#and then I come crawled back like sorry I neglected the beans

[kyuhu]

heyy!!

#hws lithuania #hws latvia #hws estonia #hws poland #I only now realize everyone but Feliks makes sideeyes #also apparently I draw them agian #my mind goes nooo you're so drained of beeing here you need to move on from these characters every few months #and then I come crawled back like sorry I neglected the beans #aph poland #aph lithuania #aph estonia #aph latvia

[stylistiquements]

The Sorcerer pt. 1

Corpse Husband x gn!reader

Reincarnation AU | Summary :

The same candle lights up on Corpse’s desk every time you are reborn and turn 23. He has been looking for you during centuries but this time you might be closer than anticipated.  {Playlist}

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞

You’re about to blow your 23rd candles and Corpse is about to experience the consequences of it. Somehow, something about your rebirth is different this time.

☾ Words : 6009.

☾ Warnings : angst, mention of death (only suggested and not specific), grieving, swearing 

Masterlist | Next 

What does it mean to be a sorcerer in 2021? Corpse wonders as he chooses an outfit for his black bean character, lightly tapping his fingers in a crafted rhythm against his dark wooden desk. Nothing, really. The modern days turned his kind into a groundless concept, legendary creatures at best and it’s truly a shame when you think about it.

“Alright, are you ready?” Corpse asks as he moves his mouse above the “start” button and projects everyone into a new round.

“I won’t forgive you like I did last round,” Karl warns Corpse, dash of amusement in his tone.

“Sure,” he scoffs and the devious ghost of a smile shines on his lips when the bloody word “imposter” appears above his virtual pink cat hat.

Sorcerers used to be the rulers of this world and the most famous of well-hidden secrets; no one talked about it yet everyone knew. You just had to be here, respect and adoration followed their every move. People from all horizons went out of their way to meet them in hope of witnessing a miracle.

Oh, how the tables have turned now. They didn’t have to hide their face back then and it all went the harmonious way until a certain day when their fate met a tragic outcome. The day when life took a turn for the hidden.

Corpse is somehow retired now. Maybe that’s why he started doing youtube in the first place; because the craving of being needed had to be fulfilled one way or another. Or maybe because the thrill of life has been gone for so long he had to try everything to fill the void in hope of feeling a drip of something again. The weariness of a mere life stiffened in his rib cage from time to time, preventing a proper breathing.

He could have still been able to practice his magic facelessly -he wouldn’t be the first one to do so after all- but it seems crazy, surreal even, for him to picture being so public about such a heavy little secret nowadays. He found comfort in the concealed, in the invisible so long ago.

See, that’s the most important reason why Corpse is who he is today but stopping the explanations there would be neglecting the truth. Corpse would, but I'm more honest than he is.

Somehow, he believes a little too seriously that a kid’s app was designed to ruin his life. He feels this rotting taste that burns his tongue every time he thinks about it, he always talks about it with great passion; as if one minute videos could compete against the thundering energy that travels from his veins to the tip of his fingers. Witchcraft tiktok got the last bit of his ancestral pride and that’s a damn shame.

His character ambles around the hostile corridors dipped in yellow light, looking for a prey to slice in half. He doesn’t have a plan yet but he sure knows how to improvise by now. Corpse deems that he’s rather good at it. He meets Tina in O2. She’s wandering around, running like a headless chicken. What if he took that expression a little too seriously? Alas, he can’t wrap his mind around the idea of the unforgivable and she escapes his reach. Corpse’s nose wrinkles, better luck next time.

His fictional blood thirst gets stronger when he hops inside a vent and observes Rae’s red character doing her tasks. Corpse knows what comes next, it’s inevitable. A hint of excitement and nervousness hatch on his chest.

At the same time on the other side of the country, the ones you love are carrying a big cake to your table. It seems so silly and it leaves you slightly embarrassed that people are celebrating the fact that you were born but, somehow, you can’t forbid that smile to reach your ears.

When you look at the cake, a snort escapes your control. Your friends drew a glazed picture of you but you find yourself hoping that there isn’t much resemblance between that Picasso-ish designed cake and your actual face. I mean, except for that particularity your face displays; eyes that don’t match in colors, one green and one hazel, it really just looks like a kid's doodle.

23, what a weird number. It doesn’t sit quite right with you for some reason. 22 is fine, same goes for 24 but 23 … Somehow, it feels like something is either missing or too much. You’re not too sure which one it could be.

The warmth that emanates from the candles is sweet and tickles your chin softly and everyone is singing along the most disastrous birthday wishes. You’re preparing for your wish. What could you need more? You’re a faceless horror narrator on youtube and life is just about good. I mean, there really isn’t much to complain about and that should be enough.

Your mind drifts off for a second, contemplating what the dream life could be about while one of your friends is already complaining about wax getting all over your glazed face. You could wish for material things but they come and go and their meaning is only ephemeral, maybe 23 is about getting more than that.

Ah, found it. You close your eyes. May I find the place where I truly belong. 23 candles are blown in one breath, not a bad performance.

That’s when the candle on Corpse’s desk starts shining a delicate and orange shade.

Corpse doesn’t notice it at first, too impregnated by his hunt, but when the unusual warmth finally informs him of the merry event, he wrestles to keep his mind into the game. His virtual character stands motionless for a second as he mutes his mic and takes his headphones off.

Fuck, not now please.

Somewhere, a new version of the love of his life turned 23. His mind drifts off, wandering near this idea as his eyes meet the flame.

It’s been hundreds of years and that fucking candle kept you hostage of his mind. Because Corpse couldn’t forget about you, he built those walls to provide you from slipping away, from invading too much of his busy mind. It was a compromise he made with himself so he couldn’t reach you entirely and, therefore, miss you completely. Yet, your rebirth leaks through the pores of his brain and past the fences no matter how hard he tries.

Corpse battles to breathe, he tries to get his mind back on the game but somehow his throat is already filling with a dangerously acidic concoction. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t notice immediately the way his fingers start shaking at a painstaking rhythm.

He moves his character around. Left and right. It’s mechanical and meaningless, nothing but a lost cause. Corpse clenches his grip around the mouse, hoping that the unsteadiness would pity him. How much longer can he carry that feeling? It sits on his shoulders and his chest. It tests out his patience, his own resistance to pain.

“Corpse!” Rae shouts wholeheartedly, rooting him out of his spiral. “Where are you?!”

Fuck; he has no ounce of idea of what is happening in real life, too busy going down this familiar and intimate loop once more. He swallows it all, praying that you would spare him some earned mercy. You’re always so cruel, unabashedly sneaking in and taking over his space despite all his efforts.

“I-huh- I’m in medbay, I have scan," he bluffs, hoping that no one would notice the way his voice cracks at the end.

Because if anyone did, he would have to admit that he’s not okay, that he never was and doubts that he ever will be. Just as if conceding the facts would’ve allowed him to feel how flourishing his despair was. There’s this knot inside his throat. It’s painful and he’s so tired. How many times was he left crawling on his bathroom’s floor when his heart fractured a little deeper? He misses you every fucking day but each rebirth brings back more and more longing.

He would love to abandon himself to the aching pleasure of this unsolicited reminiscence but he knows that if he did, you would possess him wholly and never give him back. You plague his mind like a mist that grows thicker and thicker on his lungs. It diffuses everywhere and intoxicates what’s left of him.

“Sure sleepy but that’s bullshit,” Tina whines. “We know it’s Corpse. He’s been sus’ the entire round!”

“He said he had scan, right?” Sean interferes, believing that Corpse is the jester. “Why don’t you give him the benefit of the doubt?”

They’re all waiting for Corpse to step in, to defend himself but he’s no longer here, too busy trying to swallow the emotions that are leaking all over the place. It gnaws him alive, piece by piece and it hurts so fucking much. Will it ever stop?

Silence is convenient, “I voted” badges get pinned on everyone’s chest. His black character falls into the lava, what an ironic metaphor.

“Sorry guys, something came up and I gotta go.” He finally says, hurry in his voice. He doesn’t try to hide it. In fact, he can’t.

“Are you s…” Rae’s voice gets cut abruptly when Corpse quits the call without further notice.

Corpse knows what’s next, when his head gets overcrowded by feelings and his heart too empty. It’s ugly, it’s messy and oh how he wishes it would be different this time.

The room is spinning from the crumbs of your sweet face and the trickle of your voice that drips through his ears as if you were still here. He clings onto that distorted and stained picture as if it was the ultimate proof that you were real. Were you even real once ? Remembering feels like repeating a word over and over again: with time, it loses its meaning. It wasn’t you he remembered, Corpse figured it out a long time ago. You weren’t there anymore.

The thought of it drives him crazy. He wishes he could get rid of that fucking candle, constant reminder of your rebirth away from him, constant reminder of the defeat he has to endure every time you turn 23 and you’re still not by his side. He has been looking for you everywhere for hundreds of years, from the biggest capitals to the most secluded parts of this world, without a single hint of your existence. You’re his greatest failure and he can’t, he won’t stand that.

Corpse grabs the candle and it collides with the floor with a thud that tangles with his raw voice. His chest moves heavily. It's scattered and in discord and there is this distorted gaze on his face when he remembers that the candle cannot be shattered. It’s this unsolicited spark of self-awareness that brings him closer to reality. Fuck. What the fuck is he doing? Corpse finally lost his damn mind. His hands wander uncontrollably in his hair and he looks around frantically for a second, trying to remember how to survive.

Corpse’s head is pressuring him, rushing him to turn off his computer and spill the words that are stuck on the back of his tongue on a piece of paper. That grip is unforgivable and unclear but he starts writing as if it was the only thing left to do, maybe it is. It feels like survival instinct at this point, it feels like the last attempt to collect the pieces of himself you left behind.

Dear you,

Happy birthday, wherever you are in this world. Another letter is about to join the pile. How many are there already? I wouldn’t know. I stopped counting since it made me sick.

As every time, I hope it’s the best birthday you have ever had. I remember the twenty-third birthday we spent together as if it were yesterday. I can no longer recall the way your eyes wrinkled under your bright smile or the sound of your echoing laughter but I do remember that warm feeling inside my chest, the pain in my cheeks from laughing with all my heart. How pleasant was it to be able to live it all with you? To be able to embrace you, to breathe you, to see you. Forgive me, my love, for I am no longer capable of picturing anything of you. I wish I could. I wish I could be haunted by a proper ghost, at least, and not just a glimpse of the range of emotions that animated me when you were by my side. All I can remember now is that you felt like a firework and that my eyes never met a prettier human. It’s so truly unfair to think about the fact that no one matters as much as you still do.

I am drifting off, am I? I always tend to do that in those letters. I hope you’re doing well, I really do. Did you spend your birthday with the ones who love you? I hope you’re happy and healthy. It’s the only important thing, or at least that’s what I have learned so far.

I hate those letters, they make me realize how lonely I am. Somehow, it feels like I’m expecting an answer that is never going to arrive.

Fuck. My skin aches from the lack of your touch. I miss you so fucking much. Just tell me what to do. I tried everything and you’re still stuck inside my brain. I’m a sorcerer for fuck’s sake, one of the most powerful beings to have ever existed and yet the concept of one single human defeats me day after day, rebirth after rebirth. I’m a fucking shame for my kind. I hate you. I love you so very much. Happy birthday.

Yours truly, Corpse Husband

The paper is stained by the storm that has been building up in Corpse's mind for hours. The letters are deformed now. Look at the mess you just made. He throws the letters away, where he can no longer see it and brings his knees to his chest, resting his head between his legs. He feels like screaming one more time but he’s choking. Sweet and sore agony grips his throat as his veins are burning with thick poison.

Don’t be fooled, Corpse would have been able to cast a spell or two to forget about your existence and spare himself a bit. Yet, it would only erase the last proof he had of you, not his feelings. He would have to bear the burden of a quest he could no longer figure out. He would be left longing for something that no longer existed. As if it wasn’t the case already. He wishes he could sleep, life would be so fucking easier if he could just fall asleep.

A few days have passed since your birthday. The thread between days and nights is thin and confusing and the candle on Corpse’s desk is still radiating with as much energy as the first day.

Corpse’s head is heavy, aching, he wonders if he could still carry it on his shoulders if he wasn’t lying on his bed. That sore body feels like it has been drained from an eagerness that has been growing for too long. Corpse groans, trying to figure out what’s sheets and blankets and what’s limbs, living up to the name he chose for himself.

Every ray of the sun is burning his skin. It leaves his body smelling like heat, he doesn't like that smell. Now, he could just get up and draw the curtains but that laziness is as weary as infiltrated. If only it could rain, maybe it would soothe his nerves and his growing migraine.

After a few minutes of silent fulminations, Corpse finally unlocks his phone and opens his texts one by one just to ignore them. He’s curled up on himself, as if a compressed version of his darkness could help in order to block the light. Sorcerers are supposed to be tied with nature, with every ray of the moon and the sun. His bond with the sun is molded, if not completely doomed to grow untie. Corpse is a sorcerer like no others and that goes without saying.

One text captures his breath and his attention, bringing back some interest into the numbness. It’s coming from you, y/n. Or at least, the “you” from this present life. The “you” who isn’t aware of the past and the “you” Corpse doesn’t know is the one he has been looking for during eternity.

In this life, the two of you aren’t close enough to be friends -and he would never let you take that role- but, by the time of your first Twitter interaction -which consisted of you tweeting emo Sykkuno with tattoo pictures and Corpse replying with a meme that said "If life is a simulation please turn it off", Corpse knew you should be near him at all time. Not too close for you to actually be able to touch him but definitely not too far. It’s peculiar but something that has to be felt, not explained; a primitive hunch so loud it couldn’t be unheard.

His mind is awake again. The plan for today, which consisted of him rotting in his bed, seems compromised right now. Corpse turns to lay on the left side of the bed, where the sheets are cooler. His brows furrow and he sighs heavily as he rubs his eyes with his thumbs.

Corpse really doesn’t know why he’d feel that way in the first place for someone like you. You always seem so organic, radiating, so free in the way you choose to exist. He envies you for being so authentic when all he can afford to do is remain hidden, where no light can really reach him if not to draw a faint shape of his being. No harsh feelings though, it’s just the way he feels about anyone who doesn’t sound fake. There is still a bit of remaining endearment in the way Corpse’s words are thrown at you, you just have to know what to look for.

Now, Corpse trades his horror narrator's advices against some social media help. Those things are bigger than him, he’s too old for that anyway. You think the way he still uses symbols as emojis is charming -no one does that anymore- but Corpse just can’t keep up with today’s slang and way of showing emotions via texts. Kids these days are just too creative with the way they express themselves.

[Hello, Mr Sorcerer, hope you’re doing good. I need your help on something.]

Huh.

He meets your words and his mind gets coated in sweat, frozen blood preventing the next heartbeat from happening. Who told you?

Corpse can’t wrap his mind around the fact that his most precious secret is being exposed with that much negligence. He can count on his fingers the number of people who are aware of his true nature, half of them are actually other magical beings of some sort. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

His head is hammered by thoughts. He thinks he’s screwed, that everyone will know. He can already foresee what is about to come. That’s why there is a bit of fear in the way his eyebrows are arching. His alerted mind screams for him to just throw his phone across the room but his fingers, covered in panic, are faster. The first text he sends is not directed to you, but to Sykkuno, his familiar.

Familiars are to sorcerers what assistants are to magicians. In short -but not limited to- a massive help.

Corpse’s link with Sykkuno transcends the law of words and thoughts. They just understand each other and the way they do, without even having to see each other, is just something that has to be witnessed once in a lifetime. It’s a sort of energy that travels through space, a special connection. It's light and invisible but leaves a warm trail on its way.

However, what doesn’t transcend their bond is the concept of time zone -which Corpse forgot about for a second. Sykkuno is probably asleep right now. Corpse’s panic takes back its race once he realizes he’s on his own and he types:

[Haha, very funny. You know, if you wanted to talk, you just had to say hi :)]

Denial, that will do the trick, right? You can’t be that persistent. Or at least that’s what Corpse hopes when he leaves his phone on an unstable balance on his forehead, waiting for an answer he hopes would spare his mind from yet another issue he has to take care of.

[I knew you’d say that but don’t worry, I promise I won’t snitch,] you reply, lips twitching under a sly smile. [I’m way too afraid of you cursing me or something.]

[Who told you shit like that anyway?]

[I just know someone.]

His expression hardens, that head keeps throbbing harder and harder by the minute. You’re so impetuous and it turns him into an impatient and choleric fog. The topic is too important, crucial and it shows how you truly have no idea what you’re talking about when you act as recklessly as you do.

[Some crazy folk told you about magic and you believed them, huh? Thought you were smarter than that.]

[Dream would be pretty upset if he knew you called him “some crazy folk”.]

Corpse stares numbly at his screen before sitting back on his bed, pulling away from his vision the curly strands that fell down. He throws a bunch of silent curses at the sun which is still attacking him, if not even more now. He types a few words but erases them in a snap, repeating the process once or twice more. Now he has to send another text, this one is for Dream : “we need to talk.”

What a weird day.

Questions, Corpse has so many of them but he can’t stop shaking his head with confusion. He had no idea you knew Dream. Why would Dream reveal something so critical as Corpse’s identity? Why would another sorcerer send you his way? That’s not how things are done unless it’s something they deem they wouldn’t be able to handle and there’s really a few things Dream wouldn’t be able to do. Corpse hesitates for second, fingers fidgeting in the air. He doubts that he would ever be capable of doing something Dream can’t do but does it really matter when, right now, you’re holding information you should never be holding in the first place?

[Feeling like trading secrets under the full moon?] You outbid. It’s always so tempting to tease Corpse when he sounds like a grumpy old man.

[A sincere fuck you.]

[That’s very rude, Mr Sorcerer.]

The way you avoid providing any sort of explanation grows in his mind like weeds that need to be ripped off. Really, from all the good timing in the world, you had to choose the worst one. But there’s the faintest hint of a smile on his lips when he does the math and realizes that, if you wanted to use that secret to your advantage, you would have done it by now. A slow relief that softens his headache. Also, Corpse is well aware that, as annoying as you can get, he can’t refuse you a thing.

[Fine, tell me what you need.]

[So I keep seeing the same number again and again and your name keeps appearing in my head at random times. Still don’t get the correlation but I know there is one. I wanna know the number’s meaning and how I can get rid of you.]

Corpse huffs, he’d like to know that himself. He’s about to laugh it off when he reads the text one more time. Something about it is mysterious enough to pique his curiosity. You mentioned his name, it bothers him. Not that he doesn’t appreciate you thinking about him but because it sounds odd enough to be something related to magic in one way or another. There’s this mix of excitement and apprehension that fills the pit of his stomach and now half of a smile is embellishing his lips. This buzzing sound in his brain, maybe it’s the final signal that he should start practicing magic again, the final signal his life will feel thrilling again.

[Call you in 5. This is a consultation by the way, I’m not doing this for free.]

[Fine, you rat.] You answer with a victorious smile.

Corpse’s words linger in the air. It’s smooth like velvet -you could almost touch it if you pictured it hard enough- and it’s soothing in some way. It’s deep mumbles and bits of light chuckles and a little magic. You’re spinning slowly on your chair, playing with strands of your hair. There’s a different tone in Corpse’s voice. He sounds tired and it’s mixed with something else you can’t really pinpoint. For the best or the worst, that, has yet to be determined.

“So.” Corpse says, bringing you back to reality. “What’s that number you were talking about?”

“Right. So, I keep seeing the number 5 everywhere. I wake up at 5:55 every morning. When my eyes are looking at the clock, it’s 5:55PM and it extends to absolutely everything.” You faintly slap your palm against your thighs in exasperation.

Corpse is silent for a moment as he tries to collect the bits of knowledge that are still hanging here and there inside his mind. As he expected, the pressure below his left eyebrow makes it hard to think. He really doesn’t get why Dream wouldn’t be able to take care of a matter that sounds so frivolous. It feels like the most important piece of the puzzle is missing , the one that makes the whole picture makes sense.

“Okay, this is not really my specialty but the number 5 is an interesting angel number.” Corpse hums. The word “specialty” echoes. Dream talked about that once and somehow, that’s how you finally realized that Corpse was, indeed, a sorcerer. Not that you wouldn’t believe the information in the first place but there’s a remarkable difference between learning and experiencing. What would be his specialty then?

Dream introduced you to this new veil a couple of months ago and you never fully believed in it before getting involved. Maybe that’s why you never talked about it to anyone. Even now, your skeptical nature always finds its way back to you. He said all sorcerers had specialties and that his was clairvoyance. You don’t really know what that means but you wouldn’t ask too much. Knowledge seems like a curse in that field, or at least that’s what you have learned from Dream’s distressed tone when he talked about the past. He always sounded like a broken record, a little out of tune, as if his soul was still partially stuck back there and maybe that’s why Corpse always sounded that way too.

“Do you believe in guardian angels?” You raise an eyebrow, high voice brimming with confusion.

“Do you?” Corpse pauses, you’re silent for a couple of seconds and he realizes that he won’t get an answer to that. “The number 5 is your guardian angel trying to tell you that things are about to change in your life. In fact, it means that the process already started.”

“You’re kinda scaring me though,” you say as you readjust your sit, nose wrinkling under an almost grimace. You don’t like it, you don’t like their world. It’s not yours, you’re only a human with a mere life and an almost mere job. Sometimes, you hate Dream for letting you on this secret you were now forced to keep. It always felt so two faced.

“You don’t have to be scared, the change is only gonna benefit you.” Corpse’s voice is soft and the way you can tell he believes in the words he is speaking is almost as surprising as reassuring. You can’t help it, you don’t like change. The unknown is called that way for a reason and maybe this reason is the explanation for why it needs to remain that way.

“Sure,” you coy. “What do I do about you? That’s what really interests me.”

He scoffs. Trust me, that’s what interests him the most as well. Yet Corpse knows no answer to that. He hesitates for a second and his eyes wander into the void. Should he let you know that he doesn’t have a clue, that it somehow scares him as much as it intrigues you? It feels like his broken sorcerer ego would crack even more if he did. Maybe he just had to find out before letting you know.

“Are you obsessed with me, y/n?” Corpse winces. Why would he have to travel through sarcasmland(™) to escape the question? His eyes go wide for a second, flickering on corners of his empty room. It’s only fair that he would tease you like you tease him, right?

“You’re just being annoying now,” you mumble, cheeks flushing in a vivid tint of pink and Corpse snorts.

Corpse almost forgot about himself for a second, about that damn candle, but it hits him once the conversation fades away and the static silence is the only thing left. So he gets up, grunts in complaint rooted out by sore muscles, turns his computer on and plays some rain sounds. The melody of droplets hitting the ground is reminding him how to breathe.

“Rain sounds, huh,” you whisper. “You like those.”

Corpse hums and the two of you are left listening to the rain. It tickles your ears pleasantly, so you close your eyes and relax in the back of your chair for a moment. It’s a beautiful disharmony if you really pay attention, just like Corpse is. You feel like the conversation is about to end, you don’t want him to hang up just yet.

“Corpse?” Your voice trails for a second and Corpse hums again. “Why did you decide to be faceless?”

“What did Dream answer to that question?” His tone is interesting, a bit higher than it probably should have been. What came up as conversation modalities turns into a piqued interest.

“He never answered me," you mumble.

“So people like you can’t take advantage of our nature in real life too,” he lies and you can tell by the half chuckle that travels with the answer.

You know you won’t get more from him, way less than you wish you did. Those faceless sorcerers always leave you hanging. They let you in on their little Hannah Montana life but never bear the consequence that is this endless and flowing well of questions. The rain rings heavily through your ears. It’s time for the call to end.

"Goodbye, Mr Sorcerer,” you sing before hanging up.

When the darkness finally surrounds Corpse, he slips into a strange place that greets him with a familiar smell; vanilla and freshly cut grass. The birds are singing. He takes a long inspiration, his body knows before he does. Corpse looks around, trying to let the image of the surrounding setting sink in.

That place seems oddly familiar, yet totally new; a kitchen made of golden wooden walls. It's decorated with an old and distinguished taste. The wooden table is dressed with a pretty blue and red tablecloth. Vases of fresh flowers displayed on parts of the kitchen, dried herbs hanging above the sink in front of the window. It’s dipped in sunlight, too bright to be real. The rays of light are swaying with the shadows of branches which are dancing outside with the wind. Corpse doesn’t mind the light for once, he even closes his eyes for a second to let every pore of his body get soaked in it. God, did he miss that place.

“Honey, I was waiting for you.”

Corpse’s heart jumps a little before clutching harder. He knows who’s here, he knows it’s his unforgettable love and the idea makes him almost want to never open his eyes again. He can feel it, the profound kindness and sweet smiles that are surrounding you like it always have and it makes his eyes burn with tears that are ready to trail down his cheek, sobs jostling inside his throat. Corpse wishes he could just cover you in embraces and kisses but he can’t, he can never do that in those dreams.

Corpse tries his hardest not to let the frustration immerse him in bitterness by controlling his breathing which could get carried away at any moment now. He finally swallows it all to look at you. There’s a significant disappointment on his face when he realizes yours is as blurry as always. He wishes he could just witness this beauty one more time. He doesn’t remember what your face looks like, you’re not real. It’s nothing but a dream and you’re not here.

“I made some cookies for you.” The ghost of you says as it points out a chair that seems to have appeared out of nowhere, inviting him to take a seat as it does the same. “Those are your favorite, remember?”

With a voice sweeter than honey, so bewitching, Corpse’s body works on its own and mimics your gestures. His eyes are frozen on your silhouette. He tries to remember the shades and colors that were once painted on your face. If only he could remember.

“Did you redecorate our kitchen?” Corpse asks as he takes a bite of the cookie.

“Did I?” Your past self wonders out loud. “It’s been so long, I can’t tell.”

The treat tastes as good as it always has, Corpse takes another bite. The silence in the kitchen is delicate, contemplative. Outside, the weather is lovely; white clouds floating above the endless and bright green meadows. Corpse tries to take everything he can from that dream, from the peacefulness he feels now deep inside, and the perfume of your skin, to the sweet voice that caresses his ears. If Corpse could stay here forever, he would.

“Why are you here, my love?” You suddenly ask, forcing Corpse’s attention which he refuses by looking away.

“I wonder if the wind is warm or cool outside, maybe I should check.”

Corpse knows what happens every time you visit his dreams : you end up asking this question, he answers and suddenly he’s alone and you vanished into thin air. The response is always the same; because I miss you. It leaves him feeling lonelier than ever, craving a presence he can no longer be blessed with. Just a little bit longer, please. He blinks rapidly to expel the few tears that are forming in his eyes, so the knot inside his throat wouldn’t become more unbearable than it already is. Corpse is left feeling so desperate and helpless.

In a precipitation he almost can't control, he gets up and walks towards the door. He just wants to feel the wind on his skin. Please, just a bit longer. Corpse is almost at the door when his eyes deform with stupor under the pressure of a hand that grabs his sleeve. His heart stops, he was never able to touch you in a dream before. What changed? There’s a moment of hesitation before his eyes travel from your hand, to your arm, to your neck, to your face and he can no longer swallow his emotions when he dives into your eyes. Your eyes, he can see them.

When Corpse wakes up, wiped out of his dream, his breath is short and sweat pearls down his forehead. He’s in a rush, he remembers something about your face, something important. He knows what to look for now; your eyes, your irises. They don’t match in color. The left is green, the right has a pretty hazel color.

☾ A/N : Welcome on this new AU my friends I’m so excited to have you here with me on this new journey! I hope you liked the first chapter. A big thank you to @moontwinkles for beta reading the chapter and being a big help 💗 How are we feeling about this? Faceless leo men being sorcerers and familiar Sykkuno??? Idk I’m a little too passionate about it. Don’t worry the next chapter won’t be as angsty as this one but I needed to express my thrist for angst lmao anyway let me know what you think! Until next time (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

☾ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 *OPEN* : @open-minded-chip-101​ ; @lochness-butmakeitsexy​ ; @bizarrebibitch​ ; @bellomi-clarke​ ; @ladybismuth​ ; @katyasrussianaccent​ ; @satanhauntedourcats​ ; @owl-llie​ ; @teenloves​ ; @notannis​ ; @mcntsee​ ; @rottenroyalebooks​​ ; @peachdoppi​ ; @mirahg​ ; @foxxtrot-116​ ; @koi-soi​ ; @lupinpetersclearwaterodairparker ; @butterfly-skinnylegend ; @fanworrior ; @stickystrawberrysyrup ;

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse x reader #corpse x y/n #corpse x you #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband x you #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband fic #corpse husband AU #the sorcerer #platonic!dream

[flutistbyday2020]

Simple Man Part I

This is a Supernatural AU, featuring an OFC (reader). The reader meets Dean in high school, and they face challenges together. They’re separated and reunite after the reader hears Dean sing a song that they wrote together.

Based on the song, “Simple Man” by Lynyrd Skynyrd, but inspired by Jensen Ackles’ version, WHICH I HIGHLY RECOMMEND LISTENING TO before reading this! If you’re a sucker like me, it’ll make you cry.

TW: angst, cussing, mentions of sex (this is probably one of THE tamest things I’ve ever written!!) May make you cry if you’re a weenie like me.

Tags at the bottom. Want to be added to my tag list? Go here.

Characters: Dean x OFC (reader), Sammy Winchester John Winchester(mentioned), Mary Winchester

Part II soon!

Word Count: 3,113

Credit for the image here.

PART I

Dean Winchester remembers his fourth birthday like it was only yesterday. On said birthday, Mary Winchester, belly swollen with Dean’s little brother, patted the couch beside her.

“Come here, baby,” she had said.

Dean can still remember how pretty his momma looked with a baby in her tummy. He padded over to here, and less-than-gracefully clambered onto the couch. Mary pulled him into her lap, cradling him close. Dean was careful not to hurt his momma.

“I want to talk to you before your little brother is born, Dean. I want you to know that your daddy and I will always love you and that nothing will ever change that, okay?”

Dean nodded. “Okay, momma.”

Mary smiled down at her son. “Pay attention, Dean. This is important.” When she knew she had Dean’s attention, she continued. “I want you to promise me when you’re older, you’ll find someone to love as much as I love your daddy.”

Dean looked up at his mom, hanging on to every word.

“You’ll have troubles, but they won’t last, okay? There’s more to life than money, Dean. Remember to pray. Remember to never take anything for granted, and never be greedy for money. Be a simple man, Dean, and you’ll never want.”

Dean Winchester would never forget the speech his mom gave him.

Dean was three months shy of five when his mother died in a fire. She sacrificed herself to save his little brother, Sammy.

“Take your brother and run Dean!” she yelled at her eldest son, and that’s what he did. He didn’t stop until he was three houses down.

Mary Winchester was dead before the firefighters arrived.

Dean crawled into the crib that a local church had provided for Sammy that night. He bit John when he tried to remove Dean.

“I gotta protect him, Daddy!” Dean screamed at his father. John never tried to pull Dean from Sammy’s crib after that.

John remembers Sammy’s first word—he was nine months old, playing with his older brother. The word spilled out of Sammy’s chubby-cheeked smile quickly, almost like he’d said it a hundred times. Sammy reached over and tugged on his brother’s shirt.

“Bean,” Sammy said.

Sure, it hurt John to not be Sammy’s first word, but the love in Dean’s eyes as he scooped up his brother made John smile.

Dean Winchester cried on his first day of school—not because he was scared, but because he didn’t want to be separated from Sammy. He had just learned to walk, and Dean always watched Sammy like a hawk, picking him up and encouraging him to try again when he fell.

Sammy loved following his big brother everywhere and didn’t understand why he couldn’t stay with Dean. “Bean?” he’d ask his brother.

“I don’t want to go, Daddy,” Dean protested, alligator tears streaming down his face. John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I know, Dean. But you have to go to school.” John’s voice was reserved. He’d had this fight every day since he told Dean about kindergarten.

Dean held Sammy closer to his chest, turning so his back was to his father, acting more like a twenty-five-year-old than a five-year-old. “Who will watch him while I’m at school?”

“I will, Dean.”

Dean couldn’t help but roll his eyes, once again acting twenty years older than he was.

John had no interest in being a father. A cool uncle, maybe.

Dean was the primary caretaker of Sammy—fed him, changed him, bathed him.

John provided housing, clothing, and food.

Dean’s teacher came over and knelt to his eye level.

“It’s okay to be scared, Dean,” she said. “Your brother will be fine without you. You’ll be home before you know it.” Her smile was warm and Dean almost felt better. He handed Sammy over to his father and took Miss. Lenhard’s hand. She guided Dean to his seat, but the boy didn’t take his eyes off his father and brother until they were out of sight.

After Dean started school, something changed in John, and his depression began eating him alive. He could barely be bothered to make sure there was enough food on the table, let alone wake up in time to take Dean to school. John didn’t know or care that Dean’s shoes had holes in them, or that Dean’s jacket was tight around the shoulders, or that the onesies were getting too small on Sammy.

John only cared about numbing the pain in his heart with liquor.

So Dean took it upon himself to be a father. He learned how to pickpocket at six—he never once got caught—and used the money to buy shoes, food, and clothes.

His dad taught him how to play and hustle billiards when he was seven. Dean was a natural. It was one of the last times Dean saw a glimpse of the father he remembered.

He’d used the money he won hustling for food, clothes, and even helped his dad pay some bills. Dean never told his father how he and Sammy always managed to have new clothes, but John didn’t care.

When Dean was nine, he held Sammy’s hand until his little brother pulled away from him to meet his classmates. For the first time in four years, he felt at ease. Two meals a day and he didn’t have to worry about his dad neglecting Sammy.

One day, John dropped them off and Dean heard a teacher say, “Good Lord, look how filthy those boys are!” The first thing Dean felt wasn’t anger at his dad for letting them leave the house like that, but fear that he’d be taken from his dad, and therefore, Sammy.

So, Dean got himself and Sammy ready every day— he took his dad’s alarm clock to his room and set it for 6:50 AM— dressed, then got Sammy ready, fed them both breakfast, and woke his dad up to drive them to school. He did this five days a week until Sammy could wake up himself, but he still made breakfast and made sure they were presentable for school so that they wouldn’t be taken away from John and separated.

Dean took shears to Sammy’s hair in an attempt to tame it and he did okay. Dean got better at it over the years, and once Sammy was old enough to cut Dean’s hair, he got good at it, too.

When Dean Winchester was 15, he got his first job and could put food on the table—legally, at least. He got hired on as a mechanic at a local shop. The only time John had paid him any attention as a child was when they worked on the Impala, so Dean was good with cars.

He had been taking care of Sammy for 11 years and thought he was doing amazing, thank you. He was happy. He didn’t take anything for granted like his mom had made him promise.

So when Y/N walked into his life at 16, he was unprepared for how much he had to learn.

******

It was your first day at Lawrence High, and you were nervous. You had transferred from a small town called Arlington, Kansas. Your class had been all of 20 people whom you’d grown up with your entire life, and you didn’t know how to feel about being dropped into a school full of strangers. You were 16, in your second semester of junior year, a band geek, and totally lost.

You groaned, looking over your schedule—homeroom was in five minutes and you had no idea where to go. You turned, desperately searching for clues as to where to go when a wall of a boy ran into you.

You went down in a tangle of limbs and backpacks.

“Oops, I’m sorry—”

“My bad—”

Both of you tripped over your words as he picked himself off the ground. You rolled over to your backside and sat up.

“It’s okay,” you said, shaking your head and smiling. “I wasn’t really paying attention.”

He offered you his hand, and you took it gratefully.

“Thanks.”

You looked up at him—he had to be almost six foot. He was well built for his age, and even though he was on the skinnier side, you could still see his muscles. His eyes were bright green, and freckles danced on his face. His smile was killer, too.

“So, where ya headed?” He asked as he situated his backpack on his shoulder.

You shook your head. “I don’t really know. It’s my first day and I’m lost.”

The boy chuckled. It wasn’t a mean sound, more like amused. “Who’s your homeroom teacher?”

You shoved your schedule into his hands and he examined it. His face lit up, and you couldn’t help but smile at his excitement. “Mrs. Lanning. Me, too. Let’s go!”

He tugged on your hand and took off running. You laughed as you tried to keep up with him—he was almost a full foot taller than you. You kept up, though. You were both out of breath by the time you reached room 207.

The two of you darted into the classroom just before the bell rang.

“Just in time,” he grinned.

You shook your head but returned the grin.

He made a point of sitting near the back and placing his backpack on the empty seat next to him while you approached the teacher to introduce yourself.

Mrs. Lanning smiled brightly as she signed a piece of paper indicating you showed up for class. “It’s great to have you, dear.”

You returned the smile. “Thanks.”

You awkwardly made your way to the back of the classroom and sat at the desk with the boy’s backpack.

“I’m Dean, by the way.”

You didn’t hear him right and you knew it. “Bean?” you asked with a teasing smile.

You could see the wheels turn in his head. He was sad for half a second, but the mood was fleeting. He shook his head and returned his own cheeky smile.

“Dean,” he repeated, emphasizing the D. “Dean Winchester.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

Mrs. Lanning shushed the class and you tried to pay attention, but you felt two green eyes boring into you for the entire period, making it hard to concentrate.

When the bell finally rang, you looked at your schedule again. Math was next, room 412. You groaned.

You stood and gathered your things, noticing that a certain someone was waiting for you. He looked relaxed and at ease with his body, things you were definitely not.

“Where’s your next class?”

“Math with Mr. Alan.”

Dean smiled again. “Me, too.”

You laughed, calling after him as you left the classroom, “Come on, Bean.”

You and Dean got along great. You had three out of seven classes a day together—four out of eight on days with homeroom—and he lived just down the block from you, so he offered to drive you to and from school every day.

Dean teased you relentlessly about being a band geek, but when you started dishing it back about him being a jock—a football player—he dialed it back just a little. Sammy took to you immediately—you bonded over nerdy things like math and history, making Dean roll his eyes. Sam listened to you and soon gave you just as much affection as his brother. You quickly became the mother figure he had to grow up without.

You helped Sam—and Dean—with their homework, helped Dean come up with age-appropriate punishments for Sam when he misbehaved (he was only twelve, regardless of how mature he acted), and taught Dean how to cook something besides meals that came in a box. You even taught Sam and Dean how to cut their hair in a more age-appropriate style.

You didn’t think twice about taking Sam and Dean in—you loved and trusted them both with your life after just one afternoon. It was second nature for you to want to care for them, and boy, did they need you.

Dean Winchester had known you all of three weeks before he knew he loved you.

Dean was careful not to take you home. He didn’t want John seeing you, talking to you… Or scaring you away. He didn’t want you to see the dark, dirty secrets of his life. He worked really hard to make sure that nobody saw what happened behind closed doors. And he wasn’t about to let you see.

Your mom was a nurse who works nights, so you and Dean were in the same boat. Your mom wasn’t absent, though, just busy.

Dean and Sammy spent a lot of time at your house when Dean wasn’t at work. They came over after school and did homework, you would make dinner for them and your mother, and you and Dean would sit down at the piano after dinner was put away and homework was finished. You would play, Dean would try to play, but the two of you sang together.

While you could play the piano, Dean could play the guitar. He loved singing with you—your voices complemented each other. Sammy would always stop whatever he was doing to listen to you sing.

One day, Dean came over with a notebook full of empty sheet music and asked for a pencil.

“Sit at the piano, would ya?” he asked, not even paying attention to you.

“Would it kill you to use manners?” you joked as you sat at the piano bench.

Dean looked up at you and gave you a cheeky smile. “Please?”

You rolled your eyes but turned to the keys. “What am I doing?”

“We are writing a song.”

“Oh, really, now?”

Dean nodded. “You have a better ear than I do, so I’ll sing a note and you’ll match it.”

“And what’s the name of this song?”

A blush crept over Dean’s face.

“I don’t have a name yet, just a few words.”

“Okay. What are they? Start singing, Winchester,” you mock ordered.

He sat down next to you, notebook in hand.

He began strumming his guitar, and the chords pulled on your heartstrings. The words were achingly beautiful, too. He began to sing, a beautiful tenor, almost bass voice coming from the boy who was on the cusp of being a man. You could tell he was trying to keep his emotions in check as he sang, his voice wavering occasionally. He got through two verses before he had to stop.

“Oh, take your time, don't live too fast

Troubles will come and they will pass

You'll find a woman, yeah, and you'll find love

And don't forget son, there is someone up above"

“And be a simple kind of man

“Be someone you love and understand

“Baby, be a simple kind of man

“Won’t you do this for me, if you can”

The words tore at your soul. You didn’t have to pry to know that song was about his late mother.

You easily matched the pitches and rhythms of his tune and helped him write it down. By the end of the day, you only had one verse done, but you could tell Dean had poured his heart into this song. That was the day things changed for you.

Dean, sitting there, writing a song about his mother, was the tipping point in your relationship with him. It was that day you knew you loved Dean Winchester and would never love another man as much as him.

Eventually, Dean started spending less time with you. You felt hurt and upset, wondering what you did for him to pull back. When you confronted him, you were not prepared for his response.

“I’ll tell you after school,” he said. He looked up at you and his green eyes were dark with grief. You pulled him into a hug and waited for him to hug you back. He squeezed you eventually and you let go.

That day after school, you were anxiously waiting with Sammy in ‘your spot’ that you and Dean had claimed. When Sammy spotted Dean, he ran over and hugged him. It was odd for a 12-year-old to show so much affection, especially to another male, but you just figured that they were really close.

You offered your hand to Dean platonically. You found comfort in his warmth, and he found comfort in your friendship. The three of you started walking towards Dean’s car.

“It’s not gonna be easy for me to tell you this,” he said quietly. “I’m only telling you because I trust you. And if you tell anyone, I swear—”

“I won’t tell anyone,” you promised quietly.

Dean nodded as he looked at Sammy.

“My dad, uh… well, when Sammy was a baby, my mom died. My dad tried really hard to keep himself together… And he did. For a little while.”

Dean started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

You didn’t say anything.

“But when I started kindergarten, something changed. I mean, I guess I always took care of Sammy. I changed his diapers and fed him when Dad was at work, but when Dad came home he would help. When I started kindergarten, he stopped caring. I had to learn how to fend for myself. And Sammy.“

Your heart broke. You looked over at Dean, tears threatening to spill. Dean glanced at you briefly and you could see that he had tears of his own. You reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

“I did OK. I really did. But Dad‘s been acting really weird lately and… He’s not working as much as he used to. I got a job a few months ago and it helps, but my dad takes my paycheck and buys liquor instead of food. I got into a fight with him a few days ago about it and he left. Haven’t seen him since.”

You gasped.

“How long?” You asked quietly.

“Three days,” Sam answered vehemently.

You turned and looked at Sammy. No tears in his eyes, just hate. You looked at Dean again, and his face had hardened.

“Oh, Bean,” you whispered.

“Is it wrong that a part of me wishes he would leave us alone for good?”

You didn’t have an answer. The rest of the car ride was silent. He had just delivered such an emotional blow and you were reeling. Your head hurt a little. When Dean pulled up to your house, you looked over at him, then at Sammy.

“If you need anything,” you started. Dean just nodded. You made eye contact with Sammy and he just gave you a tight smile.

Your heart was heavy when you fell asleep that night.

PERMA//FOREVER

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#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural dean x reader #spn dean winchester #spn dean x reader #supernatural reader insert #spn reader insert #spn au #supernatural au #flutistbyday

[mytwilightimagines13]

Amnesia (Book one, part ten)(Alec Volturi)

“It looks lovely, mio caro.” Agnella said as Maeryn finished the decorations for the Halloween celebrations. Every year many tourists came to visit, most of them dressed as vampires due to Volterra being the small town where Marcus the vampire killer lived. It was sort of became a tradition over the years that many people would dress up as vampires on Halloween, and completely red on Saint. Marcus day, which was celebrated on the 20th of march. Maeryn smiled at Agnella as she carefully descended from the small stepladder. “Thank you, Agnella. I hope many tourists will stop by, it will be good for the cafe.” Maeryn said as she put away the stepladder to the back of the cafe. “Oh, I’m sure it will be, mio caro. Remember last year? At the end of Halloween we were almost completely out of stock. Adolfo even had to drive to Montebradoni to get some more coffee beans a friend of ours kept.” Agnella said, a small twinkle in her eyes. Maeryn smiled widely. “Yes, I remember. It was a great evening.” She replied before making sure everything was well stocked for this week, the week before Halloween.

Maeryn had dinner and went to bed afterwards, seeing Alec already on her bed reading a book in Latin. Maeryn smiled, he was perfect as always, but more importantly, this beautiful creature was hers to cherish and to hold. Alec looked up and smiled before putting the book down and standing up. He walked to her quickly and kissed her almost hungrily on her lips. Maeryn suppressed a small moan of surprise before standing on her toes and wrapping her arms around his neck, returning his kiss. Alec smiled and pulled his head away slightly. “I have missed you, amore mio.” He whispered softly against her lips. Maeryn smiled. “It has only been 12 hours. Isn’t that like mere seconds to you?” Maeryn replied, teasing him alittle. “Without you it feels like centuries.” He replied. Maeryn smiled and a small blush crept upon her cheeks. “Dramaqueen.” She murmured teasingly. “Beg your pardon?” he replied, growling playfully. Maeryn smiled teasingly. “You’re a dramaqueen.” She said as she stepped out of his grip. “Really now?” he asked as he slowly walked closer to her, like a predator and she was his prey. Maeryn slowly moved backwards until her legs hit her bed and she fell onto it. Alec crawled on top of her, his burgundy eyes pierced through her green-grey ones, a burning lust could be seen in his eyes and her breath was caught in her throat as his eyes fixed on her neck and leaned foreward, lips slightly parted. He gently kissed her neck. Maeryn slowly closed her eyes as she could feel him smile against her neck. “Do you have any idea what kind of dangerous game we are playing right now?” he whispered softly as he gently scraped his teeth against her skin without piercing through it. “Maybe I like a little danger.” She whispers back, challenging him slightly. Alec chuckled and shook his head before kissing her lips quickly. Maeryn smiled. “So, I do wonder what your costume for Halloween will be this year.” He asked as he rolled off Maeryn and pulled her close to his chest. “It’s a surprise.” Maeryn replied. “I just hope it won’t be too provoking, or else I might have to murder some innocent villagers.” He halfly joked. Maeryn chuckled. “Like I will have eyes for anyone else but you.” She said but bit her lip quickly. That was way to bold. But Alec smiled proudly. “Good. Cause after all, you are mine, little mate.” He said before claiming her lips with his once more.

On Monday, the day of Halloween eve, Maeryn had a short shift, since Daemon had invited her to a Halloween party and she had invited Alec to join her at the party. He wasn't too enthuastic at first, but it would mean spending more time with Maeryn, plus keeping a close eye to her so no other male would even dare as to look at her for too long. Maeryn clasped her cloak around her neck and threw the hood on her head. She looked into the mirror and was very pleased with the result. She was wearing a bloodred, long dress, a black cloak draped over her shoulders, a necklace with a black gemstone layed on her neck as a small, silverlike tiara was placed around her forehead, a small gemstone finishing the headpiece. She had curled her long, goldenbrown hair slightly which was draping over her shoulders. Maeryn walked downstairs, gently kissed Agnella’s and Adolfo’s cheek as saying goodbye and walked out of the quite buzzing cafe. Alec stood waiting for her, and his costume made Maeryn crack up slightly. He was no longer wearing blue contact lenses, making his burgundy eyes visible. His hair was pulled back, he wore a white dress shirt, black dress pants, white gloves and dress shoes and to finish it off, he wore a Dracula cloak. Alec smiled at her, showing a pair of fake fangs. Maeryn chuckled slightly and pecked him on his lips. “Subtle.” She replied, referring to his costume. “No one will notice tonight, amore mio. Plus, even if they did. Who would believe them?” Alec replied smirking playfully at her. Maeryn smiled. “Shall we go?” Maeryn asked. Alec smiled and took her hand in his. “Sure.” He said. Maeryn started to walk to the Barone house.

The house was quite big, as it was on top of a small hill. Maeryn rang the bell and soon Daemon opened it, he was dressed as a sexy male werewolf/ builder. He smiled when he saw Maeryn but that turned into a frown soon once he saw Alec but mostly at the sight of their intertwined fingers. Maeryn, however, hadn’t noticed and hugged Daemon quickly. “God, it has been ages.” She said as soon as he had let go of him. “Yeah, it has been. Please, do come in.” he said as he opened the door further so Maeryn and Alec could walk in.   It was quite busy in the house, at least 70 people were inside, all partying. Some guys were looking at Maeryn and winking, which caused Alec to growl lowly and wrap his arm tightly around Maeryn. On the other hand, many girls where staring at Alec, winking and glaring at Maeryn. Maeryn didn’t feel very confident anymore as many of these girls where sexy cop, cat or nurse costumes, while Maeryn’s costume was still quite decent. But Alec didn’t notice anyone of them, all he noticed was his mate’s mood suddenly going down by these females their actions. So Alec pulled her close and kissed her softly on her lips, making sure everyone saw. Maeryn smiled softly and kissed back, getting many glares from the other girls. Alec pulled away, still holding her close. “I’ll fetch you a drink.” He whispered softly before slowly letting Maeryn go and make his way into the crowd. Maeryn smiled as he watched him. “Can I talk to you?” Daemon said, suddenly standing behind Maeryn. He too had seen the small occurrence that had just taken place. Maeryn smiled. “Sure.” She replied. Daemon grabbed her wrist gently and they made their way through the crowd to the deserted back yard. “Look, I am sorry that I haven’t seen you as much lately, I was occupied.” Maeryn said, looking at her hands shamefully. Ever since she had met Alec he had been on her mind every waking hour. And ever since she started dating him, she spend almost every hour she had outside of work to simply be with him, which led to neglecting Daemon completely. Daemon sighed. “It’s alright, tesoro. That is not what I want to talk about. Well, I sort of do, but I don’t blame you.” Daemon started, slightly stumbling over his words. “Then what is it?” Maeryn asked friendly, being truly curious as to what might be bothering her best friend. “Your boyfriend, Alec, he isn’t good for you, Maeryn. He is evil.” He said slowly. Maeryn frowned. “I doubt he is more dangerous than you are, Daemon.” She replied. Daemon shook his head. “How much do you know? Do you know what he is?” he asked carefully. “Do you?” she asked. “Yes.” “Well so do I. But how do you even know?” Maeryn asked Daemon. Daemon sighed. “The Barone family has never killed anyone. We aren’t a true mob, we are a cover story for the killings and missing’s. But since no cop can ever prove we have done it, we have never been charged for anything. Besides a cover story, we are also the cleaners of the bloodsuckers. Heidi brings in humans from all over the world for the Volturi to feed upon, and the Barone family has been cleaning up their mess for decades now. Aro had a deal for my great, great grandfather, seeing as humans started to know the missings and as you probably know, humans aren’t supposed to know about vampires, so to at least cover for the Volturi, Aro made a deal. My family would get rid of the evidence and the bodies while Aro would pay us dearly. That is why many people think we are a mob. I honestly have never killed anyone in my life, but I have seen enough corpses to fill a lifetime. But I am stuck. I will take over from my dad soon, since he will be retiring, and so I will take over the business.” Daemon finished his story. Maeryn felt quite shocked. Her best friend had known all this time what was in the castle and even worse, he was their cleaner. Maeryn bit her lip and looked back at her hands once more. “But please Maeryn, get out. Get away before they also have their claws into you.” Daemon pleaded. “I can’t. I want, no I need to stay with Alec.” She replied, feeling her heart ache at the thought of leaving Alec. “No you don’t. Please Maeryn. Before you end up dead or even worse, like one of them.” He pleased once more. Maeryn sighed and refused to look at him. “Unless… you already have made up your mind, haven’t you? My goodness, he has his claws so deep into you, doesn’t he?” Daemon said as he stood up. Maeryn felt angry at him. This was her life and her choices. “You don’t decide for me, Daemon. Yes, I have made up my mind and the date has been set.” She replied standing up to look at him. Daemon looked down and sat down in defeat. “When?” “The 31st of March. That will give me plenty of time to sort things out.” Maeryn said, and it had been the truth. Alec, ofcourse had wanted to change her sooner, but Aro had decided it was best to wait alittle longer to give Agnella and Adolfo time to spend with her before losing her forever. Daemon shook his head. “You’re going to be 18 next month, barely a grown up yet you make decisions not even grown-ups should be making.” He said. “Like I said, it is my life and this is my own choice.” Maeryn said as she sat down next to Daemon, but he shook his head and stood up, almost as if she was something foul and he wanted to be nowhere near her, which broke Maeryn’s heart slightly. “I rather go to your real funeral than to your fake one. You are being selfish! The only person you care about is yourself and your precious Alec. Well, fine by me. Goodbye, Maeryn.” Daemon said before storming back into the house. Tears spilled down Maeryn’s cheeks as she hugged herself. Was she really being that selfish? Is it so selfish to want to spend all eternity with the one you love? The one you are made for? Alec had seen the whole scene took place and debated whether to kill Daemon for hurting his mate like that, but choose against it. His mate needed him right now and he might hurt her even more if he killed the foul human that she called her best friend. Alec sat down next to her and pulled her onto his lap, stroking her hair gently while she soaked his shirt with tears. Alec didn’t say anything, he just let her cry out the pain. “Wan’t me to go after him?” Alec asked as soon as she had calmed down. Even with make-up stains and  red puffy eyes, she was still gorgeous to him. Maeryn sniffed and shook her head. “I just want to go to sleep.” She murmured as she rested her head against his shoulder. Alec nodded his head and picked her up, running to the castle and to his room. Once inside his room, he gently placed her onto his bed and removed her cloak and headpiece, and tucked her in before removing the fake fangs and the cloak he had been wearing. A soft knock was heard not that much later as Maeryn was sleeping soundly. Alec gently opened the door to reveal his sister. “Is she alright, brother?” Jane asked as she had seen her brother rush past her with his human mate limp in his arms. “Yes. She had an disagreement with Daemon Barone. He is against her becoming one of us.” Alec said, feeling furious whenever he thought back to what the human had said to his mate. “Want me to torture him for a while?” Jane said as she smiled gently at her brother. “When Maeryn gives her permission to hurt him then I will join you, sister. But she has a soft spot for the human, seeing as he was her best friend so I doubt she will give us her permission.” He replied. Jane chuckled. “Oh well. As soon as she is changed she will see that humans are nothing more than bloodbags, especially after maybe a century, as all the humans she has known will be dead.” Jane said. Alec smiled. “Hopefully. Can you tell Gianna to get Maeryn some fresh fruit and some water for when she wakes up?” Alec asked. Jane nodded her head. “Sure. I will also let the Masters know that Maeryn is here. I am sure Master Aro will be pleased if she would spend more time here, seeing as this will be her home soon.” Jane replied. Alec smiled and kissed both his sister’s cheeks. “Thank you, sister. Goodnight.” He replied before closing the door. “Goodnight, brother.” Jane said before going her own path. Alec pulled his shoes off and laid down next to his mate again, gently pulling her close to him. Maeryn cuddled closer to his chest while still sleeping soundly. Alec smiled as he closed his eyes. Ofcourse he wasn’t able to sleep, but whenever he had Maeryn in his arms close at night, his eyes would close and he would rest, which came the closest he had ever been to sleeping since he had been turned into a vampire. He had found peace and rest whenever Maeryn was in his arms. She was his morfine to his pain and horrors of the past, his cure to insomnia. She was his everything. And he was hers.

#alec volturi #imagine #volturi imagine #twilight imagine #twilight #volturi

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.5

Lance dragged his carcass to his bed way too late in the night that it had to be nearly sunrise. Blue annoyed she had to share “her” bed with such a pathetic excuse of a human, further annoyed as Lance wrapped his arms around her. Letting Pidge have sugar had been a terrible mistake for everyone involved. She’d talked through every second of every video, rewinding and pausing frequently to review anything that caught her eyes. Hunk screaming at both jump scares had been captured in the videos, Pidge thinking she was onto some kind of wailing banshee, until Lance had to point out it was Hunk. His poor bestie doing his best to melt into the blue couch cushions as his face burned. Shiro let Pidge talk as much as she liked, Keith sat there and glared when he finally came out the shower to join them. The idiot hadn’t even dried his hair off, throwing himself down next to brother where he shot Lance a look of what seemed to be pure disgust. The dude was a little ball of anger muffin, actually, Pidge was the anger muffin of the group, meaning Keith had to be... the anger loaf? The vampire was like 90% sure that wasn’t a thing, but with Keith being taller and more grizzled than his twig arse, Lance couldn’t do the brain to work out what he was, other than annoying. God, he was going to be dead in the morning.

The storm howled all night long, the latch on Lance’s window deciding to break, Blue sent flying under the bed after jumping squarely on Lance’s face, claws out as she did. A quick glance to his alarm clock confirmed the power had already gone out, meaning no lights, meaning not much point trying to fix the damn window until the sun came up. Except a normal damn person wouldn’t be sleeping away in rapidly cooling room. They’d be scared and all that... Pidge had said karma was coming their way, yet she’d failed to mention it was bad karma.

Pulling on his robe, Lance left Blue under the bed to make her own way out. A scared Blue meant the claws were out. That was a job for a Lance who didn’t feel every bit dead as he’d been for the last 3 plus decades. Heading down the hall, he let himself into the room Hunk and Pidge were sharing. The lamp between the beds off, Pidge snoring away on her side, the side effect of having no power. She must have left her phone bank at home, or she’d probably still be working on her theories from the hospital. In his bed, Hunk was clutching his phone in his sleep. He’d left his fucking glasses in his room, and now it felt like too much effort to go back. Lance didn’t particularly want to crawl into bed with Hunk, but what did normal people do? Would Shiro and Keith think him weird? Fuck... he couldn’t sleep next to either of his friends. He didn’t want to do anything that wouldn’t be considered normal... a normal person... would sleep on the couch. He couldn’t very well magic himself up into a bat and sleep in the attic for the night. Ugh. He was over this. Thoroughly over this.

*

The couch was cold and uncomfortable. There was a spot on the ceiling above it that’d started mocking him something after his third roll over as he tried to go the fuck to sleep. One spot led to two, then three... mocking his entire existence with their round unwanted circleness. The ceiling could probably use a fresh recoat. If he was going to redo the ceiling, he might as well update the rug under the coffee table... and then there was the latch to fix, how many other latched needed fixing... maybe he could put some fresh roses in the garden, the candy striped ones his Mami loved were already backed by white sprawling roses... he had abracadabras in for his papi... aaaaaand now his brain wouldn’t shut up. Maybe it was true about old people and their love for gardening. He really should spend the day tidying everything back up... He had the land and space, but everything other than the roses seemed to be neglected... maybe he could plant out his death soil? Put a nice little fountain there? Some violas and petunias? So much for sleeping. Pidge was going to love this.

Lance gave it what must have been an hour, by his time, after the first rays of sun started to dye the sky in light. The weather drizzly, overcast, and cold. A bit like his mood. Annoyed to find the coffee machine relied on power, now on top of his craptastic night, he was going to have to deal with a caffeine deprived Pidge in the morning. Sure, he was already going about boiling water in a metal kettle on the gas stove top, but Pidge insisted she needed two large coffees each morning before she was ready to face the world. He’d only invested in a coffee maker for the sake of her and Hunk. He’d missed the boat on the human race’s race towards coffee addiction.

Cracking a dozen eggs, Lance hoped he’d was making enough as he whipped up potato fritters and bacon... Then decided he wasn’t being a good enough host, adding fried tomatoes, fried eggs, a bowl of baked beans from a can he didn’t know he had, the finally fried bread thanks to the fact his damn toaster was electric too and he supposed people would want bread. There went his food for the week. Leaving the oven door down, Lance turned the oven on, sliding the plates and bowls in to keep them warm. Now he just needed his visitors to wake the fuck up and get the fuck out...

Lured by the scent of breakfast, Blue came running in ahead of Shiro. Making straight for the kitchen counter, Blue let out a demanding squeaked meow, yes, he knew, she wanted her morning wet food

“Good morning, my love. Breakfast will be ready in a tick”

“Thanks, darling?”

Obviously Shiro knew he was talking to Blue. Seriously, couldn’t a man talk to his damn cat without being attacked?

“Shiro, you’re not fucking funny”

Keith shuffled around the doorway, Lance feeling it’s should be criminal for house guests not to loudly declared where they were and which rooms they were entering, because damn, with his shirt hiked up that strip of smooth taunt belly between the hem and his jeans just wasn’t fair

“You tell me that every day”

“Because all you do is get older and less fucking funny. Where’s the coffee?”

“The power’s off, you’ll have to make do without. Sorry, Lance, he’s barely human until he has his coffee”

Be nice. Be nice. Be nice. Big fake smile, he wasn’t as dead as he was body was, all smiles

“That’s alright, Shiro. Pidge is the same. If she doesn’t have her two coffees she’s purely demonic. She’s been known to bite, scratch and kick. I used the kettle on the stove, not exactly cafe quality but as my mother would say, “if it’s good enough for your grandmother, it’s good enough for you””

“I’m pretty impressed, not many people would think about boiling water on the stove top”

“My family used to go camping quite a bit when I was a kid. As long as you’ve got a gas stove, you’re pretty much prepared for times the power goes out. Do you two want to eat first, or shall I go get Hunk and Pidge?”

“Oh... we don’t want to intrude...”

“You’re not. Everything’s already done, we’ll eat then I’ll run you into town. Sorry the power went out, your probably dying to know how your car’s going. Hunk’s dad always wakes up at the crack of dawn, so by the time we’re done, he should have some kind of update for you”

“I’m that case, sure. Thanks so much for all of this. I know you weren’t terribly keen on us crashing for the night”

“Well, you didn’t murder me in my sleep, and as far as I can see you haven’t killed Pidge and Hunk, so you pass with flying colours. I’ll be right back”

Lance fled as politely as he could, hitting his shoulder on the doorframe as he did. God, could he be more embarrassing? Who makes another murder joke when the time’s passed and it was now like he was flogging a dead horse. Pidge was right, he was lame as fuck... old age finally setting in... next thing came death... ugh, he really needed to stop with the mental joking. Insanity was a very real risk that came with living for too long. If he kept talking to himself like a crazy person, he was going to have to throw himself at the mercy of Coran with the hopes of a quick death. And fuck, he’d forgotten Blue’s food again...

Pidge didn’t want to wake up, a fist coming flying as Lance shook her shoulder. Hunk had spent the whole night with his hand on his phone, but was accepting of it being time to wake up. Pidge was not

“Fuck off... I’m sleeping”

“I have coffee”

“Gimme the coffee, then fuck off”

Lance snorted, too tired for anything other than a quick huff out his nose

“You have to come to the kitchen for coffee. We have to drop Shiro and Keith off in town, remember?”

“Let’em walk”

“After everything you put me through, you don’t get to go back to sleep”

“My house, my rules, fucker”

“That’s Mister Fucker, especially seeing you’re in my guest bedroom. Hunk, help me out here?”

“Nope. You poked the Gremlin. Do I smell food?”

“I cooked. I channeled my inner Hunk and made us all breakfast. Eggs, bacon, full nine yards, and coffee”

Climbing out of bed, Hunk wrapped his arms around him

“Best friend ever. Dude, you’re like frozen”

“The latch broke on my window last night, tried crashing out on the couch but you know what it’s like when your brain won’t shut up”

Hunk groaned at him

“You should have come crawled into bed here, man”

“I thought about it, but that seemed like effort. Didn’t wanna wake you up”

“You’re frozen. Go take a hot shower, I’ll make sure we save you breakfast”

“No, I’ll take a shower once we’ve dropped Shiro and Keith back in town. I’m dreading the state of my room, have to get my glasses out, but I’m scared it’s going to be a total mess”

“That’s rough, man. Still, you probably should get out of your pyjamas before giving us a ride home”

“I’ll have you know there’s no shame in wearing pyjamas shopping. I think they’re quite manly”

“Lance, bud, light of life and best bud a man could ask for, you can’t wear your pyjamas”

Lance had no issue with wearing his pyjamas in public. Somewhere along the line he was pretty sure there was a good six month period in his life where he’d worn nothing but his pyjamas. He loved the deep blue satin with gold trim and a little lion up on his breast pocket. Plus he had the matching robe and slippers. He loved them so much he had three more pairs in blue, one in red which looked horrible against his skin tone, and another set in black on the off chance something happened to the other four pairs.

“But they’re comfy”

“And you have to pretend to be an adult”

Lance blew a raspberry, pushing Hunk away

“Adulting is overrated. Back in my day you weren’t an adult unless you had two cars under your name”

“Dude, you have a car and a mortgage. What else would you call that?”

“An oversized kid with a commitment issue?”

Hunk face palmed, taking a long breath, he released it slowly

“Please, for me, will you at least change into something warmer?”

Dammit. Hunk knew he was weak to his bestie asking for a favour

“Fine. But know I do so under protest”

“Noted. Are Keith and Shiro already awake?”

“Yep, already in the kitchen”

Hunk scrambled to straighten up his bed, for no obvious reason Lance could hear how fast Hunk’s heart was racing. What did he have to be so worried about?

“Dude! Why didn’t you tell me? They better not have eaten everything”

Food? He’d cooked enough food to cook a small army

“I’d be surprised if they had”

“I don’t know, man. Oh my god, what if they have allergies?”

“Then I’ll have two dead bodies and all my karma would have gone up in flames. Relax, there’s a spread, I’m sure they’ll find something edible down there”

“I better go make sure...”

“Hunk, you’re making me sad. I promise I haven’t intentionally poisoned anyone in the last fifty years”

“There’s always that chance... So many people have allergies these days”

“And so many people now understand allergies better. Come on, man. They’re adults. Probably have two cars each and everything. Have some faith, man”

Lance’s words meant nothing, Hunk was off worrying himself sick over two grown men. He wouldn’t be Hunk if he wasn’t, but he didn’t have to attempt to take care of everyone they met... no matter how much of a teddy bear, people pleasing, free lover, he was.

*

Lance’s room had been torn apart by the storm. His window now broken, to match the broken latch. His bed was soaked, his floor was soaked, a stray branch had found its way onto his bed, and his damn glasses were cracked. The worst part was his blue slippers getting damp as he cross his room, stepping from “dry patch” to “dry patch”. More like “less wet patch” to “less wet patch”. Fucking storms, and fucking karma. He’d tried to be nice... he’d faked it as nicely as he could, that had to earn him brownie points. Now he’d be scrubbing the floors with vinegar to kill anything even remotely mould like that had the idea it was going set up residency in his house. They never warned you of the less fun things that came with being a homeowner. Had he know how much things would cost, he would have been campaigning for his mother start saving while he was still just an egg. Bring rural, someone had to come up from Platt. There was travel time, replacement time, having a stranger in his house, then there was the cleanup from their dirty boots.

Changing reluctantly into casual jeans, Lance piled on his thickest of jackets, with a scarf and beanie. Hunk had been suspicious of how cold he’d been, and with the weather still dreary, he needed to look the part, including forcing his feet into boots he hadn’t worn for at least two years. He hoped he’d looked okay, seeing he didn’t have an intact mirror to check. Lance also double checking he didn’t have any underwear hanging out his jeans, because he’d done that before today. Going to fuel up, he’d gone to double check his pockets for his wallet only to find a pair of black boxer briefs hanging from the back of his jeans. Thankfully no one had noticed as quickly stuffed them in his jacket pocket, before avoiding any and all eye contact when he’d gone in to pay. He most certainly wasn’t worried about his appearance due to the two handsome strangers in his kitchen... Nope. Not at all.

Heading down, Lance tripped on the stairs, then bumped into the banister. Every morning his eyes seemed to need an adjustment period thanks to his damn cracked glasses. They were only a cheap pair, but that wasn’t the point, it was something else he needed to replace on top of everything else going on. Back in the day he’d made some very dubious choices over his frames, thanks to the hipster rival he was now having the chance to rock the same shades as a much cooler person in a less judgmental time. Making his way down to the kitchen, Lance could hear Pidge prattling on about the paranormal, Hunk must have poured into a chair then poured coffee down her throat to keep her calm. She was honestly as bad as a starving vampire, Lance wouldn’t say he famished, but he would say his daily routine was out of whack. He would have been into his first blood pack by now, yet thanks to his guests and the lack of power the fridge needed to remain cold since he didn’t have a backup power system for the fridge alone.

Feigning casualness, Lance wandered into his kitchen, happy to see everyone except Keith was either. If Keith didn’t want to eat, then he could go goddamn hungry for all Lance cared

“Whoa, man. What’s with the glasses?”

Trust Hunk to notice right off the bat

“You know how I told you the latch snapped in the storm, the whole window ended up shattering. Room’s a mess, and I need to call a glassier out from Platt”

Trudging to his seat, he couldn’t take it thanks to Sir Mopesalot, his routine thrown off yet again as he was to sit between Pidge and Keith

“That’s rough man, covered by insurance?”

“Yeah, but I’d rather get a private quote too. If it’s less than $500 then it’s easier not to pay the excess”

“Ah, good thinking. What do you want for breakfast?”

There wasn’t that much left. Evidently he’d miscalculated everyone’s hunger levels

“I’ll finish off the potato fritters. Everyone okay with that?”

No one said no, so Lance helped himself to the last two. He was an excellent cook, if he did say so himself.

“So, Shiro. What’ll you do when your car’s fixed?

Shiro washed down the last of his fried egg with a large gulp of coffee, before leaning his elbows on the table as he nursed the mug with both hands

“Head back up to Platt. This was only going to be a day trip”

“Yeah, I suppose that’s true. Lance is always telling me I ask too many questions”

Lance brought his hand up, ruffling Pidge’s hair

“That’s because you do. I’m sure Shiro is anxious enough over his car as it is”

“He was talking just fine until you showed up. Plus, you forgot to feed Blue. My poor baby was screaming her head off for her food”

“Ah, fuuu-... Thanks, Pidge. I remembered before, but forgot again”

“I did it for Blue, not for you”

“I know. Her and her toe beans appreciate it”

“Glad to know someone appreciates me”

Lance gave a shake of his head

“I always appreciate you, and you know it. Like I appreciate the way you’re going to rinse the dishes for me after you’ve had your second cup of coffee. You’re still in your “Gremlin Mode””

“If you’d just brought the coffee up, I wouldn’t have to be”

“And if you just went to bed at a normal hour, like a normal person, you wouldn’t be so sleepy and cranky. Maybe I should call your mum so she can put you down for a nap when you get home”

“And maybe I should hack back into your home security and set your speakers to play “Psycho” every time you get in the shower”

“You couldn’t pick something I could sing to, could you?”

Pidge kicked the back of his foot under the table, she was on fire this morning

“Watch it. I’m not above motivation speeches for when you’re on the toilet”

“I’m down for that”

“You’re so goddamn weird”

Shiro started laughing, his right hand coming off his coffee cup as he shook it to say “ignore him”. Taking a moment to compose himself, he smiled over the rim of the cup

“You three really get along well, don’t you?”

“Yep. No offence man, I don’t know your friends or anything, but I feel like I’ve got the two best friends in the world”

Lance felt a surge of pride over his friends. Had Shiro dared to challenge him, he’d be having some serious daydreams over what he could do to the man and where to dump the body when he was done. Not that he ever would, and not that he really let himself think that way too often. He was just way too overprotective of the ones he loved

“It’s nice. To have friends as close as family, I mean. Do you have family in the area?”

“He has a grandmother in Pla-“

Lance elbowed Pidge, the question directed at him given Shiro was looking at him

“Yeah. My grandmother lives in Platt. You know what that’s like, she always has all the goss about what’s up. I had wanted her to come live with me so I could take care of her, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Apparently I need to get out and live my own life, but that’s hard when most people suck”

Shiro nodded

“What would she say if she knew you picked up two strangers in the middle of a stormy night?”

“She’d say I did the right thing. She’s been my number one supporter through everything. I could be murdered and she’d still want to hound my ghost over if it was a good host or not. “Lance, did you remember to feed them”. “Lance, I hope you didn’t have your feet on the coffee table in front of them”. “Lance, did you use the good silverware and china?”. Lance, I hope you showed them where everything was”. We’ve got like this massive family, so things were always chaotic. Church every Sunday, family dinners, that kind of thing”

Lance was being nice, but blurting out his life was taking it to the next level. Shiro continued to nod and smile politely as Lance spoke

“Do you still attend church?”

“Sometimes, but I always make sure to go for Easter and Christmas. I light a candle every year for my pop who died. I believe in god, but I also believe in evolution. Maybe because I spent so many days at Sunday school, it’s rubbed off on me”

“That’s sounds nice”

Lance hummed

“Yeah. I like to take my grandmother too. Most of the family is catholic. The way I look at it, as long as your not a dick to me, I won’t be a dick to you, nothing else matters. People can believe in who or whatever they like, and that’s their own business”

“Lance, shut up. You’re doing the too many words”

Lance agreed with Pidge, from life he knew sometimes people talked far too much when they were nervous. Shiro left him nervous, but as not nervous as his little brother. Keith hadn’t eaten a thing, even the mug of coffee in his hands had hardly been touched. But he hadn’t really been babbling, had he? He had a tendency to do that when he was sleepy, so always tried to keep a set schedule and sleep routine

“And you’re doing the “not enough coffee in your caffeine system”, Pidgeon”

“I hate you, you know that?”

“Yep, as much as I hate you”

“Fuck... You don’t hate me”

“I love you, which means you love me”

Pidge mumbled about being tricked, flipping him off as she rose her coffee cup to her lips.

Shiro smiled at their antics, Lance wishing he didn’t look like such a loser with cracked glasses

“Well it’s lucky for us that you did. Breakfast was delicious”

“I’m glad you liked it. I can’t cook like Hunk, but my grandmother would have killed me if I didn’t pick up a thing or two cooking with her”

“You can let her know you did her proud. Is she...”

Is she what? Ooooh...

“Oh, she still alive. Yep, she’s in Platt and try to visit her when I can. Garrisons like the perfect distance away. I don’t have to live in the city, but I can visit when I want. I’m talking way too much. I must be boring you by now. We can head our when your done, and Keith’s finished with his coffee”

“Oh, um, yeah. Right. Keith, you better drink up”

After all the worry over the car, how could Shiro possibly forget? Oh god... what if he was one of those annoying types that were seriously bad at taking a hint? Sure, he’d let them stay one night, but that wasn’t happening again. This was his house and the sooner they left the better it was for everyone. Keith cast Shiro a sullen look as he finally sipped at his coffee, Pidge was bad in the morning, but Keith took it to a whole other nonfunctional level. Lance was definitely not going to miss him leaving in the slightest. Seriously, he’d cooked his arse off and the arsehole hadn’t eaten a single thing, even treating the coffee as if it were poisoned. What a douche.

#once bitten twice stupid #klance #mpreg #vampire Lance #ashratherose #vldau

[shabba-zams]

INSPIRED BY ELAINE

I think it's time, we confronted the situation in front of us

And I think it's time we talk it out and forget all the fuss

And it is not me.. There just isn't an us no more like Bible class

Our time is up, like sand falling thru an hour glass, in an hour class

You always say you have no clue but surely eNCA, know more

You mad at me, the silent treatment and you call it normal

You're bad for me, I was ur biggest fan - u such a baddie

You're bad to me, I'm your only fan, love it when u call me daddy

I'm sad for you, you hid your "Onlyfans" from me, you dirty

I'm thirsty, right now you looking all sexy, girly, flirty, all nerdy

You're needy, greedy, full of pity, always eating, mouth fully meaty, too demanding, nasty lazy, bitch u crazy

I'm giving, forgiving, plain loving, still thirsty but dripping in sauce

You're tripping, I flick my wrist then flick the bean (BDSM)

You're dribbing, my dick be crippling

You be stroking my penis, asking what my pin is

Bust a nut, wipe a continent from your chest

Yeah, that's what pain is

And then I knew you're not the One

Coz you were never the only one

I don't give out many chances, you get just the one

Party on campus, ur too antisocial, never my plus one

Plus size model, thick mama, BBW, voloptuous, ur curvatious

Luv ur onion booty, it makes me cry & it's more than 1 layer

Yeah im full of games, bstill no player

Dinner for 2, right b4 I eat u up, say my prayer

Bad dream, devils hour, I wake, u staring like, Heya! That's creepy

Okay lemme be real with u, it ain't your fault

I just couldn't be real around you, I couldn't be myself

I was losing myself tryinna please U

My face was your chair, no please U.. I can't breathe

I need air, u don't care, I pull ur hair, that's not fair

Face clean, no make up, take teddy bear, then make up sex

We're role playing, you're now Claire, Blair or Nonhle

Shared my, heart and love with u

I ain't mad at u, we don't c I2I

U & I was both invested, we tested

All that loud in the air, sippin wine we wasted

Danced all night then rested

My place or yours instead

Always kept you interested, kept me well fed

It's lessons learned not time wasted

Why you making me choose between you & the booze

I know you hate how I'm hung like a moose

Getting your creative juices flowing, like your muse

Misuse my tongue, amuse ur lower lips, abuse your sleep

Team nocturnal, feeling your intestine with my external

Loving you all night and day, feels eternal

I'm sorry but I'm not ready for anal

But that pussy imma turn into a canal

You dislike my love/hate relationship with social media

I bring a home cooked meal but all you do is take away

I mean it's healthier and bonus it makes financial sense

Lemme keep my 2 cents, common sense ain't common

That's nonsense, why you so tense? We don't make sense

I still sense your anger from when I tried to fvck ur friend

Then my close friend who's my best friends girlfriend

Yeah, I fvcked up, I own up, let's roll up

That's not tea in my cup, let's go up

Talk at the roof top, "nigga just grow up"

You're yelling, screaming, bout to blow up

I'm cocky, saying shit like I was your glow up

"Hol'up, nigga please just shut the fvck up

You always say you coming but never show up"

"You're right, I'm sorry I left you sick to go drink

I felt like I was drowning until my sorrows' lungs were filled with H2O

Made it up 2 u tho, made you cum 6 times..no? 7 I think, who's counting

You a liability, I'm an asset... I mean it's just accounting

You lack reliability, for your mistakes ur never accounting

You hate my ability to feel everything and still be wholesome

Coz you just wanna feel good all the time

But my feelings be fluctuating, I just won't be faking

Stop tolerating the neglect Im getting

Get liquid with it

Happiness is the yin and sadness is the yang

Sometimes I drink gin, only when I'm with my gang

There's a burn hole on my jean, maybe a ciggie, or dank

But now I get bank, I want no skank that smoke skunk

Has that sank? Yeah I know, I'm a think tank, tick

Talk all you want, but keep it short like tik-tok

Tic toc, times up, take tsek.. tic tac 4 your bad breath

2 these beats I bring death, yeah I take life, no bring back

Break dance & break back, ahead of you like 3 laps

Brick dance coz my money grows while I nap nap

Hahaha gimme 3 claps coz my puns still slap

I'm real black, I'm bout to snap at all this crap

These niggaz decided to call rap

Lame rappers, listen up, sit down and don't talk back

Don't turn no other cheek, clap back or get ur wolf pack

Crack back, don't fight niggaz that look lyk they fap-fap

Or smoke crack crack, with eyes doing a criss cross

Came across many rappers that steal rap lines or rap names like Rick Ross to get their point across

Gamble with your life & hit crap

Lost your wife on my Whatsapp, there's that!

She pole dance in my DM's, she excels

She got a flat tummy till she exhales, but sex sells

She call me Haploid, like sex cells

She's cold like may weather, F Lloyd!

I'm a Record breaker, planet shaker, Constant risk taker

Ask the chain breaker how I stay shining 

He'll answer, I stay grinding, on God!

I'm not a smile faker, just a soul snatcher in the fast lane

Wubba lubba dub dub, Rick and Morty

Life and death drive, ask Freud or Boyd

Leading a wild life like Varty, bitter sweet like chutney

I'm bored, so we party in my bed, my bad, honey!

Ass-ass-ass, she clap ass 3 times before 4(play)

Nurse-nurse-nurse, I slap ass tats when we role playin

Looking all photogenic, oops a nip slip on tape

Phat ass on my iOS, like real life

Ass flat on android, that's what they look like

No steroids, my dick big don't nje just

She look at my shoe size and run away at 1st chance

I'm an asteroid not space dust, she came fast

Then I came too, at last, she said out loud

I'm heartless at first glance, til I made her soul dance

Think fast, mouth 2 mouth ur low lips, I'm a medic

Nudes is explicit, is you a nymph or manic?

Nymphomaniac please don't panic

Your style so sick, bout to start a pandemic

We'll playback with your jeans off, relay... ground rules

No replay or pause only gonna press play once

No safewords, whatever works works, word!

Girl you a baddie, and a Pedi, go spoil yourself

Get a mani &a pedi

Dick in mouth, still out spoken, can't put words in mouth

U said I'm a keeper

Silver spoon in her mouth but I still feed her

Feel her up then fill her up, I eat her up

I feed her jollof right before I pipe her, I like her

Never gonna wife her, don't really love her

She's rude like something' crawled up her...

Foul mouth like up yours!

I know around your feelings I should tip toe

It's unfortunate coz I don't tip Joe's (askies jo)

Like excuse me waiter where should I dip those fries, french

Kiss hoes toes, mxwa, Zulu man with a foot fetish, tip toe

Articulate the truth, use tactics lyk rotten tomatoes on bad movies

I'm not perfect, I pose a threat even if a picture's moving

I'm booming, you're blooming... I'm nice nice, ur gloomy

I'm grooming u, like your cult leader

Avid reader, your soul feeder, I'm no people pleaser

I need a lady thats rooted in love and still rooting for me

Unconditional love lyk the kind that died on the cross 4 me

Is that you? No? Then miss me Miss, think I'm gonn miss ya!

Coz now it's

A goodbye to you, I'm thru witchu, it's true I confess

Wish you nothing but the best

Somebody to love you, put you first for the rest of

All the days to come, to you I

Remain a good friend, no benefits just perks

Straight facts, ex lover with strange quirks... You

Are

The

One... Who will be the godmother to my heir

So if I die, you'll raise HIM or raise HER

Erase Her memory of me if it's too painful to hold on to

Make sure he's playful, careful  and joyful too

U'll be a good mom, ur delightful unlyk most step mothers

You're a good teacher that's patient but always on time

You'll know what to do if ever my daughter runs late

Scratch that, you'll be a great mother, that's fate

Becoz you're a leader, not deceitful like some bad fathers

#IWriteWhatILike #poetry #dead poets society #poets on tumblr

[queen-of-the-avengers]

(tiny) Pain in Your Ass

Characters: Loki Laufeyson x Reader, Thor Odinson

Word Count: 2,292

Warnings: Loki as a child, minor angst, mostly fluff

Summary: Loki is the most annoying person you’ve ever met, and even more annoying as a child.

Squared Filled: De-Aged // Thor // Accidentally hurt by a friend

Fandom: Marvel

Author’s Note: This is for @marvelfluffbingo and @marvelbingo and @badthingshappenbingo respectively. If you have any requests, please send them in! This is unbeta’d and any and all mistakes are all on me.

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

Flipping pancakes, you enjoyed the silence for once in your life. Being an Avenger on Asgard meant there wasn’t going to be a boring moment in your life. Thor and Loki didn’t make it possible for you to find peace in the way you wanted. Every day was spent trying to fix someone else’s problem or to try and fight for your life. There was never a dull moment except for the mornings. If you woke up early enough, you could find the golden castle in complete silence, save for the patter of your feet as you walked down the long hallway.

The only time you had for yourself was spent making breakfast for yourself. You found it easier to manage everyone else’s problems when you had blueberry pancakes in your stomach. Before going to the kitchen to cook, you had checked Thor’s room to see if he was still sleeping. The slightest of noise would wake either brother, so you put your ear to the door to see if you could hear his loud ass snoring. After not hearing anything in the few seconds you had with your ear to the door, you thought it was best to just leave them alone and cook your food. It was too early to worry about the grown-ass men that were the Odinsons.

When your pancakes were done, you started plating them when the kitchen door opened. The silence in the castle was shattered by a little kid screaming your name. That was weird, you didn’t know any kids. But why did this one sound like the God you had a crush on? Abandoning your food, you walked out of the kitchen and into the dining room to see Thor holding a squirming child as he tried to get out of his arms.

“Would you fucking stop?” Thor growled.

“Let me go!” the child yelled. He looked so familiar, but you didn’t know any kids much less had any that knew your name. His long black hair was greasy but tame, his skin was paler than anything you’ve ever seen, and those blue eyes were so captivating it made you gasp. No, it couldn’t be… you could never forget those eyes.

“Is that how you speak to kids?” you teased as you crossed your arms.

“This isn't a fucking kid. It’s Loki,” the God sighed as Loki got out of his grasp and ran to you. The little kid grabbed your leg as tight as he could, terrified to let you go.

“Thor, what did you do?” you growled lowly, scared to even touch the man you loved.

“Nothing! I left him alone for five fucking minutes, and when I come back, he’s a fucking kid. He won’t stop screaming your name, and whenever I put him down, he cries. Please, take him so I can figure out what the hell went wrong.”

“Went wrong? What were you two doing?!”

“Why are you guys shouting? It’s seven am,” Sif asked as she walked into the dining room. She was staying in the castle while her place was being renovated.

“Go ahead, Thor. Tell our friend how you turned Loki into a kid who not only wants me, but won’t let me go,” you groaned as you tried shaking him off, but the smile on his face meant he only took that as a sign to play.

“What did you do?” Sif sighed.

“Just, take him, Y/N. Okay? I’ll be back with a cure once I figure out what went wrong.”

“Thor, don’t you dare leave him with me!” you yelled, but the eldest brother was already out the door. Turning to your lovely best friend, you tried giving her the sweetest eyes possible. “Sif, please…”

“You’re on your own. Loki is annoying as a grown man, I don’t want kid him.”

“Fuck you,” you spat as he went back upstairs.

“Potty mouth!” Loki yelled.

“Loki, seriously? Get off me,” you groaned as you pushed him off your leg. That only encouraged him to snap back on, and you knew this was going to be a very long day. Thanks to your superhuman strength, the weight of him was practically nothing as you walked back into the kitchen. There was a reason why you hated kids; they were so fucking needy, and Loki was no exception. You were just lucky he wasn’t using his magic to fuck with you. Taking a seat at the table, you began eating when the little sorcerer untangled himself from your leg to climb onto the bench by your side. He reached over and stole some of your food with no regards to how you were feeling.

“Loki,” you growled. He stopped mid-bite to stare at you like a little kid would if they got in trouble, “this is my food. Go watch some TV or something. Okay? Leave me alone.”

“No!” he yelled before climbing onto your back. “Piggyback ride!”

“Thor is fucking dead,” you muttered to yourself.

Since breakfast was ruined, you decided to get a head start on your day by doing some of the chores you neglected to do during the week. The first thing you needed to do was clean your room since Natasha, Wanda, and Shuri were coming to Asgard over a few nights, and you wanted your room to be clean for them. Your sleepovers were always hectic, and the condition of your room when your friends left always proved it, so it didn’t matter if you were cleaning up, but it made you feel better.

Upon reaching your room, Loki ran inside before jumping onto your bed. The first thing you needed to do was change your sheets, so you pushed the little kid off the bed before stripping it.

“Hey!” he complained before popping his head from the other side.

“Stay out of my way. I am trying to clean my room. I didn’t sign up for babysitting, so don’t do anything that will piss me off,” you sighed as you pulled your bedsheet off. Loki immediately grabbed the bottom corner piece as he pulled, needing to have a little fun. “Loki, seriously!”

“Loki, seriously!” he mocked you.

“I don’t know why Odin rescued you from Jotunheim,” you snapped which caused all the happiness in his body to dissolve. His face fell at that unnecessary jab, and he let go of your sheets. His big bright blue eyes filled with tears, and you immediately felt bad for saying something in the first place. Little kid Loki showed a lot more than adult Loki, and it broke your heart to see him cry. Dropping the sheets, you ran to him before picking his small frame up. He started to struggle in your arms, but you held onto him tightly.

“Loki, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry, okay? I don’t do well with kids,” you sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a small voice.

“No, you don’t get to be sorry. Here,” you placed him on the bean bag in the corner of your room before taking one of your throw pillows and spraying it with the perfume you always wore. Handing it to him, he clutched it as much as his tiny arms could. “Stay right here while I clean my room, okay?”

“Okay,” he sighed. Satisfied with his answer, you quickly cleaned your room. Your laundry basket was filled to the top, a new change of sheets on your bed, and you had time to dust your room as well. Loki watched patiently on the bean bag chair with his face in your pillow. Because he was so good, you decided to let him have a bit of leash this time.

“Want to help me with laundry?” you asked.

“Yeah!” he screamed as he got off the bean bag and ran out of your room with the pillow still clutched in his tiny hands. Chuckling, you followed after him to the laundry room. If he was like this as a kid, you kind of felt bad for him because all he really wanted was some love, and you’ve expressed how bad of a parent Odin was to Loki plenty of times.

“Okay, you can hand me the clothes,” you said as you started the washing machine. Loki was much better company this time around, but that didn’t stop him from acting like a little shit from time to time. Looking down at him, you saw he had one of your bras wrapped around his torso, so you snatched it away from his little body with an eye roll. He giggled very loudly, and you caught yourself thinking if he was a giggler as an adult. Seeing him as a child got you thinking about him as an adult. Like, what would he do if you yelled at him for being in your way as an adult? He would just smirk and continue to do it like the asshole he is. But not kid Loki, he was something sweet.

After the laundry was done, you thought it would be best to watch a movie to pass the time. Wherever Thor was, you hoped he was finding a cure because this little guy was taking a lot out of you. While Loki put on the movie, you got the popcorn, and soon you two were watching whatever he picked out. He decided that he didn’t want to be on his own side of the couch and crawled into your lap.

It was weird to see Loki this way because he would never do this as an adult. He showed so much emotion, it was hard to accept that when he turns back, this will all go away. It was also weird that he wanted you when adult him and you hated each other. Well, “hated” each other. That was code for “secretly in love with but too stupid to say anything, so I’m just going to stew in my feelings and lash out at the worst possible times while denying it until I die”. He was already screwed too much in his mind, so you didn’t want to put the pressure of a relationship onto him.

As the movie progressed, Loki began to get sleepy. Kids had endless amounts of energy that quickly dissolved at the most random times. From screaming to running around to getting on your nerves, it tired him out quickly. Before you knew it, he was putting his head on your shoulder as he slept. Looking down at the boy, you swiped his hair away from his eyes as you kept him comfortable. He looked almost peaceful, and you didn’t want to disturb him.

“I did it!” Thor yelled as he came barging into the castle. This woke Loki up, and he began whining as he nuzzled his face in your neck.

“What the hell? You just woke him up,” you snapped at Thor.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want to wait until he’s had a good night’s sleep, or did you want him to take the cure?” he sassed back.

“Come on, Loki. You need to drink this,” you said when Thor handed over the drink. He didn’t want to, but since you asked, he complied with your request. “When is he going to change back?”

“Should be by the morning.”

“Should be? You don’t know?”

“Hey, they didn’t really have a manual on what to do when my sorcerer of a brother who likes to get into a lot of trouble gets turned into a kid. So, yes, I don’t know.”

“Come on, Loki. Let’s put you to bed in your room,” you said as you picked him up.

“No, I wanna sleep with you,” he mumbled sleepily.

“Someone has a crush on the babysitter,” Thor smirked. Flipping him off, you trekked down the hallway to your clean bedroom. Placing Loki on the bed, he nuzzled under the blanket while you changed into pajamas.

“Just stay on your side,” you said before getting comfortable. You don’t really remember much except that he scooted closer to you and placed his head on your chest.

Something felt different. There was another person in your bed, but he was a kid. Wait, did that cure even work? Opening your eyes, you saw a very naked and adult Loki laying on your body. Blushing immensely, you tried to scooch out from underneath his embrace without waking him.

“Where are you going? You’re warm,” he chuckled as he pulled you back into him. His face nuzzled deeper into your neck, and he placed a few kisses on the patches of skin he could reach.

“Loki Laufeyson-Odinson! Get off me!” you exclaimed as you pushed him off. All he did was laugh as he saw the discomfort on your face as well as your reddened cheeks.

“I thought you always wanted to share a bed with me.”

“Get the fuck out of here. And put on some clothes!”

“I think you enjoyed last night. Cared for me in the way you wanted to. Me turning into a kid was the best thing that could have happened to you,” he said as he stood up without shame. Covering your eyes, you threw the first thing you could grab so he could cover himself up. He caught the throw pillow you gave him when he was a kid with a smirk.

“I’m keeping this. I’ll come back every so often to get you to spray that perfume that drives me crazy,” he laughed as he grabbed a throw blanket to wrap around his waist. He left the room but not without leaving an imprint on your mind. If the stress of your everyday life wasn’t going to kill you, he certainly was.

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[elisaphoenix13]

Against All Odds (Ch. 10)

Scott ended up staying in the shower a little too long, since Quill actually had to knock on the door and make sure he was okay, but he was enjoying a hot shower after three days. When he finally did get out, he felt a lot more human and happy to be in clothes that actually fit him. It was nice to have the smell of cinnamon enveloping him while he was sick, but Quill's clothes were big enough to make him feel like different parts of his body were being strangled or in a vice, so better fitting clothes were more comfortable.

"Did you leave any hot water for me?" Quill asks when Scott finally leaves the bathroom.

"I...I don't know. I'm sorry. I was just so glad to have--" Scott sputters until the older teen slowly reaches out to gently massage the back of his neck, effectively silencing him.

"I was kidding. Even if you didn't, it's fine." Quill drops his hand and heads into the steam filled bathroom. "My cousin made breakfast. Why don't you head downstairs and get some and I'll be out in a few minutes?"

Quill closes the bathroom door before Scott can answer and the younger stares at the bathroom door before glancing at the bedroom door. Go down by himself? No. Absolutely not. He didn't know anybody that might be downstairs and being alone with them terrified him. What if they asked questions? Did they even know he and Quill were dating? What if they didn't and he accidentally outed Quill to his family?

He wished he had the ability to shrink so he could run under the bed and hide, but he didn't so Scott decided to explore the bedroom instead. He noticed that Quill had changed his bed sheets since the old ones were probably covered in sweat (yuck; Scott didn't blame him for wanting to have clean sheets), and the bedroom itself was surprisingly clean. Okay, cleanish. Everything had a home, but Quill was still a typical teenager that stepped out of his pants and kicked them into a corner until he got around to actually throwing them into a hamper. With how big the pile in the corner was, Scott was actually beginning to wonder if his boyfriend even owned a hamper.

Scott shakes his head and looks over at the desk and tilts his head curiously when he finds an old walkman sitting on the surface, and he sits at the desk before carefully grabbing the outdated music player. It was outdated but obviously well taken care of, so Scott could only assume it meant something to Quill. He puts the headphones on, presses play, and was pleasantly surprised when he listened to the mixtape. Scott continued to listen to the music as he looked over every inch of the walkman, and then eventually put it down with as much delicacy as possible before snooping through his boyfriend's desk.

Scott startles as he flips through a small book when the headphones are removed from his ears, and he looks up meekly. "I promise I was careful with it."

"I know. I watched you put it down." Quill answers softly. "You didn't go downstairs did you?"

"I don't know them." Scott whispers.

"Okay. Let me get dressed and we'll go down together okay?"

Scott nods and halfway through the gesture he finds himself eye level with Quill's waist, and he gulps at the close up of the V of the older teen's hips disappearing into…

He's only wearing a towel! What evil deity is trying to give me a heart attack?!

The younger squeaks before turning away when a single drop of water starts running down Quill's ripped abdomen, and then heaves a silent sigh of relief when his boyfriend finally walks over to his dresser to grab some clothes for the day. Scott was grateful to have a warm house to stay in and be given hot meals, but staying with Quill was already testing his sanity. Not to mention the more salacious parts of his mind. They were definitely having a field day right now.

So he keeps his focus on a piece of blank paper he starts doodling on, and halfway through drawing a rather grotesque landscape, Scott stiffens when Quill comes up behind him and leans down to kiss the side of his neck. They were soft and gentle, and he could tell that Quill consciously made sure not to make Scott feel trapped, and he didn't. Quill gave him the opportunity to move away or flee if he wanted to, but Scott just melted into the attention. He slowly turned into a puddle of goo as Quill continued with the gentle affection and even let out a sigh of happiness when Quill rubbed soothing circles into the back of his neck with his thumb.

This was okay. It didn't make him want to run and hide. He actually wanted to make Quill sit or lay down so he could curl up against him again.

"Pancakes...eggs...sausage…" Quill starts mumbling against Scott's neck.

"Hashbrowns?" Scott asks hopefully and the older teen laughs as he moves away.

"I'm pretty sure Sophie made everything. Come on." Quill turns the chair and pulls Scott out of it before pushing him toward the bedroom door. "Hurry up before everyone eats everything."

Everyone? Scott was only aware of Quill's grandpa and cousin. How many people were visiting or even living here? When they got downstairs and stepped into the kitchen, Scott wanted turn right back around and go back up to Quill's room. There had to be at least ten people and they all looked at him the second he and Quill walked in. Scott was suddenly very uncomfortable and subconsciously half hid behind his beast of a boyfriend in an attempt to escape from inquiring eyes.

"I'm glad to see you looking better." The elderly man at the stove says and the young woman beside him nods.

"Peter gave us all a scare when he burst through the front door with you."

Well that was embarrassing.

"I'm sorry for intruding." Scott whispers and Quill's grandpa points at the table with the spatula in his hand.

"Peter already told us your situation. You're more than welcome here. Why don't you both go sit down and get something to eat?"

Quill directs Scott to the table, and they pile both of their plates with food as some of the others join them at the table. There really was some of everything, and Scott took a little both of it all before he started to munch on some bacon he could thankfully taste. Sitting at the table for a meal with a family was foreign to him. He didn't know what to do, so Scott was content to eat while Quill and his family conversed. Even if he wasn't actively part of the family thing, it still brought a fuzzy feeling and he didn't mind being ignored.

Well, he wasn't really ignored. Quill's family asked him an innocent question here and there that he gave them a mumbled answer to, and at one point, he felt his heart swell when Quill poured him some orange juice. Scott had been eyeing the carton across the table for the better part of five minutes but didn't want to interrupt any of the conversations, and Quill seemed to catch on. He just grabbed Scott's glass, reached across the table for the carton, and filled it up before handing it to Scott and he drank it gratefully.

Breakfast went by, and Scott quietly offered to help clean up, but Sophie (the earlier woman) just waved him away and told him he was a guest. He and Quill went back upstairs, full and content, and Scott gave into the temptation to crawl onto the bed when they got into the bedroom. He wasn't as sick as he was last night, but his body was still recovering and sapping every bit of energy he had. Scott really wanted to take a nap.

"Want me to put on a movie?" Quill asks as his looks through his collection.

"Sure." Scott replies with a sleepy slur.

"I'd ask if you want to choose but I can see you're already starting to fall asleep." The older teen teases as he pops a movie in.

Scott only hums in confirmation and dozes between awareness and actual sleep while the movie plays and Quill does whatever. About halfway through the movie, Scott is dragged back into awareness when he hears his boyfriend fiddling with the walkman, and he cracks his eyes open to watch him. Quill actually treated it with as much gentleness as Scott had earlier that morning, and it only piqued the younger's curiosity.

"What's so special about it?" Scott murmurs and Quill looks over at him.

"Oh...uh...it's the last thing I have of my mom."

Scott frowns. "I'm sorry for using it without asking."

"It's okay. You were careful with it. I don't mind if you want to listen to it again." Quill says as he puts the walkman back on his desk. "She died when I was eight. Cancer."

"Your dad?"

Quill shrugs. "I don't know who he is."

"Why would you get pissed about my parents…?" Scott questions and the older boy scowls.

"Because they ignore you! My mom was awesome and she loved me, and after she died I was lucky to have my grandfather. But you?" Quill rubs his eyes. "You don't have anyone and it made me realize how lucky I was. Even if I never knew my dad."

Scott shrugs and closes his eyes again. "I have you and Stephen now."

Quill huffs and Scott feels the bed dip a few moments later.

"Scoot."

Scott rolls onto his side so Quill can sit on the bed and watch the movie he's partially listening to, and eventually returns to his earlier dozing. A knock on Quill's bedroom door disturbs him again but he keeps his eyes closed when Quill calls out. He hears the door open behind him and tries to doze off again when he hears Quill's grandfather talking, and then he focuses on the conversation when he hears his name.

"He was quiet at breakfast."

"That's just how he is."

"Peter...do you know if he's abused?"

Scott's blood ran cold. He couldn't kick Quill in warning since they were both on top of the covers, so all he could do was hope that he wouldn't spill the beans or give any indication to what his home life actually was. Scott's parents may neglect him, but he had a roof over his head and they sent him money for food (not including recently), and Scott was finally starting to make friends. A friend and a boyfriend but they gave him the attention he needed. Scott was actually opening up to the amount of affection Quill was offering him, and was even starting to think about going to him for more.

If Quill said anything, Scott would be taken away without a doubt, and he would have to start all over again.

"I don't think so." Quill thankfully lies.

"What are his parents doing out of town this close to Christmas?"

"Work, I think. They told Scott they would be back before Christmas but the weather is probably keeping them away. Stephen left a note in case they get back before I take Scott home. With our number."

"Alright. I don't mind if he stays. I just had to be sure."

The door closes a few seconds later, and Scott chances looking over his shoulder to look at Quill. He catches a glimpse of rage in his boyfriend's eyes just before Quill covers it up, and Scott yelps when the older teen suddenly grabs him and pulls him into his arms. Scott could somehow feel the heartbreak that Quill was suffering from just from the hug alone, and he slowly returns it.

"I hated lying about it."

"Thank you." Scott whispers and allows Quill to hold him tighter.

They stayed like that until lunch, Scott finally actually falling asleep when Quill started massaging the back of his neck again. Sandwiches were made by his grandfather and brought back up to the bedroom so they could eat and watch a movie, and after lunch Scott and Quill spent time playing different card games. The older teen was really good at poker, and made a passing joke about how it was too bad that they weren't playing strip poker, and Scott blushes hotly at the implication. He most definitely would have been completely naked if they were.

Dinner was eaten downstairs and it passed similarly to breakfast, and thankfully Quill's grandfather didn't ask any questions about Scott's life at home. He seemed to accept what Quill told him, and as long as Scott didn't give any reason for the family to think otherwise, he was in the clear. They easily accepted that Scott would be spending Christmas with them and were gracious enough not to overwhelm him with questions or attention in general.

Then Scott realized...he would be spending Christmas with Quill and his family. No big deal. He would just stay upstairs while they spent time together opening presents and other traditions, and he would be content to watch movies all day. It's what he did every year at home anyway. He would be so quiet they would forget he was even here.

And suddenly, his heart broke at the thought. They would forget about him, something he was used to, and now it bothered him? It always bothered him, but now that he was slowly getting used to attention, being ignored was affecting him more. Even just the thought of it.

No. He wouldn't intrude on their Christmas. He was just fine with staying up in Quill's room and that was that. Maybe if the weather cleared up, he could leave before then so he wasn't intruding and eating their food anymore either.

"Scott."

Said teen looks up at Quill from the pajama shirt he was changing into. "What?"

"Is something bothering you?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"Something just seemed...off about you at dinner." Quill elaborates as he finishes changing.

"I'm fine. Maybe you were picking up on how tired I'm feeling."

Quill grunts out a maybe as they climb into bed, and Scott braves scooting closer to the bigger teen and is immediately awarded with Quill wrapping an arm around him. Instead of turning so they fall asleep like the night before with his back to Quill's chest, Scott remains as he is with his nose against his boyfriend's collarbone and tucked against his side. With another small adjustment, Scott had his head on Quill's shoulder and a leg over one of his, and he almost immediately fell asleep once he was comfortable.

They were, of course, rudely awakened by some birds the next morning that were singing rather loudly and it had Quill groaning just as loud.

"What the fuck are birds so excited about at five in the morning?!"

Scott sniggers. "Probably the break in the storm."

"Well they're about to get bitch slapped by reality in about half an hour." Quill grumbles. "The storm will be coming back then."

The birds continue chirping loudly right outside the window, and Quill grabs Scott's unused pillow and throws it at the window, making it shudder under the impact. The birds fall silent for all of ten seconds before they start up again and Quill throws his arm over his face with another frustrated groan.

[queen-of-the-vampires]

the best thing to happen to you

characters: kai parker x reader, damon salvatore, stefan salvatore

word count: 2,176

warnings: fluff

summary: Kai is the most annoying person you’ve ever met, and even more annoying as a child.

squares filled: de-aged // fall asleep on my shoulder

beta: she wants to remain anonymous

author’s note: this is for my own fluff bingo as well as for @fluffbingo and if you have any requests, please send them in!

feedback the glue that holds my writing together

tags at the bottom

Flipping the pancakes, you enjoyed the silence for once in your life. Being a Salvatore meant there wasn’t going to be a boring moment in your life. Your brothers didn’t make it possible for you to find peace in the way you wanted. Every day was spent trying to fix someone else’s problem or to try and fight for your life. There was never a dull moment except for the mornings. If you woke up early enough, you could find the Salvatore Boarding House in complete silence, save for the patter of your feet as you walked down the stairs.

The only time you had for yourself was spent making breakfast for yourself. You found it easier to manage everyone else’s problems when you had blueberry pancakes in your stomach. Before coming downstairs to cook, you had checked your brother’s room to see if they were still sleeping, which Stefan was. The thing was that Damon wasn’t in his bed. It was made as if he had never slept there last night. Deciding not to worry about it, you went on with your life. It was too early to worry about the grown ass man that was your brother.

When your pancakes were done, you started plating them when the front door opened. The silence in the house was shattered by a little kid screaming your name. That was weird, you didn’t know any kids. But why did this one sound like the man you had a crush on? Abandoning your food, you walked into the main room to see Damon holding a squirming child as he tried to get out of his arms.

“Would you fucking stop?” Damon growled.

“Let me go!” the child yelled. He looked so familiar, but you didn’t know any kids much less had any that knew your name.

“Is that how you speak to kids?” you teased as you crossed your arms.

“This isn't a fucking kid. It’s Kai,” your brother sighed as Kai got out of his grasp and ran to you. The little kid grabbed your leg as tight as he could, terrified to let you go.

“Damon, what did you do?” you growled lowly, scared to even touch the man you loved.

“Nothing! I left him alone for 5 fucking minutes, and when I come back, he’s a fucking kid. He won’t stop screaming your name, and whenever I put him down, he cries. Please, take him so I can figure out what the hell went wrong.”

“Went wrong? What were you two doing?!”

“Why are you guys shouting? It’s 7 am,” Stefan complained as he walked down the stairs.

“Go ahead, Damon. Tell our brother how you turned Kai into a kid who not only wants me, but won’t let me go,” you groaned as you tried shaking him off, but the smile on his face meant he only took that as a sign to play.

“What did you do?” Stefan sighed.

“Just, take him, Y/N. Okay? I’ll be back with a cure once I figure out what went wrong.”

“Damon, don’t you dare leave him with me!” you yelled, but your eldest brother was already out the door. Turning to your second oldest brother, you tried giving him the sweetest eyes possible. “Stefan, please…”

“You’re on your own. Kai is annoying as a grown man, I don’t want kid him.”

“Fuck you,” you spat as he went back upstairs.

“Potty mouth!” Kai yelled.

“Kai, seriously? Get off me,” you groaned as you pushed him off your leg. That only encouraged him to snap back on, and you knew this was going to be a very long day. Thanks to your vampire strength, the weight of him was practically nothing as you walked to the kitchen. There was a reason why you hated kids; they were so fucking needy, and Kai was no exception. Taking a seat at the table, you began eating when the little siphon untangled himself from your leg to climb onto the bench by your side. He reached over and stole some of your food with no regards to how you were feeling.

“Malachai,” you growled. He stopped mid-bite to stare at you like a little kid would if they got in trouble, “this is my food. Go watch some TV or something. Okay? Leave me alone.”

“No!” he yelled before climbing onto your back. “Piggyback ride!”

“Damon is fucking dead,” you muttered to yourself.

Since breakfast was ruined, you decided to get a headstart on your day by doing some of the chores you neglected to do during the week. The first thing you needed to do was clean your room since Elena, Caroline, and Bonnie were over a few nights ago and had ravished the place. Your sleepovers were always hectic, and the condition of your room when your friends left always proved it.

Upon reaching your room, Kai ran inside before jumping onto your bed. The first thing you needed to do was change your sheets, so you kind of pushed the little kid off the bed before stripping it.

“Hey!” he complained before popping his head from the other side.

“Stay out of my way. I am trying to clean my room. I didn’t sign up for babysitting, so don’t do anything that will piss me off,” you sighed as you pulled your bedsheet off. Kai immediately grabbed the bottom corner piece as he pulled, needing to have a little fun. “Kai, seriously!”

“Kai, seriously!” he mocked you.

“Now I know why your parents neglected you,” you snapped which caused all the happiness in his body to dissolve. His face fell at that unnecessary jab, and he let go of your sheets. His big blue eyes filled with tears, and you immediately felt bad for saying something in the first place. Little kid Kai showed a lot more than adult Kai, and it broke your heart to see him cry. Dropping the sheets, you ran to him before picking his small frame up. He started to struggle in your arms, but you held onto him tightly.

“Kai, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry, okay? I don’t do well with kids,” you sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a small voice.

“No, you don’t get to be sorry. Here,” you placed him on the bean bag in the corner of your room before taking one of your throw pillows and spraying it with the perfume you always wore. Handing it to him, he clutched it as much as his tiny arms could. “Stay right here while I clean my room, okay?”

“Okay,” he sighed. Satisfied with his answer, you quickly cleaned your room. Your laundry basket was filled to the top, a new change of sheets was on your bed, and you had time to dust your room as well. Kai watched patiently on the bean bag chair with his face in your pillow. Because he was so good, you decided to let him have a bit of leash this time.

“Want to help me with laundry?” you asked.

“Yeah!” he screamed as he got off the bean bag and ran out of your room with the pillow still clutched in his tiny hands. Chuckling, you followed after him to the laundry room. It was weird to think that he knew where everything was, but then you remember how much time he spent here in the prison world. If he was like this as a kid, you kind of felt bad for him because all he really wanted was some love.

“Okay, you can hand me the clothes,” you said as you started the washing machine. Kai was much better company this time around, but that didn’t stop him from acting like a little shit from time to time. Looking down at him, you saw he had one of your bras wrapped around his torso, so you snatched it away from his little body with an eye roll. He giggled very loudly, and you caught yourself thinking if he was a giggler as an adult. Seeing him as a child got you thinking about him as an adult. Like, what would he do if you yelled at him for being in your way as an adult? He would just smirk and continue to do it like the asshole he is. But not kid Kai, he was something sweet.

After the laundry was done, you thought it would be best to watch a movie to pass the time. Wherever your brother was, you hoped he was finding a cure because this little guy was taking a lot out of you. While Kai put on the movie, you got the popcorn, and soon you two were watching whatever he picked out. He decided that he didn’t want to be on his own side of the couch, and crawled into your lap.

It was weird to see Kai this way because he would never do this as an adult. He showed so much emotion, it was hard to accept that when he turns back, this will all go away. It was also weird that he wanted you when adult him and you hated each other. Well, “hated” each other. That was code for “secretly in love with but too stupid to say anything, so I’m just going to stew in my feelings and lash out at the worst possible times while denying it until I die”. He was already screwed too much in his mind, so you didn’t want to put the pressure of a relationship onto him.

As the movie progressed, Kai began to get sleepy. Kids had endless amounts of energy that quickly dissolved at the most random times. From screaming to running around to getting on your nerves, it tired him out quickly. Before you knew it, he was putting his head on your shoulder as he slept. Looking down at the boy, you swiped his hair away from his eyes as you kept him comfortable. He looked almost peaceful, and you didn’t want to disturb him.

“I did it!” Damon said as he came barging into the house. This woke Kai up, and he began whining as he nuzzled his face in your neck.

“What the hell? You just woke him up,” you snapped at Damon.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want to wait until he’s had a good night’s sleep, or did you want him to take the cure?” he sassed back.

“Come on, Kai. You need to drink this,” you said when Damon handed over the drink. He didn’t want to, but since you asked, he complied with your request. “When is he going to change back?”

“Should be by the morning.”

“Should be? You don’t know?”

“Hey, they didn’t really have a manual on what to do when an evil psychopath gets turned into a kid. So, yes, I don’t know.”

“Come on, Kai. You can sleep in the guest bedroom,” you said as you picked him up.

“No, I wanna sleep with you,” he mumbled sleepily.

“Someone has a crush on the babysitter,” Damon smirked. Flipping him off, you trekked up the stairs to your clean bedroom. Placing Kai on the bed, he nuzzled under the blanket while you changed into pajamas.

“Just stay on your side,” you said before getting comfortable. You don’t really remember much except that he scooted closer to you and placed his head on your chest.

Something felt different. There was another person in your bed, but he was a kid. Wait, did that cure even work? Opening your eyes, you saw a very naked and adult Kai laying on your body. Blushing immensely, you tried to scootch out from underneath his embrace without waking him.

“Where are you going? You’re warm,” he chuckled as he pulled you back into him. His face nuzzled deeper into your neck, and he placed a few kisses on the patches of skin he could reach.

“Malachai Parker! Get off me!” you exclaimed as you pushed him off. All he did was laugh as he saw the discomfort on your face as well as your reddened cheeks.

“I thought you always wanted to share a bed with me.”

“Get the fuck out of here. And put on some clothes!”

“I think you enjoyed last night. Cared for me in the way you wanted to. Me turning into a kid was the best thing that could have happened to you,” he said as he stood up without shame. Covering your eyes, you threw the first thing you could grab so he could cover himself up. He caught the throw pillow you gave him when he was a kid with a smirk.

“I’m keeping this. I’ll come back every so often to get you to spray that perfume that drives me crazy,” he laughed as he grabbed a throw blanket to wrap around his waist. He left the room but not without leaving an imprint on your mind. If the stress of your everyday life wasn’t going to kill you, he certainly was.

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[bisexual-inuyasha]

Promises Made, Promises Kept

AN: Canon-divergent. Ling is absorbed along with Greed, but his philosopher’s stone survives with Ling inside. Ed is told he can save him.

Ed splayed across his bed. Dark smudged under his eyes like shadows. Research was never easy. This research was harder than anything he’d undertaken. So many rules had never needed breaking. He’d never been so unwilling to break them.

A clock ticked beside him. Every second counted down closer to all of this being over. The sound was mesmerizing.

Tick—tick—tick—tick.

His eyes grew heavy. The sky lightened to the east. Ed curled into a ball, clutched his pillow over his eyes, and fell asleep.

On the tray beside his bed, surrounded by the tools of transmutation, a red stone glowed in the sunrise. A vial of similarly colored liquid rested beside it.

There is a way to bring him back. I can show you, for a price. It is all the way, far away in his Truth. Do you want it, Edward Elric?

The world was cold. A hand, colder and empty all the way through, reached for his. He pulled his hand away but it grabbed. When the Truth reached him, it took everything.

He saw a palace, extravagant and golden. A yellow shirt lay resting on his bed in his apartment in the city. A thousand faces pushed against their binding, a thousand souls reached for him. The sun set a hundred times and rose a hundred more and still the only sound Ed could hear was a heartbeat. All the world moved on without him, far away, unattainable.

Hunger gnawed on his desire. Anger burned low in his belly. He reached and reached and nothing found him. Finally, he turned around, unable to watch the world any longer. A pair of eyes caught his.

The last eyes he saw belonged to him—all the way in his Truth. And then Ed disappeared.

Ed jolted awake. The sun poured in through his window. Frost climbed up the panes. Outside, snow surrounded his small mountain cabin. His blanket lay folded on a chair across the room. His jacket lay crumpled on the floor. Ling would be cross with him if he saw the state Ed was in.

He’d probably tell him so with a snarky joke and a gentle touch.

“Yeah, well, if you want to chastise me come out here and do it then.” The stone did not respond. It never did. “I’m going to try a new circle today. Mei says she may have an idea from Xing that could work, but she’s practicing first. We don’t want to hurt you whenever we pull you out of there.”

He swung his legs over the side of his bed. His shoulders and joints ached. His head swam when he stood. He’d forgotten to eat yesterday. From the creaking of his knees, he’d forgotten to drink as well. He rubbed his eyes and hurried to his cabinets. Dust and cobwebs collected in the corners. Everywhere else was bare.

He sat down and fiddled with his braid.

Alphonse would find him soon. When he did, the game would be over for a while. Until he found his way away again. Somewhere new to hide. Some new thread of evidence he could find.

“I hope you’re working from inside get out. I’d hate to find out you were just lazing around.” Ed considered his meal options. He could make his way down the mountain and into town. A small convenience store at the bottom of the trail usually stayed open through bad weather. Sometimes they had jerky sticks he liked. “Would be like you, though.”

Would Ling come out hungry? Would he come back ravenous for all the delights he couldn’t have? Would he be thin as sticks? If he was hungry, Ed wouldn’t be able to feed him right away. Not like this.

Or would being stuck in a Philosopher’s stone be entirely different from being possessed by Truth?

He had asked this question every day for the last three years.

Al said worrying about it was turning him gray.

Al also said Ling had moved on from this world, and he would want Ed to move on from him.

What did Al know anyway?

He couldn’t possibly know more than Truth. And Truth said he could bring Ling back.

Ed shrugged on a coat and fought on his shoes. Just because he had to be cold didn’t mean he had to starve. Shopping wouldn’t be so hard. Probably. The whole money situation would be a hassle but most grocery stores didn’t understand when he explained he was on the run from his brother and so had no access to his savings.

He’d figure something out.

It was a three hour walk down the mountain to the store. If he followed the path. Ed had only become more meandering in his days since the military. So, he took a moment to enjoy the winter. It ached in his bones—in the new hand he’d had taken months to bring fully to strength, in the hollow spaces he neglected with his apathy, in the cobwebs of his memories which could not remember a winter before his mother passed.

Birds still landed on the dead branches. Cardinals. A blanket of white covered the cracks in the ground. Every imperfection lay hidden beneath a glittering foot of snow. Ed wondered if he should miss the days when he wouldn’t appreciate the beautiful snow. In those days he would not have appreciated the absence of the birdsong in the midafternoon. He wouldn’t miss the spill of gold and red of the sunrise he’d slept through this morning. He was too busy looking ahead. Too sure he’d get everything he needed in the end. He didn’t miss things with any purpose. Life was too fast back then but it was easier to ignore the things he didn’t have.

The people, too.

He pulled his jacket tighter around his shoulders. A stiff wind blew through his hair, kicking up snow and rustling the last dead leaves clinging to the branches. He could see the light of the shop up ahead. A small radio system played something sappy over the radio. Ed hadn’t listened to modern music in a long time, so he didn’t recognize the melody. The song was pretty, in its tinkering, slow way.

He found a few coins and a 100 cen bill dropped outside the door. It was enough to buy a couple of cans of beans. The dinner of kings.

He even managed to sneak out with a can of soda tucked in his pocket. He was nearly certain the woman at the counter would have let him have it, but found it best to keep her from trouble.

Maybe, if his research didn’t work out today, he’d take a vacation to travel again. Real travelling, with his brother and his new wife. He and Mei needed to swap their findings soon anyway. Phone calls weren’t as helpful as physical copies of the progress she’d made in all these years.

They’d tried every extraction and remodeling they could. Ling’s philosopher’s stone could do a lot of things. It didn’t seem able to remember his body with its limbs in all the right places. Al forbade Ed from connecting Ling’s soul to anything inanimate. Life as an empty shell was hardly worth living, he’d said. He hadn’t looked at him when he said it.

Slowly, on the walk home, the doubts crawled in.

Maybe he couldn’t do it. He hadn’t sacrificed to Truth, not this time. He knew the price would be too high. Life—real life—offered no short cuts.

How could he find someone else’s truth? How could he learn where Ling’s hid?

He just wanted to reach into the stone and pulled him out. If he could see what Ling saw, see Ling’s truth himself, he knew he could figure out how to bring him here.

He just needed a window.

He sat the can of beans in the cabinet. His notebook lay open on his bed. The philosophers stone lay on his bedside table. Someone had removed the stone and the vial from its spot in the center circle. Al had found him.

He collapsed into the chair, on top of his folded blanket and all. He hadn’t expected the end of this trip so soon. He thought he had another few weeks at least. His mind wandered, even as his mouth spoke.

“I guess Mei told you where I went?”

“Not for the reason you think.” Al stepped from behind the bedroom door. A round disc wrapped in a white cloth rested in his hands. “Mei found him.”

Al did not smile. Ed’s heartbeat picked up. His wandering mind snapped back to attention.

“What do you have, Al?”

“He’s not well, Ed.”

Ed closed his eyes. He prepared himself. All the words he’d rehearsed escaped him. He said the only words he could think. “I’ve got to see.”

Unwrapping the disc lasted longer than Ed’s patience. Al looked as tired as Ed felt. Whatever he’d seen in the disc, he didn’t want to share it.

The cloth fell away to reveal a silvered glass, etched with one of Mei’s pentacles. The design of this one was different—alchemic symbols of fire and air alternated at each point. In the center, the mark of Greed glowed faintly red.

“You’ll want to take a step back.” Al ignited the circle. He’d excelled in Alkehestry under Mei’s tutelage. Ed hadn’t benefitted from a lover’s constant guidance, so he was good but not well practiced. He wouldn’t have trusted himself with something like this.

The reflection flickered. Gold eyes shifted to black and back again. Ed reached for the glass. The reflection settled into black eyes, boxed in by unkempt black hair. The ponytail, the easy smile, the lazy posture was all gone. In Ling’s place, Ed found a shell.

Greed, despite his best intentions, had eaten Ling alive. His body was all there, but it was not as Ed had left it.

“Ling?” Ed called to him without thought. The Xingese would be emperor did not stir. His gaze was unseeing.

“I’m sorry, Brother.” Al pulled the cloth over the glass.

Ed grabbed his hand. “No.”

The single word crushed Al. He handed the disc over, quietly went to the bed, and turned his back. He wouldn’t leave. Ed knew this as well as he knew the snow fell outside. But he wouldn’t watch Ed tear himself to pieces over what he thought was a hopeless cause.

“You didn’t have to show me, you know. You could have hidden this. I may never have found him.”

Al snorted. “You’ve been at this for years, brother. I had to bring him to you.”

Al wouldn’t venture any closer to reassurance.

Ed knew what he’d have to do. He’d only try it as a last resort.

“I have food, Ling. Not much, but when I get you out of here, we’ll go for something better.” Ling didn’t move. Ed wasn’t sure the other man could hear him. He talked anyway.

He tried different methods throughout the night. Seeing Ling, he tried some of the old techniques again.

He tried to pull him through, first creating a Ling shell and then transmuting the person into the untrapped version of himself. The method had worked long ago, but the Philosopher’s stone was not a failed attempt at a gate to Truth. The stone was just a stone. It travelled nowhere.

So Ed tried again. He tried opening up the stone from what he could see of Ling’s surroundings. He chose a particularly glum patch of ground and tried to transmute a hole into it.

“I’ve got your jacket somewhere, too. You know, when you get out of there, you probably won’t have greed anymore. You can wear your own clothes again. I haven’t seen you in that yellow outfit in years.” Ed forced himself to sound positive. Ling would be out soon. He had to have hope. Ling hadn’t moved. Only the rise and fall of his chest gave Ed any clue he was alive. Ed wasn’t sure Ling even blinked. No hole formed in the ground beside him. Ed tried again.

“Lan Fan misses you. She checks in sometimes, but she has no stomach for bad news anymore. Mei helped me with research. Her notes say she sifted through the chi of the stone to find your chi markers. Now we’re able to see you.” He set the red vial beside the stone and tried again to transmute Ling from the stone. This time, he planned to have an intermediary vessel—something between Ling’s removal from the stone and the return to his form.

Ling’s time was fading. His lines were beginning to blur inside the glass. Ed didn’t think it was a sudden problem with the alkehestry. No. Ling was losing himself.

Ed didn’t know what to do. Whatever Ling’s Truth was, wherever his gate was, Ed wasn’t having any luck finding it. Attempt after attempt failed. He scrubbed a dozen circles off his floor before Al grabbed his hand one day to stop him. He was holding the disc.

In it, Ling was barely visible. Everything was edged in red. Ling’s eyes were closed. His body arched back, hair pushed up on the wall he’d leaned against. Tears left clean tracks against the grime built up on his cheeks. He said something.

Ed couldn’t hear.

“What’s happening, Ling?” Ed yanked the mirror hard from Al’s hands. Three years he’d been at this. For weeks he’d been able to see Ling. He’d assumed Ling couldn’t hear or feel, that whatever place he was stuck in eroded the senses. Now Ling looked pained. A crack formed down the middle of the glass. Ed lightened his grip. “Ling!”

Ling flickered away.

Panic seized Ed’s chest. For three solid beats, he didn’t breathe. Ling flickered back. His face was blank again. His eyes were open. The tears kept falling.

Ed couldn’t hear him, but he could see Ling’s mouth moving. At first, he couldn’t make sense of what he saw. Ling was repeating the same words over and over again. He followed the shape of the lips, cracked and dry.

I want… I want… I want…

“Al.” Ed put the glass carefully onto his bed. The crack lengthened. “Al, I’m out of time. Help me.”

Al turned from the window. “What did Truth say to you exactly, Ed?”

Ed explained the dream to him, how it had been the same dream every time Ed fell asleep since he’d talked with Truth to get Al’s body back. He had never shared the story. Truth had offered him a choice then—Al or Ling. Or at least, he was pretty sure that’s what the choice Truth offered. Either way, he wasn’t willing to risk it at the time. He’d never regretted it. He hadn’t wanted to burden Al with that knowledge. Despite everything, Al would have blamed himself for Ling’s loss. In denying Al this initial guilt, he’d denied himself Al’s help all this time.

“You’re not looking for Ling’s Truth. Ling is stuck in the stone. He has no power over where he is. Knowing his Truth won’t help you. No.” Al rubbed his hands over his eyes. “You’re looking for Greed’s. That’s his stone, right?”

Ed nodded. Greed was supposed to be able to come back using the Philosopher’s stone. All the others had used their stones to regenerate themselves if needed. As long as their stone, and some small part of themselves, existed, they could return. It’s how they lived so long. Ed assumed he’d needed to race against Greed’s regeneration.

He’d approached it all from the wrong angle.

He needed to convince Greed that what he wanted was Ling to come back alive. How did one convince Greed he wanted to give himself up so someone else could live?

Ed rubbed his hand over his eyes. Greed had done it once before. He could do it again. He just had to understand his Truth. As far as Ed knew, only one person had ever been close enough to Greed to know, and he was stuck in a useless stone.

“How can I talk to him? He’s a stone, it’s not like he has ears.” Ed wanted to throw the stone out the window and never see it again.

“There has to be some part of him left or the stone would be gone.” Al shrugged. “I know what you’re going to do, brother. You may as well do it. It’s not like Greed will stop you.”

Ed closed his eyes. Al was angry with him. He could feel it in the distance of the words. He could see it in the slump of Al’s shoulders. “I can’t just leave him, Al.”

“You think I don’t know?” Al’s voice raised, just a little. His temper deflated as quickly as it flared. “We finally get back and still you’ve got to be a hero. I can’t even pretend like I would do any different. Ling was family.”

“Is family. I’m going to bring him back. If I’m not back soon, have Mei make another mirror. Or maybe fix this one. Then you’ll know I’m alright.”

“Ling doesn’t look alright to me.” Al grabbed a piece of chalk. “It’ll be safer if I do the transmutation. Your alkehestry is shaky.”

Going into the stone was easy. Ed didn’t have to create somewhere for himself to go like he had to create a vessel for Ling. He wasn’t trying to get somewhere unknown. Ed was aware of what was being done. It was the difference between walking to the store and asking someone in a different country to leave the same store.

The transmutation still hurt. His entire body burned then turned weightless. He was in the stone but not, as well. Al didn’t need to transmute all of Ed. Only the part of him capable of travelling across gates.

Landing in Greed was not what Ed expected. Ling was nowhere to be found. Souls, tired and already lost, stretched out from the lining of the walls. Their groans chilled Ed’s blood. Some of the groans sounded like words, and those words were familiar.

I want… I want…

Ed walked, searching for Ling while he figured out how to approach his new goal. He had to bring Ling back from the edge—the Xingese would-be emperor was dangerously close to losing himself. But he didn’t have to wait until he found Ling to start convincing Greed.

But how?

Greed had kept Ling this long for a reason. And it wasn’t because he didn’t know what would happen to him once he’d stayed so long being ravished by Greed’s hunger. If he was already willing to sacrifice himself for Ling once, why hadn’t he already done it again?

“Greed, can you hear me?”

The groaning of the walls paused. Everything was quiet. Ed could hear a whisper far away—Ling had not stopped when the others had.

“What do you want?”

“You know why I’m here, Greed.” Ed moved towards the low sound of Ling’s voice. He could see only one wall beside him. Darkness swallowed the others, but they must look the same. “Where’s Ling? He deserves to be free.”

“Can’t, runt. He’s part of me.” The voice surrounded him. It was weak. “The part that’s alive.”

“Not yet he isn’t. He doesn’t have to be.” Ed strained his ears to hear. He was getting closer. “He still has a chance.”

“If he goes, what’s left?”

“You were willing to give him up before.”

“Yeah, when I was—” Greed stopped. The break off hung heavy in the air.

When what? Greed had thrown himself into Father before—there’s no way he could have survived. If Ling hadn’t been determined to save him, he would have died for sure. What could be different now? At least now he’d probably survive.

Ed’s steps faltered. The truth—Greed’s Truth—hit him like a steam train.

“You don’t want to live alone. You were going to die before, and that was alright. But now, only one of you can leave. That’s all the energy left in the stone. So if you let Ling go—”

“I’m stuck here, forever. Alone.” Greed laughed. The sound blew through the space around Ed like an empty breeze. “Never would have bothered me before, but your friend here had to point out that I like having friends.”

“Ling was always too perceptive for his own good.” Ed picked up his pace, keeping his steps even. “You’re going to let him die so you can keep him a little longer?”

“I’m not called Greed because I’m so selfless, kid.”

“You’ll still be alone.”

“I’ll die eventually.” Greed’s voice echoed. He sounded tired.

“If you give him back, I can destroy the stone. You won’t have to live with your loneliness.”

“Defeats the purpose of surviving doesn’t it?”

“Defeats the purpose of keeping him here if he’s just going to die, doesn’t it?” Ed shot back. Greed didn’t respond.

Ed ran. Ling’s mumbling grew less coherent, though Ed was certain he was close. Ling had to be just ahead.

He tripped over Ling’s legs. His shoulder jammed against the ground, one arm jutting out to grab Ling’s shirt.

The mumbling fell silent.

Ling had begun to sink into the wall. Now his eyes were open again. He was watching Ed.

“You’re not real.” Ling’s voice cracked.

“I am.” Ed was just glad Ling recognized him. He tugged Ling away from the wall. Red clung to him, pulling from his hair and clothes like spider silk.

“No. You shouldn’t be here.” Ling lifted a hand to Ed’s chest. He gave a weak push. “There’s no way out. Not even like last time.”

“I’m not all here. Al’s got me back home.” Ed was quiet. He pulled Ling’s arm around his shoulder. Dark hair spilled over his forearm, loose and tangled. “We’re going to find a way to take you out. You hear that Greed?! We’re getting him out of there whether you like it or not!”

Ed wondered if Al was watching, if he could hear them. If Al thought getting Ling back was hopeless, he’d call Ed back without him. Greed hadn’t been promising.

“Al?” Ling’s eyes slid over Ed’s face and down again. “You aren’t real.”

Ling had been here a long time. Ed didn’t know what it had done to his mind. There was a possibility Ling had seen something very similar to this once and it had been an illusion.

“I heard Mei has been practicing her dragon’s beard candy. She says you should try it.” Ed grunted, pushing Ling up onto his knees. “And Lan Fan has gone back to Xing. She says the Emperor is on the cusp of dying. He’ll need an heir soon. You’re famous in Xing already. You’d be even more famous if you,” he grunted and pushed himself to standing. Ling hung from him like a rag. “If you came back from the dead.”

Ling scoffed. Ed took the new response as an improvement.

“I’ve got your clothes at home. I’m ready to see you dressed like you again.”

He didn’t know where he was taking them. They couldn’t escape on their own two feet. The red seeping into Ling’s hair and clothes creeped him out, though. He had to get away from it.

“I’m afraid.” Ling didn’t move his legs to help Ed walk with him.

“Afraid of what?” Ed wanted to keep him talking.

“Of you.” Ling planted his feet, refusing to move.

Ed didn’t know what to say. Ling didn’t explain further. He watched Ed with his dark eyes, gaze steady and unblinking. One hand lifted and cupped Ed’s cheek. Ling’s skin was warm, his palm rough as the day he’d left. Three years hadn’t changed him much. Ed waited. Ling’s hand trembled against his skin.

Ling took a step forward, using Ed’s arm to balance himself. He approached with caution; each step slow. He didn’t stop until Ed’s chest was only a few inches from his. His hand remained on Ed’s cheek.

“You’re not real.” Ling sounded sure. It was not a question. He leaned down, pressed his lips against the corner of Ed’s mouth. Ed didn’t move.

His throat felt dry. His heart drummed so wildly in his chest it drowned out the low groan of the souls around them. A lot of things had been left unsaid between him and Ling. He thought he’d have time to prepare. Now all he could feel was the desperate want of having Ling out of here, of exploring this together.

Ling pressed another kiss against Ed’s cheek. “You look nearly as I remember you. My dreams have gotten creative with your outfit and your new arm. But it is still best I wake up.”

Ed could feel a tug in his stomach, like a string being pulled far away.

Al was calling him back. Too early.

“Ling, please, tell Greed you want to leave. Tell him to let you go.”

“I promised Green I’d never leave without him.” Ling snorted. “I have been telling him for so long. We are the same, Greed and I. We do not want to be alone. Not after finally finding someone.”

Ed clutched onto Ling’s hand, fighting the insistent tug of his soul to his body. “Please, don’t give up Ling. I’ll be back!”

Ed could hold on no longer. His hand fell through Ling’s, and he was gone. He could still feel the press of Ling’s kiss against his cheek.

Anger burned him up. It hadn’t been nearly enough time. Ling could have still come around. Together they may have found a way out. They’d done it before. He pivoted, ready to shout at Al, when he saw the paleness of his brother’s face.

“I thought I was too late,” Al whispered. “I thought I’d lost you, too.”

Al pointed to the circle.

Red particulate stirred across the chalk. The vial was empty. The Philosopher’s stone was gone.

Ed’s face felt hot. His body flashed cold. Knees buckling, he fell to the floor. Something must have used the last of Greed’s power. Was it him? Had he somehow used Greed’s power entering the stone?

“Al, I…” Al hurried to his side. His brother had always been quicker to hugs, to comfort, to understanding. Ed crumbled into the embrace and knew what it was to want so strongly it hurt. And no one could give him back what he’d lost.

The ghost of Ling’s kiss lingered on the corner of his mouth. Ed couldn’t even cry. Nothing felt real.

He heard a knock at the door. The sound barely registered.

He hadn’t told anyone where he’d gone. Al had only found him because they were brothers, linked through a bond that drew them together. Al could have found him in the dark across a hundred mazes. No one else had the luxury.

He ignored the knocking. No one on the other side of the door was anyone he wanted to see.

A heavy thump drew his attention again. This time the sound reminded him of a body falling.

He wasn’t even allowed to be in shock in peace.

Al lifted him and placed him carefully on the bed. Ed felt the cracked glass at his fingertips. So close, after so long of trying. Now the glass wouldn’t even work. There was no Ling to see—no dragon’s pulse to find him in.

Al opened the door. He didn’t move or shout to tell Ed who it was. Ed turned his back to the door. The start of tears pricked at his eyes. He just wanted to be left alone. Maybe he and Al could take a trip somewhere. Somewhere new. More places existed in the world than Amestris and Xing. Maybe more types of Alchemy existed too.

“Tell them to go away, Al.” Ed called over his shoulder.

“I don’t think so, Brother.” Al grunted. He was pulling whoever it was into Ed’s small cabin. So whoever it was probably needed help. For once, Ed was tired of helping.

Ed turned to face his brother. “I really don’t want to—”

His protest caught in his throat. Al’s grin practically lit up the room. In his arms, an exhausted and dirty Ling sighed. His clothes were rumpled, red still clinging to the crevices. Ed almost couldn’t believe it.

“So, I guess you were real after all. Greed let me go.” Ling wriggled across the floor. “You always were the charmer. What did you do, use force?”

Ed looked back at the red dust on the circle. “I promised to kill him, so he wouldn’t have to live alone.”

“I see. You were fast to act on your promise. I can’t sense him anywhere.” Despite the relief, Ed heard a twinge of sadness. Greed had been an ally and a friend in the end. He deserved his peace. Even still, he thought maybe Ling would miss him.

“I didn’t do it. Releasing you must have used the last of the power of his philosopher’s stone. He said you were the part of him that was alive.” Ed wanted to rush through all the obligatory exposition of what had happened while Ling was away. And yet, the room could have been the same if he’d found Ling just days after he’d been taken. Three years disappeared like nothing.

“I need to go call Mei and tell her you’ve found Ling.” Al shuffled his way to the door. “There’s a shop a little way down. I’ll be back. Maybe with better food than two cans of beans.”

“I’m starving.” Ling sat heavily in his chair. “Thank you, Al.”

Al very carefully didn’t glance back to Ed when he left. His brother was giving him the chance to use this time however he liked, with no added pressure of meaningful glances. If he wanted to just watch Ling and say nothing, he could.

“I have a lot of questions,” Ling stretched his legs and arms as far as they’d go. “I don’t really care about any of the answers right now.”

“What do you care about then?”

“If you were real inside of Greed, then you remember what I did?”

Ed was too exhausted to talk about feelings and possibilities and why exactly he’d spend three years fighting against the odds to pull Ling from the stone. So instead, he walked up and kissed Ling on the corner of his mouth. He kept his hands at his sides, kept his stance gentle and unaggressive. The last thing he wanted to do was pressure Ling into anything.

“Yes, my aim was off wasn’t it? I blame delirium.” Ling reached for Ed’s shoulder. His grip was not gentle or careful. Ling had been stuck inside Greed, after all. His chosen vice. This time his aim was true. His lips pressed against Ed’s, persistent even as Ed’s surprise made him unresponsive.

Ed kissed back.

They had a lot to talk about, he and Ling.

Lan Fan, Mei, the Emperor. Even, Ed was sure, Ling would want to talk about Greed and all the complications of their relationship. But right now, they did not need words.

The kiss was hungry and angry and awkward all at once. Ling’s lips were rough, dry. His body was too tired to respond, despite his wandering hands. Ed’s fingers kept running into clumps of tangles in his hair or strings of red buried in Ling’s clothes. All too soon, Ling pulled away. His eyes were bright. He grinned sheepishly at Ed and stepped back.

“This is more than I wanted, and I’m not still certain it’s not some dream Greed’s made to appease me, but I feel like I have never seen the inside of a shower. Would you mind?”

Ed hurried back three steps, his hand lingering on Ling’s arm until he couldn’t reach anymore and laughed. “I never expected everything to happen so suddenly. All your clothes are back in my apartment in Central. But I can see if Al brought something—you might have better luck with him. If you want to jump in the shower, I’m sure Al will be back soon.”

His stomach trembled, filling up the tense room with a low rumble.

Ling laughed. “Where is the shower?”

Ed gestured towards the door on the right. “Towels are in the cabinet.”

Ten minutes and a few stolen kisses later, and Ling disappeared into a warm steam. Ed pretended not to hear the broken sniffles. He couldn’t imagine how he’d react to freedom after three years locked in hell. The road to recovery would be long. Mental, physical, emotional. They’d have to take things slow, work things out as they came to it. Already Ed could see that Ling’s grasp on stability was shaky at best. How long until he fully believed Ed, and the rest of the world outside Greed, was real?

But for now Ling was back. And that was enough.

@edling-week

#edling #edlingweek19 #fmab #edward elric #ling yao

[boogiewrites]

Mae Flowers 4

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Mae LeBlanc (OFC)

Word Count:  4900

Summary: A modern, magical Alfie Solomons AU. 

Warnings/Tags: Language.Magic/Supernatural. Soul mates. Racism, microaggressions. Some domestic fluff, getting to know you stage. Talk of past neglect, depression, anxiety.

Click on my screenname then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

Mae wakes up for the second morning in a row well rested. She'd gone to bed with a full stomach, having eaten their weight in seafood and grits the night before. She felt more at ease today with the fact that there was a man living with her now. He'd stood up for her, helped her cook and put Ruth and Nance's minds at ease for. She felt a warm feeling when she thought of him. It could be the magic, she thought.

Her inner light was growing stronger, it was being fed with another power like it's own, the darkness stirring up her previously unstable energies, making it build and heal itself from all the years alone and unsure. Alfie gave her a strange sense of fullness, stability of sorts she hadn't expected. Normally having another person in her life would make her feel anxious, second-guessing everything she did at the expense of her own peace of mind to keep the other person comfortable. But that wasn't happening with him.

She throws on her robe, scratching her head and yawning big, the smell of coffee hitting her nose as soon as her slippers start bopping across the old hardwood floor towards the kitchen. Alfie stood leaned against the counter in pajama pants and a soft, sleep rumpled t-shirt. His hair was a mess, one side flat and the other sticking up, his eyes lazy with smacking lips as he scratched his stomach waiting on the coffee pot to deliver.

"Mornin' love." he says with a slow nod, his voice deep and sleepy.

"Mornin'." she grumbles, taking a seat at the table in a sunbeam.  Percy lets out a little 'mrrrrowl' of greeting, bumping his head to hers as she runs her fingers along his spine. "Hey Perce." she mutters, his tail swishing in her face and making her nose twitch. She's slowly waking up, Percy laid out in front of her on his back, trying to be cute and keep her attention.

"Hazlenut or French Vanilla?" Alfie asks, standing with the fridge door open, staring into the dull glow.

"Thought you could read my mind." she smirks, her head slowly turning to him.

"I can but you don't know which ya want." he retorts with a snarky smile.

"Hazlenut." she answers with a nod, watching him bring the two mugs over to the table as he plops down next to her, landing in the chair with a loud scoot of its legs across the floor.

So what's on the 'ol agenda today?" he asks, sitting up straight and cracking his spine.

"Uh... not much. We got ahead yesterday." she nods and closes her eyes, taking a sip of the hot liquid and letting it warm her from the inside out. "Thanks for that by the way." she says, eyes blinking open now, looking more alert.

"Don't mention it. I'm here to help." he nods and watches her over the steam rising from his mug.

"If you need to like, do stuff here today you can." she offers. "Just basic stuff for me today to do at the shop. No orders or anything. All caught up for the week." she states with a lazy smile of thanks. "If you wanna unpack and get used to the place... bond with Percy." she nods over the lazy white cat soaking up a sunbeam.

"I do have stuff I can do today with ya out. Get me things all situated. What do ya say Percy?" he asks the cat with a smirk on his face.

Percy raises his head and looks at him, blinking slowly.  A weak meow escapes him before he lays back down totally uninterested.

"He doesn't care." Alfie chuckles.

"Alright." she nods, taking a bigger sip. "I'm gonna take this." she holds the mug in both hands and stands. "Gonna get a shower and get ready and be on my way. Make whatever you want, Friday's are my day I get a smoothie on the way to work." she says and he feels her excitement about the future purchase.

"Will do. I'll keep it simple. Lots of liftin' 'n that to do today." he groans and stretches, as she waddles back into her bedroom. ---- The calm she'd felt at home felt farther and farther away the further she got from home. The usual heaviness, that quivering ball of nerves that told her something was wrong, that she was wrong started to grow back into its usual place in her stomach. Mae sips her berry smoothie and leans over the front counter, her jeans feeling a little tight today, her toes curling and uncurling in the ballet flats that matched her green t-shirt that she'd had made for her company. Her loose spiral curls dancing around her shoulders, the various shades of almost black brown catching the light that came through the high windows of the crowded and humid building. This would be the only moment of peace that she got for the day, as the downpour of things that made her want to crawl up and disappear seemed to hit all at once, leaving her dazed and confused.

First, Jessica shows up. She struts in the door tits first with her large Starbucks cup in tow, overlined lips sucking away at the straw. She doesn't even look at Mae until she's right in front of the counter.

"What do ya need today Jessica?" Mae asks with a perfectly polite attitude, setting her drink down to the side.

"Where's that big leprechaun you've got in here now?" she asks with a smirk as she looks into the back of the shop.

"Leprechaun?" Mae's nose wrinkles up in question.

"What was his name. The big guy with the accent in here yesterday." she replies obviously, jutting a hip out in her annoyance.

"Oh. Alfie." Mae answers flatly.

"Yeah that big boy." she grins.

"He's not working today." she answers, trying to remain indifferent.

"Oh." she slumps and pushes her lips together into a tight line.

"He's also not a leprechaun." she clarifies. "He's English. Not Irish. And don't call Irish people leprechauns, that's just... some weird kind've racist."

"They're white and ginger, who cares?" she says without a thought and rolls her eyes. "Not like I'm calling you the n-word or something." she retorts like it means anything and Mae takes a deep breath.

"I'm not black, I'm Hispanic." she clarifies with a more forceful voice.

"Well, it's not like I'm calling you a... what's a racist word for a Mexican?"

"I'm Spanish not..."

"Tacos? Burritos? IS that something? Beans! Wait, no... Mexican jumping beans, yeah. Wait... that's not it."

"I know what you're thinking and there's no reason to say it. What do you want?" she answers more curtly.

"To see Alfie. He won't be in today?"

"No." another flat response.

"What's he doing today? Where's he at? What's his deal?" her inquisition begins, waving her cup in the air as she speaks.

Mae sighs and goes back to her smoothie. "He's at home. I don't know what he's doing. That's his business and you should respect his space. He was clearly not interested when you talked to him yesterday."

"He's just playing hard to get. You know guys, they act like assholes and you just have to get them to like you by doing stuff for them and letting them make fun of you sometimes. It's all part of it. Not like you would know. Not like anyone's trying to get with you." she snaps back.

"No, but that's..." Mae lets out a  heavy sigh. "Whatever." she gives up and takes a noisy sip of her drink.

"So he lives with you?" Jessica says with a tilt of her head. "You said at home. If not where does he live, you probably have that on file for his employee records or something, right?" she asks , leaning over the counter.

"He does live with me." she decides to not address the clear violation giving an employees persona information would be as she figures it's pointless.

"Wait... so are you guys like a thing?" she says with a clearly disgusted look on her face.

"No. He's a friend of a friend, he's new in town and needed a place to stay and I had a spare room."

"I have a whole guest house if he wants to stay with me. Got a pool and a hot tub." she grins. "So let him know I've got a real house for him to stay at if he wants."

"Are you saying my house is abstract?" Mae chuckles to herself.

"What?" she says with a twist of her neck.

"Nothin'." Mae rolls her eyes.  "If you don't need anything I've got stuff to do... so..." she says, looking over at the tall blonde under her lashes.

"You were just standing here so SORRY... thought you had free time." she retorts.

"I just opened. I have to let the systems boot up." she explains with a deadpan delivery.

"Is he workin' tomorrow?" she asks, one hand on the counter.

"No, we're closed tomorrow."

"Then Monday then?"

"Maybe." Mae shrugs.

"He's your employee, why don't you know?" she bites back.

"Because he's new here and he might need off to run errands to get everything settled." she says offers up. "Not that it's any of your business." she mutters.

"You just let your employee take off like that? Not knowing if he'll work and he can just drive around town all day?" she asks seriously.

Mae sighs again and takes another drink, not answering as a pain grew between her eyes.

"I wanna work for you then, dang." she laughs, her mood shifting fast. "Oh my God, ARE you hiring? I'd be willing to get my hands dirty for that little... whatever he is."

"He's English." Mae rolls her eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh.

"Little... what do English people do? Drink?" she asks seriously.

"Jessica I'm not hiring and just... please go, I have things to do." Maw says with a clear tone of exasperation.

"Fine. But I'll be back on Monday to see Alfie." she sass's taking a long drink from her straw as she walks backward, keeping an eye on Mae who watches her bump into a shelf as she tries to look cool making her exit.

"Bye Jessica." Mae says shaking her head.

"Tell Alfie I said Hiiiiii." she says before leaving.

"What an idiot." Mae says rubbing her forehead.

With a thoroughly racist and rude conversation to start the day, the day only picks up speed from there. A phone call comes in, an irate customer claiming she'd sabotaged her party. An order that was entered incorrectly by the customer, a miscommunication of what sort of flowers they wanted in their arrangements. Mae didn't know how this woman had written down Black-eyed Susan's instead of sunflowers on her order sheet, or picking a Transvaal daisy over a  shasta daisy, but she was certain this woman was overreacting at how the arrangements ruined her church's barbeque. Mae had pictures of flowers next to the names of them in her big folder that sat on the top of the shop counter specifically for this reason. She gave the book to customers coming in to make orders and it wasn't her fault she filled out the order how it was written and what the woman wrote wasn't right. She couldn't read her mind. But still, she was blamed, getting dog cussed for all she was worth, the woman even bringing the Lord into it and telling her she'd had to refund her in full. Which was in no way happening. After you sign off on the delivery sheet, everything is final. No refunds. There was a chance to say they were wrong before she signed, that's why Mae set it up that way. But the woman wouldn't listen and Mae ends up just saying 'I'm Sorry.' to everything she says, taking the abuse.

The woman gives up eventually after a few people are waiting for her attention for the lunch rush. She works as fast as she can, but the line grows as a little old lady requires her undivided attention, asking about every flower, telling her stories about the flowers her husband used to bring her when he was alive. On a slow day Mae would've indulged her fully but with customers waiting behind her the stress was sky high.

She apologizes and leaves the lady to talk to herself, ringing out people as fast as she can while they give her dirty looks. She had great pride in being a good business owner and people thinking she was bad at her job made her a mess. A child that was with a negligent parent that had been waiting, knocks over a shelf of succulents, her biggest sellers, destroying the handmade pots she'd made for them. In all, the day was a total shit show.

She shuts the shop up and cries as she finally gets around to cleaning up the broken pieces of pottery, nestling her little friends into one big pot for the weekend to deal with on Monday. She apologizes to them and she feels they understand, her tears falling into the new soil as she sniffles and packs them in. She hesitantly throws away the shattered pieces of pottery, thinking off all the time she spent painting and glazing each, how much time and money lost on them. How she'd have to ask for half the price until she could make more holders for the plants. A personal and a professional loss all in one.

She doesn't even skate home as she usually would. She throws her skates in her oversized work bag and walks, her feet feeling as heavy as her heart. Everything about the day had drained her. Her body was tired, her chest hurt from a racing heart all day from embarrassment and anxiety. Her pride took a hit from the disappointed looks from the customers. She takes a heavy breath, hand on the doorknob, hoping that Alfie wasn't about to add to the bad day she'd had.

As soon as she opens the door, the feeling she'd left the house with hits her again. She wipes her tear stained cheeks, setting her bag down by the end of the couch, seeing everything clean and tidy with candles lit and the smell of food coming from the kitchen. The house smelled amazing, it somehow felt amazing, like getting into a hot bath after the end of a long day. The build of depression holds strong as she sees everything he's done for her while she'd been out.

"Hello Mae!" he calls out cheerfully. "Ya need help with anyfing?" he says, moving pots around the stove top. "Give me just a second love and I'll be right in to help ya." he calls out over his shoulder.

She comes around the corner, her face was sunken and clearly upset, taking in the sight before her. A kitchen filled with a home cooked meal for them both. She sees bread in the oven, lasagna sitting on the table as he switches off burners and pushes the rest of a chopped head of lettuce into a large salad bowl. A tin of muffin batter sits on a tea towel at the end of the counter. She gets a swirling feeling in her stomach. It builds quickly and she starts to sob, putting her head in her hands.

He turns, wiping his hands on a towel as his eyes grow large at the sight before him. Her glow was dull, her curls falling into her face as her hands with their yellow chipped polish covered her crying face.

"No, no love now that won't do." he says, moving quickly over towards her. He takes her into his arms without a moments hesitation. "Come here, little Mae." he coos out, holding her to him. As much as he may have wanted, he didn't have much healing magic to pass around, he wasn't really a healer so much as a destroyer of things. "Shhh, there, there, love." he pats his hand on her thick hair, the smell of her shampoo rising up as he leans his face in close. She feels the warmth around her, the soft-spoken kind words from this man who had swept in and taken care of her without expecting anything in return. She felt her chest thump, her stomach building again and more sobs are pushed out as she lets herself wrap her hands into his t-shirt and press her forehead against his chest.  

He wears a deep-set frown, not knowing what was wrong, her thoughts a roller coasting of emotions, totally unstable and making his dizzy when he tried to read them. Her magic and mind were working hard and fast and he knew something must've set off the sensitive little thing she was. "Now lovely, we can talk 'bout what's got ya upset, or we don't have to say nuffin'." he gives a nod, putting his hands to her shoulders to pull her away, taking a handkerchief that was older than her out of his pocket and giving it to her.

She wipes her eyes and blows her nose with a little toot of a sound that makes him smile as she sniffles, nose twitching like a little rabbit. "I just wanna eat and sleep." she answers, staring into his chest, not looking up at him. Her voice was small but she felt smaller. She fought the urge to tell him she didn't deserve all this special treatment, she didn't understand why someone would be doing all these nice things for her. No one else ever had. Her last caregivers, the ones who left her the house had been good people, but they never coddled her. They never cleaned for her, held her while she cried, stood up for her when others would try to bring her down. They'd always left her to her own devices. She'd never had anyone to treat her like something worth going the extra mile for. It was all a bit too much on her weak shoulders after the day she'd had.

"Well lemme finish up dinner and you go get comfy and cozy on the couch and I'll come get ya and we'll take care of that 'eatin' bit, eh?" he suggests, rubbing her upper arms as he spoke to her with a voice that she could feel warming her from the inside out. Her light tried to fight past the years of neglect to make her bloom and be able to draw from that endless well of love she had so she could give it to her herself and not just those around her. But she was still weak, and there was time to grow. So it settles, feeling it's mate so close and humming in wait with a baseline of contentment.

She takes one of the fuzzy throws on the couch and wraps it around her, grabbing one of her decorative pillows and wrapping her arms around it to try to get comfy for a moment. She falls asleep while the bread is baking, her body giving over to a much-needed recharge after the stress that the day put her through.

Alfie pulls the muffins out and lets them cool, wiping his hands and giving a nod to the first big meal he'd cooked in decades. Being alone there wasn't much of a reason to cook big and when the last group of people he ran with being musicians in the 90's, he'd never had a reason to cook for a group of people. But now he had plenty of reasons to dust off the old domestic skills that his mother and sisters had helped him learn. The baking was more familiar, as per his old cover for his criminal days, but the meals were what took the most focus. With Mae's plethora of fresh herbs to use, and come harvest time a garden full of fresh produce, he was sure cooking would be something he used to help both of them learn some new skills.

He ponders what he should cover with her the next day as he watches her sleep on the arm on the couch. A headful of curls on top of a fuzzy blanket, her lips smushed out against the pillow she clutched in her arms.

"Mae." he says gently, leaning in close, a hand to her arm to rub her awake. She grunts and puffs out air between her pink and pouted lips but doesn't wake. The softness of her makes him smile, he enjoys it a moment without having to worry about making her uncomfortable. The long dark lashes spread out over freckled cheeks, her full brows set in a scowl. All curled up under the blanket she looked so small, and he supposes compared to him she is. Standing just a bit over five feet tall he supposes, her shorter frame gives her a stocky and soft appearance. With round hips that only slightly narrowed into thick thighs, he sees her small feet sticking out from the covers. Yellow nail polish to match that on her fingers on her toes. It wasn't only her body, her hair or her sweet face with it's round, button nose that was soft but her heart was as well. He could feel her power humming quietly, even it was still timid. His darkness wants it to burst, to flow out of her as it can do within him. It wants to soak up that innocence, that sweet softness that she's made of. His closes his eyes, his darkness rumbling, soaking up her delicate heat into its cold center, Alfie feels his limbs tingle, a prickling warmness that only she could give to him.

He exhales slowly, a hand soft to her hair, pushing it back. "Mae." he says, moving to give her nose a gentle tap.

"Mmph." she grunts, nose twitching as he eyes flutter open and meet his before she sits up to straighten her back, rubbing her eyes.

"Dinner's ready, love." he says, standing back up straight.

"'Kay." she mumbles, sitting in a daze as she wakes.

He beams at her, a smile she doesn't see. "Come on to the table when ya ready." he suggests, moving to go set their places.

She plops into a chair, the sleep slowly leaving her body as she watches him move around the kitchen, a towel over his shoulder as he cuts and plates her food.

"Now 'is I learned from an Italian, yeah? Found a wonderful little market when I when shoppin' today 'n got fresh cheese." he says proudly. "I went 'n did some of your shoppin' as well while I's out. Got more cleanin' supplies since I used most of 'em today. Got the bathroom and the kitchen. Dusted and vacuumed." he nods casually while trying to recall everything he did, wanting to let her know what he'd been up to, letting her know he was useful to her. "Already watered and fed all the babies." he chuckles. "Although I think a few in the greenhouse could use a personal touch. Wasn't about to try it meself. I'd just mess up all your hard work. So I figured we could start wif those tomorrow hmmm? Start simple with somefin ya like."  He moves his eyes to hers and finds a puzzling look on her face. Her eyes give true meaning to the term puppy dog eyes. Her mouth is slack, partially open and her big hazel eyes are glimmering at him. Not tears yet, but the look in her eyes says lots of things. He feels that loneliness that resides in her throbbing stronger. He decides to switch the conversation. "I made the bread, eh? That flour you use is top notch, love." he tries giving her compliments but it doesn't seem to help. "Used some cherry tomatoes out of the greenhouse for the salad, hope ya don't mind. The muffins are ready as well, made 'em with blueberries I found at the grocery. Hope ya like those." he continues plating her food. He doesn't look at her face, not wanting to seem nosey as she was clearly going through something. But he sees big fat tears fall onto the table top and he can't stop himself. As soon as he makes eye contact, he sees her face much like a baby's, a trembling bottom lip, wet rosy cheeks rounded before her face contorted and she hid it in her hands. "Oh come now, little one." he says dropping the utensils and kneeling next to her. "What is it love?" he rubs her back gently in a circle, his palm tingled as he felt the chaos inside her. Mending her was going to be a very messy job.

"Why are you so nice to me?" she chokes out between sobs.

His chest aches, his face falling out of it's friendly and polite expression he'd held in place for her sake. "Oh Mae," he whispers, pulling her to his chest. "There, there." he shushes her. "Why would I not be nice to you? You've been nothing but nice to me." he explains. "You're my mate. Your well bein' is me own, I would only be hurtin' myself to not try to take care of you." He invades her privacy, shutting his eyes and trying to see what was causing all the trouble.

He feels the day she'd had. He sees a lifetime of abandonment and neglect. All the bullies growing up, all the hardships she was given to overcome from a young age. An absent father, a childhood spent in the system and an adult life of loneliness and rejection. Putting herself out there time and time again to be met by men who didn't care or understand. He didn't see the loneliness, he felt it. He felt her bed only ever being empty and cold, he feels her heart struggling to maintain it's one-sided giving when no one would replenish it. Her power touches him as he's washed in all this hurt she knows. The light shines within her. With his eyes shut he can see it, glowing like the sun on an overcast day, trying to break through the barrier of gloom that spread across it. He can feel it's tired, that it's just as lost as her. But he most importantly feels that it knows he's there, whether Mae knows or understands it herself. Her power knew better things were ahead for them and Alfie felt more certain he would protect and help this beautiful soul as long as he could.

"I just... No one's ever... I'm not used to it. It feels..."

"Like you don't deserve it." he finishes her thought, hearing it ring true in his own head for so long.

"Yeah," she says with a whimper, looking back up at him. "How did you?" she trails off, wiping her nose.

"Because I know it too." he nods, using his handkerchief to wipe at her face. "But it's not true. Don't listen to that voice. It's a liar." he says sternly. "You deserve the world, Mae. You are bright and full of love and good and the world needs that so very desperately. You deserve every bit of kindness that comes your way. Don't you dare think differently."

Her doe eyes blink up at him, never having heard something like that said to her before in all her almost thirty years. "I..." she begins, not knowing where to finish her thought.

"You just sit and think about that, yeah?" he gives her a nod. "Let's eat on the couch." he suggests. "We'll stop this cryin'. We'll go get cozy and we'll eat until we can't breathe and that'll make ya feel better. Watch somethin' ya like?"

She nods and swallows noisily.

"Good girl." he gives her back a pat before pulling away. "Now go get ya blankets and I'll grab the plates." he says with a self-assured tone.

She lowers her head, eyes on the ground as she gets them each a blanket. He gets everything else in order and they flip through Netflix together, large plates of food sitting on pillows in their laps.

"What do ya like, eh? Nature documentaries I bet." he suggests and she gives a small but enthusiastic nod as she sticks her fork into her lasagna.

They sit together, side by side, eating the towering plates of homemade food. Alfie talks over the narrators, sharing things he knew, but mostly making up his own narration in an attempt to make her smile. "Now 'is one ain't lookin' for a mate, he's lookin' for trouble. He thinks 'is one's been talkin' shit, yeah. By the looks of 'em I'd say he's right. Look at those little shifty beady eyes, ya can't get that look past me." he wags his finger at the TV and looks down to see her smiling after a tiny huff of a laugh escapes her. "There she is." he says proudly, giving her a nudge with his elbow. She looks up at him bashfully for a shared glance, before turning her face back to the tv with a tiny smile that told him she'd be just fine.

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