saw a green-clad heroine facing off Miss Fortune with a round, turtle-shell shield. Nino, of course, recognized it immediately.

“That’s the other Carapace!” He said out of shock. 

The hero gave him an irritated glance. “I have a name. It’s Bouclier.” 

Alya scrambled for her phone despite her current condition. She wanted all the information on the new hero she could get. Besides, this was no ordinary Carapace- or Bouclier -from the looks of it. She knew for a fact that Nino’s costume only had green and yellow colors, but this one has Carapace and Ladybug colors. While most of the suit was green, the hood was black, along with the knee and elbow pads. The spaces around the pads were bright red, as well as the torso which was usually a light green. The inside of his shell shield was red and spotted, and Alya noticed not one, but two yo-yos hanging around his waist. 

A quick glance to his wrist and ears confirmed that he was indeed wearing both the Ladybug and Turtle miraculous. What a huge scoop! 

“Bouclier. I knew you’d come for me.” Miss Fortune glared, getting to her feet and carefully dusting off her dress. 

Bouclier held his ground, shield ready but yo-yos still on his waist untouched. “Marinette, don’t do this.”

An emotionless laugh came from her black lips. “What’s the matter? I thought this was what you wanted. To get back at the class.”

Her expression softened, and she took a step towards him with an extended hand. “Stop this nonsense, and join me. We don’t have to fight.” 

Alya furrowed her eyebrows when Bouclier tensed. The way she spoke to him.. Did they know each other? Was he actually considering her offer?

Before Bouclier could respond, the classroom door was kicked in for the second time that day, knocking Bouclier and Miss Fortune to the ground. 

Chat Noir jumped inside, baton spinning in his hands as he scanned the room for the threat.

“Great timing.” Bouclier said sarcastically from underneath the akuma.

“Where’s Ladybug?” Chat asked, ignoring Bouclier’s comment.

Miss Fortune hissed, pushing herself off of Bouclier and lunging forward to grab her purse.

“I’m afraid Ladybug’s out of commission right now.” She snipped, spinning her purse again.

Chat’s eyes widened, turning to Bouclier. “What does she mean-”

It was then the Cat noticed Bouclier’s earrings. 

“Wait, are those-”

“Focus on the akuma.” Bouclier cut him off, finally taking the yo-yos from his waist.

Alya watched as the two charged at each other. Miss Fortune aimed for Bouclier’s neck, and he ducked, sliding underneath her and standing on the other side. He then used both yo-yos to grab her by the waist and fling her out the window. 

“What are you doing!” Chat yelled, oddly panicked as he raced to the window.

“Creating distance.” Bouclier grunted, hooking the yo-yos to his side again. “We need to get her away from the class.” 

With that, the turtle-themed hero left the classroom, and Chat reluctantly followed after him.

Alya stopped the video, knowing she didn’t have enough strength to go after the three. She could only hope they stopped Marinette in time.

~~~~~~

Bouclier ignored the burning in his lungs as he chased Miss Fortune across the rooftops. After her threw her out of the classroom, she started running around the city, probably to tire them before striking. 

It was working.

“We’re never gonna catch up with her this way.” Chat huffed, lagging behind a bit.

“What other choice do we have?” Bouclier called back.

Miss Fortune abruptly stopped on one of the rooftops, nearly causing Bouclier to run into her.

Chat wasn’t so lucky, full on tripping into the akuma. She used his momentum to flip him over and off of the roof.

Bouclier swiftly took out his yo-yos, grabbing onto the string with each one. He then yanked as hard as could, breaking the strap and catching the purse when it flew into the air.

He waited for the akuma, waited for the dark power to melt off of Miss Fortune and bring back Marinette, but nothing happened.

A cackle came from Miss Fortune, and he looked up just in time to see her spin and kick him in the stomach. 

Bouclier grunted when he hit the rooftop, watching her pick up the broken purse.

“You didn’t think it’d be that easy, did you?” She grinned, pulling the purse completely in half. Still no akuma. Instead, the purse turned into two yo-yos. 

He scoffed in annoyance, scrambling to his feet and grabbing his own yo-yos. The akuma was definitely in her purse, but how was he going to get it if he couldn’t break it?

A faint groan caught his attention. Chat Noir. His cataclysm ability. That could work.

Miss Fortune tisked towards his defensive stance, idly swinging both halves of her purse as she strolled forward. 

“It doesn’t have to be this way. We can fight together. Take down Hawkmoth, take care of Lila and the others. We’ll be unstoppable.” 

Bouclier winced at the repeated offer. It was certainly tempting, if he was being honest. But this...

He met her eyes, hollow, devoid of the light that once shone so brightly.

This was not Marinette. This was not the person who’d befriended him in spite of his stiff attitude. The one who lit up his life with a simple smile. The one so kind and compassionate that she would do anything for anyone, whether they deserved it or not.

The one he’d fallen so deeply in love with. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He truly was.

“But I can’t stand by you this time.” 

Miss Fortune frowned, genuine disappointment crossing her features for just a moment. Then she shook her head and sighed.

“If you’re sure you won’t change your mind.” 

Her yo-yos swung forward, wrapping around Bouclier’s arms and chest so he couldn’t move. He struggled against the hold, helpless as she walked forward to grab his earrings.

“Looks like I’m on my own. Again.”

Bouclier gave her a sad smile. Not if he had anything to say about it.

“Chat Noir!” 

Miss Fortune’s eyes widened.

“Cataclysm!” The cat-themed hero cried, grabbing the strings between her and Bouclier.

The purse disintegrated instantly, a black akuma rising from the dust. Bouclier swiftly caught the akuma, and ran to Marinette’s side.

He barely let the magic wash off her body before scooping her up and heading in the direction of her house. She’s going to want time to recover.

~~~~~~

Marinette awoke to the rush of wind in her ears and a pair of arms wrapped around her. She cracked an eye open to see passing rooftops. Where was she? Who was carrying her? The last thing she remembered was ranting to Felix in the bathroom. Then everything went fuzzy…

She gasped. 

Had she been akumatized? What happened to Felix? How much damage did she cause? Were they able to fix her in time?

“It’s alright. You’re safe now.” A familiar voice said softly, their grip on her tightening slightly.

Her gaze snapped upwards, coming face to face with Bouclier.

“Felix.” She breathed. He was okay. Thank goodness he was okay.

He glanced down at her with a small smile that made her stomach flip.

“I’m taking you home. The school won’t mind your absence after what just happened.” Bouclier informed gently, stopping on what Marinette recognized as her balcony.

She nodded. Some time to herself sounded nice. She had a lot to think about. However..

“Will you stay with me?” 

Some company also sounded nice, especially some time with Felix. She just realized she loved him, after all. Gosh, how was she going to tell him? How does one plan for these sort of things?

Felix tensed, abruptly setting her down. “I can’t. I need to get back to school.”

The answer was short, almost panicked, though she couldn’t place why.

“Oh. okay.” She faltered, pushing back the disappointment. “Will I see you later then?” 

The blonde shook his head. “No, I.. My mom has something planned tonight.”

Marinette furrowed her eyebrows. Excuses? Why wouldn’t he just talk to her?

“Felix-” 

He cut her off, taking off the earrings- she vaguely noticed the red and black leave his costume -and handing them to her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

He was gone before she could even blink.

The ravenette frowned. What was that?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a bright flash of light and a cheery voice.

“Marinette!” Tikki cried, snuggling into her holder’s cheek.

Marinette giggled, lightly cupping her kwami in a small hug.

“I’m sorry I caused so much trouble.”

Tikki shook her head. “Not at all! I’m just glad you’re back.” 

Marinette smiled, tilting her head to put on the earrings. “Thanks. Let’s go talk to Maman and Papa. I’m sure they were worried too.”

~~~~~~

Adrien sat down in seat, still rubbing his jaw from yesterday. Marinette was lucky he was such a good friend or else he might’ve gone to the principal's office to report her behavior. 

“Can you believe it?” Alya said eagerly from behind him. “A hero using two miraculous? And a new hero at that!” 

He bit back a growl. Ladybug missed the fight against Marinette’s akuma yesterday. That alone wouldn’t be so bad had she not entrusted her miraculous to a stranger. Chat Noir’s been on the team way longer than Bouclier! How could she give it to him instead? Did their partnership mean nothing to her?

“That’s so cool, Alya!” Rose chirped, cheerful as always. “What was his name again?” 

“I think it was ‘Nuclear’.” Alix answered.

“Bouclier.” Nino corrected.

Adrien winced, hyper aware of the fact that his best friend wasn’t sitting next to him anymore. They hadn’t spoken since their argument yesterday. Even Plagg’s started getting snippy with him. Why did everyone act like he was the enemy here? They were the ones causing all of the problems! He just wanted to keep the peace, for all of them to be friends again. Was that too much to ask?

Alya waved off the comments. “Either way, he’s got to be the one responsible for all of those shields in the other battles. I wonder why Ladybug gave him her miraculous. I hope she’s okay.”

Chloe scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Of course she’s okay. It’s Ladybug. She probably took a day off or something.”

A day off? Adrien almost laughed. His Lady was much too obsessed with professionalism to do such a thing. 

“Would Ladybug do that?” Kim asked, as if he were reading Adrien’s thoughts. 

“No. She wouldn’t.” Alya answered in Ladybug’s stead, throwing Chloe a pointed glare. 

Chloe only hummed. “Well, she should. Goodness knows she could use one.” 

Adrien nodded in agreement. They could both use a break, possibly together, under candle light, with no Bouclier in sight. 

The chatter died down a little when Marinette and Felix walked into the classroom. Both glared at him as they passed. 

Adrien looked away, mostly because of Felix. He’d never seen his cousin get so angry before. If it hadn’t been for the akuma, Adrien had a feeling Felix would’ve done a lot more than grab his shirt. 

“Ladybug will come back soon, and I hope she can tell us more about Bouclier when she does.” Alya grinned, watching the video on her phone for the fifth time that morning.

Adrien inwardly groaned. That makes one of us.

~~~~~~

Marinette absently stabbed her food with her fork. Not only did Felix stiffly reject her invitation to hang out yesterday, he also refused today when she asked if he was eating lunch with them. He didn’t talk to her during class either, despite her efforts. Or even look at her really. Why was he avoiding her? Did she do something wrong?

“Are you gonna eat, Mari?” Aurore asked curiously, pulling her from her thoughts.

Marinette gave a tight smile. “Ah. No, I’m.. not really hungry.” 

The group exchanged a few looks.

“Is this about Felix?” Luka was brave enough to ask.

The ravenette straightened, her cheeks tinged pink. “What? No. Why would you- I mean, that isn’t-”

Aurore giggled, the others giving her a knowing glance.

“Come on, Nette. You two couldn’t be more obvious if you tried.” Wayhem remarked, only making Marinette more flustered.

“I- We’re not- t-two?” Did that mean they thought Felix loved her too?

Kagami calmly set her spoon in her bowl and crossed her arms over the table. “Felix can be complicated. He’s not exactly tuned in to his own feelings.”

Marinette squeaked. “S-so he’s not avoiding me?” 

“I guess you’ll just have to ask and find out.” Luka smiled. That was easier said than done. When would she even ask him about it? What if he won’t answer her questions?

Too many scenarios ran through her mind at the suggestion, but Marinette knew she had to do it. Felix meant everything to her. She’d be darned if she let him slip through her fingers because of some wild anxieties. 

Her chair scratched across the floor as she shot to her feet. “I’ll see you guys after class.” 

The others nodded, each giving her an encouraging smile as she left. 

Marinette raced passed the other students, down the hall, and through the front doors. If she wanted to ask him, she had to ask him directly, face to face. Felix didn’t tell her where he would be eating for lunch, but if what Kagami implied was true, she had a hunch she knew exactly where he was.

~~~~~~

Felix ran his hands through his hair, watching Marinette’s name flash across his phone screen for what had to be the tenth time. Why was she calling him? Better yet, why wouldn’t he answer? 

You know why. A voice hissed in the back of his mind.

Yes, He knew. It was because he was in love with her. Fighting her yesterday.. Finally getting her back and being able to hold her close.. he realized that Marinette meant everything to him. He couldn’t ruin their friendship over  something as fickle as love. Too many things could go wrong. What if she didn’t reciprocate his feelings? What if they only dated for a week and realized they didn’t like each other that way? Or at all? 

Felix sighed. 

Nevertheless, he still found himself wanting to be with her. The way her eyes sparkled when she talked about her passion, or how her laughs sounded like bells and made him feel lighter than air. She was a dangerous addiction that he just wanted more and more and more of everyday. It was why he decided to eat at the restaurant where they first met. It was a wonderful reminder of how much joy she’d brought into his life.

“Forgive me, Master, but wouldn’t it be easier to just talk to her?” Wayzz helpfully suggested from the safety of Felix’s bag.

“You think I haven’t tried?” Felix groaned. Talking to Marinette used to be so easy. You just.. Talk to her, and she’ll listen. Now, any time she so much as looked at him he was rendered speechless. 

She probably thought he was a jerk, avoiding her all day, but how do you tell your closest friend that you’ve fallen hopelessly in love with them? That you have no idea what to do with these sudden feelings?

A small commotion at the front of the restaurant caused his gaze to flick to the door. Any distracts were welcome at this point.

His heart skipped a beat.

Marinette stood in the doorway, searching the tables with a fiery determination. 

It only took a few seconds for her bluebell eyes to land on him, and she was at his table in an instant, giving him no time to hide.

“Are you avoiding me?” 

The questions was so straight forward that Felix wasn’t sure how to respond. So he blurted out the truth.

“Yes?” 

Wrong answer. Wrong answer!

Hurt etched across Marinette’s face, similar to the ache quickly spreading through his chest. why did he have to be such an idiot!

“I see.” She said, gripping the side of her jacket. “I’m sorry to bother you then.” 

“W-wait!” Felix was on his feet before he could fully register what he was doing. 

Marinette gave a pained smile, stepping back. “Felix, it’s fine. You want your space. I get it.” 

He resisted the urge to face palm. “No! That’s not what I want!” 

The ravenette frowned, now confused. “Then what do you want.” 

You. His mind screamed. Always you.

But he said nothing. Why wasn’t he saying anything!

Marinette nodded, taking his silence as an answer and turning around. “You don’t have to tell me anything, but I’m always here if you wanna talk.” 

She started walking away, and he panicked. 

“I’m in love with you!” 

No! Why did that have to be the first thing to come to mind!

She stopped walking. 

He stopped breathing. 

Slowly, Marinette turned back to him, eyes wide with shock. “You what?”

He swallowed, shrinking towards the booth behind him. “I-I’m..” 

Should he say it again? She clearly asked, and he’d already messed everything up. What other damage could he really cause?

“I love you.” He finally repeated, trying to look anywhere else but at her. He didn’t care to see her reaction or her panic towards not returning his feelings.

She stood there frozen, mouth agape and shoulders slack. Gosh, why did he ever think this was a good idea? She’s probably trying to sort out a rejection right now. He’d never be able to see her again. The best thing that ever happened to him would be gone in an instant because he couldn’t keep his stupid mouth shut.

Then she did the simplest thing in the world. She leaned forward, and she kissed him. And his whole world cracked open.

Tag List:  @unabashedbookworm@bluerosette23@minightrose@kuroko26@im-here-for-the-content@angstyrastuff@clumsy-owl-4178@fanboy7794@choaticneturcl@bigcheeseyboi@burntnugget-tae@ayuchan07@honorisfortheweak@knightrose15@mjisntme@rhub4rb@simplythebestbug@wilhelmares@zebrabaker@dargeon-lissa @kristycocopop @alumneia @kaydenth3gayden@thornangelic727@flirtshobi @whatamessofwords @offically-over-it @flashflashitsash@thewingting @aegyobutpsycho2 @zoeytheweeb@zeyheartstaylor@friedchickening @roseinbloom02 @totalgaydrama @god-is-dead-and-so-am-i @bitterheart12224 @krunchy-tuna @trapezoidoxide @izzynuggets @imfreakingmagical@vixen-uchiha @dani-ari @azureocean33 @tinkerbela @drama-queen-supreme @nerdyleafeon @tinybrie @jarofbuttons @crazylizardlove @hauntedfreakdeputyhero @legendaryneckjudgestudent @coniferyl @chocolatecustarddanish @evil-cricket @derpingrainbow @crazylittlemunchkin

[inviouswriting]

Dragoon pt 2

Continuation of Dragoon. Written mobile can't cut it, might later.

Kiya x Aymeric x Estinien

Very smut. VERY smut.

Kiya woke up to the sensation of heat on both sides of her. In front of her is Aymeric, arms wrapped tight around her and face buried into her hair. His legs between hers.

At her back Estinien has his face pressed into the nape of her neck and a leg strewn across both her and Aymeric. His arms loose at Kiya's waist.

Kiya almost didn't believe that both of them had took care of her together. The fog of her heat subsided at least for now. She traces a hand up to play with a tuft of black hair on the side of Aymeric's face. This rouses him and she is greeted to warm ice blue eyes staring at her.

Proudness behind those eyes, specially when she had taken both men together into her. She felt a soreness she hadn't felt since the first week she and Aymeric were intimate.

Aymeric dips his head down and begins to kiss her. The house staff wouldn't be around for a few more hours and Aymeric has that look to his eyes to play with his lovers a little longer. Aymeric starts to tug his wife more into his arms, ignoring how Estinien’s grasp holds her firm. 

Kiya gets wrapped up in Aymeric’s kiss, she roams her hands across his skin at his chest, her fingers traveling up to his shoulders where he has new fine lines from the previous night during their bath. Aymeric takes her hands into his own and holds them as he starts to coax her onto her back trapping one of Estinien’s arms underneath her.

Estinien opens his eyes at his arm pinned, and is greeted to Aymeric having Kiya pinned and kisses pressed to her lips. He notes how Aymeric has one of Kiya’s legs held up in a hand, and his other free hand busy teasing his wife already.

“You two are lively so early.” He comments idly, seeing how Kiya is heated in minutes of Aymeric teasing her. He moves his arm out from underneath Kiya and props himself up to observe the two in how they are first thing in the morning. Aymeric kisses his way down his beloved’s body, stopping to nip at her breasts and kiss a trail from nipple to nipple. 

“She is still in her cycle.” Aymeric pauses his ministrations, figuring something out. Kiya feels Aymeric resume and she lays further on her back, she is caught up in what he husband is doing, lowering down to place his mouth on her core. She feels the way he slips his tongue into her along with his fingers spreading her open to his eyes. 

Estinien takes mental notes in how Aymeric touches her, even as he laves his tongue on her. He’s drawn out of his thoughts when Kiya takes hold of Estinien’s length. He feels her hand touch and grip him to stroke him. He guides her in how to touch him smooth tugs along the shaft then teasing at the head then gliding down. 

Kiya gets more entranced by touching him and learning how to please him, that when Aymeric pushes into her, she is taken by surprise. She yelps and looks over to Aymeric who smiles down at her.

“Hmm don’t let me stop you.” He teases, and lays on her for a little letting her adjust to him again.

Aymeric winds his arms around Kiya and watches as she pleases Estinien. Part of him curious to how his beloved would tend to him.

Kiya shifts a bit and feels Aymeric pulls out for now to let her up to lay on her stomach. Aymeric approves of this change as he moves himself to lie down with his head under his lovers lap. He coaxes her thighs apart and guides her to scoot forward and sit while his hands have her spread open for his wandering tongue.

Estinien sees this display and suddenly feels he is not doing his part to please either of them. He jumps a bit when he feels a tongue press against his cock. He looks down to Kiya as she starts to take him into her mouth, stroking the rest of his length as she laved at the head with her tongue. Kiya keeps just the head in her mouth and sucks light, sweeping her tongue around it finding how Estinien twitches just a bit when her tongue passes over the top of it.

Kiya is in bliss feeling Aymeric work his mouth on her, from pushing his tongue deep into her, to pulling back and giving teasing licks to her clit. She half rocks her hips to the feeling. Aymeric has his hands braced on her thighs to keep her from suffocating him this way but teases her with presses deep.

Estinien guides Kiya into taking more of him into her mouth, he notes how she seems more relaxed than the previous day, perhaps the night they spent relieved most of her.

Aymeric lifts his beloved off of his head and slips out from underneath her. He looks at the sight before him in Kiya pleasing their mutual lover now. The dark haired elezen thinks for a moment on how to have both pleased.

“I wonder if she can take both of us.” He amuses aloud, Kiya pulls up from Estinien and feels her face flush at the idea. She already took both of them, but she wonders if he means her slit.

“Aymeric, you barely fit in her as you are. Would you torment her with two full grown elezen men?” Estinien tugs Kiya up and places his fingers along her core, slipping them inside her to pump her and make her frenzied. He looks at her though.

“Would you be willing to give it a shot to see if we both can fit?” Kiya feels her face blush dark at the idea of it. Aymeric was more girth than length while Estinien had more length than girth. They were both big to her and she bites her lip. She feels Aymeric’s hands on her shoulders and him leaning in to place love bites on her neck.

“I can try to fit you both. But how would we- ahh?!” She feels Aymeric’s hand go down to join Estinien’s with his fingers inside of her. They find a rhythm with their hands as they please their lover together. Kiya feels her toes curling as she is lifted between both men, her back braced against Aymeric, while Estinien leans in and claims her lips in a full kiss. She returns the kiss and feels to her right Aymeric kissing his way on her neck leaving a bite mark on top of her shoulder and repeats this up to her neck leaving a gentle one before he seeks to join in the kiss.

With their hands moving in tandem, Kiya writhes and shudders in absolute bliss. She then feels Aymeric start to fit himself into her as Estinien pulls his fingers free. With Aymeric from behind her, he lets her lean against him, even raises her legs up to create an space for Estinien.

Estinien looks down and sees just how much Aymeric does stretch his love out. He inclines his head down to kiss the other side of Kiya’s neck while Aymeric steals her mouth fully. Estinien is handed a bottle from when Aymeric retreated from them. He uses the oil that they use for some moments in sex and coats himself well with it and along Kiya’s slit.

Kiya is oblivious to the sensations except how Estinien toys with her clit making her push her hips down to Aymeric’s a bit more. He holds her up and steady as he helps keep her still while Estinien works to push in along side with Aymeric.

Kiya  keens out loud at the full sensation she feels. Her hands going up to Estinien’s chest where they dig in just slightly. He lets her scratch him in this moment for a first as he guides himself into her. With Aymeric already in her it proved to be tight, very tight fitting.

Aymeric kisses Kiya’s neck to ease her grip. He keeps her legs open even as they tremble from the fullness she feels. She does fit them both, a bit of a struggle but she manages it. Giving pleading looks to both of them.

“That’s it, endure us a bit longer still. I promise we’ll make it worth the wait my love.” Aymeric keeps his kisses on her neck. He felt good like this with his wife and having Estinien pressing against in a way that he had concerns. If they were both going to be with her, he could be less selfish and let the dragoon have a turn with him.

Kiya pants and pushes her hips down impatient wanting to feel them move now. Estinien draws his hips back while Aymeric pushes his up into her. All three of them moan in unison. Every draw back the men do, the other pushes in establishing a rhythm like their hands did with her earlier.

Aymeric presses his forehead to the back of Kiya’s head as he is in heaven with this sensation he gets from his beloved so frenzied and the sesnation of being grinded against does something to him. They both listen to her cry out in pleasure, Estinien has her hands grabbed to prevent her from clawing him more than she already is. She got in a few good scratches on his chest and then his back when he let her cling briefly.

Estinien felt too good from all the teasing earlier he didn’t realize he was so close to a peak and spills within Kiya after a few more thrusts. He pulls from her as soon as he was done and sits on the edge of the bed. Aymeric sees this, and nods as he and Kiya go to their knees. Kiya on both knees and her hands with her head lowered.

Aymeric begins an unrelenting pace, hard and fast. Estinien watches this display before him, being the only person that will see what their lovemaking is like and will carry that secret to the grave of how Aymeric takes his wife in the throes of absolute bliss. Aymeric is hugging Kiya’s waist while he loses his senses and bites her shoulders, a spot on her back and at the nape of her neck. He only gets like this when he feels really good.

Kiya buries her face onto her arms as she is angled up to receive her husband better. A rare instance in Estinien has a tinge of pink at seeing how Aymeric is so tender despite how rough he is being with her. Endearments whispered into her ears, how Kiya herself doesn’t seem to mind how Aymeric loves her.

A few particular hard thrusts has Kiya scrambling for something to grab hold of, and Estinien with an inspiration lowers down and Kiya instantly seizes his waist wrapping her arms around it while she takes him into her mouth full. He is surprised when she starts to suck on him out of the blue, but does not mind as he feels her lavish and give him attention.

Aymeric has a hand underneath Kiya rubbing at her clit while he buries his face into her back releasing his own moans into it as he strives to make his wife cum first.

Estinien is still over sensitive from earlier and it doesn’t take long for him to release his seed in her mouth. Kiya drinks him down while she hugs his waist, she lasts only seconds more and cums hard after Aymeric seizes an ear and tugs it with his teeth combined with his other hand pulling her tail to induce more pleasure.

Aymeric sighs in pleasure feeling his beloved clamp down on him finally and buries deep to fill her. He stays buried in her, and lays on top of her hugging her waist as he pants and calms down from his own high.

Kiya is immensely blissed out and easily eager to enjoy their new relationship this way. Kiya feels herself lifted up and carried back to the bed, Aymeric pulling out of her and laying her on her back. Estinien moves to lie next to her while Aymeric grabs a cleaning cloth for the three of them. He returns with three and tosses Estinien one who helps wipe down Kiya taking note of how her legs and body trembles with little aftershocks.

“You do this to her on a normal?” He questions.

“Every morning.”

“You mean every single morning since you’ve been married?”

“Every single morning since we’ve been intimate. Whenever she is home of course and not on her bleed.”

“How is she not pregnant yet or has had a few kids already?” He gets a shrug out of Aymeric on that one. Even he doesn’t know why she hasn’t been with child with as much as they have had sex.

“I’m not sure as to why still. Just means we try alot.” There is amusement in his voice. Even Estinien smirks knowing how the work is enjoyable. He wouldn’t mind if she gave a child for him, in time and under Aymeric’s permission for that.

Aymeric gently taps the side of Kiya’s face to rouse her up. He notes she is still blissed out and probably won’t come back down to earth anytime soon. He kisses her face and fits on the other side of her while Estinien moves an arm underneath her.

“You get to have this sight of her, the great warrior of light. Reduced to a satisfied miqo’te. Think I might enjoy these mornings with you all the more.”

“Hmm, I think I’ll be enjoying them now that I have someone to help me tease her like this.” Aymeric feels a stir in Kiya and she curls towards him, her face finding his chest and nuzzles into him. He smiles and lets her as she is content. A light thrumming starts in her chest.

Estinien watches this intimate display and moves in closer to take part of it. He winds his arms back around her waist and presses close to her.

He will get very use to this.

[qhostqizmo]

I can’t Bear to keep this secret

I’m still not good at titling. Ya’ll have to live with me like this. I’m sorry.

- - - - - - - - - - -

The event played beneath his eyelids every time he closed them to rest. A menacing beast towering above; maw spread wide to reveal large teeth and a bellowing roar he could feel in his bones. It was a sight that didn’t give him nightmares, up until recently.

Where the bear had bitten him and drawn blood, he’d been able to pass off as a swipe from its claws. It was healed before anyone had a chance to inspect what had truly caused the wound.

He was ashamed, and frightened. Maybe a little of himself; as he felt the curse of the werebear weigh heavily with each passing day in his veins, but mostly, of them. These traveling companions he called friends were more then just his allies at the end of the day. They were family. Each one had slowly become, on some strange quirky level, someone he trusted. How often had he been given these privileges? What were the odds anyone else would accept him as he was; with what he had done to his step-brother, with all his broken pieces and strange dark secrets.

If he hurt a single hair on their heads, he’d never be able to forgive himself. But if they turned away from him… The thought made his insides quiver. He would have nothing. Nothing.

He bit his tongue, jostled by the wagon ride to open his eyes once again and banish the sight of glowing eyes descending upon him and sinking into the flesh of his shoulder. He reached up to grasp at it; a ghostly pain there but not there.

“Are you alright, m’lord? Do you need some of your ointment rubbed on your shoulder?”

Amon cleared his throat roughly as he gazed to the woman sitting beside him. She wore her bleeding heart of concern open on her chest, and in the furrow of her brow as her worried eyes gazed him over.

“I’m fine,” he reassured her. He dropped his hand. Truly, he felt much better, at least, for the moment. He was centered by the gravity of her eyes; the sun pulling him back into orbit.

Although Essätha didn’t appear entirely convinced, she smiled at him warmly just the same. Her hand stretched across to lay upon his as a sign of reassurance. Her touch left a trail of tingling awareness in its wake. Although she made no sign to remove her hand, he turned his over greedily to take hold of hers. He was going to need all the strength he could get tonight, and maybe it was selfish, but if he could imprint as much of the puzzled but soft look in her gaze upon him, or the smell of lavender on her hair, or the softness of her touch in his mind, maybe he’d be okay.

“We made great time, it looks like the campsite’s just ahead,” Sulhadur called out to the back in a chipper voice.

“Glad we made it before sundown,” Adela sighed, swishing her tail idly back and forth as she joked, “I’d hate to be ambushed by any wolves.”

The nobleman had to suppress a grimace. He too was grateful they made it before sundown, and prayed Adela’s jest wasn’t a bad omen for an entirely different creature: the one residing inside him.

As the wagon jerked and fumbled down the short lane to the camping site, K’varr finally took its beady-eyed glaring off of him to take to the sky, screeching. He didn’t blame the bird’s distrust; it’s instincts were likely more keen then anyone else on the cart. The only animal companion who didn’t seem to shy away from him still was Caesar, who rested their head protectively upon his knee and hefted a large and imposing yawn with gaping jaws and all as they finally came to a halt.

“Pile out!” Ravamora shrieked, eagerly leaping off the side and into the grass.

“I’d like to get up, really I would, but I can no longer feel my legs,” Penimra announced, glancing up towards Abe as he dismounted from the front. “Abbbeeee-”

“Manners, Master Penimra, ladies first,” the Paladin spiritedly replied, offering out a hand to aid Adela out of the back first.

Caesar whimpered as Amon gently pat his head, the mastiff rising to his paws to look over at him. Although the great dog’s face was usually droopy in expression, he appeared extra saggy around his eyes as though deeply worried. He offered a great huff, and hobbled over to jump from the back with ease, waiting patiently for him to step out.

Amon climbed out the back and offered his hand to Essie, who wobbled and almost fell into his arms on the way out. He offered her a crooked smile and a blush she returned, trying to ignore the way Abernathy had stopped to watch them with his own beaming grin.

“I’ll start the fire!” Pri’cha chirped with their usually pleasant demeanor. They didn’t wait for anyone to respond before scurrying over around the edges of the wilds to collect firewood.

“We’ll get to work on building the tents,” Abe grunted, pointing to Sul as the Dragonborn offered a nod. “Penimra, why don’t you go with Adela to refill the waterskins; I can hear the stream some yards down that way.”

“Ugghhh why are you giving me work?”

“You can otherwise join Rava, who seems to be doing a fine job picking from the berry bushes we saw up on the road.”

“… Waterskins it is.”

“Mmm, guess that leaves us as the unpacking crew,” Essie remarked as she nudged him.

He offered her a strained smile. His skin was growing itchy and uncomfortable, and he was growing all too aware of the emptiness in his stomach. The sun still had a few hours before it hit the horizon, but with each passing minute his focus seemed to erratically jump.

As the group parted into their pairs to begin setting up for the evening, the nobleman found it a bit easier then even normal to lift and parade around all their goods to the security of the tents and trees to keep away from the wildlife and, well… bears. After unloading much of the cart by himself far before the two paladins had even began working on the second tent, he excused Essie to join Pri’cha in setting up dinner.

It didn’t take long before the wafting aromas of supper was filling the air. His stomach growled furiously, and with each sound Caesar whined and scampered helplessly around his feet.

While the rest of them chatted and exchanged jokes, Amon kept his hands busy. They felt small and clumsy, for some reason. He tied some of the luggage up into the safety of the branches, and added everyone’s things into their preferred sleeping areas. While the roast of meat and potatoes crackled on the iron skillet over the flames, he forced himself to gather firewood and avoid the conversation. Or more importantly, avoid diving his hands into the coals themselves to feast, and feed the bear inside of him.

“Amon!” Abe called out, appeared baffled as they all joined along the edges of the fire. “Come, join us. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Swallowing the puddle of drool sitting on his tongue, the nobleman obediently lumbered his way over to take a seat near Essätha.

The food smelt heavenly. Even his faithful canine and Adela’s bird forgot to glower and stare at him, sensing the predator beneath his skin. Sitting in a pool of sauce with mushrooms and a glistening of meat fats, the potatoes perfectly fork-tender and piles of warmed breads loaves piled along the edges to soak up the greasy gravy. There as some cheese sliced, and a pan of green beans with onions and crushed up nuts. Rava’s berries collection had made it into a beat-up looking serving bowl, with sprigs of mint they’d scrounged up. What appeared to be some sort of attempt at a bread-pudding, but clearly a bit overcooked, sat near it for the berries to be served atop.

“You burned desert,” the wood-elf sniffed.

“I couldn’t watch all of it,” Essie defended, filling one of the tin plates with food. “I was busy moving the beans from being directly over the fire.”

“You should have let those burn.”

“Well, you won’t be getting desert anyway unless you eat all your vegetables,” Abernathy reminded her with a twinkle in his eye.

“No thanks, I won’t be wanting burned sweet-bread anyway.”

“Ungrateful,” Essätha mumbled, shaking her head. She turned a smile up to the nobleman, offering him the plate she’d filled. “Hungry?”

Amon swallowed. Their words had all been a muffled haze to him, staring at the mouth-watering spread.

“I could eat.”

She snickered, helping to ladle out some of the gravy upon Pri’cha’s dish. “Hopefully it’s not too overcooked for you, m’lord.”

Still steaming from the heat of the raging fire, Amon stabbed his fork into the juicy piece of meat. It was tender, and flaked into pieces. He shoved it into his mouth; the searing heat burning his tongue but the staring monster inside rumbling with encouragement.

Tears in his eyes from the heat, he shamefully gorged himself on another bite while everyone was still settling into their spots and blowing on their food.

Measuring how fast he ate was an obstacle. He tried to sneak one spoonful here, and another there when everyone was too preoccupied and leaning into each other laughing and chatting to notice him. If not for Essätha’s vigilance, he wasn’t even sure if he’d have the thought of mind to feed Caesar as distracted as he was. She filled the bowl carved with his name so no one would mistakenly eat from it up with some of the meat, and some dried jerky for him to dig into.

Amon was disgusted with his jealousy. The dog got to dive right in, make a mess, and woof his food down without any comment. But his stomach gurgled and demanded more. He could not rip into his meal with a voracious appetite no; he was a man, and not an animal. At least… that’s what he tried to remind himself.

Groaning, bellies full, everyone began to lounge back with ease. Ravamora leaned forward just enough to peer over the skillets and pans with interest, declaring with a color of shock in her tone, “Wow. No leftovers.”

“Guess some of you will be up early finding food for breakfast,” Penimra declared. “I’d prefer some eggs, I think. And bacon, if you’d like to get started setting up traps for a hog.”

“Shut up Pen, or we’ll cook your goose,” Adela threatened.

The group burst into a barking jolly of laughter. Only Amon remained silent, itching at his flesh and thinking of how badly still his chest gnawed and ache with hunger.

“I’ll be taking first watch!” Abe called out eagerly. “Who’ll join me?”

“I will!” Pri’cha elected, raising two of their arms with a delicate wave.

“I guess I’ll be taking second,” Sul reported.

As they delegated among themselves who would be taking watch for the evening, the nobleman clutched at his chest. There was an ache in his lungs. His mouth felt weird; like his teeth were too large for his jaw. As he shifted, he was certain he felt one of his cuspid teeth graze his tongue. Definitely sharper.

A soft voice cleared their throat beside him. “M’lord, it’s growing dark. Would you like to turn in for the night with me?”

He grunted, running his hand over his face. Quickly, he tried to hide it, horrified to see thicker hair peering out from beneath his cuff.

“I’ll join you in a bit,” he answered, feeling a growling vibration in the back of his throat. “I’m not feeling that great.”

The same cloud of concern hung over her once more, and stole the light from her eyes. “Is there anything I can do, or get you?”

Amon nearly groaned beneath her delicate touch, but swallowed it. He wasn’t sure if that was a reaction was from the bear, or from him.

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured her, patting her hand. “I think I just need a bit of fresh air. Give me a moment to cool off and freshen up in the river.”

He took hold of her hand then, and removed it from his side. It tug on his heartstrings guiltily to glimpse her face at that last second. She looked surprised, and worried, and a little hurt as he placed her hand back on her knee. He slipped his cloak off his shoulders and folded it over once to place on the worn logging beside her as he stepped away.

Slipping past Sulhadur as he moved in to occupy his tent, and Adela and Rava as they went to organize their things and get changed, Amon slipped past the trees down the slightly overgrown path that lead in the direction of the river. The sound of water lapping grew louder and louder as he moved down a gradual embankment, careful not to tread any poison oak strewn about. The last of the branches and bushes parted way to reveal a small grassy bank, and the currents of the stream sluggishly moving and winding out of sight.

Sighing, he looked to the sky. Sure enough, the moon was rising, and the last rays of light had left only stains of red and orange fading out as the brightest starts began to bloom.

His limbs were shaking uncontrollably as Amon wrestled with his jerkin. He dropped on the ground hastily, and began to pull the hem of his tunic up. A groan echoed in the back of his throat, feeling a flare like fire in his aching joints ignite.

He snapped his belt out of the loops, perspiration dripping from his chest, his temples, his forehead. Amon gasped, dropping to his knees. He didn’t untie his boots, but helplessly and forcefully shoved them off. The cool, springy grass or cool breeze coming off the water did nothing to lower his body temperature, which felt like it was rising to inferno levels.

Collapsing, exhausted, he writhed. He gasped. He clutched at his chest, panting.

With a hideous snap, his spine cracked and popped. What cry he had was stuck in his throat as he flipped and turned; eyes rolling back in his head as he shut them. The pain was agonizing, immeasurable. He didn’t know where he was, who he was, what he was.

A carpeting of fur began to rapidly grow upon his chest. The nobleman clawed at the dirt, shocked to see that indeed instead of finding grassroots beneath his fingernails, he had elongated claws. He gasped for air once more, his back arching, his joints creaking like doorhinges, his jaw popping as it shifted unnaturally.

When he opened his eyes again, the world had taken on more hues of gray then color, but he could still smell the flora shampoo in Essie’s hair even from out here.

He lunged, trying to stand up, and his still-morphing legs fell out from beneath him, making the beast he had become cry out.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear… what?”

“That noise,” Essätha whispered, staring out into the forest.

“What did you think you hear?” Adela inquired, suppressing a yawn to the best of her ability.

“I don’t know how to describe it… a groan?” she helplessly explained. Her hand moved over her chest, feeling an unmistakable longing. But to what?

Grunting, Abernathy pushed himself to his knees and set aside the honing stone he’d been using on his axe. “There are many things in the woods, Essätha. You’re bound to hear something out there.”

Her burning gaze rounded on the half-orc. “M’lord’s out there, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“And he’s a capable man,” the elder paladin reminded her gently, readjusting his grip on the large weapon. “But you’re right, we should go check on him. Being near a water source, there’s bound to be plenty of creatures wanting to quench their thirst.”

Relieved, she hopped up from her seat to scamper towards the pathway. Her eyes darted back and forth impatiently, waiting for Abernathy to round up some of the others from the tent. In the end, not wanting to leave their gear open to wildlife or other roadside travelers, he elected on himself, Sulhadur, and Adela to join the one member of the party who would unquestionably be scouting out for the nobleman.

“Are the lot of you ready?” she inquired, her voice testy.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Essie,” Adela scolded. “Let Sul get his sword and shield from his tent.

She huffed, folding her arms. Busy glowering, and pouting, she didn’t notice Caesar come padding over until the dog was nosing her side, whimpering. Her gaze flickered down to those big, soft brown eyes pleading up at her, and his paw extending to lightly brush the bottom of her slacks as he lamented.

She rubbed the dog’s ears, but he remained looking positively depressed. “It’s okay Caesar, I’ll be right back with dad.”

“Arrrrwuff,” he responded, circling her to point down the lush covered path.

“No. You’re staying here. We need someone responsible to look after camp.”

Another whimper. The mastiff tucked their tail low and went to circle anxiously around the camp, like he wasn’t sure what to do and couldn’t sit still.

“What’s wrong with Caesar?” Sul rumbled, puffing smoke out of his nostrils as he joined her.

“I don’t know,” she murmured, “but I have a bad feeling about it.”

“Alright! Everyone’s ready,” Abe burst in happily, strutting over with a gleaming smile and his spike-bracers wrapped around his arms.

Sulhadur exchanged a look with her, questioning, but she shook her head. She’d rather not think about why the dog was acting up, while shoving vines out of her way and ducking below tree limbs to maneuver through the woodlands. Adela let out a quiet curse as she stumbled over some roots tangling up from the forest floor. Overhead, the sound of a crow; quite possibly K’varr themselves stretching their wings, let out a horrendous screeching.

Nerves weary, Essie slid down the embankment first. Her boot caught on something, nearly hurtling her to ground before she caught herself. She turned back to warn the others of whatever she’d nearly fallen over, and stared.

One of Amon’s boots.

Sulhadur came next, followed by Abernathy who was helping Adela down the slope.

“Amon!” Abe called out, brushing a few leaves from his clothes.

“Uh… Abe.” Adela visibly swallowed, pointing a finger towards the bank.

Following the Tiefling’s digit, Essie’s eyes rounded. They all hurried over, nearly tripping over each other in a rush.

“Those are Amon’s trousers,” Abe grimly reported, rubbing his beard.

“They’re torn nearly to shreds,” Sulhadur observed, softly.

No. No no no, this wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real. Her breathing became more shallow and a vague lightheadedness swam over her as her eyes jerked and danced across the pool of water moving downstream, its surface glistening with the full moon’s brilliant glow.

A series of grunts and growls had everyone whipping their head towards the right. Fumbling along the bushes, a disoriented looking bear clamored loudly through the edges of undergrowth. It turned towards them, letting out a soft, almost cooing whine.

“Sulhadur, check the riverbank and water for evidence of Amon,” Torm’s follower directed, his orc-teeth bare at the bear in a challenge.

“Oh my gods,” Essie whispered, appalled. Her head was churning; her legs were shaking. She looked at the dirt; unable to distinguish anything.

As the grizzly backed the remaining distance out of shrubs, Abernathy charged. The bear somehow managed to fumble out of the way of the first swing, where the sharpened blade struck a tree instead. It backed up, nearly into the water, before turning towards them.

Pulling her arm back, Adela howled the words of her ancestors, and sent a spiraling ball of fire at the creature. It sprang into the edge of the water, splashing water everywhere to avoid the embers that hurdled past it. The chuffing sound it created wasn’t one of fury, but one of fear.

There was no blood on the ground. No blood and in fact, no signs of a struggle. The grass was clean from signs of a fight; no smears from boots straining to stand firm, no sticks used to fend off the animal, not even mud along the banks like the nobleman may have tried fleeing into the depths. Even the trees seemed unscathed from conflict, when surely anyone would have tried climbing or escaping by weaving through the growth.

She looked to Sulhadur, scanning the riverbank, treading knee-deep through some of its lapping tide. He kept looking back at them all with confusion and worry that he was not initiating an attack.

Essätha turned to look at the bear. Its gaze, whipping from Adela to her, locked on to her eyes. Breathing heavily, it regarded with wide, intelligent eyes.

She narrowed her own suspiciously. There was something unnervingly familiar about the way it looked at her. As it moved, the bands of light and shadow across its pelt revealed hues of black among the russet and brown of its fur color.

Abernathy charged, shouting. With a startled bellow, the monster launched itself from the water and jerkily dove from left to right as if to avoid the carpenter. But no matter its tactic, it was too large and unsteady on its paws; not nearly agile enough to avoid Abe’s axe a second time.

The blade struck the beast’s side, and it screamed.

“… Oh, Jubata,” Essie prayed aloud in horror.

As Adela began to weave a pattern into the air, Essätha ran by and shoved her. The other sorceress shrieked, falling sideways and splashing into the water.

“Abernathy, stop!”

The paladin raised his axe, preparing to swing a second time as the bear staggered.

“No!”

He brought the blade around in a wide arc just as she darted between him, and the werebear.

Abe pulled the weapon in, terror in his eyes. The edge clipped through her cape, tearing through fabric loudly.

With a suddenness, the beady eyes of the bear seemed to lose focus. It nearly shoved Essätha over as it leaned over her, opening its jaws to show its teeth all the way to the gumline, and roared at Abernathy. The sound was like thunder crashing down from the heavens.

“Stop! Stop stop stop stop,” Essie insisted, gasping as she spread her arms out between the two. The bear, disgruntled, sluggishly stepped back. It turned its head, trying to reach the gash at its side to lick.

Abernathy, mouth agape and breathing heavily, glared at her.

“Essätha, I could have killed yo-”

“That’s not a bear!”

“… Essie. Dear Essie. Sweetheart. I think you’re in shock.”

“That’s. Not. A. Bear,” she gritted out, jutting out a finger to point at what was, obviously, a large grizzly. “That’s Amon.”

“Are you crazy?!” Adela coughed, clinging on to Sulhadur as he helped her out of the water. “You just pushed me in water to protect the bear that probably sent Amon’s body down the river. Or what remains of it.”

“Adela, there’s no reason to get nasty.”

“I’m not crazy!” she insisted, trying to bury that horrifying image Adela conjured beneath six feet of mental dirt. She turned fully towards the bear, circling itself like a dog trying to catch its tail, only to desperately try lapping at the wound in its side.

“This is Amon! Look, there’s no blood on the ground; not even claw marks or a scuffle.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Exactly!” she exasperated back at the Tiefling. Heaving a deep breath, Essie stepped closer to the werebear, causing it to freeze; eyes piercing at her and tongue hanging part of the way out.

“Twenty-two days ago, we fought a rogue werebear, banished from its tribe,” she recalled aloud, taking a step towards the bear. It rumbled, taking an uneasy step back as she continued pressing forward on foot and in speech, “We unfortunately had to kill the man, but not before he changed into his bear counter-part form. M’lord had said that he was fine; that only the claws had grazed him, but… I don’t think that’s the case.”

“Look at him,” she pleaded, sidestepping around the creature. It had silenced its rumbling and watched her as she slipped off her torn cape. She balled it up, gingerly pressing the material to the bear’s wound.

It groaned in agony, shaking its head.

“Shhhh,” Essie soothed. Pressing her weight into one hand to keep the material in place, she reached out to stroke the mane of fur along his head. The werebear closed its eyes into half-slits, much like a content cat.

“The fur has black mixed in with it. His eyes are smart. He didn’t even want to fight any of us; he tried to avoid confrontation. He didn’t hurt anyone, because only he was here. Only the trousers are torn up, and there’s no gore; his jerkin is lying over there, as are his boots, perfectly intact. And look at the moon, it’s full tonight!”

“The werebear must have bitten him,” she concluded. “A wild bear wouldn’t let me this close.”

“Those are all… wild stretches, Essie,” Abernathy hoarsely whispered, staring at the twinkling eyes of the bear.

She snorted. “If anyone knows a thing or two about keeping a part of yourself a secret; especially something like this, I think I’d know. I’m asking for you to trust me and to just… look.”

Offering a soft smile, she combed her fingers down the werebear’s spine. He huffed in response, turning to snuffle his nose against her hair, the nape of her neck, her ear. She tried not to laugh at the cool, damp nose against her skin, keeping a firm, steady hand to their bloody side.

Abe was the first to approach. Slowly, he placed his axe upon the ground and grew closer.

The bear turned to regard him. It shrank back, lowering its head.

“… Amon,” he whispered cautiously. “… My boy is that… really you?”

The bear snorted quietly.

“I am so, terribly sorry,” he muttered hoarsely. Reaching up, Abe placed his hand lightly upon Amon’s shoulder.

A stream of white-light emitted from his palm, and upon the fuzzy hair of the bear. Amon groaned, and the wound shimmered with a faint, pulsing light as it closed upon itself and healed over.

Relieved, Essätha reached for his face. Startled, Amon huffed as she grabbed hair from behind his ears, looking him in the eye.

“We are going to have words, m’lord,” she scolded. “Why on Earth would you keep such a secret from us, from me? Have you any idea what could have happened if one of us didn’t find out? Or if someone else found you?” Her voice cracked at the end, wavering as her lip did for a moment.

He whined, lowering his face. His head brushed hers, but what was meant to be expressed as a tender affection instead smothered her face in hair that left her sneezing and a few hairs on her lip.

“Gross, I got bear-hair on my tongue.”

“Urrnf,” Amon grunted, offended.

“I’ll gather his things,” Sulhadur cut in softly. “Now that we know what’s going on, and no one’s in danger, I guess we can go back to camp.”

“And get in fresh clothes,” Adela grumbled, passing a look towards Essie.

Abe placed a large hand on Essätha’s shoulder, making her jump. There was a knowing, warm light in his eyes, but also one of remorse.

“Thank Torm for your perception skills, Essie. I’m sorry I doubted you. I should have trusted you’d be able to see through Amon, no matter his form, with such ease.”

The blood in her face instantly grew hot. She swallowed, unable to do more then nod. She felt numb and unable to create a sentence, even if she tried.

“And Amon,” he turned towards the werebear. “I am truly, unbelievably sorry. I would have never struck you if I had realized, and known the story. I would never have unintentionally caused you harm.”

The bear bobbed its bulky head to the best of his ability, blinking.

Torn with regret, the paladin bowed deeply towards Amon. He still appeared deeply upset, the weight of his shoulders sagging and his face fallen as he dragged his feet over to Sulhadur and Adela, who were picking up Amon’s boots near the route back to camp.

Essie glanced back to Amon. He looked back at her, and tilted his head.

“Nu-uh. Not even cute bear eyes are getting you out of thisss,” she warned him in a hiss. “You’ve no idea how scared I was- I thought… For a minute I thought…”

She worried her lower lip.

“Rrrrr,” Amon attempted, pitifully, to apologize in a rolling rumble deep in his chest. He stepped closer, rubbing his head against her side.

Sniffling, the Yuan-Ti wiped at her eyes. “Let’s just get back to camp for now. We’ll talk about the rest when you have the chance to defend yourself.”

Whining, the nobleman plodded after her as they headed after the others. They made their way up the gradual slope without much difficulty, although Essie felt her face grow embarrassingly hot when a bear snout helped push her back to help her get up the last few feet. Amon lumbered nervously behind them, lingering wearily in the shadows to let them go ahead. It was an opportunity for them to explain the strange events they’d uncover, and for the others to absorb the information before Essätha waved him to join them from hiding.

Slowly, Amon’s bear-form lumbered into camp.

“Oh,” Penimra murmured, “I always thought Amon was more of an otter.”

Essätha swatted him on the arm.

“Cool,” Rava stated in her usual go-with-the-flow tone. “If we put Amon and Essie together now, we have a really cruddy druid.”

“Shut up, Rava.”

“I was just saying.”

“Krrrr, you look very soft, Lord Anon,” Pri’cha encouraged, dipping their head respectfully.

This time, a smile tugged at Essie’s lips. “Regal, as always.”

Amon shuffled in place as though he was… embarrassed?

Essie cleared her throat. “I’m going to respectfully ask everyone to go about their usual business now. It can be a bit… overwhelming, for people to be staring at you when you’re… not in your usual flesh,” she offered. “Let’s give m’lord some peace and space.”

There were a few grumbles from a few of the more curious, but they all begrudgingly began to slip back off to what they had been doing. Questions could wait another day or two.

Essätha turned, smirking to see Caesar circling beneath and around his master. He whimpered, nosing at the werebear’s fur and sniffing every inch of him. When Amon lowered their head, inspecting his companion, Caesar wagged his tail, albeit a bit nervously, and licked the nobleman on the snout.

“Phhu!” Amon sneezed, shaking his head.

She snickered, shaking her head.

As the evening waned a little further, everyone finally stopped gawking as openly at the bear sitting far from the campfire, and began to head into their tents. Essätha disappeared into the one she shared with Amon, hearing his distant and quiet coo of sorrow. She returned, carrying three blankets.

The first, and largest, he watched as she threw out over the ground. She pointed at him, then upon it. He looked at her for a minute, grumbled at her in some bear-ish gibberish that she could probably was him telling her to stop fussing, and circled the spot. He flopped down, huffing.

Caesar, eager, bounded over with his tail wagging enthusiastically. He pressed himself against Amon’s side, rolling around and groaning with pleasure.

Giggling, Essie snapped open another blanket over Amon. It barely draped over a quarter of his size. He looked from the blanket, to her.

“I’m trying.”

He breathed out, slowly. Closing his eyes, Amon nuzzled his face against the side of her head.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and squeezed gently. A rumble moved through him, and he sighed.

Taking the final blanket, she wrapped herself in a cocoon, and laid against the free side of the bear not taken by the overexcited canine.

Amon turned to nudge her. He looked to their tent, and then looked back to her. It was hard to describe a bear’s face as looking ‘stern’, but that was the impression she was getting.

“Nu-uh, I’m staying right here with you,” she defended. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Huff.

“Consider it part of your punishment,” she grumbled, rolling up into a ball. She rubbed her cheek against his plush fur. He was quite comfy.

Amon tried to shift and push her off three times, each time ending in failure. He huffed, looking to the tent and back to her. She blatantly ignored him, closing her eyes and waiting for him to give up so she could get some sleep.

With finality, Amon snorted at her, and rather loudly sprawled out to lay his head down, defeated.

Essätha patted his side, cuddling up against him. “Goodnight, m’lord Amon.”

“Arrrgg,” he acknowledged with begrudging acceptance.

She drifted off slowly, vaguely aware at some point that his eyes were upon her. It gave her the same feeling it always did, that of safety, of warm happiness, and of peace.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Essätha woke up, blinking in the early morning light. She shifted, wincing at the creak in her spine, and turned over.

She was… on the ground?

Snoring greeted her. A wide grin spread across her face at the habitual morning ritual of the sound, and she forced her aching muscles to guide her in sitting up.

Sprawled out on his back, Amon lay snoring.

A slow, reddening color rose to her cheeks.

Rising clumsily to her feet, Essie stumbled over to the nearest tent. The residents inside groaned as she pulled back the flap.

“Ssssulhadur,” she hissed. “Get up. Come help me with something.”

“Nnng… right now?”

“Yesss, right now!”

“Alright alright, I’m coming I’m… getting up.”

She allowed the flap to fall and waited, tapping her boot on the ground. After a few seconds, the Dragonborn slipped out.

“What d’you need?” he yawned, revealing a mouth filled with razor-sharp teeth.

She pointed over to where the nobleman lay, Caesar still asleep at his side, also upon his back.

“Could you please pick up m’lord Amon, and help get him to our tent?”

Sul blinked. “Ah. I can do that.”

“Thank you.”

The Dragonborn shuffled over, and scooped the nobleman up from the ground. Caesar gave a gruff good morning bark, and Amon’s head lulled, slurring drowsily.

“Wha’s goin’ on?”

“Relax, m’lord. We’re just getting you to our tent.”

Running ahead of Sulhadur, Essie parted the sides of the tent for him to duck into. It was darker in here. The Dragonborn deposited him gently to the ground. As Sul stepped out, yawning yet again, Caesar came crowding inside to flop himself down near Amon’s feet.

“Nnng… Essätha?” Amon groaned. He flinched, resting a hand against his side, where the red faded line from where the axe had struck him lay.

“Shhhh,” she whispered, sitting down beside him. “I’m right here.”

He grunted, growing still and quiet. She hummed to him leisurely, combing her fingers through his locks.

“… You’re not yelling at me,” he rasped, his eyes closed.

“I’m not going to yell at you. But we will be having words, when you’re fully awake, fed, and feeling a bit better.”

He grunted, prying his eyes open. The nobleman tried to shift.

Swiftly, her cheeks bright pink, Essie sprawled her hands out over his chest, stalling him.

“I-I don’t think so,” she stammered. “You’re q-quite nude beneath that blanket.”

The tired half-mast of Amon’s eyes grew wide and round. He looked down at the material draped over him, and wrapped it a bit more tightly around his waist.

With a cheesy, half smile, Essätha joked, “Once is a peek, twice is a show.”

To her surprise, Amon’s face grew equally red. He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably against the bedroll beneath him. It was little protection from the cold, hard ground beneath.

“Lay back for now, and get some rest,” she reassured him in a compelling, adoring voice, lightly pressing a hand to his chest. He obeyed, looking from where her hand touched him up to her face. The light of the sun was beginning to lighten the top of their tent, piercing through with just the right angles of faded shafts.

He breathed in and out raggedly.

“Are you… feeling alright?”

“Yes,” he strained, reaching up to hold her hand. “I-… I mean in some ways, I am.”

She smiled at him, puzzled. Allowing him to hold one hand, she slowly laid down beside the nobleman, reaching over to continue combing through his hair.

“This alright with you?”

“Yes.” He sounded breathless. He closed his eyes, immersed in the experience. A shiver passed over him.

“… You know you could have told us,” she murmured. “You could have told me. I would have kept your secret. I could have tried to help you.”

“… I’m sorry,” he rasped quietly. He opened his mouth to continue.

“Tsssh. Nevermind; not right now. It can wait. Forget I said anything. Rest right now. Yesterday was… a lot to take in, I’m sure. Just rest right now.”

“Okay,” he grumbled, not sounding too thrilled with the idea. He curled his hand over hers, cradling it over his heart as he breathed, in and out, slowly and deeply.

She continued threading her fingers through his hair, looking upon his facial features. He looked tired; the circles a bit darker beneath his eyes, but he also looked positively peaceful.

Leaning in closer, she rested her hair against his side. Amon’s arm wound around her, rubbing her side.

A tug on her heartstrings.

She sighed gratefully, curling in to his open side, allowing her eyes to close.

She had utterly no idea the nobleman cracked his eyes open to stare down at her, a loving glow in his gaze. Positively clueless that the longer he stared, the more he wished he could pull her into a full embrace and kiss those inviting soft lips.

But this tender moment would do just fine; his hand rubbing circles along her side, and their intertwined fingers resting to his chest as she caressed his scalp.

[maple-writes]

(So here we are! finished this one while waiting for the bus lol also formatting is doing something weird :/)

If you’d rather read on Wattpad it’s there too

 The moon was full again, shimmering silver on the high tide at Crepuscule Beach. So far out in the water that I could only see his shoulders above the gentle waves, Cirrus stood with his back to the beach. I had no idea what it was he might have been doing. If he was speaking, it wasn’t loud enough for me to hear over the chilly night breeze and the rhythmic washing of waves on the shore. Luckily it was just me on the beach tonight, leaning back against a large driftwood log next to the clothes Cirrus had left stacked beside me. At least he’d thought to bring a towel this time…

           I leaned back against the rough wood, eyelids starting to grow heavy. It had to be at least past midnight by now. I sighed and let my eyes slide closed. We’d been here since eleven… At least it was a clear night, and the wind wasn’t quite cold enough to bite through the fabric of my hoodie. I yawned and made myself open my eyes again. It wouldn’t be watching if I had fell asleep I guess. Not like there was much to see. This far from the main beach there were no streetlights, no glowing signs, only the silver moonlight washing everything in it’s pale blue light.

Truth be told, this was a nice spot. I yawned again, stretching my legs out over the pebbles in front of me. Each rounded edge carried hints of where each stone had been before winding up on this beach, whispering in a language I couldn’t understand as much as feel. It was solid, grounded, comforting. But when I looked back out at the dark silhouette of Cirrus’ shoulders, my heart sunk. What did he hope to achieve here? It’d been over a year now, and as far as I knew his mother never responded when he came and tried to talk. Not in the first few months when he was lost and confused, not in the winter when he’d come home shivering and sick… I would try to say something, but what was I supposed to say? I wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing out there anyway.

A clawed hand settled on my shoulder.

“Long time no see, little one.”

My blood ran cold. I scrambled to my feet and whirled around, cursing myself for not feeling his approach. Grinning at me from the other side of the washed up log, was my father. Twisting horns curled skyward, whip-like tails sweeping idly over the stony ground, he stared down at me with eyes glowing red in the low light. I had to crane my neck too see his face, a whole two heads higher than my own.

I swallowed against my heart rising into my throat. “What do you want?” My voice shook and I shrunk back.

Vena rested his heel against the top of the log, leaning casually over his bent thigh. “Oh Cinere… Why—”

“Asher.” I forced the word through my tight jaw. “My name is Asher.”

Vena’s tails lashed, kicking up pebbles and sending them rolling down the slope of the beach as he snarled. “Just because your whore mother called you something doesn’t make it your name Cinere.”

I stiffened. Anger flared tight in my chest, but I froze. How dare he? I clenched my teeth, but the cold fear coursing through my blood held my tongue. All I could hope was that he couldn’t see how I trembled.

“As I was saying,” Vena’s teeth, like the razor edges of broken glass, seemed to shine in the full moonlight as his forked tongue tasted the night air. “Do I need a reason for wanting to speak with my son?” He tilted his chin up and narrowed his burning eyes, as if issuing a challenge. “You still living with that bastard, Striker?”

Rage tore at my sternum, but all I could do in response was shrink, turning as far from his as I could without looking away. As much as my legs and my pounding heart screamed to run, I couldn’t leave Cirrus. Not with him. Not alone. I swallowed. Could I even run fast enough to escape him myself?

Pebbles crunched as he hopped over the log and landed before me. He laughed as I hurried backwards, the sound sharp and chilling like a coyote’s manic song.

“Oh come now Cinere!” He spread his arms wide at his sides, his too-wide smile curling almost to his ears. “What kind of a reaction is that? Come here!”

No. I stared, eyes wide and posture ridged. Fear thickened the air, making it harder and harder to breathe without drowning. With every step he took towards me it grew heavier, thicker, thicker. I choked, rushing backwards on shaking legs. The pebbles shifted under my feet and the ground flew out from under me.

His hand caught me by my collar, yanking me to my feet just inches from his chest. I yelped and pulled back, but he didn’t budge.

“Cinere…” His growl seemed to reverberate between my own ribs as he leaned into my face.

           “Let me go!” My words came out too thin, strangled by my fruitless breaths.

           But he didn’t listen.

           His face twisted into a snarl and his hand closed around my throat. The skin burned and I screamed as he lifted me off my feet to his eye level, struggling and kicking, but it didn’t do anything. It burned. Fire replaced my blood, scorching through muscle and organs and bone. Tears filled my eyes and smoke billowed at the edges of my vision.

           “How long are you going to keep on like this?” Vena snarled, razor teeth just inches from my face. “At least your sister knows what she is.”

           Ember. No. I tried to swear, to demand he leave her alone, but all that came out was a garbled wail.

           Vena’s grip tightened, until his claws broke my skin like gasoline to the fire ripping through my body. “Don’t kid yourself Cinere,” He spat the words. “You know you can be as powerful as she is, don’t you?”

           My kicks grew weaker and my hands grabbing at his wrist started to drop. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t see through the tears streaming hot down my face. My chest hurt, pain sharpening with every irregular heartbeat.

           “Don’t you want—”

           “Let him go!”

           Cirrus’ roar came a second before his hand closed around one of Vena’s horns and he pulled back hard, forcing his head back and throwing him off balance enough let me fall. I hit the rocky ground with a weak cry and curled tight around my knees as I fought to breathe, digging my arms as far as I could into the pebbles to drain the fire from my body.

           Vena snarled something towards Cirrus but I couldn’t make out the words, couldn’t figure them out fast enough in my head. All I knew was Cirrus stood naked between me and Vena, stance wide and fists clenched. Worry knotted in my gut. He didn’t know what he was up against.

           “Get lost!” Cirrus yelled, voice echoing through the quiet beach. “Now.”

           Vena scowled, rising to his full height high above Cirrus’ head, but he didn’t waver. Even from where I lay on the ground I could almost feel the anger just barely contained under Cirrus’ skin. But Vena kept coming closer, closer, until he was arms length from Cirrus.

           Panic gripped my muscles as I tried to drag myself to my feet, but my vision swam, and I fell back to the loose rocky ground. Dizziness washed over me and nausea rose sickly from my gut, just barely stopped at my throat. I opened my mouth to beg Cirrus to run, but all that came out was a thin, hoarse whine. No.

           “I said go!” Cirrus widened his stance.

           Vena lunged, grabbing Cirrus by his shoulders before flinging him to the ground. He dropped beside him and thrust his hand in towards his chest, digging his night-black claws into the exposed skin.

           My eyes widened and I pulled my head up from the ground. “No,” I choked. If he possessed Cirrus right now… I struggled to get my beneath my crouching body, crying as again they fell out from under me. “Stop.” I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t. I…            Cirrus swore, kicking hard and grabbing fistfuls of Vena’s hair until he pushed the demon off of him and leapt deftly to his feet. Blood welled up where the claws had pierced his chest. For a moment Vena looked confused, the most fleeting of breaks in his steeled face. Then it returned to a sneer and he raised an open hand to the sky.

           Flames swirled around his arm, dancing hot and bright in the dark, casting frantic shadows against the rocky ground. Cirrus stepped back, one foot behind the other without breaking his glare towards my father until he was close enough to an overhanging bush to snap off a sturdy enough branch. He held it out in front of him, like his makeshift bat would protect him from the fire Vena had under his command.

           “You think you’re brave, don’t you?” Vena mocked, his voice like rusted machinery. The fire swirling around his body flared, branching out in hot, bright arcs as he pointed his arm towards Cirrus’ heart. “I’ll give you one chance to change your mind.”

           “Cirrus!” My voice cracked. “Run!”

           But he only narrowed his eyes and tightened his grip on the tree branch as the wind picked up, whipping through his hair and shaking leaves from the trees. I shut my eyes tight and flinched as Vena’s fire flashed bright and hot.

           Then the first raindrops fell cold against my cheek.

           My eyes flew open just in time to see Cirrus drive the splintered end of the branch through Vena’s stomach. He staggered backwards, eyes wide in surprise. Blood as dark as ink dribbled from the wound, thinned by the rain pouring down from the sky as he looked between it, then over his shoulder at me with a snarl across his face.

           “This isn’t over Cinere.”

           Before I could fully process what he’d said, he darted away through the trees and low bushes, disappearing as quickly as he’d arrived.

           I stared at the spot he’d run through, the last of the panic starting to fade from my system, until Cirrus gasped above the sound of the rain coming down hard and loud against the rocks. He sunk to one knee, bent over and breathing far too heavily.

           “Cirrus?” I rolled onto my hands and knees, crawling across the slippery rocks of the beach. “Cirrus, what--”

           He raised his head and the entire left side of his body was burned. The skin was red and his face wrenched in pain, each breath hissing through clenched teeth. I stared, eyes wide and panic quickly bubbling back up in my chest.

           I searched for words, trying to pull them from the thoughts racing through my head. “Cirrus you’re--”

           “I fucking know!” He curled in on himself, soaking wet hair falling unkept in front of his face. “Shit.” He gasped, barely biting back a pained cry. “It hurts.”

           No. Oh no. I bit down on my lip. Think. Come on. I grabbed at my soaked hair and squeezed my eyes shut. The hospital. That’s where he needed to go.

           “Okay,” I forced myself to breath, take in as deep a breath as I could, but it didn’t do much to lift the fog clouding my head. If only I’d thought to bring some of Ginger’s tea. Damn it. “We got, you…” My head lolled forward, water dripping into my eyes and soaking through my clothes. “Hospital.”

           Cirrus nodded. “Yeah.” He whimpered. “Help me get dressed.”

           Right. I nodded and reached for his clothes, still stacked and folded in their beside the old log. But they were too far, my fingers closing on the empty air in front as I slipped and fell sideways against the wet ground. Damn it. I grit my teeth and hauled myself forward enough to reach. Pull yourself together… Just for a while…

           It took all the focus I could muster to help Cirrus put his pants back on, opting to just drape his jacket over his shoulders rather than pull a shirt over the wound. Somehow we both staggered to our feet, hanging onto each other’s arms to stay standing. Dizziness washed over me and I stumbled sideways until I could catch myself against the side of a thankfully placed boulder. I braced myself against it’s slick surface, my ribs heaving with every breath. My legs shook and I tried to breathe deeper, to calm down, but everything begged me to stop. To lie down. To rest.

           “Hell he do to you?” Cirrus’ voice was strained, choked, as he leaned against the rock beside me. His head hung low, his face twisted and his fingers digging into the fabric of his pants.

           I blinked, trying to pick the words out from the rest of my thoughts. “I.” My eyes barely focused. “He.” My heart fluttered, slamming into my ribs with no discernable rhythm. I clutched at my chest, eyes widening. “My heart.” Was I dying?

           Cirrus slid down the boulder before steadying himself with his hand. “Damn it.” He hunched over, starting to shiver. “Get a fucking grip Asher.” He snarled and glared at me under the wet hair clinging to his forehead.

           My eyes widened and I stiffened. I shrunk away but Cirrus didn’t seem to notice. “What, I”

           “Call your brother or something!” He dug his hands into his legs, bunching the fabric. “Don’t just fucking stand there!”

           “He, I,” I stammered, stumbling back from the rock and nearly falling backwards. “He’s working.”

           He hissed something cruel under his breath. “Then call someone else!”

           “Don’t…” My throat tightened and my eyes stung. “Don’t yell at me.”

           Cirrus opened his mouth, but quickly closed it again, dropping his eyes to the rocks. I stared, wringing out my shaking hands. Who was I supposed to call at this time of night? Striker was at work, Kyra was a wolf… I squeezed my eyes shut against the tightness building painfully in my skull. Ginger? Was I allowed to just called Ginger?

           “What,” Cirrus spoke almost too quiet for me to hear. “About an ambulance?” He forced his head up, pain twisting the features of his face. “Can you—” He winced as he stood up, sucking a gasp through clenched teeth. “Walk to the road?”

           Of course. I stared for a moment, cursing my slowed thoughts for not thinking of that myself before fumbling my phone from my pocket. I just had to make it a up the little slope from the beach. I swallowed as I dialed. I could do that. I had to.

[tk-writer]

Juniper’s Secret - [Junipollo]

Words: 2,137

Warning! Contains Ace Attorney: Dual Destinies spoilers!

~

Apollo liked to pride himself in his ability to solve cases and crack puzzles in the courtroom. When to came to his girlfriend, however, all those deduction skills flew out the window.

He had only been dating Juniper for a little over a month. She had returned to the city at the beginning of summer right after finishing her undergraduate studies in law. Seeking guidance as she prepared for the bar exam, she’d gone to the Wright Anything Agency to seek help, thus running into Apollo for the first time in years. He offered to tutor her, which allowed them to get reacquainted and, subsequently, fall for each other.

He was more comfortable with her than almost anything else. Unfortunately, he couldn’t say the same for her.

There was something she was hiding from him, and he couldn’t figure out what it was. It only came to mind during certain situations; the first time he noticed it, all he had down was brush a strand of hair behind her ear. She flinched and turned her head, scurrying away before he could utter a word. The second time, he had slid his hand around her waist as they were walking, and after letting out a small shriek she ended up squirming in his grasp aggressively, practically pushing him off. Her cheeks burned bright red and she’d refused to look at him for some time after.

“Are you okay, Junie?” he asked her with a worried tone.

“Y-yeah! Sorry. I���m fine!”

And then… Ba-dump. His bracelet tightened around his wrist, signifying that she had a secret to hide. Not wanting to make her uncomfortable, he offered a solution.

“If you’re not comfortable with me touching you yet, it’s alright. I’ll keep my hands off until you’re ready. You just say the word,” he said, flashing her a warm smile to let her know he meant it.

“No!” she spat out a little too excitedly. “I mean, no, that’s not it. It’s just… I, um, well…”

She tripped over her words a bit longer before giving up and scuttling away like a timid little kitten, leaving Apollo even more confused than before.

 ~

 He decided to get to the bottom of things once and for all.

He found his opportunity one Sunday afternoon when they were both lounging on the leather couch in his apartment. Junie, laying sideways on the pillows with her legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, and Apollo leaning against the opposite side next to her feet. They chatted away idly about anything and anyone, laughing whenever a funny memory from the past was brought up. Inadvertently at one point, Apollo ended up resting his hand on the top of her foot, causing her to flinch almost violently. He immediately took it off and placed it on his chest.

“Oh!! I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking.”

Her shoulders seemed to shrink down a little bit, as if she were trying to hide.

“It’s okay! You can… you can put it back…”

He barely heard the last part of her sentence, but nonetheless his hand returned. He playfully ran his palm up and down the tops of her feet, noticing how soft and delicate the skin was and how they seemed to shudder at his touch. It gave him a sudden idea.

“Do you want a massage? I give really good ones.”

Half expecting her to say no, he was almost shocked to see her face light up.

“Yeah, sure! I could really use that, actually.”

After scooching a little closer, he carefully took hold of both her ankles and plopped her feet in his lap. Gently, he began to rub small circles into her soles, taking care not to apply too much pressure and going as slowly as possible. He observed her facial expressions, paying heed to any slight display of discomfort or pain. He saw her squeeze her eyes shut and press her lips together, unsure if it was pain or pleasure she was experiencing.

“Is this okay?”

She nodded her head, not uttering a peep. Regardless, he lightened up his touch, now simply stroking his thumbs lazily in a circular motion. Her feet twitched more noticeably upon every movement, especially when he reached her toes, but she didn’t pull away. He looked up at her again and this time saw her clutching one of the smaller pillows into her chest, her breathing getting a little more rigid.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

She opened her eyes, and nodded again, but this time with a strange expression on her face. Was she… grimacing?

“I’m fffffine! Seheriously!”

Ba-dump. There it was again. His bracelet detected a lie. Using his perception, he looked for any traces of subtle tension…

…and saw it in the most curious place.

He had to confirm this.

“Junie… are you really okay?”

Looking a little confused, she nodded again. “Ye, yeah… I’m fine… why do you keep asking?”

He saw it once more. A slight curl of her toes when she said “fine”. He finally found it!

“Junie… your toes curl whenever you say ‘fine’. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

She froze, her eyes wide as they made contact with his. He tried to soften his gaze in hopes she’d realize that yes, she could trust him, there was no need to keep such secrets. But she was still holding back.

Wanting to lighten the mood, he cracked a goofy smile and placed his fingers at the base of her heels.

“What’s the matter? Do I need to tickle it out of you or something?”

Juniper practically jumped when she heard his threat. She began to protest frantically, tripping over her words as they stumbled from her mind and out of her mouth.

“Wait, Apollo!! You don’t need to, I mean, wait, I’m really-AHAHHAHAHAHA!”

She didn’t get a chance to finish as he began scrabbling his fingers across her soles, causing her to squeal cutely in a way Apollo had never heard before. She scrunched her toes in attempt to block the tickly sensations, but that only encouraged him to dig in between the wrinkled lines with the tips of his nails. With all her might she tried to pull her legs away, but with his arm wrapped around her ankles it was near impossible. In a last ditch effort, she tried smacking him with one of the pillows nearby, but he dodged her blows easily.

“I had no idea your feet were so ticklish,” he teased as one hand dusted the tops of her feet again.

“AAAAAAH! Don’t teeheeheese meee!”

He stopped momentarily, letting her catch her breath knowing that she was prone to coughs. He released his hold on her ankles, climbing his way to the already flustered Juniper until he was half-sitting on her shins.

“Don’t come any closeeeer!” She giggled, playfully punching him in the shoulder and not really trying that hard to stop him.

“Where else are you ticklish?” he asked with an innocent grin. “As your boyfriend, I demand to know.”

She just shook her head and giggled some more, intertwining her hands with his and trying to push him off with little success.

“Nowhere! I swear!!”

He managed to escape her grip and planted his hands on her upper thighs. She jumped at the unexpected touch. He smirked, knowing this was probably another one of her “spots”.

“I’m detecting another lie.”

He gave one light experimental squeeze and was pleased to hear Juniper let out another one of her unbelievably cute squeals. She practically leapt up, as if she was being shocked with electrical cables.

“HAAAAAAAAA! Apollo!! Eeheeeheehee!!”

He moved upwards a bit, this time kneading into the crease where her thighs met her hips, smiling wider when her laughter reached even higher decibels. Her hands clutched his wrists and pulled weakly as she succumbed to yet another one of his tickle attacks. She struggled a bit more than she had when he was tickling her feet; her hips seemed to be way more sensitive. She instinctively tried to curl up her knees, but couldn’t as he was putting most of his lower body weight onto them.

“This seems like a good spot.”

“AHAHAHAA! It’s NAHAHAHAT!”

The corners of her lips upturned, the biggest smile plastered across her face, and the melodic sound of her giggles and squeaks… it was all too cute for Apollo to handle. He found himself at odds, wanting to keep going so he could continue to hear her angelic laughter, but also wanting to respect her boundaries.

He relented once more, making sure she had enough time to return to a steady rhythm of breathing. He took that moment to just admire her. Her mousy brown hair had started to come out of her two braids from the struggles. Her usually pale skin flushed an attractive shade of rosy pink that spread all the way down from neck to shoulders. A light sheen of sweat layered across her flushed skin like morning dew. She was still smiling, and a few residual titters could be heard every few seconds.

Apollo moved his hand to brush a few stray hairs out of her eyes. He traced a path from forehead to ear, and took note when she scrunched up her shoulder and giggled when his fingers reached her lobe.

“Is this what you’ve been hiding from me all this time?”

“Ehehehe…! What do you mean?”

He tickled her under her chin for a few seconds, laughing when she shook her head in reaction.

“You’re super, duper, incredibly ticklish. That’s your secret, right?”

Juniper’s face got even redder. She averted his eyes, apparently still feeling shy.

“Um, well… not exactly…”

Huh. So, it wasn’t over. Juniper was proving to be a very interesting puzzle.

“What is it, then?”

“I… I can’t say!! It’s too embarrassing…”

“Hmm… I guess I have no choice…”

Apollo launched his next attack before she could even begin to prepare for it. He wormed his way under her arms, wiggling all ten fingers there and not stopping even when her arms came down to trap them. She howled even louder than before, flailing her legs as a way to vent her suffering.

“GAHAHAHAHAHA! NOT THEHEHEHERE!”

“Not there? Alright, what about here?”

It was a smooth switch. He trailed down her sides until he reached her slim waist and clawed the soft area with the lightest of touches. He enjoyed the way she was squirming from side to side, so he stayed there for a while.

“OhmygahAHAHAHAHAD! Apollooooooo!”

He interrogated her with a smirk on his face.

“Gonna tell me now?”

“Okahahahay OKAY! I lihihihike it!”

Her answer made him lose focus. He pulled his hands away, resting them on his thighs.

“Huh?”

Juniper looked a little sheepish, but kept that joyful smile on her face. She glanced up at him with cheeks aflame.

“I… I like it.”

“You like… what?”

“I like… I like… you know!!”

He did know, but it had taken so much effort to get to this point, he wanted to tease her for a bit. Relish in his victory. His grin became a little more arrogant in nature.

“Hmm… I don’t know, actually… mind elaborating?”

“Okay fine! I like… Ilikebngtckld…”

He cupped a hand to his ear as he asked his next question obnoxiously loud.

“I didn’t quite catch that… say it again, Junie?”

“Apollo!!”

He reached out his hands and wiggled them in the air menacingly above her belly.

“Here it comes! Kichi kichi coooo!”

She grabbed his hands and stopped him before they could wreck her once more.

“Alright, alright!! I like being tickled!”

He laughed heartily, his hands retreating. His eyes stayed on her; she looked away, but he gently took her chin in hand and turned her face back to meet his own.

“That’s all? Junie, I think it’s adorable.”

She seemed relieved to hear those words; her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.

“… You do?”

Apollo nodded.

“Yeah, of course! I love your laugh. And I love doing things that make you happy. So if you ever want me to tickle you, all you have to do is ask!”

She looked away from him again, but her smile remained.

“…. Hehe…. okay.”

“Also, don’t be afraid to tell me things. I’m your boyfriend, you can trust me. Okay?”

“Okay!”

Still leaning over her, he planted a kiss on her forehead as she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Her smile only grew wider, and his heart grew warm at the sight. It felt like they had been both waiting for this moment for a while, finally allowed to indulge in their desires. He kissed her cheeks, and then her lips, and then the rest of her face as she sunk into the cushions, surrendering to his affections.

[nelvana]

In which the lost are found back home

First: In which the human is transformed Next [ARC 2]: In which a present is prepared Previous: In which help is requested from a higher power

    “Keahi…?” Tsuki asked, padding up beside the torchic. “You ran out in such a hurry…”

    Keahi exhaled, slowly letting out the tension in her body, “I just… I really hoped they’d be back,” she replied, squinting in annoyance at the desperation in her voice.

    Tsuki paused, and then sighed as well, “yeah, me too…”

    The pair stood outside for a few more moments, watching the morning sky. The sunrise had already passed, so they were left to stare at the clouds that slowly lolled on by across the open light blue field above them. Tsuki glanced back at the team base, and then back to her teammate.

    “What did Gardevoir tell you? Good news, I hope…?”

“Oh, yeah!” Keahi answered, finally turning to face the absol. “She said it’s possible to bring them back… but I don’t know how long it will take.”

    Tsuki shifted her weight, “then we’ll just have to be patient. Nothing else we can do about it,” she muttered, but her digging her claws in and out of the dirt path told Keahi that the absol was just as impatient.

    Keahi didn’t respond; she turned her gaze instead back up to the sky. It was looking to be a beautiful day so far, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. A gentle breeze blew by, ruffling the torchic’s feathers, the ends of the scarf she was wearing around her head feathers, and the absol’s fur.

    “Edgar insisted that because we both skipped lunch and supper yesterday, that we’d have to make a big breakfast,” Tsuki told Keahi, “unfortunately, neither of us are the best at cooking…”

    “Are you asking me to help?” Keahi questioned, looking over at her teammate again.

    “Yes, I suppose I am,” Tsuki admitted, “it would help pass the time, at the very least.”

    “Mm, yeah… alright, alright… let’s go back inside,” Keahi agreed.

    Even with that said, neither of them moved for a moment. Tsuki was about to turn and head back in, but hesitated when she saw that Keahi hadn’t moved, and so she stayed in place too. The torchic had begun tensing up again, stepping back and forth in place as she kept her eyes fixated above her. Then, she began shaking, her gaze dropping down to the ground again.

    “I… I-I miss them so much… I just want them b-b-back,” Keahi gasped, tears pricking at her eyes again.

    “I know… me too,” Tsuki responded.

    Keahi staggered over to Tsuki, who pulled her close. The absol leaned down and pressed her muzzle to the torchic’s forehead as she let Keahi cry into her fur again. A feeling of pain swelled up in Tsuki’s chest and throat, and she let out some tears as well.

    Together, they comforted each other in the quiet early morning on the lonely path.

    Slowly, they let each other go again after a few minutes. Tsuki shook out her fur as she stepped back, ridding herself of the remaining tears in her eyes as well. Keahi stayed in place before finally offering her teammate a small smile.

    “Okay, let’s make some breakfast,” she told her in a quiet voice.

    They walked back inside the team base, where Edgar had been patiently waiting in the kitchen area. Some bowls and other various dishes and ingredients had been pulled out across the counter and table, but evidently none of them had actually been used yet.

    “You’re back!” Edgar exclaimed, floating over to the pair. “Are… How are you doing?”

    Keahi opened her beak to speak, and then hesitated and shrugged instead.

    “We’re managing,” Tsuki answered the duskull, “Keahi says that Gardevoir is working on a solution to… to the problem, but we still have to wait.”

    Nodding in agreement to Tsuki’s answer, Keahi hopped onto one of the stools so that she could properly look over what had been brought out.

    “Okay, okay…” Edgar responded, nodding as well. “But… But it still hurts; while we have to wait.”

    Tsuki sighed, “of course.”

    “What were you two trying to make here?” Keahi interrupted, glancing back and forth at them.

    “Pancakes!” Edgar answered, approaching the torchic to speak to her more directly. “I asked what made a good, big breakfast, and Tsuki told me that the biggest breakfast she had had with you guys was pancakes. So, we decided to make that,” he explained, looking over what had been brought out for a moment as well. “We… We didn’t get that far with it though,” he admitted.

    “I see that… That’s fine though, we can all work together with it now,” Keahi replied, “here, I’ll help show you what to do…”

    It was a slow process, perhaps the slowest breakfast had ever been made in this house, but they made breakfast together. Keahi relayed the instructions and did the actual cooking, Tsuki gathered any ingredients and dishes that hadn’t been brought out already, while Edgar did most of the mixing. Together, they managed to make a couple pancakes for each of them, and enjoyed that with some syrup for their morning meal. Without any of the extra toppings or side food that was usually added, this breakfast became a fairly bland meal; but after not eating in a while, no one complained.

    Afterwards, though, they were left with the same emptiness that had consumed them the day before. While actually working had become a more available option in their minds, it was still one that was quickly rejected for various reasons. They all wanted to wait for the missing trio to return, though Keahi was the one to enforce it the most, and no one wanted to have to pass through Pokemon Square like this yet.

    However, it didn’t take long for the idea of just going outside for, at the very least, some fresh air to become appealing. It had barely been a half hour since everyone had finished eating before the idea of hanging out on their lawn outside was brought up, and agreed upon.

    “Perhaps we should head to the Hill of the Ancients instead,” Tsuki suggested as they walked out of the house, “if they disappeared there, then that may be where they reappear.”

    Keahi furrowed her brows, “I think we should wait here,” she decided.

    “Why do you think that?” Tsuki questioned, shoving the door shut behind them.

    “I… I just do. I feel like we should stay here,” Keahi insisted, “besides, if they do appear there, then Xatu can just use telepathy to let us know,” she added.

    “Very well,” Tsuki responded, “let us wait here then.”

    Idly, Tsuki wandered over to their mailbox and pawed it open. Surprisingly, there were a few new letters in there that hadn’t been there the day before; but she barely spared them a glance before closing it again. She had only opened the mailbox just to have something to do anyway, and she hadn’t actually expected to have to read any messages left behind from others. They could deal with that later.

    Taking a step back, she began looking over the mailbox itself. At this point, Keahi and Edgar had wandered over to join her, and so together they studied the painting they had left on it when they had put the mailbox back after the Team Meanies vandalism. The different colored paints still held strong, and everyone could clearly see the names written on the sides alongside the footprints and handprint that had stuck on. It gave the mailbox a bright and colorful look, shining with happier memories of only a few days before.

    “Did you guys make this?” Edgar asked after a few moments of silence.

    “The mailbox, no. But we did paint this, yes…” Tsuki answered.

    Keahi nodded, “after we finished building the base… we decided to give the mailbox some colors.”

    “It looks really nice like this,” Edgar commented with a hum.

    “Thanks…” Keahi murmured, rereading all the names written on the mailbox.

    After another few moments, Keahi let out a sigh, leaning forward and resting her forehead on the side of the mailbox. Tsuki’s shoulders sagged as she glanced over at the torchic, but she said nothing and eventually turned her gaze back up to the empty sky again. Edgar hovered around the pair for a bit longer, before beginning to slowly wander around the property; something he didn’t get the chance to do before now.

    He floated around the house first, just a quick tour around the outside walls. It felt smaller on the outside, but an easy peek inside told him that the size, of course, had never changed. The grass growing on the lawn was a strong green, but it faded into patchy bunches closer to the recently constructed house. A chimney made from bricks stuck out of a side wall, which he knew connected to the large fireplace inside.

    At the other end of the base, a tall flagpole had been erected at the roof, hanging the galaxy-print fabric from it. With no wind, the flag currently lay limp against the pole. He brought himself closer to it, tugging at it with one of his hands to get a better look at it. There was a white crescent moon and two stars stitched into one side, but was otherwise the galaxy-print that he had already grown to recognize with the team leaders’ accessories; both of which Keahi was currently wearing.

    Looking down at the other two, he noted how high up he was. He hadn’t been paying attention as he had hovered up here, but this was a pretty big home. He didn’t know much about construction, but even he could tell that this must have taken a lot of work from the entire team.

    “Edgar.” Keahi had noticed that the duskull had wandered up. “You’re up on the roof,” she commented.

    “Yes, I am!” Edgar called back, “do you want me to come down?” he questioned, tilting to the side. “I was just admiring your flag.”

    “Oh, you can stay up there if you want,” Keahi replied, “I… I want to go up there too.”

    “Really? Okay!” Edgar responded, floating over to the lower part of the roof to await his friends.

    While Keahi made it back to the side of the house first, it was Tsuki that managed to climb her way up onto the roof first. She shuffled around to get in position, before making a beautifully high leap straight on top of the building.

    “Woah, that was a good jump!” Edgar complimented.

    Tsuki nodded over to the duskull and then turned around to look back down at the torchic again. Keahi was still looking up at them from the ground, her gaze shifting around the walls as she wondered how to get up. The group had just been up there the night before, but she had always gotten help whenever they decided to watch the sky from the rooftop.

    Fortunately, Tsuki seemed to reach the same conclusion. She laid down on her belly and reached a forepaw down for Keahi to grab on to. However, this still wasn’t enough to break the gap between them. Deciding to try helping as well, Edgar floated back down to give the torchic a boost, which was enough to help her grab onto the absol’s paw and be pulled up the rest of the way.

    Now, the three were up sitting on the roof together, taking in the familiar view. Ahead they could see the path winding out across the land, and if they looked further and around, they could see where the forest began, as well at the outskirts of Pokemon Square. Above, of course, stretched out the ever open blue sky, still practically devoid of any clouds.

    “Shall we wait here then?” Tsuki asked quietly, sitting down on her haunches.

    Keahi nodded, letting out a hum of approval instead of giving a vocal answer. She looked up to the sky like she had done when she was outside not that long before, sitting with her feet tucked under her feathers.

    And they waited.

    For the most part, they remained quiet. Simply taking the time to quietly enjoy each other’s company as they sat together on the roof.

    Eventually though, they began speaking again. After an entire afternoon of practically complete silence, it felt good to begin just talking to each other again and letting out some of their feelings. Keahi began recounting stories of the team’s adventures, Tsuki chiming in when she could as well. When the memories became bitter instead of sweet, they began asking Edgar more questions about his time in Sky Tower, and how he felt just being here on the land. Once conversation picked up, it felt easy to keep it going. While it wasn’t enthusiastic chatter, it was a good talk, a peaceful discussion to keep them going.

    After a bit over an hour of this, Kangaskhan dropped by again. They could see her walking down the path long before she was in earshot, and watched her approach the house, carrying a pan covered with foil in her hands. Seeing the group outside, she offered them a warm smile as usual, but her eyes didn’t carry the same cheeriness that Keahi and Tsuki had grown accustomed to.

    “Hello there dearies,” Kangaskhan greeted, “it’s good to see you all outside today.”

    “Hello, mom,” Tsuki replied softly, nodding. “It is a nice day… despite everything. Getting some fresh air does us well anyway,” she murmured.

    “That’s your mom?” Edgar blurted out.

    “Adopted, but yes,” Tsuki responded, scratching the back of her head with a hind paw as she spoke.

    “We’re waiting for the others to come back,” Keahi told Kangaskhan firmly.

    Deep down, there was a moment of doubt, that Kangaskhan would think them to be foolish to hoping for this miracle. But the feeling swiftly passed as the large pokemon gave them a slow, approving nod. There was no doubt in her eyes, only a glimmer of hope that they had now passed onto her.

    “I made this vegetable casserole for you all. It can make good comfort food,” Kangaskhan began explaining, “plus, cooking is a good activity to work through one’s stress,” she added quietly, “I figured that I would drop by, check in, and leave this for you in case you didn’t feel motivated to cook for yourselves. Perhaps you can just share it with the others when they get back, I did make a lot anyway.”

    There was a pause, and then Keahi smiled.

    “Thanks, Kangaskhan,” she said.

    “Of course, sweeties. It’s no trouble at all,” Kangaskhan assured them, “you all deserve better times, and I wish from the bottom of my heart that you’ll get that soon.”

    “Thank you, again,” Tsuki responded, now giving a soft smile as well. “It is nice to have you visit again, thank you for giving us our space yesterday,” she added, “I believe that we’ll want to save that casserole for later though. The door is unlocked if you want to put it on the table.”

    Kangaskhan nodded, “I’ll do that then. Thanks for letting me know.”

    She opened the door and entered the house, but only for long enough to set the pan she had brought down on the kitchen island table. Closing the door again, she walked back over to the trio still up on the roof. Her brows creased in a look of concern, but it faded away again after a moment.

    “Will you all do fine if I leave you again? I’m afraid that despite everything, my job doesn’t offer many vacation days,” Kangaskhan said.

    They paused, and then Keahi nodded. Tsuki shifted her position on the roof, offering Kangaskhan another small smile.

    “We’ll be alright, but thank you for offering, mom,” Tsuki replied.

    Kangaskhan opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it again as she reconsidered. After a moment’s thought, she managed another smile at them and spoke.

    “Very well. I trust that you all will be able to handle yourselves for now, just remember that you can always stop by my stand, or even my place, if you need some other company,” she responded.

    “Okay, we’ll keep that in mind!” Edgar chimed in.

    Another pause, another reconsideration of a reply. Instead of speaking again this time though, Kangaskhan simply approached the side of the house more. Tsuki instinctively to see what her mother figure wanted, and received a comforting nuzzle in farewell. Kangaskhan went to Keahi next, who leaned down as well to accept the gesture. Edgar even accepted it too, floating downwards instead of forcing Kangaskhan to reach up. Despite not knowing her that well, he was willing to take the comforting touch before she would leave back to her own work again.

    With the silent goodbyes done, Kangaskhan turned to go down the path again. She glanced over her shoulder a couple times as she walked away, but there was nothing else said before she disappeared back into the streets of Pokemon Square.

    And they waited.

    They waited on the roof for another few hours, the sun creeping across the sky into the afternoon. As with the previous passage of time, they did begin talking to each other again, and this time they would pace around as their limbs grew tired from not moving for so long. There were no signs of their friends’ returning, including no telepathic message from Xatu. Doubt was beginning to creep in, but none of them would admit to it and remained strong. After all, they hadn’t been promised a certain time. For all they knew, it would take a day, or even weeks or months.

    Then, there was a golden orb in the sky that Keahi had been staring so intently at.

    “They’re back!” Keahi yelled, being the first to spot the small light.

    In her excitement, she leapt off from the roof of the house, only to face-plant into the ground below. Before anyone could react, she scrambled back to her feet as if that stumble was only a minor inconvenience, kicking dirt around her as she got up to her feet and hurried out into the path again. Tsuki leapt down swiftly afterwards, landing much more gracefully than the torchic had, and Edgar floated back down to join them.

    “Please… please… please,” Keahi repeated under her breath, pacing around the path while keeping her gaze on the orb.

    Slowly, it continued floating downwards, finally settling itself in front of Keahi, where it spun around her a couple times before landing on her forehead and fading away. Keahi blinked, shaking her head as the glow disappeared, and looked back up at the sky to see if there was anything else.

    There was nothing. The sky was just as empty as it had been moments before.

    Tsuki padded up beside Keahi, studying the torchic’s blank expression for a moment. Edgar floated up to her other side, and the absol glanced over at him instead.

    “Do you sense anything?” she asked.

    “I…” Edgar paused. “There’s something, but I don’t know what…?”

    Keahi nodded, “I think that was a message. We just have to wait a bit longer.”

    “…very well,” Tsuki replied, stretching in place for a moment.

    And they waited.

    Minutes dragged on far longer than they ever should have, but the trio remained in place. Keahi continued staring up at the sky as she had been, hoping for something else to appear.

    Then, it finally happened. Another golden orb appeared in the sky, soon followed by dozens upon hundreds more. All swarming down from the heavens and landing in front of the group. The lights continued swirling around for a few moments, before finally fading away from the last time, revealing Nelvana, Alex, and Ceebee, clumped together, appearing a bit dazed.

    “You’re back! You’re back! You’re back! You’re finally back!” Keahi yelled.

    She rushed forward, tackling Nelvana into a hug before any of the returned trio could properly react to any of this. The cubone stiffened from surprise, but quickly relaxed again, returning the hug and letting a laugh bubble out from her throat.

    “Yes! We’re back! We’re back, don’t worry, we’re back!” Nelvana responded, using repetition to push the point to even herself before pulling her partner close to her and resting her forehead on hers.

    “I’m so glad… I missed you all so much, I was so scared that you’d never come back,” Keahi replied, and then paused. “Oh, Nel! Look! I kept the scarf for you, see?” she mentioned, tugging at one of the ends of the scarf with one of her wing talons.

    Nelvana’s smile grew, “you did, thank you!” she hummed, bumping her forehead against the torchic’s again for a moment. “I knew I could trust you with that.”

    She lifted an arm from around the torchic to tug away the scarf, but the pair didn’t separate. Keahi kept herself stuck next to Nelvana, as if she would disappear again if she let go. This made putting back on the scarf a bit more challenging, but she pulled this task off and then immediately pulled Keahi in another hug.

    Behind them, Alex erupted into an excited laugh as well, too impatient to just sit back and watch the reunion, he hurried forward now and scooped the pair into a hug as well and spun around. Tsuki let out a cheery bark and began running around them, waiting for Alex to slow to just standing before leaning up next to them, waving her forepaws in the air in an attempt to join in the group hug properly. Ceebee giggled, flying over to the group in a hurry and leaning into the hug as well after a couple spins. Edgar was the last to join in, but not by long, and he joined in similarly to how the celebi had.

    Another laugh bubbled up from Keahi, and it infected the rest of the group, bringing them all to a joyous chorus all at once. Once again, there were few words, but it wasn’t silent, and it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just having each others’ presences together again brought them the needed comfort.

    “Arceus…” Keahi gasped, “I’m so glad you all are back… I was just so… so scared that you were gone for good,” she whispered.

    “You’ve already said that,” Alex chuckled.

    “I know, I know… But it’s true,” Keahi replied, “I don’t know what else to say… I’m still scared that we’ll lose you all over again.”

    “How long were we gone?” Ceebee asked, finding herself in a very comfortable position leaning over Alex’s shoulder and onto Keahi’s warm feathers.

    “Over a day,” Tsuki answered, glancing down at the ground as she spoke before looking back up at the others again.

    “A day?” Alex repeated, “that isn’t that bad. Could’ve been worse.”

    “It was the worst day of my life!” Keahi snapped, immediately shrinking back at her own harshness with her tone in that comment. “Ah… s-sorry.”

    Alex frowned, “hey, no need to apologize for that. That must’ve been a really painful time, we’re sorry.”

    “But, hey, we aren’t leaving again,” Nelvana added, “I promise.”

    “You really promise?” Keahi questioned.

    “Of course, I promise,” Nelvana replied, “as long as any of us have a say in it, we’re sticking around.”

    “Thank you,” Keahi replied, nuzzling her head in her partner’s shoulder.

    “Look, sorry guys but I can’t carry you forever,” Alex commented, carefully setting Nelvana and Keahi back down onto the path.

    “It’s fine,” Nelvana responded softly.

    This action didn’t separate the group much though. Even though Alex had set down the pair he had been carrying, he didn’t step back afterwards, and no one else seemed too inclined to move away either, keeping everyone bunched close in a clump together.

    “Where did you go, anyway?” Edgar asked.

    There was a pause, and then one-by-one the three time travelers’ expressions shifted into one of shock as they tried coming up with an answer to what should have been a simple question.

    “I-I don’t remember,” Alex mumbled, then snapping his gaze to exchange looks with the other two. “Do either of you?” he asked, receiving stiff shrugging and head shaking as a response.

    “We definitely went… somewhere. I guess we just don’t get to remember where?” Nelvana suggested, rubbing the back of her neck anxiously. “That’s really weird though… I don’t like that,” she added under her breath.

    “Perhaps it is for the best,” Tsuki murmured, “you went somewhere where people aren’t supposed to come back. Who knows what else would have been there, and what secrets could have been leaked out if you had remembered and just told us now.”

    “That sounds likely,” Ceebee agreed, “besides, what’s here, right now, is more important anyway.”

    “And I’m sure if we ever do get curious enough about it, we can probably go ahead and look into it later,” Alex added, slowly relaxing again after that jolt. “But for now…”

    “For now, we should celebrate!” Edgar suddenly squealed, spinning around the group again. “You guys are back! You’re back again! We should celebrate or do something!” he continued, “at the very least, we should announce it to that town! There were lots of people who stopped by worried about you guys, well, all of us really!”

    “Edgar has a good point, we should go into Pokemon Square to announce your return,” Keahi responded, nodding. “Everyone will be so happy to see you all back again!” she added, grinning again.

    “I guess we shouldn’t waste anymore time then, should we? We can always spend more time alone here again afterwards,” Nelvana said.

    Despite saying this, no one moved for a moment. Nelvana, deciding to take initiative, lifted her foot to take a step forward, but it bumped into Keahi, who was still huddled up close to her.

    “Keahi…?”

    “Oh, sorry!” Keahi scrambled back to her feet, but still didn’t move too far away from the cubone. “I just…”

    “Nah, it’s fine. I can carry you if you want,” Nelvana offered, smiling.

    “I’ve been carried enough in the last while!” Keahi huffed, puffing up her chest feathers defiantly. “I can walk! I just… want to stay close to you.”

    “Too late, I’ve decided that I want to carry you,” Nelvana insisted, snickering, to which Keahi didn’t continue arguing about. “Hey Alex, would you mind holding my club for me?” she requested.

    “When did I become your designated club carrier?” Alex quipped, placing a hand on his hip.

    “Please?” Nelvana pressured, waving the bone in the grovyle’s face.

    “I’ll carry it for you, Nel,” Ceebee butted in, taking the weapon from the cubone’s hands.

    “Why thank you dear Ceebee,” Nelvana replied with an exaggerated sweetness in her tone.

    “It’s no problem at all!” Ceebee replied, using the same tone.

    Alex rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help but laugh at the warm joking that was taking place. His smile once again didn’t last long as he suddenly froze in place, patting along his body in a frenzy.

    “Where’d my bag go?” he questioned, turning around to try looking around again.

    “You dropped it,” Tsuki informed him, “don’t worry, it’s just inside. We shouldn’t need it right now anyway, you can grab it later.”

    “Hey! C’mon you two! You don’t want to fall behind!” Edgar exclaimed.

    Looking back up at the others again greeted them with the sight that they were already leaving. Nelvana had hoisted Keahi onto her shoulders, and now they were sprinting down the path in an energetic hurry, with Ceebee fluttering behind them the best she could. Alex let out another chuckle before bounding after them, catching up quickly with his natural good speed. Tsuki and Edgar hurried along to catch up with the others as well.

    “They’re back! We’re all back! Team Galaxy is all together again!”

    Pokemon Square had never been known for huge celebrations or parties, since it isn’t that big of a town to begin with. However, it still knew how to bring everyone together when needed. Even if in general no one carried the knowledge or the materials to throw a party, especially on such short notice, it went well. The last time something like this happened was after the mission to Magma Cavern, which despite feeling like ages ago already, had only taken place a couple days before.

    This celebration blew that one right out of the water. After all, not only were they all celebrating the world being saved, but also the return of half of the team responsible for making the former happen. Many pokemon filled the place very quickly. The crowd that had made their way to the Hill of the Ancients that day before had arrived now, as well as all the citizens that had been unable to make the trip before.

    Like that previous celebration, this lasted for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. Right off the bat were the greetings and excited reunions. Even those who didn’t know of the three that disappeared that much came by to leave a comment of too. Everyone had something to say, and many pokemon had something to give as well. Accepting gifts was as awkward as ever for most of the team, but the joyous atmosphere buried that anxiety away swiftly and let everyone enjoy themselves.

    But as the sun set, many of the townsfolk began turning in for the night, including Team Galaxy. Looking forward for some time with just the six of them, they spent longer than expected waving goodbye to Pokemon Square for the night before heading back to their base again.

    However, they paused at the doorway, and Nelvana held up her badge, looking over at the others.

    “Actually, before we settle inside for the night, how about we see about properly adding you guys to the team?” she suggested, “no sense in delaying it any longer than needed.”

    “Oh yeah! That’s a great idea, Nel!” Keahi agreed.

    “Ooh! You really mean it? We can actually join the team?” Edgar exclaimed, bobbing around in the air excitedly.

    Alex chuckled, “of course.”

    “Tsuki, are you ready to join Team Galaxy now?” Nelvana began, turning to face the absol.

    Tsuki shifted her position, standing tall and proud in front of the cubone.

    “I am, indeed.”

    “That’s great, I’m glad,” Nelvana hummed, “here we go then.”

    Still holding up the badge, Nelvana took another step forward and used the tiny device to scan Tsuki. After a quick check on how to spell her name, everything was completed and there was a cheerful beep as the registration was complete.

    “Welcome to Team Galaxy, as an official member now!” Keahi chirped.

    “Alright, we met up with Ceebee next, so it’s only fair to ask her now…” Nelvana continued, giving Tsuki a pat on the shoulder before turning to face the celebi. “Would you like to join Team Galaxy, officially?”

    Ceebee nodded enthusiastically, “yup! I do!”

    Another click of a button, and another scan, but this time Nelvana was interrupted before she could fill out the name by a loud, less cheerful, beep, making everyone jump in surprise by the sudden and unfamiliar noise. Confused, she squinted at the badge to figure out what had happened.

    “What’s wrong?” Alex asked, leaning over to look as well.

    Nelvana let out a nervous laugh, “oh, it just wasn’t expecting us to scan a mythical! I think it wants a rescan, and a more proper confirmation from you, Ceebee.”

    “Ah, that’s alright! Pretty neat that it recognizes the oddity to have a mythical be scanned here,” Ceebee hummed, fluttering closer.

    After more fiddling around, they managed to get back this strange bump in the registration and get Ceebee onto the team properly. With some sighs of relief that it had worked, and some congratulations for the new member, Nelvana finally turned to Edgar.

    “Alright, last but not least… Edgar, would you like to join Team Galaxy?”

    “Of course!” Edgar exclaimed, still continuously bobbing around in the air.

    “Okay!” Nelvana responded, “let’s see if this works better this time ‘round…”

    There was a slight pause after the scanning, but no loud beeping or extra steps this time. Edgar hovered around impatiently as Nelvana inputted his name, finally getting everyone registered properly in the team.

    “Well, now everyone really is all together again!” Alex commented with a wide grin.

    “Yeah! This was a great way to come back at the end of the day, thanks for bringing it up, Nel!” Keahi agreed, now stepping over to the door.

    Everyone followed her closer to the base, and so Keahi simply opened the door without needing to unlock it, earning a stare from Alex.

    “You guys forgot to lock the door?” he questioned as they walked back inside. “That isn’t very secure you know, someone could have broken in,” he continued.

    “You don’t know what happened!” Keahi huffed, hopping up to the island table. “Here, Kangaskhan brought us some casserole today. I can warm it up for some supper.”

    “Sounds good to me!” Ceebee chirped, fluttering around the house. “Say, this is a nice place you have here! It’s cozy, but has lots of space!”

    “Yeah, we built it together with some help!” Keahi responded, “feel free to explore around if you’d like!”

    Edgar followed the celebi, eager to show her what he had explored the day before, and Tsuki opted to follow them a bit as supervision. Nelvana was about to sit down beside Keahi and see what she could do to help prepare the meal, but her gaze was drawn to the next room, which still was littered with the papers that had been dropped the day before.

    “Why are my drawings all over the floor?” Nelvana asked.

    Tsuki’s head perked up and she turned back around to face the cubone, “ah… that was my bad, apologies. I wanted to look through them and ended up dropping them.”

    “And then ended up not picking them back up?”

    “I’m afraid not. I didn’t know what order they went in, nor do I even have the dexterity for that task.”

    “Ah, fair enough. I’ll just have to put them away now.”

    Nelvana headed over to the scattered drawings, Keahi watching her with a slightly disappointed look, but she turned back to her own task. Alex took note of this, and decided to sit in the kitchen instead, to keep the torchic company for the moment. Nelvana began sliding all the papers closer together, stacking those in the order they were drawn instead of by content. Fortunately, she had had the foresight to date most of them, making the reorganization a simple task. Curious, Ceebee fluttered back over to her friend to see what she could to do help, and also just to look through the art herself.

    “Hey Nel, these are really good! It’s nice to see you’ve still been drawing!” Ceebee exclaimed, handing Nelvana some of the papers she had scooped up from the other end of the room.

    “Yeah, she’s really good!” Keahi chimed in from the other room. “I got some papers and pencils for her to go with the other activities we had bought, and she’s been drawing up a storm!”

    “Oh no, guys…” Nelvana squeaked, trying to bury her face into her scarf in a fluster.

    Alex laughed, “and you still can’t accept a compliment about that!” he teased.

    “But it is good art! What’s wrong with that?” Edgar questioned innocently.

    Nelvana only let out a huff in response, finishing up with putting all the papers back where they were before on the bookshelf. She trudged back over to Keahi and leaned her head onto the torchic again.

    “Your art is good though,” Keahi whispered.

    “…thanks,” Nelvana finally replied.

    With the meal that Kangaskhan had brought in earlier now being warmed up again, they gathered some plates and utensils so that they could dig right in. There had been some snacks that had been served at the celebration they had just been to, but it was refreshing to eat a larger meal together again. They were still lacking a side dish, or any desserts, but it was still a fuller meal than anything else they had had for a few hours. Everyone could easily agree that Kangaskhan was a good cook, and that they’d have to thank her for bringing this to them.

    It only felt fitting that they would go play some board games when they were done eating. Many of the team had played most of the games several times by now, but with two other teammates, it made the experience feel new all over again. In the moment, they could enjoy just being with each other and bond, letting the pain from before fade away with happier times together.

    Finally though, after many hours of continuously finding new things to do and fun ways to interact with one another, the night darkened the world, and the yawning of various team members told everyone that they would have to go rest soon.

    They packed all that they had taken out away, and headed upstairs. Ceebee lacked a bed, but this issue was quickly resolved with the offer to sleep in the hammock with Alex. Tsuki and Edgar once again wouldn’t be able to actually sleep like the others, but would find themselves much happier with the silence this time, with the presences of their friends there to sooth any nerves. Nelvana went in her nest, and Keahi went in her’s.

    Keahi, who had forgotten to tell the news after such a fast day filled with ups and downs, announced what Gardevoir had told her, about the low chance of being able to speak through the dream space together again. Even though many of the group, such as Tsuki and Alex, hadn’t even seen Gardevoir, much less spoken to her, they all felt the sadness of this long-distance friendship not working out in the end. Regardless, there was always the hope, always the maybe, that they could fix things. However, they also all knew that if they were to take that chance, it would have to be saved for a later date.

    Slowly, after much more tired chatter, those that could ended up drifting off to sleep.

    Nelvana woke up a couple hours later, the images of a fading nightmare still swarming her mind as she jolted awake. This had been the clearest memory nightmare in a long time, and of course, it had scared her more than usual. It was evident that the fear of disappearing or just losing her friends was plaguing her mind, and it had wormed her way into her subconscious.

    Used to the scare though, she began taking deep breaths to try to calm herself down enough to go back to sleep. She paused, as she realized that there was something warm in her nest now. Lifting up the blanket she was tangled under, she saw Keahi curled up next to her. The torchic must have snuck in somehow without the cubone noticing, probably too caught up in her own nightmare to notice her partner nestle up with her.

    A small smile stretched across Nelvana’s face, and she gently ruffled Keahi’s feathers. She lowered the blanket again, and snuggled up next to her friend, the nightmare already put at the back of her mind.

    She was safe, they all were safe. They were all happy, together.

    And if she glanced outside the window before drifting asleep again, she could see the galaxies above in the night sky.

First: In which the human is transformed Next [ARC 2]: In which a present is prepared Previous: In which help is requested from a higher power

[fanfic-collection]

Vampire: Loki x Reader - Pt 18

Tag list: catalinaacosta , starscreamloki , dream-reaper , hufflepuff-always-and-forever , portietomednalynn , all-these-wonderful-things , jayyx3oxo , littlelokilover  , jessiejunebug , littlelokilover , vanessaaaasdfghjkl  , lokislilslut , thatmemequeen , luisaskywalker , tadashi-dash , kcd15 , spideypooler03

?!?!?!?!?!??!

Loki sat in the library, shoulder brushing against yours as the two of you sat on the couch. A book sat in your lap that you idly poured over, drinking from a cup of tea. Loki held a packet of blood, sipping from it much like a juicebox while glowering at his own book.

Sighing heavily, he snapped it shut. You glanced up at him curiously and waited for him to talk.

Exasperated, Loki waved his hand at the book, “I used to read for hours and hours, now they are just markings on a page.” Loki took another drink from the packet before looking angrily at the book again.

“Hey,” you said softly, squeezing his knee, “It'll be alright, you can work back into things.”

Loki shifted restlessly, “I should be out doing something, hunting, anything.” He looked towards the window, moonlight streamed in then back to the candlelit library. “I want to read, the magic these books used to hold for me.” Rubbing his temples with his hands, Loki shook his head angrily. “It's like my mind is entirely different than it used to be.”

“What if I read to you?”

Loki looked down at the book, “You can't read this language.”

“Maybe not, but we can start with simpler books and work back to piquing your interest. Maybe if you can keep moving and doing something while still hearing the story, it'll be close enough.”

Loki stood up and slowly began pacing back and forth. He held out his hand and a small orb glowed in it, after a moment of focus, he began tossing it in the air, bouncing it this way and that, catching it and throwing it again. Slowly the tension left his shoulders and he smiled, constantly moving. “Very well.” He murmured, tossing the ball with one hand, the other behind his back as he paced back and forth in front of the couch. “Proceed.”

“The heroine approached the castle, tremors running through her body,” you began reading slowly and clearly, pausing from time to time to take a sip of your tea. All the while, Loki paced back and forth. As time passed, he began using magic to manipulate the ball he had conjured, floating it around the room and moving it as he pleased.

From time to time, your eyes would flicker up, a smile touching your face as you watched the ball sail over your head and back to Loki's hand. Watching the ball return to Loki's hand, your eyes caught his and you faltered in your words, smiling at him, feeling a blush touch your cheeks. A soft smile touched his own face and for a moment, you swore you saw a tinge of rouge to his face as well, then it was gone.

“You were saying?” Loki asked softly, interrupting the silence you had not noticed.

You tore your gaze away from his face and looked back to the book, “Oh right.” Clearing your throat you continued. Your eyes jumped ahead to the end of the page and you snapped the book shut, apparently this was not the sort of novel you had originally intended to read.

Loki turned to the closed book and then looked back up at your face, frowning. “She was going to his room, yes, what next?”

“I, err, I didn't see the sort of book this was.” You coughed, running your hand absently through your hair.

Loki's eyes widened, a smile crossing his face. “I see.”

You bit your lip, once more meeting his gaze before looking away nervously.

The library door burst open, Thor came rushing in carrying a laptop computer. He called your name, “I forgot to tell you sooner!” He yelled, holding up the screen towards you, “Marcy was able to send an electronic message to you.”

“What?” You snapped, jumping up and tossing aside the book. You ran over to him, grabbing the computer from his hands and carrying it back to the couch and sitting down to read. Your eyes scanned over the letter, tears welling in your eyes, “Why didn't you tell me sooner?”

“We have been quite preoccupied...” Thor trailed off sheepishly. “Apologies, no malice was intended in keeping this from you, I was just able to look.”

Loki rushed to your side then stopped, moving a respectful distance away from you and waited for you to finish reading.

“She's awake.” You whispered softly, hand moving to your mouth as a few stray tears fell from. “She was able to write this herself! She's even been feeding herself some, still on the IV but, oh this is wonderful.”

“Shouldn't,” Loki hesitated, reaching his hand out but quickly pulling back, “shouldn't this be good news?” Loki shot a look at Thor who bowed low and quickly backtracked from the room.

You set the computer down, burying your hands in your face and began crying openly. Your shoulders shook, tears running down your face. A cold hand touched your shoulder, slowly pulling you into his arms. You buried your face in his chest. “I'm, so, sorry.” You stammered around tears.

“It's alright darling, please, speak to me.”

“I've been so focused on everything else, this new life, helping you, being... being kidnapped,” you hiccupped, “I, I had all but pushed my worries for her away, I couldn't dare to think about her.” You wailed, looking up at Loki. “Oh I'm a terrible sister.”

“You're a wonderful sister, this is my fault.” Loki looked down sadly, gently stroking your back. “My mother said I used to be so perceptive of others and now... I should have thought to ask you. You traded your life for her health and you've been so focused dealing with me. What can I do to help?”

You smiled tearfully up at him, still leaning into his chest. Loki cupped your face, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. You were mindful of his clawed nails, but it seemed so was he. “She's doing wonderfully, compared to how she had been and I'm not there to see it.”

Loki smoothed his thumbs across your face, smiling comfortingly at you, “That's not your fault. It's mine.” Clenching his jaw he looked away then turned back to you, “even now, I'm asking you to comfort me, the very least, I would appreciate you forgiving my selfishness.”

“I don't blame you. It is by your existence that she's able to get the help she needs, I just wish I could be at her side.”

Loki nodded, smiling sadly, “I wish you could as well, siblings should always be there for each other.”

“But I made a promise, I would help you.” You closed your eyes and bowed your head, “I won't break it.”

“I wish you could.” Loki muttered.

“You've been doing so much better these last few days, you seem so in control, and we haven't even... let you, you know.” You didn't want to mention him drinking your blood, the thought unnerved you but there was a hint of excitement deep in the recesses of your mind.

“Drinking less, more regularly, seems helpful, but you shouldn't have to give up your life just to help your sister.”

“Maybe when you're fully functioning, you know, back to normal, we can visit her together?”

Loki smiled, “I would like that.” Then he looked away wistfully, “Do you truly think there will come a time that I no longer have to be in exile?”

“I absolutely do.”

Loki rested his forefinger under your chin, tilting your head up. His thumb smoothed along your lower lip as he looked at you, studying you intently. You held his gaze, green eyes boring into yours. Slowly, hesitantly, carefully, you reached up and cupped his face, holding him his face in your hands. You studied his face, the unnaturally smooth and pale skin, the thin pale lips, the high sharp nose, his high forehead, thick black eyebrows, the thin scar on his lip, you wanted to memorize every detail, afraid if you looked away in this moment you might forget it. Loki stared back at you, his other hand came up to cup your cheek and the first moving to cradle your face as you held his.

Slowly, hesitantly, achingly slow, Loki pulled your face towards his, leaning down at the same time. His lips met yours gently, holding the moment. You felt the soft poke of his fangs sliding over your lips. His mouth opened, tongue sliding over your lips curiously tasting the soft skin and seeking entrance. Gasping softly, you opened your mouth and allowed him. His tongue delved in, tasting your mouth and entwining with your tongue. Your mouths moved together in sync, deepening the kiss. Loki pressed into you, pushing you back on the couch until he was laying on top of you. He nipped and sucked at your lip, mindful of his sharp fangs, before slowly parting. You gasped for breath, panting as Loki continued kissing along your jawline, slowly leaving a trail of kisses down your throat, his sharp fangs grazing over your skin. Gripping his hair and tugging softly, you arched your back, moaning into his kisses, his hands sliding along your side, nails raking against your skin. You felt his mouth near the delicate pulse in your neck, throbbing dangerously in time to your racing heart.

Loki opened his mouth then pulled away abruptly, crawling off you. He clamped his clawed hand on his wrist, digging into the skin until blood ran out. His eyes had drifted shut and he gasped sharply as he reopened them. He was panting heavily, looking around wildly, slowly he stumbled back from you.

“I,” He gasped softly, shaking his head in horror, “I tried to drink you.” He whispered.

You struggled to sit up, recovering from the flood of emotions and experiencing your own horror at seeing him bleed so severely. “Loki, what did you do.”

Loki closed his eyes and groaned, gripping his arm to staunch the flow of blood. “I would've drank you, dry and I wouldn't have hesitated.”

“I trust you.”

“Of course you do,” he snarled, “do you know how strong these powers of manipulation are? How easily a vampire can make a human do what they want?”

You searched your mind, trying to find any traces of outside influence. “You didn't.” You blinked at him confused, tilting your head. Slowly you approached him, holding your hands out soothingly as you reached for his bleeding arm.

Loki jerked away, “No.” He pleaded, “I can't do that to you.”

“Loki, I, I wanted it.”

Loki bit his lip. Slowly, you reached out for his arm, tearing at his sleeve and tightening it around the bloody gash. Loki watched you warily.

“Let's go get you cleaned up, alright?”

You guided Loki out of the library and towards your room with the fully functional bathroom. Loki glanced warily at the electric lights but allowed you to run his arm under the faucet spraying out warm water. There was a first aid kit in the cabinet and you set about bandaging his arm.

When you had finished, you guided him back to your room and set him on the bed. Kneeling before him, you studied your work. “Let's try and avoid the hurting yourself thing, alright?” You looked up at him, gazing into his eyes imploringly.

Loki nodded slowly, still watching you uneasily. “I could've killed you.” He whispered hoarsely.

“I don't think you would have.”

“I wanted to. I wanted to drink every last drop from you.” He closed his eyes, inhaling heavily, flaring his nostrils. “You have no idea how your blood sings.”

You reached up and smoothed your thumb on his face. The water had washed away the traces of blood from your hands and you continued to stroke his face. Standing up, you cupped his face and pressed your lips to his before quickly pulling away.

Loki groaned, pulling back, he turned his head from you and his hair swayed in front of his face, “Woman, do you know how difficult you're making this?” He growled.

“Then let's try taking it slow. We can be careful. We started too fast.”

Loki looked back at you, clenching his hands tightly. Nodding stiffly, he swallowed hard, “It's nearly dawn.” He said at last.

“Why don't we get some sleep?” You offered.

“I should go back to my room, it would be the respectful thing to do.” Loki glanced at the door but made no signs of movement.

“Nothing would happen if you stay here, and you won't be as cold.”

Loki nodded slowly, a smile spreading across his face as he sighed heavily and began to shake his head, “You truly are taking risks.”

“I think you're worth them.”

[wewalkadifferentpath]

I need you here with me (read on ao3)

“Magnus, I’ve got him.” Cat’s voice was soft. Ever the proficient nurse. “I’ve got him. He will need a few hours of sleep, at least, but his injuries are mostly healed. He’ll be okay.” Magnus let out a breath. In front of him, Alec was laid out on his bed, body slack and positioned awkwardly as if he’d been knocked unconscious. He basically had been; Magnus knew from experience that Cat’s sedatives were strong. He reached forward, brushing a few stray bits of hair out of Alexander’s face. Gently, slowly, he cupped the arm that had been broken, feeling his stomach clench uncomfortably as he moved it as delicately as he could into a more comfortable position. It was fine now. Alexander was fine now. But before, when it had happened… “My dear Alexander,” he murmured, stroking Alexander’s arm lightly with the tips of his fingers. His skin was warm, probably warmer than it should have been, as if he had a fever. Cat smiled. “He’s strong. Resilient.” “He’s had to be.” Magnus knew even as he said it that it was an understatement. For all that he had done to try to protect his Shadowhunter, there was so much that Magnus hadn’t been able to do, so much that he hadn’t been able to fix.

Especially now, he reminded himself, shivering. 

Now he was as good as useless.

He pressed his fingers more firmly into Alexander’s wrist, feeling for the steadiness of his pulse. The quiet, fluttery thumping was a little fast, but healthy. An anchor. Alexander was his anchor, his rock, even while asleep. The thought should scare him. But somehow he couldn’t muster the energy for it. Cat tilted her head at him knowingly. “I rigged the room,” she told him. “You’ll be able to hear Alec’s breathing and pulse from anywhere in the house.” She rose, packing away the remaining bits of her medical equipment with an air of strung out fatigue. “You don’t have to sit here and watch him.” This was punctuated with a pointed look at Magnus. “You can eat. And rest. And have some time, to yourself.” Magnus nodded. “I suppose that I should sleep.” “Can I trust you to do that?” Cat asked, and the question was only halfway a joke. Both of them knew that there had been times in Magnus’s life where he had answered that question with a negative.

He knew that if he asked her, Cat would stay. But he also knew that she was eager to get back to the child in her care. “Yes, Cat, thank you. Now please, go home to Madzie.” She sighed, reaching out with one free arm to wrap Magnus in a quick, tight hug.  He accepted it, breathing her in and trying to pretend that it was comforting, instead of a reminder that he could no longer feel the buzz of her magic mingling with his, quick and smooth and frazzled as it always was. Had been. He knew that she could feel the difference too. “Take care of yourself, Magnus. Okay?” She leaned back to look him in the eye. “Call me if you need me.” “I will,” he lied. Her lip turned up wryly. “Goodnight, Magnus.” A quick peck on his cheek, and then she opened a portal in one fluid movement and stepped through. Magnus dropped his shoulders wearily. Alec’s deep and even breathing punctured the darkness in waves, sure and regular against the silence in Magnus’s mind. It was a comfort, but also a reminder. He sunk down to perch on the edge of the bed. “Alexander…” He couldn’t finish the thought. What could he say?  I’m sorry that I couldn’t save you? Thank you for being okay?

My condolences, for your unfortunate luck in falling in love with a half-demon storm of man?

Instead, he settled for leaning forward to brush his lips against Alexander’s forehead.  

-- -- --

“You’re here,” Magnus said. He poured himself another two fingers of his drink, taking a quick shot of it before spinning the glass idly in his hand. “I’m surprised that you came.” The living room was dark, fragmented only by the lamp beside him and the one across from him. Bathed in that orange-tinted circle of light, sitting on the couch as if he’d never left, Ragnor smiled. Magnus looked back down at his hands. “I had wondered if you might have been…” “An apparition of your magic?” Ragnor’s lip quirked up again. “No,” he said, shifting his hands one over the other, palms up, as if he himself were about to cast a spell right then. “Your magic always did protect you well, but I’m afraid that even it can’t quite get my image right.”

Magnus snorted. He took another sip, letting his gaze linger on the amber liquid as it made rocky waves in his glass. He resolutely ignored the did. “Perhaps I could cut back on the martinis.” Ragnor smiled. “My dear friend,” he said, leaning forward, even as Magnus shuffled forward to meet him in the middle; he grasped the corner of Magnus’s chin gently between his thumb and forefinger. “You always were a foolish, foolish drunk. And—“ he added, leaning back again with a near audible stretch, “we both know that that abomination of a drink is not even close to a martini.” Magnus nodded absently, but couldn’t muster a retort. Instead he reached again for the silence, feeling needy for its reprieve. Unexpectedly, and rather uncomfortably, he was met with the jumbled noise of the cars going by on the road outside his window. He had put up wards to seal the sound out of his loft-- hadn’t he? He must have removed them. After all, time hadn’t been moving in the most linear fashion, recently. Just one more unfortunate consequence of war. “When you met me.” Magnus inhaled raggedly and let it go in a rush. “I was…” “A tremendously traumatized young man.” Ragnor’s voice was gentle. Magnus spun a ring around his finger. “Yes.” The light from the jewelry cast out around him in little spirals and dots of gold, reflecting off the window behind Ragnor’s image. “Nevertheless, I was… I was Asmodeus’s son. I am Asmodeus’s son.” Ragnor nodded, raising a pointed eyebrow. In the back room, Alec snorted and shuffled, blankets rustling and breathe speeding up before settling. “I fought so hard,” Magnus whispered, mostly to himself. “I tried so hard to be better than him.” I tried to be good, he almost added. I tried not to be destruction, but still I named myself in its honour and I walked in its wake. Ragnor’s eyes glinted. “You have always been a better man than him, Magnus.” What Ragnor meant was, you didn’t need to try. What Ragnor meant was, you’ve always been good. They’d played this game, had this back and forth, hundreds of times in hundreds of different ways over the course of Magnus’s long life. In speeches, in looks, in cups of tea, in drunken monologues and in moments that Magnus would never have let anyone else see. They didn’t need words anymore. Ragnor, who had found his own name in the concept of endings, had always looked at Magnus’s destruction and seen hope. “What would I do without you?” Magnus asked. It was automatic, a question that he had asked aloud to his friend many times before. This time, the implications hit him with a suddenness that left him winded. He choked on the urge to try to snatch the words back, take them deep into his chest where the coldness of the night around them couldn’t bear witness to them. Ragnor seemed to sense the delicacy of Magnus’s sudden anxiety, and left a soft pause before speaking. “You would be even more of a miserable wretch than you are now.” That startled a laugh from him. It bubbled out of Magnus from somewhere desperate and a little animalistic, a hysterical noise that he was glad that no one was around to hear. In the back, Alec’s heart rate was steady, though he mumbled something in his sleep. “What will I do without my magic?” Magnus asked, once he’d composed himself again. It came out like a plea. “I have nothing left, Ragnor.” Please, my oldest friend, tell me that I’m wrong again. Ragnor shook his head, some of his hair falling slightly forward to lay against his left horn. “You know that that’s not true.” Magnus twisted his ring again, watching the light spin over and over. A never ending, never breaking series of colour. “I’m going to die.” This time Ragnor rolled his eyes. “You were always going to die, my incorrigible friend. If you’re forgetting that, then perhaps I should take the whisky away from you.” Tears sprung, unbidden, to prick at Magnus’s eyes. Spitefully, he let them. Screw composure. Not now, not after this. His father had already taken his dignity.

Ragnor shuffled forward, leaning to pick up Magnus’s hand where he’d been reaching again for his glass. Ragnor caught it and held it firmly between both of his own, familiar warmth somehow seeping through to Magnus’s skin in a way that he didn’t want to understand. He didn’t care anymore how he could be with his friend, only that he could. Still, he stiffened. The last time his hand had been held was when he’d clung onto Alexander’s earlier that day; when his lovely, direly injured soldier had been lying there, on the concrete, gasping for air and looking like- “You will not die alone.” Magnus swallowed as the tears finally sprung forward, clouding his vision and choking up his throat. He raised his unclaimed hand and grabbed at his collar, feeling the need to claw the fabric off of himself. “I know.” His voice was hoarse, but steady. He thought of Catarina, with her freely given warmth and infinite understanding. And Raphael, troubled though the boy may be; though the thought that he was no longer able to support his son only caused him to dig his nails deeper into his collar. And Alexander… He glanced up at Ragnor, finally, who looked at him fondly and squeezed his hand. “No, you don’t,” Ragnor corrected gently. “But you will, my friend.” Ragnor’s gaze was intent, and Magnus found himself unable to dissolve the intensity in his words. His friend had always had him pinned like that. He supposed it was his weakness. “There will come a time when you will truly understand the magnitude of love that you have been able to build around you, Magnus. And then you will never feel alone again,” Ragnor smiled, revealing a rare flash of his teeth, “With or without me around to bang it into your stubborn head. That I can promise you, if nothing else.” Magnus smiled wetly, tasting salt on the edge of his tongue. He’d missed Ragnor, more than he had ever let himself think possible. “Your promises do have a pretty good track record,” Magnus conceded. Ragnor winked, and then paused, shifting his chin up to look behind Magnus’s head. His expression softened. “Here comes one promise right now.” Alexander. Magnus turned, to see that Ragnor was right-- Alexander stood in the doorway of his bedroom. The bed-rumpled Shadowhunter was half-slumped against the door frame and rubbing at his arm, watching Magnus with a curious expression. “Magnus.” His tilted head filled in the inflection, the question clear in his eyes. Magnus smiled. “I’m coming to bed, Alexander,” he assured, nodding at him. His heart constricted heavily. “Just give me one moment to finish up here, hmm?” Alexander nodded, dazed and tired. But he paused, for one electrified second, to hold eye contact with Magnus; then turned, as if he hadn’t just split Magnus’s heart open for that one infinite moment, to head back to bed. Leaving Magnus once again alone in the darkness. “My apologies for the interruption,” Magnus said to the emptiness, once he knew for certain that Alexander was out of earshot. He turned back to the couch where Ragnor had been sitting, knowing already in his heart that it would be empty. He had known as soon as the warmth had left his hand. “You’re right, though,” Magnus whispered anyway. “Like I said, my dear cabbage, you always give the best advice.”

After an unsurprising beat of silence, Magnus rose wearily, joints crackling in protest. He shuffled himself quietly into the bedroom, shedding his clothes as went until he was wearing nothing but his shirt and briefs. Lifting the blanket, he snuggled in gently next to Alexander, near enough to feel his warmth but careful to keep a safe distance from his injuries. “I miss you,” he told the ceiling. Inexplicably, foolishly unable to let go of his end of the conversation. He rubbed at an eye childishly, angry with his tears. “I wish you were still here with me for this.”

But if there was anything that Magnus had learned in his long life, it was that wishes weren’t worth much.

In his sleep, Alec grabbed for him, tugging Magnus gently toward his chest. Magnus smiled cautiously. Perhaps, he thought, he could allow the heat and closeness to make him feel safe. Just for one night.

Pressing another fleeting kiss to Alec’s forehead, Magnus also let himself imagine that he could see the glinting flash of a horn from behind his door frame- and perhaps the briefest glimpse of an approving smile. Then he closed his eyes, and let himself fall into sleep.

[banshee-cheekbones]

If you’re taking prompts could you do Cordia & picking out a puppy at the pound

hi nonny! here’s some pre-relationship Cordia that’s canon-divergent after 3A, with human Lydia, emotional hurt/comfort, mild angst and general pack feelings.

3.2k. on ao3 here.

like a ship lost at sea.

Once senior year comes to an end, the pack goes their separate ways.

Cora doesn’t think that any of them actively set out to leave Beacon Hills for the sole reason of getting away from each other but, pack bonds or not, they all have their futures to consider, and those futures aren’t concentrated in the same spot. Stiles, Lydia and Kira (with Malia in tow) all move cross-country to Virginia, Massachusetts, and New York respectively. Scott remains in California, Allison and Isaac cross the ocean to France, and Derek pulls up stakes and joins Braeden on the road.

Cora stays behind.

She only remains in Beacon Hills for a few weeks after the others disperse. Sure, there are still people that she knows in town; Scott’s mom is constantly in contact with her, urging her to come by whenever she wants to, and Peter is always skulking around somewhere, but they aren’t enough. They aren’t pack; being around them doesn’t make the expansive walls of Derek’s loft feel any more like home, doesn’t do anything to quell the itch underneath her skin, an itch that becomes almost unbearable when the full moon comes around.

So once the moon is new again, she leaves.

She goes back to South America, meanders through Brazil and Peru, spends a few weeks with her old pack, hoping all the while that it’ll do something to fill what seems to be the increasingly large void in her chest. For a few days, she thinks that it might even work, that she’s back where she belongs.

But then the full moon returns to the sky, and the rest of the pack stares at it with joy and reverence, and all Cora can do is shudder in her misshapen skin and wonder if she’ll ever feel whole again.

When there’s no longer a hint of moon in the sky, she returns stateside and stays a few days in the echoing loft, works out until it feels like her heart might explode from her chest, runs through the woods until her feet are a mess of dirt and crushed leaves and dried blood.

Mainly, she tries to figure out where to go next.

She’s trying to narrow it down between New York and Philadelphia, where Derek says he’ll be for at least another week, when she gets a call from Lydia. It’s not entirely a surprise; they’ve been in fairly consistent contact since Lydia left for Massachusetts, text each other at least once a day.

The subject of the call is what throws Cora off-guard.

“My roommate is moving out at the end of the week,” Lydia says as soon as Cora picks up. “Do you still want to get out of Beacon Hills?”

If Cora were to take some time to think it over, she’s fairly certain that she could come up with a dozen reasons why saying yes is a horrible idea. But, when it comes down to it, it’s probably a better idea than crashing on Kira and Malia’s couch or tagging along as Derek and Braeden’s third wheel for a few weeks.

So she doesn’t give herself any time to talk herself out of it. She simply says yes and starts to pack as soon as the call ends.

It takes just a little under an hour. All her most valuable possessions, the things she holds most dear in all the world, fit into a single worn duffle bag.

Frankly, she’s surprised that she manages to fill it.

It’s raining when her flight lands.

Lydia is waiting for her just inside the entrance to the arrivals area, raincoat belted tightly around her waist, hair hanging in a tight braid over one shoulder, looking so effortlessly put together and beautiful, so at ease in her surroundings, that Cora has to swallow around a sour lump of jealousy.

“It’s nice to see you,” she says as Cora walks up. There’s a moment of hesitation, a moment where her shoulders go stiff, before she shakes her head minutely and pulls Cora into a tight hug. It’s been so long since Cora’s touched someone else that her first instinct is to shrink away, but then the smell of Lydia’s shampoo reaches her nostrils, and the unique rhythm of her heartbeat, so utterly familiar, fully settles in Cora’s ears. For the first time in months, she feels like she’s standing on solid ground again, and she melts into Lydia’s touch.

“Yeah,” she mutters, closing her eyes for just a moment, focusing on the steady thump of Lydia’s heart in order to block out the cacophony filling the rest of the vast space. “You too.”

Lydia’s apartment is smaller than she expected, but she’s actually relieved; after spending so much time alone in the cold, echoing loft, she’s had enough of expansive spaces. The windows let in copious amounts of sunlight, and there’s a balcony large enough for her to work out on when the weather is nice. Her own room is already mostly furnished; Lydia’s old roommate left behind their bed and desk, so all Cora has to order is a new dresser (which remains half-empty, even after she buys some new clothes). At night, it’s surprisingly quiet; the street isn’t heavily trafficked, and they’re far away from the bars, so she’s able to sleep with the window open, enjoy the breeze, without having to use earplugs.

Even though the official beginning of the semester is still some weeks off, Lydia has already managed to score a job as a research assistant for a professor in the mathematics department and, once Cora has unpacked her meager belongings and taken some time to get used to the neighborhood, she uses a connection that she’s somehow managed to cultivate in only a few months to land Cora a job as a barista at a coffee shop on campus.

Despite it being the summer, the shop is still busy enough that most of her day flies by in the blink of an eye, and she falls into the routine quickly, uses her enhanced senses to her advantage. It’s not glamorous, the uniform is absolutely hideous, and it’s definitely not something that she wants to make a career out of, but seeing as she isn’t sure what she does want to make a career out of, she’s fine with it being a stopover. At the very least, it gives her a reason to get out of bed in the morning, gives her something to focus on that isn’t the pull of the moon.

Any reservations she may have had about being Lydia’s roommate dissolve fairly quickly. Lydia spends a good portion of any given day on campus and when she is home, she’s quiet, is usually curled up on the couch with a book or watching something on her laptop. She doesn’t push Cora to talk, but she listens when Cora does want to talk. She’s freer with her physical affections than Cora remembers; she doesn’t hesitate to slide closer when Cora sits down beside her on the couch, doesn’t shy away from occasionally brushing Cora’s hair away from her face, but she’s never pushy about it, never lingers for too long.

One night, as Cora lays in bed, staring out the window at where the glow from the streetlights has turned the sky a deep shade of orange and listening to Lydia quietly hum to herself in her bedroom down the hall, she thinks to herself that maybe this is where she’s meant to be.

Maybe this is what she’s been searching for since senior year came to an end.

But then the moon starts to edge towards its peak again and her skin grows too tight and her chest aches for something she can’t put a name to but is too damnably familiar with.

She calls in sick on the day of the full moon and stays in her bedroom, buried under her blanket despite the heat, palms going through a continual cycle of tearing open and healing as her claws dig in.

She wants to call Derek. She wants to ask if he’s experiencing the same thing, if he feels like he’s going to implode every single time the moon reaches its peak, but the idea of moving to find her phone, of poking her head out into the sunlight, just makes her head ache, and she remains motionless.

By the time Lydia returns from campus, it’s nearly evening, and Cora still hasn’t moved. The sound of the front door closing behind her echoes through Cora’s head, as does each of her footsteps. When she pauses outside Cora’s door, Cora can hear the wood rasping when Lydia lays her palm on it.

Idly, she wonders how painful gouging out her own eardrums would be.

“Cora?” Thankfully, Lydia’s voice is softer than usual, barely louder than a whisper. “Are you okay?”

Cora could lie to her. Lydia wouldn’t be able to hear her heartbeat shift and tick, wouldn’t be able to smell her scent change ever so subtly. But frankly, Cora doesn’t know if she could keep her voice from shaking long enough to lie.

So, instead, voice raspy with thirst, she answers, “No.”

Lydia’s scent changes at that, sours a little with something that isn’t quite sadness but is in the pain spectrum nonetheless. After a moment where the only sounds from her are her heartbeat and breath, she slowly pushes the door open, and Cora shifts the blanket just enough so that she can look out with one eye.

“I have an idea,” Lydia says, glancing around the room, at the closed window and the blanket bunched over Cora’s body. “But we’d need to go for a short drive. Is that something you could manage?”

The honest answer is that Cora isn’t sure. But she wants to try, even if only to make the sour smell of Lydia’s pain dissipate.

“Can we come back?” she asks, sticking her whole head out from underneath the blanket and blinking at the overly bright room. “If it’s too much.” Lydia nods.

“Of course.”

That’s the assurance Cora needs to fully kick the blanket away from her body. Sitting up and tossing her legs over the edge of the mattress, she runs one hand through her hair and is only mildly alarmed when her fingers snag on a considerably large knot.

“Alright. Just let me brush my teeth first.”

The world seems to be painted in swathes of screaming florescent color, and the sound of everything is turned up too high, and the moon feels like it has its claws firmly hooked into her back, but Cora still manages to make it out of the apartment and into the passenger seat of Lydia’s car.

Once she’s seated, she sinks back into the leather and closes her eyes, grateful for the tinted windows. Even though it’s warm enough outside to have the windows down, Lydia leaves them up and turns the air conditioning on the lowest setting. After a moment of adjustment, the low whoosh of air actually becomes almost soothing. It gives Cora something else to focus on, along with the sound of Lydia’s heart, something to block out what feels like every sound in the universe. Lydia doesn’t tell her where they’re going, and Cora doesn’t ask.

She figures it out when they’re still nearly a block away.

The barking of at least a dozen dogs assaults her ears, and she digs her hands into her knees, claws tearing through her jeans and pressing into her skin. Lydia immediately slows down and glances over, fingers tight around the steering wheel.

“Is it too much? We can turn around.”

On some level, it is; there’s just so much noise, so many things clamoring for her attention that it makes Cora’s head throb. But she’s made it this far; she doesn’t want to give up yet, especially when they’re so close. She wants to know the full details of Lydia’s plan, at the very least.

“No,” she winces, forcing herself to take a deep breath. “Keep going.”

They pull into the parking lot of the animal shelter a minute later. They’re the only vehicle in the lot, and once Lydia slides out, she comes around to Cora’s side and holds out her hand.

Her slim fingers would never heal properly if Cora squeezed them too hard. They’d stay jagged and crooked for the rest of her life.

“What if I hurt you?” she asks, bumping the door closed with her hip. Lydia just stares at her.

“Homicidal lizard of an ex-boyfriend never hurt me,” she says, hand still extended. “And I don’t think you will either.” It’s such an absurd thing to say, so human, but she’s unwavering; there isn’t a single ounce of fear coming off of her.

“I like to think that I’m more trustworthy than Jackson ever was,” Cora replies, trying her best to crack a joke as she slots their fingers together and lets Lydia walk her towards the entrance.

“You are. And more honest,” Lydia says. Just for a moment, her scent spikes with pain again, and Cora feels the abrupt need to pull Lydia close and hug her until it goes away. But the scent disappears almost as soon as it arrives, and when they walk inside, Cora immediately returns to focusing on keeping herself under control. Barking and meowing reverberates off every wall, and the lights are too glaring, and the combined scents of animal waste and industrial strength cleaning supplies gets caught in her throat, forcing her to swallow around a retch.

She’s vaguely aware that Lydia is talking to the woman at the front desk, but she doesn’t catch most of the conversation, doesn’t really even know what’s going on until the woman unlocks the waist-height gate beside the counter and ushers them back.

Once they leave the front area, the lights thankfully dim a little, and Cora’s able to open her eyes to more than a squint. They walk down a long hallway dotted with doors and stop in front of the one at the very end. There’s a small window inset in the door, and Cora peers through the glass into a room with a concrete floor and walls. A large dog bed fills one corner and curled up on it staring at the window is a dog only slightly smaller than a coyote with black and white fur. When Cora leans in closer to the window, the dog’s ears perk up, and its short tail starts to thump against the bed.

“This is Star,” the woman says, unlocking the door and pushing it open. “She was surrendered a few weeks ago. She’s very sweet.”

“What kind of dog is she?” Lydia asks, but Cora doesn’t pay attention to the answer that Lydia receives. Instead, she steps into the room and carefully sinks down onto her haunches and slowly extends one hand, ready to pull back if need be; dogs tend to be more wary around alphas, but some of them are just as frightened of betas, and healing factor or no, she doesn’t really relish the thought of having fangs sunk deep into her wrist.

But that doesn’t happen. Star wriggles forward, black nose cautiously sniffing at the air in front of Cora’s fingertips. After only a few moments, she gets to her feet, trots across the space between them and starts excitedly licking at Cora’s palm. When Cora fully sits down on the cold ground, Star clambers up into her lap and nudges at her chin with her snout, smacks her tail against Cora’s knee.

“I think she’s picked you,” the woman laughs quietly. Cora nods and glances up at Lydia, who is smiling but looks unsure of herself, is too stiff to be fully relaxed.

“Good,” Cora responds, scratching underneath Star’s chin, and Lydia’s smile comes fully alive. “Because I’m picking her.”

For an extra fee, the shelter is able to provide them with everything they need: a cage, food, a leash and some starter toys. While Lydia is occupied with filling out the required paperwork, Cora pays for everything and then ignores Lydia’s protests that they should have at least split the cost halfway.

It takes a few moments to fit everything into the back of Lydia’s car, and there isn’t enough room to fully unfold the cage, so Star rides back in Cora’s lap. Her head whips around as she looks at all the passing scenery, but she doesn’t claw at the dashboard or the window, and she seems perfectly content to allow Cora to press her face between her shoulder blades and breathe in deeply.

The different rhythms of the heartbeats in the car, of her own and Lydia’s and Star’s, should be too discordant, should only make her head throb more, but instead, she feels safe. Feels like she’s back in Beacon Hills with the rest of the pack, feels like she knows her place again.

It takes them two trips to bring everything upstairs. Once the door is closed behind them, Cora unclips Star’s leash. She expects Star to run around and explore, but instead, she simply follows Cora around, watches her set up her bed in the living room, follows her to the bathroom and waits outside until Cora comes back out. She only wanders away once they’ve set up her food and water in a corner of the kitchen.

After they’ve put everything away, Lydia sits down on one end of the couch and turns the television on, mutes it and puts something on Netflix with subtitles, and Cora doesn’t even think about retreating back to her bedroom. Instead, after a moment of hesitation, she sits beside Lydia on the couch, not close enough to touch but close enough to feel Lydia’s body heat.

After only a moment, Lydia reaches out and gently sets one hand on Cora’s shoulder.

“You can come here,” she says by way of explanation, glancing from Cora’s face to her own lap and back again. “If you want to.” There’s a hitch in her heartbeat that Cora isn’t familiar with, but it’s one that she knows as nervousness from hearing it in other people.

“Okay,” she says quietly and, before she can talk herself out of it, she pulls her legs up onto the couch and lies down with her head in Lydia’s lap, shifts around until she’s comfortable. When Lydia drops one hand to her hair and starts carefully untangling the knots, Cora lets her eyes fall shut.

“I wish I could take your pain away,” Lydia murmurs, fingertips smoothing along Cora’s hairline, like she’s trying to do it anyway, like she’s imagining black veins of pain climbing up her hand. Before Cora can answer, the sound of nails clicking against the floor reaches her ears, and Star hops up onto the couch, presses herself back against Cora’s chest and stretches out.

Cora sighs, lets herself sink further into Lydia’s lap, and drops one hand to Star’s side, anchors it in her sleek fur.

“You don’t have to,” she says. “This is enough for now.”

[raidingyourheart]

Companions react to sole wanting to jump off trinity tower in power armor?

Companions react to the Sole Survivor wanting to make the jump from Trinity Tower in power armor.

◖   Ears prickling every time the wind dipped through the dilapidated architecture of one of the Commonwealth’s most imposing structures, Dogmeat almost shook. With each cautious step he made across the uneven flooring, his nails went ‘click’, ‘click’, ‘click’. He never passed within five feet of the edge, unable to stand beside the survivor, who so confidently peered over at the expanse of broken city. Their suit hissed as one foot bravely hung out over nothing. It returned shortly, heel grinding back into a fairly solid foundation, lest the building finally decide to give in to its aches and creaking.

     A steady whine left the dog, head tilting insistently to one side. He’d like to follow this human everywhere, but off the side of the tower was somewhere he could not go.

◖   ❝It’ll make headlines,❞ the joke was in good nature, but did nothing to stop Piper’s nervous habit. Her fingers curled and released in repetition, fingernails pressing tightly to her palm to the point of discomfort before dropping. ❝’Vault Dweller dares gravity!’ Gravity accepts, and… Well, wins.❞

    ❝Come on, Blue. We both know you’re not serious. You can’t be serious.❞

◖   The shutters on Codsworth’s optic lenses retracted, giving him the equivalent of a human’s wide-eyed expression. An indignant ❝You’re doing what?❞ left the Mr. Handy, chassis spinning to fully face the power armor clad daredevil.

     ❝While my programming insists I remain encouraging and as optimistic as possible, I dare say you’ve gone mad! And that’s coming from a place of concern,❞ one metal arm extended, the one with the claw attached, and the pincers opened and closed as though the robot was beckoning the other away from the ledge. ❝You put quite a bit of trust in that suit, but now I almost regret even uttering the word ‘unstoppable’. Smashing into the concrete below is a bit of a hard stop, don’t you agree?❞

◖   A nervous chuckle left his mouth, which two seconds prior, had been pressed in a firm purse. Preston shook his head, hand pulling on the collar of his duster. ❝Be careful,❞ were the only words he could manage, eyes trained intently on the proximity of the General to the side of the tower. Another step on their part elicited a following ❝Wait.❞

     ❝The roof of the Museum back in Concord and here are, well, very different. I won’t say that’s not the quickest way down, but we’re not in a rush, right? The Commonwealth can wait on us taking the safer route to the ground. No need to damage your power armor… or yourself.❞

◖   ❝Oh, sure! Why not?❞ Cait snapped, sarcasm bladed. ❝Those tin cans look mighty fun when you’re chargin’ into a fight, guns ablazin’, but the appeal is lost in this. S’not like you haven’t already jumped off every other building in this damned city… But those are lackin’ a few stories. Makes a difference, yeah?❞

     Her hip cocked to the side, hand finding its place atop it so she could send an uninterested glance at the person who currently held her contract. ❝If you’re tryin’ to impress me, it ain’t going to work. Now, if you want’a go bash a few heads together, that’s somethin’ I can get behind.❞

◖   ❝Was getting up here not enough of a thrill for you? It almost wore this old bot out,❞ Nick commented idly, unsure if his case partner was serious. He had a knack for reading expressions, but with the stoic, and slightly glaring, helmet of the power armor being the only thing to greet him in conversation, he was left turning to body language. There was no hesitation in the approach to the ledge, which made his teeth grit anxiously, something he was sure was a habit of the past Nick’s. He felt his good hand twitch, wanting for a cigarette to hold.

     ❝You sure? I know I can stamp the fun with my worrying sometimes, but here and there I’ve scrounged up some sound advice, like that breaking your fall with pavement isn’t the smartest move. You’re better off being a good liar than ending up with some shattered bones and a busted up suit if things go south.❞

◖   Maccready always had a routine when finding himself in a high place. His eyes would sweep the area, lock onto any covered spots with a good lookout, and store them in the back of his mind in case he needed to drop into a position to shoot. It had him so caught up that he barely heard the muffled voice of his employer suggest the stunt.

     The sharpshooter squinted, two fingers pinching the brim of his hat and pulling it off so his free hand could run through his hair, pulling strands out of his face. ❝You’re not paying me enough to do it with you, you know that, right?❞ A few seconds of silence went by before he started up again, jaw dropping open and closing as he tried to find some argument other than ‘this is stupid’.

     ❝Running with you has been one of the best gigs I’ve had in a while. Can we not risk it coming to an end like this? There’s enough people shooting at us as is.❞

◖   Deacon whistled lowly at the prospect, whether from being wowed by the bravo or taken aback by the cockiness. ❝You know,❞ he began, gesturing with his hand to the open space around them, ❝this one time…❞

     He had their attention, their shoulder turning to him slightly, head tilted in inclination that they were listening. ❝I made this exact jump,❞ the Railroad agent paused, trying to draw out the suspense as far as he could, ❝with no armor whatsoever.❞

     There was a heavy pause and then a stifled ❝Bullshit,❞ from Charmer, who didn’t even dignify him with a ‘you’re lying’ this time.

     ❝No! Honest,❞ he insisted, familiar smirk plastered on his face, as laughter threatened to interrupt him. ❝You can’t top my performance so why even try, right?❞

◖   It wasn’t the funniest joke, but it got a fair snort out of him. That was, until it wasn’t a joke. If the cruel ways of radiation hadn’t taken away any semblance of eyebrows, then they would have been bunched up, surveying the scene before him. ❝Alright, alright,❞ Hancock started, hands up almost in surrender, ❝I got’cha now.❞

     ❝But hear me out,❞ he proposed, mouth tugged into a grin. ❝Come out of that. Take a huff of this,❞ the ghoul’s hand disappeared within his jacket, momentarily digging in one of the inner pockets for a Jet canister, half-empty, or rather, half-full ( he did like to be optimistic from time to time ). ❝Then, stand near the edge, I’ll shimmy up behind you, hold under your arms, and you say something like… ‘I’m flying, John, I’m flying!’. That’s some pre-war stuff, ain’t it? I promise it’ll be a hell of a lot better than falling.❞

◖   ❝Careless and improper use of a Brotherhood issued suit is grounds for suspension, soldier,❞ Danse tread a fair distance behind the survivor, unsure of the building’s ability to withstand their combined weight in one spot, occasionally calling out for them to keep alert and safe. ❝If any of the initiates told you of some challenge involving this, I regret to inform you that bragging rights, or even the caps if this is a bet, isn’t worth the trip to see the Proctor and explain to her why you’ve damaged your armor.❞

     He exhaled sharply through his nose when offered the chance to jump off with the vault dweller, in which he replied with furrowed eyebrows and a firm shake of his head. ❝Absolutely not! Next you’ll be wanting to take on the Prydwen deck–❞

     ❝No.❞

◖   Curie was delighted by the vantage point of the skyline, hands clasped together. ❝Is this what they would call a picture-perfect view?❞ she turned, smile wavering slightly as she watched the power armor helmet tilt downwards, the person within it clearly considering the distance down. ❝We are very high up, yes?❞ her tone had taken on a warning, mind racing with images of scattered pieces of metal dashed against the city streets, and a crumpled body laying motionless amidst them. Had some color left her face? She certainly felt colder, and not from the draftiness of their location.

     ❝You must be careful with heights. This would be quite the fall, and while I do have advanced medical capabilities, I’m afraid that… that I would be rendered useless in aiding you. Perhaps you would like to enjoy the sunrise with me instead?❞

◖   ❝I’d highly advise against it.❞ That had easily been the fourth time the phrase had been said. X6-88 stood behind his charge, arms defaulting to folding behind his back. ❝We’re already exposed up here as easy targets, so it is my suggestion that we move back down.❞

     ❝While I am just as eager as you to see the suspension capabilities of your armor, the recklessness of this impromptu testing is both unwise and impulsive. Can we not both agree that it’s more trouble than it’s worth?❞

◖   ❝You’re the Overboss,❞ the reply was almost robotic at this point, more of an excuse to justify to himself why they chose to do the things they did than to reassure them that they could. Gage grimaced, ❝But ya know, I wouldn’t necessarily say ‘go for it’.❞

     ❝Ain’t no one here to impress. Maybe jumpin’ off Fizztop would get you some credit from the Pack, but–❞ he paused, giving one shoulder a shrug, ❝is that really what you’re aiming for, boss? I’m s’posed to be watching your back out here, and if I head home saying that you died doing this, then they’ll, I don’t know, think I pushed you or somethin’. Consider this me looking our for your neck and mine.❞