#i am gonna flee and cut off all contact with them

[cuquitalocita]

a new addition- rowaelin

AN: okay, a bunch of you guys asked for a part two to this fic so here it is! it’s longer than i meant for it to be and it’s not my favorite but i hope you guys like it- by the way the name eliora is not mine originally- i can’t remember who used it but it was not me so feel free to tag people if you know :)

part one

~~

“And then what?” Her voice was eager.

Aelin shrugged, her lips tilting up into a small smile as she gazed at the green eyes across from her. “Then he kissed me.” Being completely honest, Aelin could remember the kiss as if it was yesterday. Could still feel his hard body pressed against hers and the fading taste of alcohol on his lips. 

“Bullshit,” a voice scoffed from behind her. Aelin whirled to face the matching turquoise eyes and she arched a brow, causing him to visibly swallow. 

“Excuse you? As far as I recall, I don’t remember you being there.”

Her son shook his head, plopping down on the open area of the couch beside her and taking her feet into his lap. “I didn’t need to be,” he shrugged. “You and Dad tell the story often enough. Everyone knows that you-”

He was cut off as Eliora’s hand slapped over his mouth. “No spoiling, Sammy! I wanna hear the story!” Aelin laughed at her six-year-old and pulled her onto her lap, kissing her cheek as she did so. She gazed at Eliora for a moment; she truly was a beautiful child, even if Aelin was a little bias. 

“That’s right, Eliora,” Aelin grinned at her daughter. “And what did we say about spoiling?”

“Don’t do it,” she replied definitively with a firm shake of her head. Aelin couldn’t help but squeeze Eliora a bit tighter as she opened her mouth to continue the story. Her mouth closed as another body entered the living room. 

“What are we doing?” Nehemia asked, coming to sit by her twin on the couch. Shoulder to shoulder, Aelin’s eyes stared back at her. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Mama’s telling me a love story,” Eliora gushed to her sister, her green eyes alight with childlike excitement. “The greatest of all time!” 

Nehemia gazed at Eliora with pure love, even as she leaned over to whisper something in her brother’s ear. Aelin was just able to hear, “She’s telling it again, huh?” 

“I told you we should have gone to Aunt Lys’s house,” was her son’s muttered response. Nehemia snorted, leaning back over the couch until she was eye to eye with Eliora. 

“Greatest of all time, huh? Must be a good one.” Her eyes twinkled with a mischievous glint Aelin could only credit to herself. 

“It is,” Aelin finally cut in. “And if you would stop interrupting, I would be able to finish it.” 

The sixteen year-olds rolled their eyes, gazing at one another in a silent language only they could understand. But Aelin didn’t need to hear their dialogue to understand that they had heard the story enough times. But Aelin couldn’t help it. She just loved telling it. Gazing at the sparkling emerald on her finger, Aelin didn’t think she would ever get sick of telling it.

“So, as I was saying.” She bounced Eliora playfully in her lap until she giggled. “He kissed me and-” 

“Aelin Galathynius Whitethorn, you better not be telling my daughter that I kissed you at that party!” Aelin had been so absorbed in her kids that she had barely registered her hulking husband walking into the room. He stood at the door, arms crossed in front of his body as he glared at her, emerald eyes meeting turquoise in a clash of passion. Rowan was still in his work clothes, clearly having just arrived, and Aelin was really trying not to drool at how good he looked with his hair ruffled and his tie undone around his neck.

She threw up her hands with an exasperated sigh.

“Gods, what does a girl have to do to finish a story around here?” 

The floor of their living room creaked as Rowan came to sit beside Aelin and Sam on the couch, his gaze never leaving hers. Rowan leaned forward, catching Aelin’s lips with his for a quick kiss before settling back down on the couch. Nehemia immediately rested her head on her father’s shoulder and was rewarded with a warm kiss to the top of her head. 

Aelin gazed at them with fondness, love filling her heart. Until her husband’s gaze locked with her own once more, and Aelin smirked. 

“You cannot keep telling people that,” Rowan shook his head before turning to their youngest, taking her from Aelin’s lap and shooting his wife an exasperated look. “Eliora, do you remember what Mama and I told you about lying?”

From across from her, Aelin watched Sam snort. He swallowed as his gaze met hers, smile dropping. 

Eliora’s tiny eyebrows scrunched up at the top of her head, the look identical to one Aelin constantly saw on Rowan’s face. Finally, she shook her head, gazing up at her father. “It’s… wrong?”

“That’s right,” Rowan smiled down at her. “And we don’t do it. Even if Mama does.” He looked at the gape on his wife’s face before looking down at their daughter once more. “Especially if Mama does.” Aelin stuck her tongue out to her husband, who finally cracked a smile at her. This one sent warmth all the way down to her toes.

“Does this mean Mama can’t finish the story?” Eliora asked, her voice turning sad as she gazed between her family. Rowan laughed, bouncing her up and down before looking at the twins and back at Aelin, an unmistakable look of triumph in his eyes. 

“Oh, no no no,” he replied, grinning. “Daddy’s here now. And I’m gonna tell you what really happened. I didn’t want to be at that party, to begin with...” 

Aelin didn’t need him to, even if their kids did. She remembered everything about that night. Everything about the days and weeks following she didn’t think she would ever forget them until the day she died. It wasn’t every day you kissed the love of your life at a shitty fraternity rager.

~~

Rowan sat in the kitchen nursing his long since warmed beer. Shitty rap music blared through the speakers around him and it was then that he decided he was better off going back to his dorms before he did something he would regret. 

It had been an hour since the kiss. An hour until he had finally gotten to understand what the hype of kissing Aelin Galathynius was. She was a lot of things- but a bad kisser wasn’t one of them. Rowan had sworn to every god imaginable he could handle a kiss with the infuriating blonde. It was just a kiss, right? Just a game.

But her lips had touched his and Rowan knew something was very very different. He hadn’t been able to get the smell of lemon and verbatim out of his senses for the past hour and it was unlikely that he would stop imagining the kiss any time soon.

But it was just a kiss. He didn’t like Aelin Galathynius. 

She was annoying, and loud, obnoxious, and rude, and she lived to annoy him.

So why couldn’t he stop thinking of her? Even before the party, after their failed project, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about those damn turquoise eyes. 

It wasn’t that he hated everything about her. No- he had noticed the kind voice she would take when talking to Lysandra’s little sister. And he would be a fool not to notice the special smile that lit up her face when she would play with her dog or talk about literature. No, he didn’t hate her. But whatever he did feel was proving to be extremely problematic. Because there was no way she felt the same way. 

Yes- it was definitely time to go home. 

Making his way out from behind the kitchen counter, Rowan made to leave the kitchen just as the door went flying open. The sound of laughter rang through the door and Rowan stared at the exact person he was hoping to be done with for the night.

“Not likely, Moonbeam,” she was saying with a shake of her head, even though a spark glimmered in her blue eyes. Rowan had to consciously check himself from staring for too long as Aelin realized who was standing in front of her.

Her hand flew to her chest with wide eyes. “Jesus, Rowan, you scared me!” 

Rowan thought it was the first time she had ever said his name. He quite liked the sound of it from her lips. 

He was staring again. Full-blown staring at the woman in front of him as he contemplated what to say or do. He was coming up blank. Every thought in his mind seemed to be screaming at him at once. Some saying to run- to flee and never come into contact with her again, others saying to grab her and kiss her. All of them agreed she looked breathtaking in front of him. Like a golden angle.

“Ditto, Galathynius,” he managed out, earning a frown from Aelin. The action brought his gaze to her lips and he quickly looked away. Aelin seemed to have changed as well. Gone was the snarky woman who had spilled her beer all over him, replaced with a beautiful woman who he might’ve been friends with in another life. 

“Hey, can we-” 

“You know you may want to switch to a different conditioner,” he cut her off, saying the first thing he could think of to leave the conversation. “Your hair’s a little dry.” 

Aelin gaped at him, her once lidded eyes turning cold and hard as she scoffed, shoving past him further into the kitchen. “Charming as ever, Whitethorn,” she sniped. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” 

~~

Eliora clapped from her place on her father’s lap.

“It was true love’s kiss!” she cried, earning a laugh from her siblings and parents. It had definitely been something, that was for sure.

“I don’t know…” Aelin mused. “I thought true love’s kiss was reserved for princes, the bravest of them all.” Eliora frowned, as did the twins as their gazes switched to their father. 

“I am brave!” Rowan squawked, eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about, Aelin?”

“Why, my dear husband,” Aelin placed her hand on her chest, pretending to be affronted. “It seems you’ve forgotten what happened afterward.” Realization dawned on Rowan’s face before retreating back into a frown. He seemed to hold Eliora tighter as he glared at his wife. 

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” he muttered, voice low.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam interrupted his parents from his side of the couch. “What do you mean what happened afterward?” This was a part of the story that neither one of their teenagers had heard before. Whether they were too young to understand it, or it had never come up, the twins were now fully invested in the story. 

“Yeah,” Nehemia joined in. “You guys got together after the kiss at the party. That was it, right?” At their parents’ silence, the twins looked at each other before bolting upright in their seats. 

“Right?” they asked in unison. 

Rowan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. It seemed it was time for a sequel to their family tale. 

~~

Rowan was sure there should be a ditch where his feet had paced through the grass in front of Aelin’s dorm. Cursing to whatever gods there were, Rowan forced his feet to stop moving. How was he supposed to apologize to Aelin if he couldn’t even stop pacing from the nervousness of just thinking about it?

It hadn’t taken long after Rowan had left the party for him to realize what an idiotic prick he had been. He had been tempted to drive over to her dorm right then and there and grovel for her forgiveness. But ultimately he had decided against it, choosing instead in favor of avoiding a hangover. 

But he was sober now, and an apology was necessary. More than necessary. 

He had apologized to people before. He had begged his professors for extensions and apologized after a falling out with an old friend. But he had never planned on asking out any of the people he had been apologizing to. Two days and Rowan had refused to talk about the kiss with anyone. To be honest, he had tried to forget about it himself.

But it seemed it was destined to never leave his mind for the rest of his existence. And as he played the kiss back in his mind, he couldn’t say he minded it. It had been a rude awakening to realize he may have had feelings for Aelin Galathynius. To go from loathing the girl in his chemistry class to suddenly picturing her face everywhere was a big change, and Rowan didn’t know what to do about it. 

Rowan wasn’t stupid. Aelin Galathynius was a beautiful person. Gorgeous looks aside, the woman had a pure heart of fire and gold. Of course, he had noticed this in sullen silence, but that wasn’t the point. He could acknowledge her wicked intelligence and her need to fight for something that was important to her. And he knew that she loved unconditionally. 

Whether he liked it or not, he had kissed Aelin back, and that had been all him. 

He wanted to do it again. 

“Fleetfoot, slow down! Hang on a second Lys- Fleetfoot, no!” Rowan whipped around as he heard Aelin’s voice come from behind him. Sure enough, the golden beauty walked along the sidewalk to her dorm, dog leash in hand. 

She was dressed in a university sweatshirt and leggings that showed off the curve of her legs, so much so that Rowan was forced to look away. Her phone was between her ear and shoulder as she spoke with who Rowan assumed to be Lysandra. He held back a smile as the massive golden retriever yanked her along the road, apparently following a particularly interesting squirrel. 

“I’m telling you, Lys,” she was saying as she came closer, clearly still not seeing him. “It’s not li-” Her feet came to a sudden stop and Rowan’s head snapped up to see her gaze was already on his, eyes wide. Aelin opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Rowan couldn’t find he had anything to say either. Her golden hair ran down her back and Rowan found himself fighting the urge to twirl a strand of it around his finger. She really was breathtaking. 

“Lys, I’ll call you back,” she said, eyes not leaving his as she took the phone from her shoulder and ended the call. “Rowan? What are you doing here?” 

It was his turn to struggle for words. How would he even bring it up? A week ago the two were on nothing more than insulting terms. She had infuriated him- had tried every nerve in his body and every bit of anger he had. But now… 

Aelin’s brows were raised in anticipation. Are you going to answer?

Rowan coughed, finally thrown out of his reverie. Who was he kidding? Aelin didn’t want to go on a date with him? Aelin didn’t want to go anywhere with him. And he couldn’t blame her. Rowan had been nothing but a prick to her since the moment they had met, and it was truly coming back to bite him in the ass. 

“Uh, Aedion told me he left something in Lys’s room.” The lie rolled off of his tongue easily enough, yet he hoped Aelin would be able to see through it. It seemed that she didn’t.

“Oh,” she said, understanding and almost shame clouding her words. “Right. What is it? Do you wanna come inside to find it?” Aelin’s dog sat obediently at her heels, looking between the two college kids in silent wonder. 

Yeah, dude, Rowan wanted to say. I don’ know what’s happening either.

“No,” he shook his head. “It’s Aedion’s problem. I just thought I could find it before class started but I think it’s too late. He’ll come around later for it.” 

“Right,” Aelin said doubtfully, crossing her arms in front of her body and looking at him.

“Right,” Rowan repeated back to her, causing Aelin to raise another brow. He wanted to push it back down. “Well, I’m gonna go- get to… class. So- bye Aelin.” He was gone before she could say anything else, giving her his back and practically sprinting back toward his side of campus. 

Rowan Whitethorn was an idiot. He knew it. But one look from Aelin and the cold fear that had rushed through his body had him wanting to curl up into a ball and never speak to her again. But he had to. Rowan would have to talk to her again if he was going to find out who was truly behind those stunning blue eyes.

But even at the thought of speaking to her again-

~~

“Hold on, hold on, I know where this is going,” Nehemia interrupted her father before he could continue his sentence. “You avoided her didn’t you?” As Rowan’s cheeks flamed, Sam sat upright in his seat, a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“No way. You avoided her?” Aelin cackled as Rowan grumbled something under his breath, earning herself another glare. Nonetheless, Aelin tucked herself under her husband’s arm, reaching up to plant a kiss on his cheek. He seemed to soften at the touch, green eyes meeting hers in a look so full of love Aelin thought she might explode. 

“Well, what is it, old man?” Sam prompted. Rowan scowled at his son and daughter, both of who looked ready to pass out from restrained laughter. 

“Only for a couple of weeks,” he muttered lowly. 

“A COUPLE OF WEEKS?” Sam exploded, his laughter finally ringing out through the house as he fell back into the couch, holding his stomach. Nehemia glared at her brother and poked him in the stomach. It didn’t seem to matter as Sam sat up, still grinning. “And you call me a coward for not asking Asterin Havilliard out.” 

“You are a coward for not asking Asterin Havilliard out,” Rowan shook his head, running a hand down his face. Nehemia nodded, offering her father a high five which he quickly returned. She was such a daddy’s girl. 

“It’s true honey,” Aelin cut in, even as her son glared at her. “Dorian knows she likes you.”

“The world knows she likes him,” Nehemia said, exasperated. “Now get back to the story. Mom,” she turned to Aelin. “Did you know Dad was lying about having places to be?”

Aelin snorted, running her hand through the hair at the nape of Rowan’s neck which seemed to be even redder than it had been moments before. “Of course I did. His excuse was that he had to go to class. It was Sunday.” 

It was Nehemia’s turn to crackle now and Rowan looked downright offended. It wasn’t often that his oldest daughter wasn’t on his side. Aelin leaned into Rowan’s shoulder, delight running through her body as he placed a chaste kiss on her temple. 

“You’ll pay for this,” he mumbled into her hair. 

Her eyes said it all. I’m looking forward to it, Buzzard. 

“What happened? What happened?” Eliora’s voice dragged Aelin back to the present. She was sure her youngest had no idea what was going on at this point in the story, but Rowan continued nonetheless. 

~~

It was three weeks before he saw her again. Three weeks of avoided group hangouts and staying in his dorm room during parties. Three weeks of taking a longer route than normal to all of his classes, and three weeks of wishing he could speak to the girl he couldn’t get out of his head. 

Rowan was sitting at a picnic table in the middle of one of the university quads, textbook open and highlighter in hand. He hadn’t actually understood any bit of what he had read, but at least it looked like he was doing something. And it seemed to be working pretty well for his other problem.

“Fleetfoot, get back here!” Or not. 

Rowan tried not to draw attention to himself as Aelin ran past his table, after the massive bundle of golden fur that was running away from her. He watched as she chased her dog around the quad, finally giving up as she layed on the ground, arms splayed wide. It wasn’t long before Fleetfoot was back and licking her face. 

He felt Aelin’s laugh all the way to his heart.

~~

“Ten bucks says he grows a pair and asks her out.” Sam had long since abandoned his spot on the couch in favor of sitting on the ground to watch his father intently as he told the story. He had muttered the words to his sister, whose feet were right by his head. She too was looking at her father intently.

“Twenty says he keeps ignoring her until happenstance pushes them together.” 

Rowan rolled his eyes at his children, even though the spark in his green eyes showed he was more than amused. “Your mother was right. It is impossible to finish a story in this house.” 

“Gods,” Sam said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe my dad was such a pus-”

“Let’s see how fast I can ground you,” Rowan cut him off with a stern look to the child in his arms who seemed to be on the verge of sleep. Sam smiled sheepishly.

“My bad.” 

“Will you shut up so he can finish the story?” Nehemia glared at her brother. 

~~

“Alright,” Aedion slammed his hand down on Rowan’s helmet, sending a large clattering sound through his head. Rowan scowled at his best friend, shoving him away. “What the fuck is going on between you and my cousin?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rowan turned back to his bag, shrugging off his helmet and shoving it into the massive pack before taking a sip of his water bottle, all while ignoring Aedion and those eyes that reminded him so much of the ones he truly wanted to see. 

“Don’t bullshit me, Rowan,” Aedion snapped at him, forcing Rowan to face him. “The two of you have been skirting around each other for the past three weeks and Aelin won’t even come to parties with us anymore so what. Happened.” 

Rowan stopped. Aelin hadn’t been going to parties? Had she been avoiding him as much as he had been avoiding her? He looked at his best friend and shrugged. 

“We kissed. During spin the bottle.” 

Aedion looked at him for what seemed like minutes before bursting into uncanny laughter. 

“Damn,” he wheezed out. “That’s it? Well, it’s about time.” 

“Excuse me?” Rowan growled, and Aedion stopped laughing. 

“You know what I mean, man. It’s about time. All those years when you two would look at each other and glance away before the other noticed. Or when you defend each other when the 

other isn’t there- yep, don’t think I didn’t notice that. I think we can all agree that it’s about time.” 

Rowan shook his head, incredulous. Other people had noticed that?

“No, Aedion,” he sighed. “Aelin hates me. She wants nothing to do with me.” Aedion stared at him again before, shaking his head.

“Ro, man, you are such an idiot sometimes.” 

“You know, Aedion. Saying cryptic shit and expecting other people to understand you doesn’t help anyone,” Rowan snapped, his patience thinning. Turning back to Aedion, he found his eyes glued on something behind him. 

Rowan’s heart stopped. There was no way.

But sure enough, Rowan turned around to meet the gaze of a gaping Aelin Galathynius. She held a tennis ball in one hand and Fleetfoot circled the ground at her feet. Clearly, the dog had chased the ball into their field and her owner had eventually followed. At the worst timing imaginable. 

“Aelin-” Rowan started, but she was already gone, whirling around and sprinting out of the stadium, the golden retriever at her heels. He didn’t think before following after her. “Aelin, wait!” he called after her, forcing his legs to go faster.

It turned out that Aelin Galathynius was quite fast when she wanted to be, and Rowan only caught up to her when she was standing in front of her dorm building. She didn’t need to turn around for Rowan to know she was fuming. 

“Gods, what do you want, Rowan?” she glared at him, her voice ice. “Haven’t you already proven your point?” Rowan wanted to grab her and shake her.

“Proven my- what? Aelin I-” 

“Look you made yourself very clear at the party, alright?” she snapped, turning away from him. But Rowan’s arm shot out, catching hers before she could leave and forcing her to look at him. “I get that Aedion can be nosy at times but you were so out of line, Whitethorn.” 

The confused look on his face must have been painfully obvious. Aelin rolled her eyes. “Look, if it was just an act to shut Aedion up, I-” 

Rowan kissed her.

This woman. This annoying, infuriating, intelligent, beautiful woman. She was absolutely astounding. And she thought he somehow hadn’t noticed that. 

Rowan wanted to remember the feeling of her lips on his for the rest of his life. Wanted to bottle the sound of the small gasp she released before melting into the kiss. He wanted to mold their bodies together until there was no room left. Rowan wanted to feel her soft hair between his fingers and the feeling of her hands in his hair until the day he died. He never wanted to let her go. 

This time when the two pulled back, Rowan kept her close to his body with an arm around her waist. Her arms were still around his neck and Aelin gazed at him through wide eyes. Before she could say anything, Rowan kissed her again, this time lingering. She kissed his smile with her own.

“It was never an act.”

~~

“Well it seems to me that Fleetfoot is the true heroine of the story,” Nehemia grinned, petting the head of her own puppy that sat at her feet next to Sam. “Without her, you two would never have met again. Oh, and I won, by the way Sammy. Pay up.”

“That’s my girl,” Rowan grinned, pride shone over his face at his daughter’s antics regardless of her win being at his expense. Sam practically growled as he handed his sister a twenty-dollar bill. 

“Oh, don’t be sad, Sammy,” Aelin comforted her son, holding her arms out until he rolled his eyes and walked over to give her a hug. “Ask out Asterin and your kids won’t do the same thing to you,” she whispered, earning a dark red blush on her son’s cheeks.

She shared a knowing look with Rowan, unable to resist reaching up and kissing his lips once more. Rowan returned it in kind, grinning when she nipped playfully at his bottom lip. 

“Boo!” Nehemia called from her spot on the couch as Sam yelled, “Get a room!” 

Aelin turned to Rowan once more, unsurprised to see his gaze already on her. “Remind me why we keep them?” Rowan’s laugh rang out loud as he pulled Aelin close to his body. Her head landed on his shoulder and she sighed in content.

“Because we’re cute,” Nehemia supplied. “At least, one of us is.” She gazed at her little sister who had long since fallen asleep on her father’s lap. 

It seemed that their entire reason for telling the story had fallen asleep long before her father had finished telling it. There was no doubt that Eliora wouldn’t remember any bit of the story when she woke up. 

“She’s too young to understand the story yet,” Nehemia said, brushing back a piece of her little sister’s hair with astounding gentleness. 

“So what do we tell her when she’s old enough?” Aelin asked, cherishing the kiss that Rowan placed on her head and unable to contain the insurmountable love in her heart as her kids responded. 

“Oh, Mom’s version, for sure. It’s way better.”

~~

taglist:

@story-scribbler​

@rowaelinismyotp​

@live-the-fangirl-life​

@claralady

@surielandiareendgame​

#aelin galythinius #rowan whitethorn #aelin #rowan #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #rowaelin #rowaelin fic #rowaelin au #modern au #rowaelin fanfiction #tog #sjm #throne of glass

[betweenthepages]

The Cure: Chapter 1

Summary: You get outed to your parents and it doesn’t go so well. But at least you have Jess Mariano.

Word count: 2370

⚠️Warnings⚠️: homophobia, homophobic violence

“Mom? Dad?” You called out, stepping into the silence of your home. You entered the living room and was met with the sight of both your parents seated on the couch. Your father’s gaze fixated on the floor with his hands clasped in front of him, lips drawn in a thin line. Your mother lifted her head in acknowledgment. The TV was off, no conversation being exchanged. Idleness hung in the atmosphere. “What’s going on?” You frowned. “Sit down, (Y/N).” Nervousness bubbled in your chest as you sat across from them. “Did I do something?” You asked, furrowing your brows.

Your dad’s eyes locked with yours. “Are you gay?” The question was completely unexpected. Your eyes widened in confusion. Sweat moistened your palms. “Am I- what?”

“Are. You. Gay. With that Mariano boy?” He gritted his teeth, his voice low to the point of growling. Your muscles tensed and you quickly debated coming clean or denying it. They wouldn’t be too pleased with the knowledge that you liked other boys, especially Jess. Heck you weren’t even allowed to be friends with him. You knew you couldn’t hide it forever. You were planning to let them know once you moved out and were no longer reliant on them. Perhaps deception would work, for now.

“No?” you put on your best act of confusion, “Where are you getting this from?” Your mother whipped her head towards you, eyes filled with a darkness that was completely unfamiliar. Your dad’s face reddened, fists clenched and visibly shaking. Fear clouded your senses. “What are these, then?” Your mother placed some pictures on the coffee table. Pictures of you and Jess. Holding hands and kissing. Your heart sunk to your stomach. “W-Where did you get these...?” Your voice was shaky from restraining tears. “They were left in our mailbox this morning, no envelope or name. How can you explain this (Y/N)?” Your mom scowled. Your throat went dry. Who would do this to you? Who hated you this much? Well, it didn’t matter who had done it, because there was no way to cover it up.

“It’s true, okay? I’m gay, I’ve been seeing Jess for-” You were cut off by a stinging pain on your cheek and a sharp sound echoing the room. Your father loomed over you, nostrils flaring and looking at you with pure hatred. You cowered in his shadow. “I did not raise a gay son! You ought to be ashamed of yourself! All those years of giving you a good life and a roof over your head for nothing! Disgraceful.” You whimpered as he fisted your hair painfully and reared your head back to look up at him. “You are not my son.” He spat. In quick seconds your body painfully collided with the coffee table, pain shooting up your abdomen. You barely had time to catch a breath before you were yanked up and slammed against the wall. Rough, calloused hands, pressing against your windpipe. You squirmed in an useless attempt to flee. Your chest tightened painfully. Your head felt light. You wanted Jess. He would hold you and protect you and take you away from this pain. Black spots dotted your vision and you thought ‘this is it. I’m going to die.’ Seconds before you passed out, the hands removed themselves and you collapsed on the floor, gasping for breath. You cherished the temporary relief of having oxygen in your lungs while it lasted. You were kicked down into a lying position, your father’s heel coming in contact with area that hit the table. Tears cascaded down your swollen cheeks as you curled into yourself. The blows kept coming. You just shut your eyes and took it, holding onto hope that it would end eventually. By the time your dad finally took his foot away, your body was at it’s breaking point. Every breath came with immense pain. Bruises, scrapes and cuts blemished your skin. “You’re going to get up,” your father spoke, “and get the fuck out of my house.” You briefly glanced to your mother standing in the corner, staring at you intently. Her expression was unreadable, but she voiced no protest. You were in no state to be able to pack your belongings. Hopefully you’d be able to return and collect them. Or maybe your parents would destroy them. Right now, it wasn’t your concern. Your dad left to the kitchen, probably to get a beer, and your mother followed suit. Mustering the last ounce of strength you had, you crawled to the front door. With every movement your muscles ached. Holding onto the wall for balance, you carefully rose to your feet. Only grabbing your phone and jacket, you exited onto the pitch black streets.

You limped in the direction of Luke’s Diner, but gave up after a block. You were physically incapable of covering the distance. You quickly dialled Jess’s number, tears blurring your vision. It rang once. Twice. Your heart hammered in your chest, your breathing grew heavy. You felt a panic attack oncoming and you needed to hear Jess’s voice. Please pick up, please pick up. “(Y/N)?” Jess said across the line, voice thick with sleep. “Jess...” you whimpered, words getting caught in your throat. “(Y/N) what’s up? It’s late.”

“I-I need you. I need help. It hurts, Jess.”

“What hurts? What happened?” He was awake now, and seemingly alarmed. “I need an ambulance,” you glanced at the street sign, “I’m on Peach Street. Call them and get here, p-please.” Staying conscious was becoming a struggle. “Okay, okay hold on I’ll make the call.” Jess quickly switched lines and you leaned against the wall, waiting. Watching the stars kept you occupied. You were about to close your eyes until the blaring of a siren approached. You could vaguely recognise a car following behind it. As it neared, you recognised it as Luke’s pick up truck. You couldn’t see Jess’s face, but knowing that he came provided some relief. Jess got to you before the paramedics did. Warm hands cupped your battered face and soft caresses ghosted your skin. . “(Y/N), god what happened?” You chuckled bitterly. “Mom and dad found out about us. I’ll explain later. It didn’t go so well though.” You clutched your side. Talking was painful. Jess was about to say something but the paramedics told him to back away so they could load you into a stretcher. “Sir? Sir try to stay awake please.” Said a female paramedic as your eyelids drooped. Jess was out of your vision, but you could make out his voice shouting over them, asking to come on the ambulance. Of course that privilege wouldn’t be extended to non-family. Luke told him to buckle up and he’ll drive them there. You were exhausted, and the pain in your body was unbearable. Your allowed your eyes to shut, darkness replacing the blinding ambulance lights.

Jess and Luke sat in the waiting room, anxiously awaiting news about your condition. Jess’s leg was shaking and he seemed distanced in his thoughts. He had told Luke on the way that this had something to do with your parents. He’s had his fair share of beatings from Liz’s boyfriends, but he was struck with disbelief knowing someone could cause this much damage to their own child. The doctor emerged. “How is he?” Luke asked. “He has 3 broken ribs, internal bleeding, several deep cuts, contusions and a dislocated jaw. But he’s no longer in critical condition. It’s good we got to him when we did, or it may have been too late.” Jess‘s eyes widened and his blood ran cold. Luke thanked the doctor and bid him goodbye, then focused his attention on his distressed nephew. “T-They almost killed him...” Jess whispered, eyes widened and watery. Luke sighed, pulling the boy into a side hug. In truth, he was just as worried as your boyfriend was. He was accepting your relationship and cared for you. Ever since you’d come into Jess’s life, his immature ways and short temper had ceased. His school attendance went up as well as his grades. The sarcastic remarks and witty insults weren’t going away anytime soon, but Luke knew there was a mutual love between him and his nephew. And he knew you meant the absolute world to Jess. “You heard the doctors. He’ll be okay. He’s strong.” He rubbed the teen’s shoulder in consolation.

Patients and visitors entered and exited the hospital doors while Luke and Jess sat in silence. The clock was about to strike 1am yet they were more awake than ever. Jess hadn’t particularly liked your parents previously, but now his hatred for them ran deep. Upon his first arrival to Stars Hollow, they had advised you to keep your distance because word of his troublemaking antics spread fast. But you with your sweet, kind soul was willing to give him a chance.

A nurse approached them. “(Y/N) (L/N) is awake. You can see him now.” Jess bounded to his feet, swiftly stepping to your room without waiting for Luke to follow. He paused abruptly at your door and took a breath. Your head turned at the sound of the door slowly creaking open. Jess stepped in, and a feeling of warmth evaded your body despite the chill of the hospital room. You shifted to make room for him on the bed. Without a word, he embraced you. Careful not to hurt you, he rested his head on your shoulder, and the cloth of the gown dampened. “Jess.” You cooed, rubbing his back. “I almost lost you...” he mumbled. “I-It’s okay. I’m not okay, but I will be. The hospital staff are doing their best.” You attempted a smile but it hurt your face. Jess pulled away with a sigh, calloused hand cupping your cheek. “I want to know what happened. Not now, if you don’t feel like it. When you’re ready.”

“Well, I got home and my mom showed these pictures someone took of us kissing. She said they were left in the mailbox by an anonymous. I told them that I’m gay and that we’re dating, and... yeah.” You averted your gaze to you and Jess’s intertwined hands, playing with his fingers. Jess furrowed his brows. “Why would anybody-” You cut him off. “I don’t care about that now Jess. It’s all so much, I’m gonna see a social worker and the police, I don’t know where I’m going to live, people are gonna talk about what happened. Plus I’m tired and everything’s sore.” You felt like crying again before Jess shushed you, carding his hands through your hair and kissing your cheek. “Hey hey, (Y/N) I’m sorry. Calm down.” He readjusted to a laying position and carefully guided you into laying down on top of him, using his toned chest as a pillow. “I love you. So much. We can figure everything out later, just get some sleep. It’s almost midnight.”

“I want you to stay and be there when I wake up.” You said. “Okay.” Jess smiled. There was a cough, you both turned to see Luke in the doorway. “Well, I’ll leave you guys alone and uh, Jess I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.” He nodded, “Goodnight (Y/N), call me if you need anything.” You smiled at him and bid your goodbyes, before it was back to just you and your boyfriend. Jess leaned over to turn off the light. “I love you, Jess.” You said into the darkness. He responded with a long kiss to your forehead.

Jess woke up first. The hospital staff hadn’t arrived yet, so he wouldn’t get in trouble. He pressed light kisses on your forehead until your eyes fluttered open. “Morning.” He smirked. “Morning,” you grumbled, nuzzling into him. “What’s going on today?” He asked. “I explained the cause of my injuries to the doctor and now I’ve got to talk to the authorities. Then I’m seeing a social worker and doing some paperwork.”

“Where you going to stay?” Jess asked softly.

“If my parents get arrested then I’ll probably get sent to a foster home.” You sighed. “Is that what you want?” Jess frowned. “No, not at all. I mean, no way I’m living with my parents again, but also idea the of going with strangers...” you trailed off, focusing on drawing shapes on his chest. “Move into the diner.” Jess said without no hesitation. “Jess you know I can’t-”

“Yes you can! Really (Y/N), we can talk to Luke about it.”

“Talk to me about what?” Luke stood in the doorway wearing a questioning expression. “Sorry, I was going to knock but I overheard my name.” He chuckled. “Can (Y/N) stay with us?” Jess asked. “Jess no-“

“Sure, I don’t see why not.” Luke shrugged. “I- what?” You turned to Luke in shock. “We can make that arrangement, if that’s what you want (Y/N). You’re at the diner most of the time anyways.” It was true. You always stayed over with Jess and had dates at the diner to keep your relationship discreet. “Well yes, but being a permanent occupant is completely different.” You frowned. “Hey kid, your parents are real shitty people. This is a hard time for you. I have a feeling you don’t want to end up in the foster care system, so this is one less problem to deal with.” He said.

Jess spoke up, “(Y/N), I’m okay with it, and Luke is okay with it. So why the hell not?” You felt like crying again. You practically pounced on Jess babbling a string of ‘thank you’s and peppering kisses on his face in between. He laughed heartily, rubbing your back. Luke observed with a tender smile. “Thank you Luke, really.”

“No problem kid.” He gently placed a hand on your shoulder, trying to seem as less threatening as possible. “Jess and I have to go, the staff are gonna be here any minute. But rest up okay?” You nodded. Jess really didn’t want to leave, you assured him visiting hours were long and regular. Eventually he pulled away and you shared one last kiss before he was out of sight.

#gilmore girls #bxb #jess mariano #male reader #jess mariano x male reader #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano x y/n #gilmore girls fanfiction #fanfic

[raviotherabbit]

Reunion Tour - Chapter 2

[first] - [previous] - [next] read it on ao3!

Chapter 2: Seawater The Great Sea is pretty much empty, these days.

- - -

This time around, the portals are not as kind as they have been in the past. Wild and Warriors barely have a chance to hold a breath before they’re unceremoniously dumped into the frigid ocean waters.

Wild breaks the surface, spitting saltwater out of their mouth. “Wars!” they shout, desperately wrapping their arm around their brother. “I can’t swim as well anymore!”

“Stop! I have greaves on!” Wars fights against Wild’s frantic hands. “I’m going to sink if you do that, just float!”

“No! I don’t wanna let go!” Wild protests. “I’m gonna drown! I’ll-” They cut themself off mid-sentence when their frantic kicking makes contact with something below them. Something soft, yes, but undoubtedly solid.

Silently, Wild plants their feet on the sand, the water only coming up to their neck. “It’s shallow,” they state.

“Oh,” Wars’ own paddling stops. With their newfound lack of peril, the two are finally able to survey their surroundings. As it turns out, they’re not too far from a rather large island, one that’s vaguely familiar.

Wild looks up at Wars, silently pleading. At the end of their journey ten years ago, Wild used to be able to get him to do whatever they wanted with enough begging. After all this time, though, their puppy dog eyes have become practically lethal.

“Fine,” Wars relents, his own disappointment in himself dripping from his tone. “You can have a piggyback ride.”

Wild, on the other hand, literally jumps at the opportunity. “Yes, yes, yes!” They latch onto Wars’ with a bright smile on their face, their glowing happiness a stark contrast to his exasperated sigh.

Only slightly burdened by Wild’s weight—though the emotional burden is heavy—Warriors trudges through the water.

- - -

The island of Windfall was once the pinnacle of civilization on the Great Sea. Ships came from near and far to sell their goods, which merchants peddled in the streets of the market. Wild loved that, back in the day, picking up fresh, exotic ingredients to use when making dinner. Of course, Wars had been more enchanted by the occasional beauty that passed through town, but even he couldn’t deny the charm of such a lively place.

But now, the entire island is abandoned. Old roofs have caved in, and the wooden planks and beams have been eaten away by moss and rain. The breeze blowing in off the sea completes the picture, whistling against the empty buildings.

“This is grim,” Wars notes, nudging at some stray rubble with his foot. “I hope they’re in that new kingdom Wind spoke about.”

“They gotta be,” Wild runs their hand along a collapsed wall. “This is all environmental damage. They left a while ago.”

“Of course you can recognize that,” Wars peers into one of the empty houses. “This one seems like it’ll do. We’ll spend the night here.”

“Oh goody,” Wild follows after him. “I missed sleeping on the floor of ruins.”

“The sad part is, we both know you aren’t joking.”

- - -

“Rise and shine, soldier!” Warriors gleefully shouts as he dumps a bucket of seawater onto his sleeping companion. “It’s time to get going!”

Wild flees their bedroll immediately, seeking refuge on the other side of the abandoned house. “Fuck you fuck you fuck you-” they repeat over and over, stiff as a wet cat.

Wars smirks to himself. “I missed this.”

“You missed TORMENTING ME,” Wild shouts as they wring out their hair. “Fuck this, no breakfast for you!”

“You’re bluffing,” Warriors scoffs, crossing his arms.

“I am NOT bluffing!” Wild insists, swiping up their pouch and making for the door. “No omelets! No omelets for you! Mean and cruel people do not get omelets!”

Just as they push the door open, however, Wild is met with a sword, pointed right at their face. They barely look at their attacker before they scramble backwards with a yelp, hiding behind Wars.

Wars reacts in an instant, drawing his own sword just as Wild pulls out their guardian sword. “Stop right there!” he commands the figure.

“You’re ordering me around?” their attacker snarks, gouging the wood of the house as he enters. “Really? Me? This isn’t even your house!”

“I’m not afraid of you!” Wild insists, still cowering behind Wars.

But for his part, Wars hesitates, dropping his sword ever so slightly. “Wait…”

Finally, the two heroes get a fair look at their opponent, and they both realize something simultaneously. There’s an eyepatch over one eye, yes, but the other one is just as bright as they remember it. And his hair is still the same puffy blonde it was back in the day.

Wind stops and stares at the two of them.

“Wind?” Wild drops their sword. “Holy shit, Wind!”

“Wars?” Wind is still in shock, glancing between his two friends. “Wild? Are you really-?”

And just like that, Wild’s on him, dragging his face down to be eye level with their own. “Look at you! How’d you get so tall?! And you have a beard! What the hell!” They look back over their shoulder. “Wars! How is this fair?!”

Warriors shrugs. “The old man pulled this same stunt on me.” He claps a hand on Wind’s shoulder, a warm smile on his face. “It’s good to see you again, sailor.”

Finally snapping out of it, Wind wraps his arms around his brothers, pulling them into the tightest bear hug he can muster. “You guys are really here! Like, really here! How is that possible?!”

“Who knows!” Wild beams. “I’m just glad to be here!”

“Speaking of being here,” Wars glares down at the youngest with suspicion. “Why are you threatening vagrants out on the sea? Don’t you have a country to be founding?”

“And what’s with the eyepatch?” Wild grimaces. “That must’ve hurt.”

“Oh, the eyepatch is fake,” Wind flips the patch up, revealing his still intact and functioning eye underneath. “It’s just for the look.”

“Thank goodness,” Wild breathes a sigh of relief.

“First of all, Wild, you’re literally missing an arm,” Wars points at the Champion. “Second-” he turns to Wind. “You did not answer my question.”

“Oh! Uh…” Wind awkwardly scratches at the back of his neck. “I’m on vacation?”

Warriors raises an eyebrow. “Vacation?”

“Yes?” Wind sounds unsure of it even as he says it. “A lot of bandits have been hiding out in the old islands, so I thought…” His words drift off, as he self-consciously pokes at the dull tip of his sword.

Wild and Warriors exchange a glance with each other, the kind only two grown adults can share when they come upon a barely-functioning twenty-something. Wars opens his mouth to speak up again, but he’s interrupted by Wild stepping forward and placing their hand on Wind’s shoulder.

“Get short again,” they demand. “I don’t like this.”

“I don’t know, Champion, he’s still pretty short to me,” Warriors jokes, resting an arm on Wind’s shoulder.

“Can it, Wars,” Wild snaps their fingers. “Who wants omelets?”

- - -

“Thank Hylia,” Wind utters after his first bite of his omelet. “Thank Farore, thank Nayru, thank Din. Thank every deity that made it possible for me to have Wild’s omelets again.”

The three heroes are gathered outside of the abandoned house Wild and Wars spent the night in. It’s a beautiful day on the Great Sea, so Wild thought it’d be nice to cook outside. However, since they didn’t really get a chance to pack for this trip, they had to make do with whatever they left in their pack the night before they left.

“How about-” Wild shoves another bite of omelet into their mouth. “-‘Thank you, Wild, for making the omelets’?”

Wind smiles. “Thank you for the mushroom omelets, Wild.”

“Both of you, stop talking with your mouths full.” Wars glares at the two of them.

“He thinks because he’s a dad now, he can boss us around,” Wild stage whispers to Wind.

Wind tilts his head in confusion. “Wars is a dad?”

“Chain of command back in the day was the old man, then me and Twilight,” Wars reminds them. “And I don’t see either of them here right now.”

“You and Twilight were not on the same level,” Wild sasses back. “Everyone knows he was the favorite.”

“You’re just jealous because you were eighth in line.”

Wild gasps with indignation. “I made omelets for you, out of the kindness in my heart,” They place a hand over their chest as they speak.

Wild’s fuming is cut short by Wind, who sympathetically pats their shoulder. “It’s alright, Wild, I was number nine.”

“I changed my mind, I didn’t miss you two at all!” Wild pouts, turning away from their brothers. “Go on, leave me here! See if I care!”

“Well then,” the corner of Wind’s mouth tugs up into a smirk. “I guess you don’t get to see my cool secret pirate hideout.”

Wild peeks back at Wind over their shoulder. “Secret pirate hideout?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Wind crosses his arms and huffs. “Come on, Wars. Let’s go sailing.”

“Well, if you insist, sailor,” Wars quickly shoves his plate into Wild’s lap. “We’ll be heading off, now.”

“Wait, stop!” Wild shouts as Wind dumps his own plate on top of Warriors’. The pair leave Wild sitting on the ground, their mind short-circuiting as they try to figure out what to do with the dishes. They were a gift from Riju! But Wars and Wind are getting away! But they’re dirty and can’t go in their bag!

After a hair-splitting moment of panic, Wild shoves the plates and forks in their pouch and sprints towards their brothers. They jump onto Wars’ back, and ever the sturdy soldier, he barely loses his footing.

“Are you serious?” Warriors deadpans at the champion, who’s latched onto his back for another piggyback ride. Wind covers his mouth to keep from laughing.

“I’m coming with,” is all Wild says.

- - -

Wind takes them to a small cove on the edge of Windfall, just below the remains of the market. A small, red boat has been tied to a nearby rock, the waves bumping it against the shore. As Wind approaches it, he rests a hand on the face carved into its stern.

“Guys, this is the King of Red Lions!” Wind beams at his brothers. “King of Red Lions, this is Warriors and Wild!”

Wars grimaces, which Wild raises an eyebrow at from his back. “Sailor-” he starts.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Wind waves him off, though Warriors’ concern doesn’t fade. “He- it’s good for traveling on your own, but you guys will fit just fine.”

Warriors sighs. “Alright, in you go, Champion,” he says, yanking Wild off his back and throwing them into the boat.

“Ow!” Wild pops back up off the deck, a scowl on their face. “You shit!”

- - -

The King of Red Lions is a fast ship, which more than makes up for its diminutive size. Back in the day, it used to take the Links ages to get anywhere when they tagged along with Tetra’s crew. Not to mention the chores she forced upon them, while Wind just giggled at the side. But Wind’s new boat makes short work of that journey, cutting through the waves as smoothly as Wild chops carrots.

Wild dips their hand into the water, enjoying the cool yet strange thickness of it. The water of the Great Sea has always been different than the water on their Hyrule’s coast. But just thinking of Hateno Bay, the perfect vacationing spot, makes their heart twist.

“You know, it’s been a bit since I’ve taken my niece to the beach,” Wild suddenly remarks. “If we ever end up back in my time, we should take her.”

“Your niece?” Wind’s attention breaks from the rudder. “When’d that happen?”

“Four years ago!” Wild exclaims. “She’s such a little troublemaker, Wind. She reminds me a bit of you and Aryll, way back when.”

“Speaking of,” Wars leans in towards Wind and Wild. “How is Aryll doing?”

“Oh, uh…” Wind suddenly averts his eyes, gazing out at the wide open blue. “She’s fine.”

“Just fine?” Wars crosses his arms, getting right in Wind’s face.

Wild frowns and goes to kick Warriors’ shin, but they regret it when their foot slams right into metal. They shout at the pain, clutching to their poor, aching foot.

“I’m still wearing greaves, Wild,” Warriors states as Wild cries on the ground.

“A-anyway, guys, we’re here!” Wind suddenly announces.

Wild pushes themself off the deck and gazes up at the island before them. As they do, they get that same pit in their stomach they got when they saw Windfall or when they see a set of ruins that pokes at something in the back of their mind. But they know for a fact they saw this place in its prime, because Outset isn’t the kind of place you just forget.

The roof of one of the houses has caved in, and the suspension bridge connecting the two mountains together has collapsed. Compared to the rest of the island, Wind’s old house seems to be in better shape, with no broken windows or broken walls.

“Home sweet home,” Wind pulls his boat up next to the dock, which is missing several boards and is sloping rather precariously on one side. He hops out with a bit too much vigor for the rickety thing, offering a hand to his brothers with the brightest smile on his face.

Once again, Wild and Wars exchange a concerned glance.

- - -

When Wind said hideout, he meant

hideout

. Old, rusty swords hang from every wall, and among them Wild spots Wind’s old shield. Jewels, seashells, and gold are scattered across the floor, as if they were thrown haphazardly. All the way to the ceiling, the house is filled with junk.

“Really taking after the vet, huh?” Wild awkwardly jokes, picking up an old conch shell.

“Oh come on, it isn’t that bad,” Wind waves him off as he almost trips on some loose fabrics. “My bed’s just fine.”

“I think you’re forgetting that Legend was at least organized about his hoarding tendencies.” Warriors kicks at a pile of old papers, nudging them out of his way. “This is… Althai’s room doesn’t even get this bad.”

“That’s because Althai’s a good kid,” Wild jokingly asserts in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Sailor, how long did it take you to collect all this crap?”

“A bit…” Wind shakes off his irritation. “Let me show you something,” He rushes to the kitchen, returning with an old jar half-full of shards of glass.

“Whenever I’ve found broken windows, I’ve tried to save some pieces for this,” he explains. “It looks cool when I hold it up to the light.” To prove his point, Wind tilts the jar, causing the refraction to change as the light dances through it.

Wild’s eyes go wide as they ogle at it. “Woah… That’s pretty…”

Wind snorts. “You’re still such a cat.”

“Rude,” Wild huffs, taking the jar from him.

“Hey, be careful with that!” Wind tries to snatch the jar back from Wild, only for his older yet smaller brother to dodge his hands. “It’s pretty much all glass, you know!”

Wild, in response, blows a raspberry at him. “Well, I’m apparently a cat, so.”

“Seriously, Wild,” Wind lifts them by the back of their poncho, which is not something Wild particularly enjoys. “It took me a year to build that up.”

Warriors suddenly looks up from the pile of old and torn paintings he was inspecting. “Did you say a year?”

“I-” Wind raises a finger to rebut the argument he knows is coming from Wars, but any words he had are lost on his tongue. “Well- You see-”

“You’ve been hunting bandits for a year?” It’s all the more apparent that Wars still towers over Wind, even after all this time, when he’s glaring down at the sailor. “Don’t you have better things to do?”

Wild shoves their way between their brothers. “Wars, stop it.”

“The kid hasn’t been home in a year, and his house is a dumpster,” Warriors argues, gesturing to the entire house around them. That is concerning behavior! You have to agree with me!”

“And he’ll talk about it when he’s ready!” Wild asserts. “Seriously, let it go.”

“Let it go?!”

“Shut up! Both of you!”

At Wind’s sudden outburst, Wild and Warriors both snap towards him. He’s running a hand through his puffy golden locks, his grip threatening to tear it out by its roots. “I’m not a kid anymore, so stop acting like it!” he yells. “I’m twenty-four, for the Goddess’s sake!”

But before either of them can respond, a portal opens just feet away from them. It has a draw to it, one they aren’t unfamiliar with. Its whips all of Wind’s junk around, throwing his rupees and other treasures everywhere. And so, the three heroes are sucked into another era together.

- - -

A portal opens in the woods, dumping Wild, Wind, and Warriors out on top of each other before disappearing with a

Zzp!

Wild groans, trying to claw their way out of the bottom of that pile.

“I was hoping she would quit using those,” Warriors mutters just loud enough for his companions to hear.

“That might be what she used to get me,” Wild suddenly realizes.

As the three heroes dust themselves off and nurse their bruises, a silence falls over them. Wild spits out some stray foliage they accidentally swallowed when they were crushed by their brothers.

Warriors adjusts the strap on his greaves and sighs. With perhaps a bit more effort than it would have taken him ten years ago, he stands, making his way over to the sailor.

Wind gives him the stink-eye as he approaches, which, all things considered, he can’t fault him for. Of course, having gotten the stink-eye from Wind at about a weekly basis back in the day, he found it doesn’t affect him quite as much as it did then.

“Sailor,” Wars takes a deep breath and places a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Wind’s taken aback, blinking in confusion. “You’re… already sorry? You’re not going to stew for a week?”

“First of all, I’m not in my twenties anymore,” Wars deadpans down at him with a hand on his hip. “Second, I… realize I shouldn’t have pushed you like that.”

“Yeah well,” Wind blows some of his stray hair from his face. “You weren’t… completely wrong.”

“Oh, I’m never wrong, don’t forget that,” Wars smirks as he kneels next to Wind, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “But I’m here if you need someone to talk to.”

Wind rolls his eyes playfully, leaning into his brother. “Thanks, Wars.”

“Yay…” Wild weakly calls from a few feet away, where they’ve splayed out on their back. “No more fighting…”

#linked universe #reunion tour au #lu wild #lu warriors #lu wind #rav's writing #fanfic

[ckneal]

So, up until the last year, I was not actively involved in fandom on tumblr. All of my fan theories and fic ideas were created for the sole purpose of entertaining me and me alone. And as such, when I happened upon the midam and angel communities, I did experience a certain amount of culture shock when I found that some of the things that I had just taken for granted from the very first viewing of the show—didn’t even need to think about it, it just seemed to be right there—were contrary to the beliefs of the overall fandom. And today, I feel like airing out one of these for fun of it.

(And warning, this might be an unpopular take.)

Before discovering the midam community, I believed that Kate Milligan was aware of the existence of the supernatural and complicit in keeping Adam in the dark.

To be clear right off the bat, I am not purposing a Mary Winchester situation. I do not think that Kate was a hunter. But I do think that the chain of events that led to Adam’s conception may have had more in common with what Sam laid out at the beginning of Jump the Shark. I have two main reasons in thinking this.

The first reason, is simply this: John gave Kate his cellphone number. She just had it on hand when Adam decided he wanted to meet his dad twelve years down the line. That just seemed really weird. John Winchester is not exactly the stay-for-breakfast type, let alone the type to stay in contact with a one night stand in a backwater town. But you know who he DOES give his phone number out to? People who know that he’s a hunter, and who might recognize the signs of the paranormal and give him a call in the future. People he expects might lead to further cases.

The second reason is pertaining to the ghoul children. How did they know about Kate and Adam? John had not been to see Adam in a couple of years by the time of Adam’s death, and is implied to have been an infrequent visitor before that. Would the ghoul children have really been staking out the town for over two years before making their move? That seemed so implausible to me, personally, upon the first viewing of the show that I dismissed it outright, and with subsequent rewatches it seems more clear—from the way that the ghoul seems to blink and search for the answers every time Sam and Dean ask about Adam’s history, and with Denise when she asks if “Adam” would like his usual order—that, no, the ghouls had not been watching Adam and Kate at length because clearly the ghoul’s impersonation of Adam was not polished. Kate and Adam were killed by amateurs.

And, to me, the fact that they knew to go after Kate only made sense because, somehow, she was part of the hunt. Not as some nurse who stitched John back together after he hauled himself away from the scene of the crime either.

What I think happened, was this. The ghoul children said that their father was not a monster, and they were telling the truth. A monster named John Winchester came to town with all the motivation of an exterminator coming to take care of a cockroach infestation. He heard about a creepy crawly feeding on the dead, and harmless though the creature was, he was there to kill it. But remember the ghoul we later met in season 13. Ghouls aren’t always just weirdos hiding in the shadows with gore crusted onto their faces. They are perfectly logical beings, capable of being functional members of society, and I think that when John showed up, the ghouls’ father was able to get by in society, maybe changing faces every now and then, but definitely capable of going undetected. I think the reason the ghoul attracted attention at all was because he had two (or three—I still like to think there might have been three) children to support. The father himself might have been able to get by sparingly by munching on the same bit of corpse for months to keep his appearance consistent, but you can’t expect that kind of restraint from children. And maybe, building off that, the ghoul kept his children hidden, because who knows how their shapeshifting abilities translate when they’re young?

But I digress. I think the ghoul found out that John was there—perhaps even met John Winchester and just barely managed to keep his cool—and decided to switch tactics, and switch faces. I think the ghoul moved from feeding out of a cemetery to a hospital morgue. The morgue, of course, is more dangerous. There are a lot more people milling around all day and night, not to mention the security cameras, but the ghoul gets a job as a janitor, using their new face and name, and reasons to himself that it was just temporary until John Winchester left.

However, things became complicated. The ghoul had planned to pull this off by switching back and forth between two different faces, by eating from two different corpses, but at some point John connected the ghoul’s older persona to the case, went to the house, and found the stash. The ghoul’s children had only just managed to escape, and the ghoul was put on edge. He started to get sloppy in his panic. With few options, he makes the decision that he and his children will have to flee—but the fact still remains that there are four of them, and this hunter is stubborn. The further they can go before stopping to feed, the better their chances of getting away unfollowed. So, the ghoul, in his hospital persona, goes back to the hospital for one last food run. He tells his kids to stay put in the car, and stay below the windows. They may look like any ordinary kids, but he doesn’t want to take any chances. 

When he goes inside though, the ghoul is finally caught in the act, stuffing body parts into a black trash bag—no one would have thought twice about him hauling things off to the dumpsters. He would have been homefree, if Kate hadn’t walked in.

Meanwhile in the parking garage, the worst happens: John Winchester arrives in the impala. The ghoul children see him in the rearview mirror, and they recognize the man who had broken into their home, and crouch down deeper into the backseat of their own car, even as they start frantically whispering. Their dad told them to stay put, but he was in danger and they needed to warn him!

Inside the hospital, the ghoul had Kate tied to a chair, and he’s stuck holding a scalpel in hand, fighting a battle on the inside, because he is not a violent man. He’s just a single dad trying to take care his kids, and he’s always been so, so careful, but now he’s been caught. Instinct says to kill Kate. If she’s dead, she wont be able to give out any details that might somehow help the hunter find him. But on the other hand, he had been working at the hospital for weeks now, and he liked Kate. She was friendly, nice. They talked a lot—but that’s why she might know something that could help John find him, some detail the ghoul wouldn’t even remember sharing, but that a lunatic like John Winchester could hyper fixate on. You never knew what might give you away with hunters. . .

John barges in and finds them while the ghoul’s still agonizing over the decision—Kate seemingly roughed up with the ghoul standing there, poised to cut her throat, and it’s all over for the ghoul. He fights John as best as he can, slashing with the scalpel and biting with a savagery that he had always thought himself above in the past, but his kids were waiting for him. . .

And unbeknownst to John Winchester and the ghoul, there his kids were, watching from the air vent overhead, out of sight, the way their dad had always urged them to move when they were in danger. They saw the murder, they saw Kate, and they saw the officer, Joe Barton, show up to sweep the whole mess under the rug, never knowing that two (or three) witnesses were huddled there, waiting for everyone to leave so they could crawl away, because if they moved any sooner they would have likely given themselves away, the way that they were shaking.

And that’s why I think Kate knew. I think that Kate was there at the final showdown, or at least present enough during the case that the ghoul children would have seen her, and would have known to look for her as well as Joe Barton when they decided to take revenge. I think that they saw Adam, and the pictures of John their house, and they did the math.

I think that Kate made a mistake in keeping Adam ignorant--regardless of whether it was her idea or John’s (though I’m gonna be real with you guys, I always thought it was Kate’s; I think John would have thrown Adam in the back of the impala and driven him off in to a life and guns, alcoholism, and bloodshed in a heartbeat if it weren’t for Kate)--because she made the same mistake that Mary would have with her children, in thinking that if you aren’t part of this life, it can’t hurt you. She was wrong. 

#my thoughts #adam milligan #john winchester #kate milligan #ghoul adam

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

(Un)Wanted Part 1

Read on Ao3 

(Un)Wanted Masterlist

A child that sees demons in every dark corner is not a child that is wanted.

A child that cries and freezes and mumbles of terrible things is not a child that is wanted.

A child that jumps and startles and hisses is not a child that is wanted.

Unwanted things are purged from the Earth.

So Virgil runs.

In other words: Virgil is an outcast, ostracized and shunned for how he was born, forced to flee an angry mob only to stumble right into a fae garden. 

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Warnings: Implied/Referenced torture, child abuse, and self-harm, nothing super explicit. Sympathetic Deceit and Remus. Panic attacks, anxiety attacks. 

Word Count: 11,250

He’s running. He’s running, he doesn’t know what from anymore, all he knows is that they’re chasing him, they’re after him, he has to run—

 He tears through the cold forest. It doesn’t matter that he can’t see where he’s going anymore, it doesn’t matter that the branches reach out and tear at his clothes, at his legs, at his arms. The cuts sting in the cold wind as he runs. His feet slap against the ground, too ungainly to dodge the smaller roots but just quick enough to swerve around the bigger ones. He glances over his shoulder. Can’t see them. Can’t see anything. Run. Run. Run. 

 The trees get thicker. The branches no longer whip past his shoulders, they stick. He has to dodge. He has to swerve. He has to hold his arms up in front of him to block the ones he can’t. His arms sting, rending through the thin tunic easily. His lungs ache. His brain races. 

Demon. 

Evil. 

Bad. 

Cursed. 

 The branches disappear and he almost pitches forward, throwing his arms out to catch his balance a few moments later. The second his arms aren’t in front of his face anymore, he winces. Why the fuck is there a massive clearing right here? It’s so goddamn bright, he has to blink at least three times before he can—

 Oh. 

 Oh, no. 

 No, no, no, no, this is bad, this is really bad—

 It’s a fae garden. 

 It’s golden. It’s enchanting. No plants grow that artistically. The colors are just this side of too vibrant, bathed in the gleam coming from he has no idea where. he can hear it faintly in the back of his mind, calling softly, luring him, beckoning him deeper into the garden. 

 No. No, no no, he has to leave, he has to run away, maybe if he runs a different way he can escape both of them but he has to leave now before something catches him and—

 “Oh, and what do we have here?”

 Shit. 

 His eyes widen and he whirls around to see a figure leaning up against a tree with far too much grace, all long limbs and coiled power. He pushes off the tree and saunters closer, the golden lights gleaming and scattering off the scales on one side of his face. 

 Where the fuck did he come from? He glances around. Are there more? There have to be. Where are they?

 “See something interesting, pretty thing?”

 His gaze snaps back to the—when the fuck did he get so close—fae in front of him, his eyes raking over anything and everything to make sure he’s not looking at his face. He doesn’t exactly remember the etiquette when it comes to fae but eye contact is the actual worst. 

 The fae is dressed like he’s stepped out of some time capsule, black bowler, a black cloak wrapped elegantly around his shoulders, a black suit underneath. Golden clasps hold it together over a shock of yellow. And…how many—six arms? 

 He backs away. The fae keeps coming. Too late he realizes he’s walked further into the fae’s trap, now he can’t get out of the garden. Not without going past the fae. 

 A hand, gloved in that rich yellow, comes up, a single finger tilting his chin up to—fuck why is he so close?

 Close enough that he can feel breath on his face. Close enough that he can see each individual scale, placed delicately next to each other. Close enough that he can see one side of the fae’s mouth curving up the side of his face like a snake. Or maybe that’s just the smirk. 

 “As flattered as I am by your staring,” the fae purrs and fuck, that voice, “my eyes are up here, pretty one.”

 He’s never been very good at responding to flirting in a normal way, mainly because most pick-up lines are terrible puns and he will either be too absorbed in the pun-off or the implications of said pun. And, um, he doesn’t…really get flirted with a lot. 

 But this? 

 He’s in way over his head and he knows it’s not just the flirting, it’s not just the teasing smile, it’s not just the low voice, it’s not just the finger that’s just this side of too light under his chin, he knows it’s fae, but he can’t do anything about it. And if he says the wrong thing—

 The predator in front of him smells blood and pounces. 

 “Didn’t they teach you manners,” the snake chides, tapping his nose with the tip of his finger, and he's caught between the audacity of it and how effortlessly he makes him feel tiny, “about how it’s rude to stare? Though I suppose I can’t blame you, not entirely, now can I?”

 The snake’s eyes go wide, the smirk growing fiendish as his insides turn to mush. He locks his knees quickly. He won’t collapse. He won’t. Even if that one finger under his chin is the only thing holding him up. Also what the fuck is he supposed to do with his arms?

 “My, my,” comes that frustrating purr, “are all mortals this warm?”

 The finger slides along his jaw, the touch leaving an electrifying tingle in its wake. He’s frozen, staring at the snake’s mismatched eyes as the gloved hand comes up to stroke a thumb across his flushed cheek, touch burning and soft. 

 “Or, oh, and now this could be very interesting,” and the snake leans closer, his mouth right up against his ear, “I haven't made you flustered, have I, my dear?”

 The ’s’ in ‘flustered’ comes out as a hiss, and fuck that shouldn’t make him turn to jelly but it does. A low chuckle rumbles through the air as the snake pulls back, grinning like the cat that got the—or the snake that—fuck, his brain’s too offline to come up with any metaphors that would work. Simile. Fuck. 

 The snake’s hand comes up under his chin again, the fabric of his gloves making the drag decadent as he lifts his gaze back to his and he can’t help the whine that comes out of his throat. 

 The snake’s grin widens. 

 “Oh, I didn’t enjoy that at all,” he purrs, “let’s see if I can make you do that again.”

 No, no—

 The snake’s fingers hook and trace three little lines up the underside of his chin and he can’t help it. This time he doesn’t just whine, he tilts his chin back further, much to the snake’s delight. 

 “Lovely.”

 He doesn’t even have to touch him this time. He whimpers. 

 “Is that all it takes, sweetie? Just one word?” The snake’s thumb runs along the curve of his jaw again. “Aren’t you precious~”

 The words sink into him like honey, sweet and sticky, trapping him in his touches, in his voice. The snake hisses contentedly, tilting his chin back and forth. He can’t look away. 

 “Precious indeed,” he repeats, the hiss becoming more pronounced, “if not a little…flushed.”

 He burns warmer, the snake’s smile growing, full of sly mischief and sharp fangs. 

 “You look distressed, kitten—“ prey— “are you…nervous?”

 Goddamnit, he’s not gonna collapse into a puddle. He’s not. Every single ounce of his willpower goes into making sure he stays upright. 

 I don’t! Know! What to do! With! My hands!

 “Oh dear,” the snake purrs again, not sounding at all sorry, “have I rendered you speechless?”

 Yes. 

 “You’re the one that stumbled into my garden, lost little lamb,” the snake hums, “how was I supposed to know you would be so easily disarmed?”

 He tilts his head, mismatched eyes shining. “It seems awfully rude to stumble in unannounced and then not explain the reason for the intrusion, does it not?”

 The smoky haze the snake’s words had cast on his mind tightens, the quiet whispering lure of the garden sharpening into a call. The snake’s touch is still light but his voice has an unmistakable edge to it. The snake’s fingers are a blade perched delicately against his neck. He doesn’t know how to keep it from cutting his throat. 

 The snake chuckles. “You’re too easy, my little mouse. I’m only teasing.”

 That doesn’t make it any easier!

 “Are you too tongue-tied to speak, darling?” The snake smiles, the human side of his face softening just the smallest bit. he might be imagining it. He’s probably imagining it. “That’s alright, I have…other ways of figuring out what you want.”

 Wait, what? No, no thank you. Don’t like that. Huh-uh. Nope.

 “Just…look here,” the snake murmurs, cupping his chin properly for the first time, the amount of contact making his head spin. 

 He’s still trying desperately to keep his legs from collapsing and he knows if he even tries to move he will fall into a puddle at the snake’s feet. But that leaves him frozen, helpless in the snake's gaze.

 “That’s it…just look right at me.” The snake’s eyes gleam as he gestures to his face. “Yes…enjoy, sweetie.”

 Stop it, he wants to plead, let me go. he can’t. 

 “Now, then, let’s see what brought you here…”

 He gasps. The snake’s words reach into his head and pull forward memories, emotions, angry words called out in fits of rage. Fear. Angry clattering of swords and torches swung so close the tips of his hair is singed. Knives, daggers, blood—lifting something from the inside of a chest and carrying it over to—

 He gasps. Years of neglect, abuse, being scorned and turned aside, cursed for the scars littering his body, mocked and shamed for them. Years of whispers behind his back, forced smiles, fake faces. Years of always having to look over his shoulder, think twelve steps ahead, always have a backup plan. 

 He gasps. Tendrils curling into his jaw, wiring it shut, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Tendrils winding around his arms, his legs, his fingers. Holding a knife. Rewriting his memory. 

 He sees himself. His true self. Standing with a pair of battered gauntlets encasing his wrists, his hands covered in blood. More blood splattered across his face, across the three long scratches that threaten to take out his eye. More scars twisting across his stomach, black pooling out from where they refuse to close. A blue glow, sickeningly artificial, emerging from his mouth, from his eyes, winding around him, tying him up. It hurts. 

 He blinks. 

 His eyes sting, he’s crying, when did he start crying? Is he crying? He blinks again, watching the snake’s face swim back into view. The shameless flirty smirk is gone, replaced with a softer look. Another moment and something covers his eyes. He can’t help the frightened keen when his world is thrown into darkness. Is the snake gonna take him somewhere? Kill him? Something worse than death? What’s happening?

 “Shh,” the snake murmurs, no longer dripping with allure, “hush now, darling.”

 He shuts his eyes reflexively, the sudden loss of his vision sending him stumbling. Can he grab? Yes? No?

A hand catches his arm. Another his other arm. Another pressed to the space between the shoulder blades. Another curled possessively around his hips. The hand over his eyes stays firmly in place, gentling a little as the other hands press him against the snake, holding him up. His legs won’t work properly, pulled as he is at an awkward angle. 

 “It’s dark because you’re trying too hard,” the snake murmurs, the quote rolling off his tongue, “lightly, child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly.”

 The snake adjusts his grip, pulling him closer. 

 “Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.” Another hand—that’s right, there’s six—cradles the back of his head. “Lightly, lightly—it’s the best advice ever given me.”

 The darkness doesn’t hurt. Doesn’t press. Just lays over his eyes. 

 “So throw away your baggage and go forward. There are quicksands all about you, sucking at your feet, trying to suck you down into fear and self-pity and despair. That’s why you must walk so lightly.” 

 The snake leans closer, his lips almost brushing the shell of his ear. 

 “Lightly, my darling.”

 He shudders as the air wafts over him. The word ‘lightly’ has been said so much it doesn’t sound like a word anymore. 

 “So you can speak,” laughs the snake—shit did he say that out loud?— “and oh, what a wonderful voice you have.”

 Really? Back to flirting already?

 “Oh, come now,” he chuckles, “is it really so simple? Alright, alright, I won’t fluster you too badly.”

 Or you could not fluster me at all we could make that work too. 

 “But you are right,” comes the voice, still right next to his ear, “about saying a word too often before it stops sounding like a word. You mortals tend to do that with yourselves quite a lot, don’t you?”

 The snake must be able to feel his brow furrow. He continues. “You tend to look at something for so long that you start to create flaws out of nothing. You see cracks where there are no cracks, imperfections when you know perfection is a standard you will not reach.”

 Is…is the snake trying to…comfort him?

 “You do that with yourselves,” the snake murmurs, the hand at the back of his head cupping it gently, “and you must look away.”

 Do what now?

 “Look away,” the snake repeats, “look away and give yourself time to breathe, sweetie. The words are still words, you just have to give them time to rest. You are not as flawed as you think you are. You simply must look away for a moment. And don’t forget to breathe.”

 The hand on the back of his head moves, the others leaning him back a little so it can come around and pat his chest. 

 “Breathe,” says the snake. 

 He breathes. 

 “Good.” 

 So he…isn’t going to kill him? Has he not violated some guest rite that allows the snake to exact some fae revenge? Are mortals not too small and too petty to warrant this amount of…effort?

 The flirting…the flirting he kind of gets. He knows he’s shit at receiving compliments, okay, and he knows the way he responded to that flirting was…entertaining. Probably. Yeah, it definitely was. 

 That doesn’t explain this. 

 “I can hear you thinking,” the snake hums, “I can hear your little mind whirring away in there.”

 Shit. 

 “Why don’t you just relax,” he purrs, drawing the word out in a way that has to be deliberate, “and stay right here?”

 And do what? I’m still standing here your six arms with your teeth basically at my throat and you seem to really enjoy making me not able to speak or do anything. 

 He tries. He tries to take another deep breath and let himself relax into the snake’s arms. It’s not easy. 

 “That’s it, good.” The hand on his chest gives him another little pat. “Well, now I could call you any number of things, my darling, now couldn’t I? But I did say I wouldn’t fluster you too badly.”

 He hums for a moment, he can almost feel his gaze through the gloved hand still over his eyes. 

 “May I have your name?”

 Nope. I know that one. 

 He swallows, his throat dry. his lips are dry too. he licks them quickly and clears his throat. “You may call me V.”

 The snake doesn’t seem too bothered by it. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. 

 “Clever boy. Very well, V, why don’t you just take another breath.”

 V breathes. 

 “Have you caught something new for us?”

 V’s breath catches. Fuck. 

 Another one?

 Judging by the approaching footsteps from behind him, yep. He still doesn’t know what the fuck to do with his hands. 

 “What fun,” the voice from behind him says, getting closer, “though from the looks of it…I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

 “No, of course not,” the snake drawls, “nothing of the sort. It’s not like I purposefully knew you were meant to be keeping watch today and sent you somewhere else.”

 They have a schedule? How many of them are there?

 “Well, good!”

 The snake huffs and the other one chuckles. 

 “So…” The voice stops just behind him and judging from how high up it is, he’s even taller than the snake. “What have we here?”

 Don’t fall over, whatever you do, don’t fall. 

 “Don’t be greedy,” the second one chides, another pair of hands resting on his shoulders and wow those are warm, “let me see what you’ve caught.”

 No, no, please, let me stay here, I can deal with the snake—

 No such luck. The snake releases his grip except for the hand over his eyes. 

 “There we go…”

 The warm hands turn V around slowly, one hand walking its fingers playfully over his shoulders as they do, across his collarbones, over the hollow of his neck, to the other shoulder. It’s just light enough to tickle, sending pleasant shivers down his spine. 

 “We’ve talked about this,” the voice keeps scolding playfully, “keeping things all to yourself…oh. Oh, look at this!”

 V knows his face is red, he can feel it. Then those warm fingers flutter up to touch just under his chin and tilt and shit he doesn’t want to do this again. 

 “Why are you covering his eyes? You’re not usually the type to…avoid attention.”

 “It’s not for me.”

 “You, doing something that’s not for yourself? Well, now I have to see. Move your hand.”

 No, please don’t.

 “Keep them closed,” the snake murmurs in his ear before his hand lifts. Even with his eyes closed, the light hurts and he squeezes them tighter. 

 “Oh, how could you?” Hands cup his cheeks. “It is a crime to cover up this absolutely adorable face. Just look at you, pretty thing.”

 Judging by the quiet chuckle from behind him and the delighted silence, they’re amused by his reaction which is definitely not to go even brighter and not to squirm a little against the hold. 

 “Well, well, well, isn’t today a lucky day?” Two fingers tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear, the soft touch drawing the blush right up to the tips. 

 If his eyes weren’t closed already, they sure as hell would be now. Unlike the snake, this fae didn’t seem to be content to restrict the touch to just a finger or the soft brush of a thumb. No, the new hand trails over his face, lingering in spots that make him twitch, where he’s sensitive. his mouth. Just under his bottom lip. The bridge of his nose, right between his eyes. Tracing a lazy path around his jawline, right under his chin. his face burns, each stroke setting his skin alight, until they blur together and he has no idea what’s actually touching him and what’s nothing more than a phantom sensation. 

 And because his eyes are closed, he still can't see anything. So he has no idea where they're going to touch next and he's in a horrible loop of being startled and making noise and then remembering he really doesn't want to move and getting frustrated with himself for moving and making more noise. 

 “Oh, I could stand here for ages,” the voice coos, “just coaxing more of those pretty sounds out of you.”

 “He has a pretty voice, doesn’t he?”

 Not you too!

 “I think he likes your voice,” the fae in front of him chuckles. 

 “I think so too.”

 “Which one does he like more?”

 No, no, let’s not test and find out, he’s barely staying on his feet as it is, he can feel the snake behind him and sure he could probably grab the fae in front of him too but he’s so close to being a puddle already, please—

 “I must say I was surprised to see you being so hands-on with him,” the voice muses, “especially because you know how…fragile little mortals can be, hmm?”

 “Mm.”

 “Shouldn’t fragile things be treated gently?” The warm hand is back under his chin, cupping it in a firm hold, one of his fingers stroking just the smallest amount. 

 “What if I were to talk like this? In a nice, sweet, gentle voice? Hmm? Would you like that, cutie pie?”

 No, no no no, that voice…despite how tightly V tries to stay, tries to clench every muscle he has in defiance, that sweet, soft voice wriggles its way under his skin and he melts. 

 “Aww, yeah,” the voice teases, “yeah, you do, hmm? Nice…and gentle…good…”

 He can’t help it, he whines. He can’t remember the last time he was praised, and he knows it’s not real, it’s not real, it’s just the fae toying with him, but it works and he hates his traitorous body for responding to it. 

 “I think you like this~” the voice coos, “I think you like the gentle voice, don’t you? Sweet voice…just like you, little honeybee.”

 He…he’s leaning closer, there’s breath fanning over his face, over his neck. 

 “Can’t you just give in to me,” he coos, “can’t you just give in, little cutie pie?”

 V’s lips part. His head tilts. Wait, no—

 “That’s right, little honeybee,” and he’s so close, his mouth is so close, so close, “give in…”

 “Enough.”

 Thank you.

 The fae in front of him laughs and drops his hand away. V stifles a sigh of relief, trying frantically to clear his head from whatever the fuck is happening. 

 “Don’t be jealous,” the voice says, “it doesn’t look good on you.”

 “I’m not jealous.”

 “Come now, you’re practically green around the gills over there.”

 “I haven’t gone yet.”

 “You had enough time before I showed up.”

 “And you didn’t see it.” The snake shifts. “You got him to whine, that’s all.”

 “Oh, I got several more than that, didn’t I?” A finger taps his nose and he squeaks, startled. “See?”

 “Oh please.”

 “Like you can do better?”

 No, no no, stop please, I would like to get off this ride. 

 A rustle. Then little puffs of air over his ear. 

 “Darling,” the snake purrs, and fuck, he’s already keening. 

 The snake chuckles darkly. “That really is all it takes, isn’t it, little mouse? Just…one word?”

 He’s too close. He’s too close and that voice like crushed velvet in his ears and he can hear his fucking smirk and oh god—

 “Squee for me, little mouse,” he purrs, “squee.”

 V squees. God fucking damnit he squees. He covers his face as the snake chuckles in his ear, trying to ignore how much it makes him want to squirm away. 

 “Thank you, my dear,” he purrs, a soft rustle signifying him standing back up. V doesn’t need to look to see he’s got a smug, satisfied expression on his face. 

 “Don’t hide,” the voice in front of him laughs, “why don’t you let us see that pretty face?”

 He’s gonna faint. He’s gonna fucking keel over right here because he can’t deal with this. He knew he should’ve fucking bolted the second he realized it was a fae garden. He knew he shouldn’t have let them chase him this way. He—

 “We didn’t break him, did we?”

 “He’s quite flustered, but no, I don’t believe so.”

 “Come on, cutie. Let us see.”

 “Lower your hands, little mouse, come now…”

 He fights down another whine and forces his hands away. The warm hands stipple playfully over his cheeks and fuck, he can’t help relaxing into it, making the voice chuckle again. 

 “Too much?”

 He nods, furiously squeezing his eyes shut. 

 “You’re the stunnable type, hmm? That’s alright. Someone could have told me.”

 “What, me? How could I have possibly known?”

 “Don’t act like you weren’t enjoying playing with him.”

 “Never.”

 “I thought we were taught not to play with our food?”

 Right. How the fuck did I forget that these are fae and the snake has literally been calling me ‘little mouse?’ What the fuck are they gonna do to me, can I run? No, no way, you’re not supposed to run from a predator, not like this, now there’s two of them, fuck, fuck—

 “Why is he still here,” the voice muses, still tracing his cheeks, “not that I’m complaining about the chance to play with this lovely little thing, but you’re not the type to share your food.”

 V’s…he’s kinda wondering the same thing. 

 The snake doesn’t respond. A gloved hand covers his fist. Something worms its way into his palm and forces his hand open. Gloved fingers lace through his. He presses his hand against a broad chest, hard. Holds it there. 

 The chest stutters. Tenses. Then sighs, letting all the breath out in a rush. 

 “Oh…oh, sweetheart…”

 The snake lets his hand go and he’s caught up in a powerful hug, enough to take his breath away. After the teasing, the feather-light barely-there touches, this…this—

 Warm warm warm warm! Solid alive real warm warm tight help trap? Hug? Hug? Warm warm warm too much too much not enough on fire burning don’t let go oh god please—

 “I should’ve known,” the snake murmurs, “that a prince never could resist a damsel in distress.”

 “You had all of your arms wrapped around him when I showed up,” the prince shoots back, “don’t act so superior.”

 It’s too much. It’s too much and it’s not enough and he needs it to go on forever and he needs it to stop. His breath is coming in great whooping gasps and he doesn’t know what to do. 

 The prince releases him, shushing him softly when he whines, already bereft of the warmth. “Don’t fret, sweetheart, I won’t hurt you.” He doesn't go far, wrapping him in a slightly looser embrace that still burns. 

 Something happens. Something happens and it’s too overwhelming for him to figure out what it is at first but then it stays and it keeps happening and is—is he—

 The prince chuckles as he pulls away, his thumb stroking over the spot on his forehead. “Never had a fae kiss before, hmm?”

 “It’s completely fair that you got to kiss him first,” comes the hiss from behind him, “it’s not like I’m the one that found him.”

 “Well maybe you should have done it before I showed up,” the prince says. “May I have your name, cutie pie?”

 Still no. 

 “You may call me V.”

 The prince laughs, unbothered. Then more darkness. V jerks back on reflex, startled by the contact. Honestly, every single time one of them touches him—

 “You look tired,” the prince says kindly, “rest your eyes for a little. Just keep them closed for me.”

 “Wow.”

 “Oh, please. I trust your judgment. And if he’s that easily overwhelmed…then yes, let’s have you keep your eyes closed for now, hmm?”

 “Are you tormenting mortals without me?”

 How many of them are there?

 He hears the prince huff and the arm around his back tightens. “Yeesh. Should’ve known you’d would show up.”

 “You know better,” the new fae says, “you’re supposed to tell me before you give someone else nightmares.”

 “If you would pay attention for two seconds—“

 “Oh what, like you can talk.”

 “Wow, guys, it’s so cool how you never listen to anything he says.”

 “Why are you here?”

 “What did you do to the mortal?”

 “Oh, shut up—“

 “Don’t tell me to shut up!”

 “Why the fuck is it bleeding then?”

 Oh fuck one of the new voices can double itself up and that is a bad noise and it’s too loud, there’s too many people, he doesn’t know where he is, the prince has left, he can’t hear the snake anymore, he can’t hear anything over the voices, so many voices, too many, they’re shouting now, it’s loud, it’s so loud, it hurts, he just wanted to run away why is he here now he should have run he should have run he just wants to go—

 Something’s touching him. Something’s touching him. Something’s prying his hands away from his ears—when did they get there?—with inhuman strength and he wants to go—

 It stops. There’s silence. 

 For a moment’s he’s terrified that he blacked out, or fainted, or something but then he feels smooth hands covering his ears. 

 “Shh,” says a low voice, lower than the snake’s, calmer, “hush now. You’re alright.”

 Is he, though?

 “Breathe, little one,” the voice soothes, “I know it’s loud. The others can get a little…rowdy sometimes. Just breathe. Focus on my voice.”

 He tries, tries to feel the rest of him. His head aches and he brings his hands up on instinct only to freeze. 

 “It’s okay,” the voice says, “you can touch. You won’t hurt me and I won’t let you hurt yourself.”

 The hands stroke over the crown of his head as he covers them with his own. They’re smooth, slightly cooler to the touch than he expected. 

 “I heard your pain when it was pushed through the connection,” the voice says softly, “and I can feel it now. The noise doesn’t help, does it?”

 He shakes his head, trying to lean as much into the touch as he can. It—it’s so hard right now and he knows this isn’t going to be free, nothing ever is with the fae, but he can’t help it, so much has just happened and he’s helplessly confused and he has no idea what’s happening and he just wants to be safe. 

 “I understand,” the voice continues, “shh, now you must listen. You are alright. You are here, standing in a garden. I am holding you. You will not be harmed.”

 He wants to believe it, he does. And he knows that’s how the fae trap people and he doesn’t want to be hurt anymore, but oh god, he wants to believe it so bad.

 “Can you not feel the flowers under you? Can you not smell them? Even with your eyes closed, can you not see the light?”

 He can. He can, but…

 “It’s okay,” the voice murmurs, “it’s okay.”

 The cool touch burns. It still burns, even though these hands aren’t as warm as the prince’s, nor are they as rough as the snake’s gloves. Why does it burn? It—it’s not trying to hurt him, is it? 

 “I’m just blocking out the extra sensory input,” the voice says, “I’m not hurting you. Though…I must say, you are the first touch-starved mortal I’ve seen in a while.”

 T-touch-starved? He’s touch-starved? Is that why everything burns?

 “Shh,” the voice soothes, “it’s okay. This isn’t a bad thing. Well, not in context right now. It is true that mortals, especially humans, rely heavily on physical contact. It is crucial to their health and development, particularly in infancy.”

 V nods, still clutching at the smooth hands over his ears. Why does this have to be so hard?

 The hands hold him firmly, then something touches his forehead. It’s warm and slightly chapped and—

 Is…is this one kissing him too?

 “It’s okay,” the voice murmurs after he kisses him, resting his own forehead against V’s, “everything is okay.”

 For the first time since god he has no idea when, he breathes easy, something finally releasing in his chest. V hangs on to the hands over his ears, letting the low voice wash over him. It’s like something’s reaching into his brain again, like the way the snake did, sorting through everything and tucking it out of the way and it…oh god it feels so clear. 

 “Do you believe me now,” it asks after a while, “about where you are?”

 He swallows, his voice refusing to come out as anything other than a whisper. “I’m trying.”

 “Why don’t you open your eyes, then,” the voice suggests kindly, “and see for yourself?”

 “The others…”

 “Have stopped yelling, if that’s what’s worrying you,” the voice says. 

 Not what he meant, but that’s good, right? 

 “Here,” the voice murmurs, moving his hands a little bit away from his ears, “see?”

 The ambient sounds of the garden. No yelling. 

 “Nice and quiet. I would hope,” the voice continues, raising a little, “that they would realize why that would not have been ideal.”

 “Be gentle, Specs,” the prince barks. 

 “I am not hurting him,” the voice assures, “although this next part might.”

And in an instant, V’s head fills again. 

Danger danger run run hurt it’s going to hurt they’re going to hurt me, oh god, I knew I should’ve run, no, no, no more please, not anymore, red fire knives sharp things burning.

“Hey, hey, it’s quite alright…” Something touches his forehead—another kiss?—and suddenly he can breathe again. “That was not my intention.”

 Specs, he guesses, doesn’t try and move again, letting him move his head around a bit to hear where he is. 

“Better?” V nods. “Good. You’re doing very well. May I touch your arms, please?”

 The first time one of them has asked before touching him. He nods, warily lifting his arms. 

 “Are these just from branches,” Specs asks, trailing a finger lightly over the—right, the cuts on his arms, “or did someone do these?”

 Nope. Nope. Bad things. So many bad things, no no no no—

 He shakes his head. “Just branches.”

 “Mm.” The light gets brighter behind his lids and he winces. “It’ll be over in a second, have patience.”

 His arms tingle, his skin itching as it gets warm, warmer, warmer, wait…

 Is Specs healing him?

 “It’s a good thing you didn’t try and take a dagger to the branches,” Specs says, “that could’ve been…bad for you.”

 “Better to be hacked at by a few branches than for their poisonous fumes to be unleashed upon you as soon as you slice open their limbs,” the other new voice says, the nightmare voice, right behind him, making him jump, “providing a slow, painful demise…as you choke on your own breath…”

 Specs sighs. “Yes, that is accurate. I am almost finished, one moment…there.”

 Curious, V runs his fingers over his arms and…yeah. The cuts are all gone. he opens his mouth to say thank-you when—

 Wait. Hang on. he’s not supposed to do that. 

 “…that’s better,” he chooses instead. 

 “Good.” There’s a moment of silence. “Are your eyes alright?”

 “Huh?”

 “It’s just…you haven’t opened them. And you, uh, the prince had them covered when we appeared up.”

 “They didn’t blind you, did they?”

 “No.”

 He really doesn’t want to say the wrong thing right now. He turns his head, trying to figure out where the others are. 

 “They’re just talking,” Specs says, “they won’t shout.”

 “What happened to you,” the other one—how fucking many of them are there, he’s gonna fucking faint at this rate—asks, “there was such exquisite pain in you when Snakey pushed it across…and you’re so tense…you need to loosen up.”

 No. No more flirting. Please, no more. 

 It’s not flirting, not really, but it makes his brain freeze all the same. 

 There are hands, warm hands, as warm as the prince’s, under his shirt, on his back, stroking his bare skin and it’s warm, it’s warm, it’s so so so warm and it feels so good but it burns but it’s too much he can’t think, he can’t hear, he can’t breathe—

 “V?”

 There’s a hand on his face. 

 “V.”

 The hand leaves his face. He whimpers. 

 “Stop it, Duke, he can’t think with you doing that.”

 “But—!”

 “Just for a second.”

 The hands are gone. His brain wakes up and he can’t help the soft desperate sound he makes. Wow, maybe he really is touch-starved. Specs shushes him. 

 “I know, I know, V,” he soothes, “I just need to talk to you for a second. Can you do that for me?”

 These have gotta be the fucking weirdest fae I’ve ever heard of. 

 He nods. 

 “Good. Can you hear me?”

 “Yes.”

 “Can you tell me what happened?”

 “What?”

 “How did you find this place,” Specs asks, his voice still tender and soft,“how did you get here?”

 “I was…” he swallows. “I was…running. They were chasing me.”

 “Why were they chasing you?”

 “Did they hurt you?” the duke growls behind him and he cringes. 

 He’s heard tales of fae anger before, and he expected it when he stumbled into the garden. He expected the fiery temper of an outraged fae. He expected stone-cold mutterings. He expected pretty words and sweetly soured threats as he was cursed for all eternity.

 This rage, this dark, hateful fury makes all of those sound like a child’s tantrum. 

 “Wow,” he distantly hears the prince laugh, “that didn’t take long.”

 “W-what’s happening?”

 “I believe the Duke has gone, as you mortals call it, feral,” Specs says, pulling him forward gently by his elbows, “only happens when he gets into a state of extreme protectiveness. It would be advisable for you to keep your eyes closed, otherwise it is likely looking at him in his current state would blind you/”

 Feral. Blind. Protective. 

 I’m so confused right now I’m not even sure what parts I’m supposed to be confused about and that’s confusing me. 

 How…how did this happen? Why is this happening? he just—he was just trying to escape. And then he stumbled into a fae garden and now—

 Now there’s at least…fuck, what is that now, one, two, three…at least four different fae here, two of them have kissed him, and one of them just went feral because of…why, exactly?

 Fuck, what kind of shit is he going to owe them after this? 

 The fae doesn’t do anything for free. Ever. Nothing comes without a demand for payment and they’ve…god, all of them have comforted him in some regard, he’s pretty sure kisses count for something, and one of them just healed him. 

 Out of the frying pan, into the fire. 

 Voices. They’re talking. They seem to be trying to calm down the duke. Specs…that’s right, Specs has got hold of him. 

 He’s…he’s warm too. They’re all warm. Is…is that because they’re fae or…because he’s touch-starved?

 Wow, you know, the more he says it, the more sense it makes. 

 Something wraps around his waist and yanks him backward, away from Specs. His back collides with something solid and he can’t help the frightened squeak. The grip shifts. 

 Oh. It’s a pair of arms. Is…is it the duke?

 “That,” he hears Specs murmur in front of him, “was adorable.”

 “Told you.”

 The chest behind him rumbles and he can hear something wet, like…like slime or something coming from behind him. He thrums with energy, almost making his teeth chatter. The duke clings to him like he’s going to disappear, or like a child would cling to a stuffed animal if a parent threatened to take it away. Trying frantically to calm his breathing, he keeps his eyes shut tight and tries to pat the iron grip around his waist…reassure it, if he can, ground them both. The arms relax, just the smallest bit, the hands—warm warm warm warm so warm—starting to move. It’s like they’re trying to map out his body as they pull him against him, comforting themselves by saying ‘it’s still here, right here’ through touch. 

 His tunic got rucked up when he was pulled back and the hands are so warm. One of them slips underneath and lands on his stomach and he tenses reflexively. The duke rubs softly. Warm. It’s warm. It’s so warm. The duke rumbles contentedly when he relaxes into his hold. 

 “Yeah, I don’t think he’s gonna let go of him now.”

 “It is highly unlikely.”

 “And you said it would be difficult.”

 “Ensuring the duke does not kill a mortal and keeping one are two different things.”

 Hold on wait what now.

 “Oh come on, you know the hardest one to convince is him.”

 “That’s such a flattering description.”

 “Like it’s not true!”

 Ugh, noise. 

 Wait. What’s that? 

 He jerks his head around only to wince when more light—honestly, he’s so not convinced they’re not actually trying to blind him, he hasn’t been able to open his eyes since the snake covered them—shines right at him. 

 “There you all are! I’m surprised you didn’t call me sooner!”

 “How many of you are there?” he mutters finally, only for the duke to chuckle. 

 “About time you got here,” the prince grumbles somewhere to his right, “I’m surprised you didn’t show up with Worry and Wart.”

 “Speaking of which,” the newest voice says and he can practically see the disapproving expression, “what have we said about trying to claim mortals?”

 The duke tightens his grip on him and growls. “Mine.”

 “Now, kiddo, you know better than that.”

 Okay, Dad has entered the chat. 

 The duke grumbles but lets him go. The sudden disappearance of the thing he’d been leaning against makes him stagger. Rude. 

 “Easy there, kiddo,” the new voice says, catching him, “don’t want you to fall and hurt yourself. What’s happened to your eyes?”

 “Nothing.”

 “Well, then, why don’t you open them, kiddo?”

 Because three of you specifically told me not to. 

 “It’s alright,” Specs says from…somewhere, “you will not be blinded if you look now.”

 “He gets a little…overexcited now and then,” the new voice says, “but it’s okay, kiddo. Come on, open up.”

 He’s still a little worried about the prince and the snake but not enough to outweigh the worry about what actively refusing could cause. Plus, this one kind of seems like a leader, so…

 He opens his eyes and immediately shuts them again, wincing and looking down. 

 “Oh, are you hurt? Did something go wrong?”

 “It’s bright,” he defends, and honestly, it was bright to begin with. Now that he’s had his eyes closed for god knows how long, it’s unbearable. 

 “I can fix that.”

 Well, the prince must do something because it dims. It gets to the point where he doesn’t have to screw up his eyes anymore and he blinks. 

 The garden still glows, but it’s nowhere near as noticeable. he registers the flowers first, still bright and perky. his gaze travels up a pastel blue cloak to a pair of black glasses. Oh. 

 He looks…ordinary. Kind of. He looks just like a human except there’s something just off-center. It’s like…a human but slightly to the left. Yeah? We get it. It’s like the human half of the snake’s face. 

 Actually…do they all have the same face?

 He looks around. Specs, he’s guessing, is the one in the dark blue suit, also wearing glasses. The prince has to be the one in the bright white, the crimson sash across his chest and the pieces of gold gleaming. Next to him stands the snake. He also waves. 

 Behind him must be the duke, then. He, well, he really kind of looks like the prince. Except he’s in black and green. And has a mustache. And like…four tentacles. Okay. Sure. At this point, why the heck not. 

Also, they’re all…really pretty. Like…really pretty. 

So pretty that just the thought of those flirty comments said by those faces are enough to make him blush to the tips of his ears. 

 Why are they all so pretty? This isn’t fair. 

 His attention is drawn back when the one holding him beams. “There you go! I knew you could do it. Can I have your name, kiddo?”

 Third time ain’t gonna be the charm. 

 “You may call me V.”

 He throws back his head and laughs. “Alright, alright, that’s fair. Then you may call me Pat.”

 …sure.

 “Have you met everyone else?”

 We’re putting ‘met’ in big scare quotes, right. 

 He shakes his head hesitantly. Pat pouts, looking around. 

 “You didn’t introduce yourselves?”

 “L,” says Specs. 

 The prince and the duke glance at each other. “Yeah, that’s not really gonna work for us.”

 “What? No, it can!”

 “You may call me the Prince.”

 “Ugh. Fine. I’m the Duke.”

 Nailed it. 

 Pat looks expectantly at the snake. The snake just smiles. 

 “He likes being secretive,” Pat stage-whispers, “don’t take it personally.”

 “Eh,” the prince says, “he’ll come around.”

 “Oh no,” Pat says quickly, “not you too.”

 “As a matter of fact,” L says, “I’m afraid it’s just you that has not…joined in.”

 Pat looks around to see the duke nodding fiercely. “Now, kiddos, you know the rules. We can’t just take every mortal we find, we have to help them find their way back home. Especially if they’ve done nothing wrong!”

 So…so I haven’t done anything wrong? Does that mean I don’t owe them anything? Does that mean I…I can leave?

 But where would I go?

 He doesn’t want to go back. He doesn’t want to have to run again, away from the swords and the arrows and the hurt, away from all the people that would love nothing more than to put his head on a spike or watch him get pecked apart by birds. They…they hate him, hate everything that he is. 

 And for as much as they’ve all been, the fae, they’ve…

 None of them has hurt him. 

 It’s been so long since someone touched him without the intent to hurt. 

 Hell, one of them did go feral at the thought of someone else trying to hurt him. 

 Would…would it be so bad to stay here? 

 “Oh, come on, you’re the heart! You felt that,” the duke exclaims, “you know we can’t just—”

 “It’s not our job to interfere!”

 “On the contrary. We have indeed ‘interfered,’ as you put it on multiple occasions of a similar kind.” L gestures to him. “This one should be treated similarly.”

 “Ha, see?” The prince smacks L’s shoulder. “Even L agrees.”

 “That doesn’t happen very often,” L mutters. 

 “I, for one, think it’s a splendid idea!”

 “See, Duke does too! And you know how rare it is that we agree on something!”

 “The rules are there for a reason, kiddos,” Pat scolds, “and why are they there?”

 The prince groans. “‘To preserve the balance between their realm and ours and to make sure the two don’t collide,’” he repeats reluctantly. 

 “Exactly!” Pat looks back at him, resting his hands on his shoulders. “This has been a lot for you, hasn’t it, kiddo?”

 Boy howdy, that’s one hell of an understatement. 

 He nods. Pat smiles patiently. 

 “You’ve been through so much, haven’t you,” he murmurs, taking a strand of his hair and twisting it around his finger, “brave little kiddo…it still hurts, doesn’t it?”

 “…yes.”

 “You know what mortals are like, Pat,” the prince mutters, “they’re bad enough with their own kind, and they aren’t evolved enough to know how to deal with difference. You know how wrong that can go.”

 “Do you have someplace to go, kiddo?”

 Does he?

 Would anywhere ever be far enough away?

 Would he even get there?

 The prince sees his hesitation and seizes it. “No, he doesn’t, does he? Why can’t we just keep him? Don’t act like you don’t want to!”

 “We are not keeping him!”

 They’re…they’re fighting. Over him. Over…over whether or not they can keep him. Not whether they want to but…whether they can. 

 Oh. Oh, wow. 

 The prince opens his mouth to respond but—

 Footsteps. He can hear them. Through the trees. He jerks his head around in the direction of the sound. His eyes go wide. No. No, no. Did they find him? How did they find him?

 “Are you sure that little bitch went this way?”

 “I can’t see a damn thing!”

 “Why the fuck didn’t you lock the restraints properly, then this wouldn’t’ve happened!”

 “It’s not like he needs his arms to run!”

 “Then why didn’t you just cut off his leg and call it a day?”

 “Ah! Damn branches, what the hell—“

 “Where the fuck did he get off to?”

 “Told you that monster wasn’t human!”

 “He cursed us, I bet you. He’s probably laughing at us right now.”

 “With any luck, some animal found him and did the job for us.”

 “Hey, what’s that?”

 “What?”

 “Over there, see the light?”

 No, no, no, no, no no no not again—

 He turns and tries to run but runs into Pat, who grabs him tightly. He whimpers, tries to pull away but Pat holds him fast. He looks up at Pat’s face to plead, to—

 —oh. 

 Pat’s gaze is fixed over his shoulder, his face unreadable. He doesn’t move as the mob gets closer and closer. 

 “Hey, hey, stop!”

 “The fuck are you on about?”

 “Don’t you know a fuckin’ fae garden when you see one? I ain’t going in there!”

 “Think he ran through here?”

 “Fae probably caught him. Wonder what the hell those bastards did to him.”

 Pat quirks an eyebrow. 

 “Tore him apart, at least I fuckin’ hope so.”

 “Let’s go back. I ain’t running through there and if we’re lucky the fae got rid of him.”

 “Maybe we should thank them.”

 Loud guffaws trail off into the distance. he breathes a sigh of relief. They’re gone. They’re gone, they’re gone. 

 Pat still hasn’t let him go. He looks up anxiously at Pat’s face to see him clench his jaw. he has to fight the urge to shrink under Pat’s gaze when he looks down. 

 "Did they hurt you?"

 His words are frozen in his throat. The garden is silent.

 "Just nod or shake your head, did they hurt you?"

 When Pat sees him nod, sees how scared he is, something softens. One hand comes up to twist the strand of his hair again. 

 “Change of plans,” he says quietly, “may we keep you, kiddo?”

…h-he can stay? They…they want him?

 The prince whoops as he nods, the duke rushing forward to hug him enthusiastically from behind. Pat giggles, reaching forward to crush both him and the duke in a hug. 

 “Nobody’s gonna touch you again, kiddo,” he murmurs, pressing a—wow, is this, like, a thing? ‘Cause he just kissed his forehead too. Then he frowns and runs a thumb over the spot he kissed. 

 “Seems I’m the last one, hmm?” At his confused look, Pat smiles, holding his hand out. A pastel blue glow appears in his hand. 

 “We all have different colors,” he explains, “as you can…probably guess from looking at us.”

 V nods, still confused as to where this is going. 

 “When one of us makes a claim, it leaves a trace in that color. And you, kiddo,” he says, tapping his nose, “are a rainbow.”

 A…a claim?

 “Even though we didn’t discuss it beforehand…”

 “Pish posh,” the prince says, “he’s staying now. Which means—oh! Oh, we have to get ready!”

 “Oh shit.”

 “How did we miss that?”

 “We gotta go!”

 The duke lets him go with one more squeeze and a smacking kiss on the forehead—okay this must be a thing—grabbing the prince by the arm as they rush toward the other end of the garden. L follows a little more sedately. Pat squeezes his shoulders. 

 “Give us a few minutes, kiddo, then step through the portal.”

 He blinks, still a little taken aback by the sudden whirlwind of energy that just swept through the garden. Pat seems to notice and softens. 

 “This is a lot, I’m sure,” he says quietly, “and it’s okay if you need to take your time, kiddo. But you’re under our protection now. You can come when you’re ready, okay?”

 He nods dumbly. Pat smiles and draws away. As he nears the others, there’s a bright flash of light. So bright he throws his arms up to shield his face. Then it’s gone. When he looks, there’s just a shimmering doorway. 

 “They’re so dramatic, aren’t they?”

 He turns. 

 Right, the snake didn’t go with them. He comes closer, holding out one hand. 

 “Oh, come now,” he laughs when V hesitates, “we have just established we’re keeping you. There’s nothing for you to worry about if you take my hand.”

 He’s got a point, but V would be lying if he said the snake still didn’t make him incredibly nervous. Part of it’s just common sense, part of it is the fact that, out of all of them, he still has absolutely no idea what he wants. 

 Part of it is the fact that he looks like that and sounds like that and seems to really enjoy flustering the hell out of him. 

 “There we go,” the snake murmurs when he says to hell with it and takes his hand, using it to pull him close, “would you believe me if I said I didn’t intend for this to happen?”

 “'Believe me if I said.’ Hmmm. Yeah no.”

 The snake laughs. Like, properly laughs. Throws his head back and has to put a hand to his torso and everything. Oh, oh wow. Of course, it makes him even more attractive. Bastard.

 When he stops, he waves his hand. “Alright, let me rephrase: having the rest of them immediately agree to keep you was not at the forefront of my mind when you first fell into the garden.”

 “Wh-why did that happen?”

 The shake in his voice seems to sober him. The snake laces their fingers together and presses his palm against his chest, as he did with the prince’s. “We are all connected,” he says softly, “at a base level. We can communicate through it if necessary, almost like the telepathy mortals believe in.”

 “So…”

 “When I held your hand against the prince, I pushed.” He pushes his hand a little firmer against his chest, close enough for him to feel the powerful heartbeat beneath. “When the rest of them felt your pain…well. I wasn’t lying when I said they never could resist a damsel in distress.

 “I do wish you hadn’t kept that sharp tongue to yourself for so long,” he muses, “it almost makes me wish I hadn’t flustered you so badly to begin with.”

 A touch of gloved fingers under his chin and oh god, not this again. “Well,” the snake purrs, his eyes gleaming, “almost.”

 V’s able to look at him for all of three seconds before he has to look away, blushing panic mounting. 

 “Is it truly so easy, little mouse?” the snake laughs, “must I simply look at you in a certain way and you’ll fluster?”

 “Enough,” he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut. 

 “You can open your eyes now, darling,” the snake says, still chuckling slightly, “you needn’t worry.”

 “Eye contact is the actual worst and you will not convince me otherwise,” he mutters. 

 He gives him a gentle smile and taps the underside of his chin. “Then I suppose me asking you to keep them closed was a good thing, hmm?”

 There…there’s something else bothering him. V opens his mouth to ask but…it’s kind of an invasive question. And he really doesn’t want to piss him off. Especially not now. 

 “It’s going to be an awfully tiring existence if you can’t work up the courage to ask anything, little mouse,” comes the gentle encouragement.

 “Wh…why did the prince say you were the hardest to convince?”

“Did you happen to catch when the duke called Pat the ‘heart?’” When he nods, he smiles. “Clever boy. It’s an apt description. Each one of us has a…different function. I am the Gatekeeper.”

 Gatekeeper. 

 “It is my job to ensure the barrier between our two races is held,” the snake continues, “to be cautious…about any sort of interaction. As you might have been able to guess, the others are…much more receptive to humans than perhaps they should be. The rules are in place for a reason, and I am the one who helped put them there. This is not the first time they have tried to keep a mortal. And the prince is right, I am the hardest to convince. I have never let them keep a mortal before, not like this, despite whatever claims the others may have made, despite how they try and use those claims to influence me.”

 The snake pulls him closer still, the hand holding his stroking it gently. “But I found you first. And my claim is the strongest.”

 Oh. 

 Oh. 

 “…you wanted to keep me,” he breathes. 

 The snake softens for perhaps the first time since he laid his hand over his eyes. 

 “Why do you look so scared?”

 Really? Are you absolutely fucking serious?

 “I’m not going to hurt you,” he murmurs, still cupping his hand against his chest, “none of us are.”

 “Yes, and I’m sure that one sentence is supposed to counteract the rest of the incredibly overwhelming things I’ve had to deal with today. How incredibly irrational of me to believe otherwise.”

 “There’s that wonderfully sharp tongue again.” He tilts his head. “Perhaps that was the wrong word…you look unsure.”

 V huffs. “Because there’s nothing about this to be unsure of.”

 V knows tearing himself away from him probably comes off as rude. V knows turning his back is probably a bad idea. V knows burying his hands in his hair is going to hurt. 

 V does it anyway. 

 “V—“

 “Why do you want to keep me,” he blurts out before the snake can finish. Ge whirls around to see the snake freeze, reaching for him. “Why?”

 The snake frowns. “Does it matter?”

 “Of course it fucking matters, I don’t know what you want and I can’t—if I don’t know what you want then I can’t do anything and nothing the fae ever does is for free and I don’t know what you want and I—I don’t know how this happened and I just wanted to run away—“

 Oh god, oh god, he’s yelling, fuck fuck fuck he fucked up—

 Why is he on the ground? When did that happen?

 Right. Huddle. Small. Hedgehog. Scary things. Be as small as you can because scary things, why are scary things?

 Fae. Right, he’s yelling at a fae. 

 Oh, fuck he’s yelling at a fae. 

 Small. Just be small. Hide. Just hide and be small. 

 It’s cold. It’s so cold. 

 Then it isn’t. 

 “Shh…shh…there, there, don’t be so afraid, I’m not here to be cruel to you, shh…shh…” 

 “W-wha—“

 “Shh…breathe first,” the snake murmurs, his hand hovering over his shoulder, “I’m not going to touch you until you can breathe properly. Nice and slow, come now…”

 The dark clouds keep rolling, thicker and thicker, building and building until they crash so loudly in his ears. V presses his fists to his ears, hearing voices doubling, tripling, yelling, screaming, they hate you they hate you you’re pathetic you’re cursed they hate you—

 “I’m right here, I won’t let anything hurt you…”

 Lighthing flashes and the voices howl. V whimpers, curling in on himself. 

 “You’re overwhelmed, little mouse, I know…just breathe and then we can figure everything out…”

 Something…something’s covering him. There’s something covering him. He opens his mouth to ask wha—

 “Shh-shh-shh, don’t try to speak just yet, you’re still shaking.”

 The snake…the snake is covering him. The clouds lighten and he…he can breathe again. 

It’s…it’s raining? Is that why his face feels wet?

 “…oh, oh you’re crying, my darling…shh…is it too much?”

 It hurts. He’s so cold. He’s so cold, the snake is so warm. 

 “As I’m sure L would tell you, crying is the mortal response to any situation that’s overwhelming. It’s just you trying to cope with everything, let it out, sweetie, it’s okay…”

 V’s brain comes back online as the snake reaches out to tenderly wipe his cheeks, catching his tears as they fall. He’s looking at his hand, brow furrowed, leaving V to stare helplessly at his face. It’s so much easier without eye contact, so much easier. 

 The snake holds him firmly, crouched as they are on the ground. It…it feels…safe?

 He catches V’s gaze and tilts his head. He…he can’t look away but he’s not…the snake’s not doing whatever it was he was doing before. He just looks…soft. 

 “What is it, darling?”

 “What,” he croaks, “do you want?”

 “You are small,” he says, “broken, hated…lost, abandoned, persecuted.”

 He wipes away another tear. 

 “And you are kind. Hopelessly and relentlessly kind.” He lightly pats his chest. “When I looked to see what you wanted, when you stumbled into the garden, I saw pain. I saw heartbreak. And you…you didn’t want vengeance, no, you just wanted it to stop.”

 He shifts his weight, still holding him firm. 

 “You are lost in darkness and you are so afraid, my darling…so afraid,” he whispers, “you want to be safe, don’t you?”

 he nods. 

 “Is it so hard to believe that I want you safe? So hard to believe—” he catches another tear on his thumb— “that you are wanted?”

 “What use is a broken mortal?”

 “Why must a wanted thing have a use?”

 “What fae makes a useless trade?”

 “What mortal doesn’t accept a free gift?”

 “What fae gives something for free?”

 “What hurt caused this suspicion?”

 V’s mouth clamps shut. The snake stares at him, unblinking, unyielding. 

 “If I weren’t fae,” he says finally, “would you still be this afraid?”

 “…yes.”

 The snake inhales sharply. his eyes widen when he sees a rising tide of terrible fury, there for just a second, just a second, before the snake breathes out and it disappears. 

And that, that split-second of rage, is enough. Enough to reach deep into the anxious mess of his brain and start to say maybe, just maybe, he might actually be safe. If…if the wrath of the fae is between him and the rest of the world, then…then maybe he’s safe. 

 “Perhaps the Duke had the right idea,” the snake murmurs. 

 “Going feral?”

 “Mm.” He cups V’s face in his hands, pushing his fury away and replacing it with that same soft patience from before. “What is it that is making you so afraid?”

 “I…I don’t know you. I’ve never interacted with any of…your kind before, ever. You—when I first showed up, you—“ he swallows— “you seemed to really enjoy making me as uncomfortable as you could. Then there were so many of you and I was freaking out one moment and being calmed the next and now you’re doing something for me and I’ve given you nothing and you’re—“

 Nope. Nope, nope, nope, not saying that out loud. 

 “I’m…what?”

 V shakes his head, pressing his lips together firmly. Fuck, his face is burning again. 

 “Come on,” the snake coaxes, letting him break his grip and look away, “what were you going to say?”

 “…pretty.”

 The snake tilts his chin back up, not saying anything about his eyes being shut again. “A little louder?”

 “Pretty.”

 He braces for the teasing, the flirting, but it doesn’t come. 

 “Look at me, V.”

 “Is that strictly necessary?”

 The snake chuckles. “I must insist.” He smiles kindly when he looks at him. “There…I did say I wouldn’t fluster you too badly.”

 “You said that before you and the prince did…that thing.”

 “Ah, yes, I did, didn’t I?” The snake cups his chin carefully. “I admit, when you came in I wanted to play with you. Toy with you until you told me what you wanted and then…well, send you on your way. But then…then I cast upon you and I couldn’t.

 “I made that claim, this claim, because the garden responded to you. Most mortals can’t stay in the garden for long without being sucked under completely or driven insane. You melded with the magic in the air and it bound itself to you. And when I looked, I saw it. It’s one of the reasons I pushed you into the prince, into the others. They felt it too, I’m sure of it.”

 The snake lifts his hand, faint golden sparks floating around his glove. 

 “Unlike the others, as Gatekeeper, I am tied most directly to the garden. That’s why I’m the hardest to convince. The garden wants you, V. I want you.”

 He leans closer. “Don’t you see?”

 V sees. He brings his hand closer and he starts to glow. As Pat said, he’s got little bits of color shining off of him. Red, deep blue, and light blue glow from his head, fading into a rich green the lower he looks. And the whole thing is bathed in a rich, deep gold. 

 “And for the record?” The snake leans forward, kissing his cheek, burning soft. “You’re pretty too.”

 Shit. 

 “Oh, come on,” the snake laughs, “I wasn’t even trying that time.”

 “I’m just really bad at receiving compliments, okay?”

 “You are adorable.”

 “Hey!”

 “You are, sweetie, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about, just accept it.” He chucks him lightly under the chin. “I imagine not many people have complimented you, have they?”

 “No.”

 “Well, I would prepare yourself. The others certainly will, as you may have guessed.”

 Right, he’s staying here. With them. They’re…they’re going to look after him. They’re going to keep him. 

 He’s safe. 

 He looks up to see the snake looking fondly at him. 

 “If I compliment your smile, will that make you stop?”

 “Probably.”

 “Then I won’t.”

 He swallows. This is a bad idea. This is such a bad idea. “…thank you.”

 “Oh, I’ll compliment you on other things.”

 “No…thank you.”

 His grin widens. “You’re welcome, V.”

 Well, I’ve broken the glass, I might as well push the button. 

 He licks his lips. “Virgil.”

 The snake tilts his head, his brow furrowed. “What?”

 Staring at him, determined to keep eye contact, he steels himself. “Virgil.”

 The snake looks confused a moment longer before realization dawns and a smirk crawls over his face. But it’s not the shameless flirty one, nor is it dangerous and full of fury. It’s…it’s the smirk you’d make if you were a little unsure about what was happening. 

 “Careful, darling,” he murmurs, “don’t you know how dangerous it is to give your name to a fae?”

 “You’re already keeping me,” he says, “aren’t you?”

 The smirk turns into a warm smile. “Yes. Yes, we are, Virgil.”

 Oh, oh yep. Yep, that was definitely a bad idea because him saying his name in that voice…

 Judging by the change in his eyes, he’s realized it too. 

 “And here you are,” he purrs, adjusting his grip, “all wrapped up in my arms.”

 He whines. “What happened to not flustering me too badly?”

 “I can’t help it, Virgil, you’re simply too easy, my darling,” the snake chuckles, “but I’ll stop. Just for now. Wouldn’t do to have you getting too overwhelmed, now, would it?”

 “After all,” he says, gentling his tone and pulling him into a proper cuddle, “we’ve got all of eternity, don’t we?”

 He’s warm. He’s so warm. There are hands on his head, around his back, around his waist, he smells of spice and pine. There’s a mouth next to his ear. 

 “J.”

 “Hmm?”

 He tilts his head up to look at him. “J.”

 Oh. 

 Oh. 

 “…thank you, J.”

 “You’re welcome, Virgil.”

#sanders sides #fic #dragonbabbles #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #fae au #lamp #dlamp #dlampr #platonic lamp #platonic dlamp #platonic dlampr #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic roman #sympathetic light sides #my first time writing for these characters as well so please be kind???

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

i ain’t done anything for @tolkienocweek yet, mostly because my covid-induced neet-dom has decoupled me from any association with sidereal time and thus there’s no way i could guarantee getting something out on its specific day. still, i do have one character that could potentially qualify for day 3 (background characters) or day 4 (self-inserts), sorta. i’d like to introduce you all to the proprietor of the fëanorian ethics department, the as-yet-nameless fed elf

fed elf is a... moderately idealised self-insert of mine, though she’s taking on a life of her own

she’s also a noldo. of course she is

her Noldorin Craft™ is, as i’ve said before, arguing. she has very strong opinions about almost everything and will debate them at length

she’s moderately infamous for it in tirion

she’s especially fond of philosophy, in the ancient-greek asking-a-million-rhetorical questions style. what should we do? why do we do the things we do? why do the valar get to tell us what to do?

... you can probably tell which side of the fëanor/fingolfin debate she landed on, if it wasn’t already obvious

she’s not particularly close to any of the future capital-H House, but she is in their rough orbit. one of the miscellaneous guild trolls that form the rank-and-file of their initial expeditionary force

idk if she’s ~devoted to the cause enough to go to formenos, but when the trees get eaten and fëanor rolls up into tirion with the solution to all their spider problems, she is all for it

she’s a passing acquaintance of maedhros from those times when he’d show up in her guild hall for debate night, so she probably ends up with his crew, at least initially

... there’s a very good chance her first attempts at crafting a new noldorin ethical system happen on that horrible night aboard the blood-stained swanships of alqualondë

in any case, she gets good enough at murder to not die before the brothers hellspawn are divvying up east beleriand, and the formerly reasonably undelineated fëanorian host is splitting up into its various garrisons

most people stay with whoever they’re already riding with, but there are exceptions. she is one of them, as soon as she hears about caranthir’s Plans she immediately switches allegiance to the future lord of thargelion

he’s deliberately trying to set up on the trade routes! they’re gonna make contact with the dwarves! there are apparently trails leading over the blue mountains, links to communities of elves unlike she’s ever seen!

so many new people to argue with!!!!!!

so she heads up to lake helevorn, and helps with setting up the city. she winds up filling some middling role in east beleriand’s military bureaucracy, when she’s not on orc-killing duty

but her true passion is *~ethics~*

there is actually a practical component to this. due to Certain Events the noldor (especially the fëanorians) aren’t as-well suited to their pre-darkening moral codes as they might have once been

they need a new one, with contingencies for, like, murder, and all the other new situations they’ll encounter in this new world! the questions of what’s right and wrong have been blown right open, and fed elf is possibly the happiest she’s been in her life. they’re building everything else from first principles, why not this?

and the fëanorian host in aggregate does actually care about morality, even though outsiders never believe that. it’s what separates them from the orcs (in their minds at least); they’re doing everything for a Cause, not for destruction’s sake alone. say what you want about the fëanorians, their problem was never a lack of ideals

she gets people coming in sometimes, wanting to know what the right thing to do in a situation is. either that, or they think she’s wrong about something and want to explain why in depth, which is almost as fun

soon enough, there’s a small shop just off the main streets of lake helevorn called the fëanorian ethics department

(she’s the only one with a shop, but she’s not the only member of the host with Opinions. the guy on the other side of the market district whose system is fairly similar in the broad strokes but completely different in the details is her personal archnemesis)

for most of the first age, fed elf has it pretty good. by her standards, at least, and she’ll happily exposit at length as to why they’re the only ones that matter

the work on the system of ethics never quite stops, but it does slow down. she’s less prescriptivist than most noldor, so she does a lot of observation and interviewing and stuff, and also new things keep happening for her to cover, but she does manage to nail down the basics!

she does consultation, in varying levels of official capacity, but she’ll also just. answer anyone who comes in with a question. or asks one within earshot

it’s mostly noldorin fëanorians she has debates with, the sindar and atani generally prefer to ask her whatever they want to know with minimum fuss, but whenever she gets a real fight going they all join the crowd. watching fed elf argue with people is one of lake helevorn’s municipal spectator sports

she also has conversations with travellers! these usually start when some newcomer is staring in befuddlement at the sign outside her shop and she takes the opportunity to pounce

she asks them detailed questions about their own ethical systems, which she files away for potential future incorporation/argument ammunition. they fairly frequently ask questions of their own, most often variations on ‘you guys seriously have morals?’

sometimes this even turns into a proper ethical debate! these aren’t usually as well-argued or intense as the ones she has with other fëanorians, particularly if she’s not talking to a noldo, but when she meets someone who’s a proper match for her it is the highlight of her year

running the shop does generate a fair bit of paperwork she tends to be too emotionally invested in to deal with properly, so she hires help now and then. one recurring underling is a clumsy perpetually-ill atan who is nevertheless really good with the filing and holds fierce opinions of their own, even if they hide under the table whenever anyone so much as raises their voice

(that atan is me. much less idealised self insert)

like every other elf in the host, fed elf is still under arms. she has a unit, she’s part of the orc patrol rotas, when caranthir needs to do a battle she pulls her broadsword out from under her desk and reports for the muster. east beleriand is just a pretty violent place in general, and her most impassioned arguments frequently shade into all-out duels. east beleriand, where even especially the philosophers will knife you

but just like fëanor promised on tirion upon túna so long ago, she’s built a place where she can be the best version of herself, and she couldn’t be happier (marketplace douche notwithstanding)

like so much of the host, she has big plans for when they topple angband and reclaim the silmarils. it’s just, well

i am not entirely sure what fed elf’s fate is after the fall of thargelion. most likely she died at some point, because so do most of her peers and also because she has an aversion to cutting her losses that’s definitely gonna backfire sooner or later

it’s either that, or she abandons everything she ever worked out to flee over the blue mountains, or she sticks with the host long enough to see all their ideals and dreams burn to ash. out of all of them death is probably her kindest fate

if she does die - she’s definitely a kinslayer at least one time over, she is staying in the halls for a While. the local maiar completely stonewall her every time she tries to argue her way out, she has plenty of time to sit around and think

because yeah, the host’s century-long self-immolation has given her a lot to think about. she was wrong, it turns out, in several important ways, and from the outside she can see how much the ethical system she put her heart and soul into was bent towards destruction

if she ever gets out, it’ll be after a lot of self-reflection, a massive dose of humility, and her accepting her own small-but-not-insignificant role in the nightmare they created

the fëanorians as get let out of the halls of mandos are without fail less violent, more self-aware, and just generally more conscious of their actions than they were when they went in. fed elf is no exception to this

she’s also no exception to the rule that their time in elf afterlife therapy generally fails to lower their volume at all. soon after her rebirth, after some time spent rethinking her personal moral code, fed elf puts out a thesis as to why elwing’s refusal to give up the silmaril was perfectly justifiable under fëanorian ethical mores

this pisses off a measurable proportion of aman’s sapient population. soon the furious letters of rebuke are pouring in nightly

exactly. as. planned

#tolkienocweek #my terrible headcanons #my terrible ocs #feanorian minions #i have a lot of hcs about how they work that i tried to fit into here #in general i feel like their initial noldorin core is mostly made up of the family hellspawn's personal friends #just groups of buddies going off to war together! there's no way this can end badly! #my mental image of fed elf is way more defined than it has any right to be #i made her up to have a cool blog title and for absolutely no other reason #still it is oc week. y'all are basically asking for my ideas at their dumbest

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 289: Looks Like the Gang’s All Here

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “you guys don’t really need to know what’s gonna happen to Deku and Shouto right now” and cut away to Toga and Ochako before anyone could get a word in. Skeptic utilized the power of Freak Shounen Coincidence to magically zero in on Ochako and Tsuyu amongst the fleeing crowd. Toga was all “IS THAT OCHAKO” and immediately leaped down to fight them, ignoring Spinner’s heartfelt speeches about Villain Found Family because fight now, hug later!! Down in the streets of some unidentified crumbling city, Ochako was approached by a sweet old lady and was all “I better help this sweet old lady who is definitely not leading me into a trap”, which unfortunately turned out to be poor decision-making on her part. Anyway so now she and Toga are going to throw down. AND ALSO, P.S., BEST JEANIST IS STILL ALIVE, and that doesn’t really have anything to do with anything right now, but BY GOLLY I JUST HAD TO SHOUT IT FROM THE ROOFTOPS.

Today on BnHA: Iida and Hadou are all “is it our turn yet”, and Horikoshi is all “yes”, and so the two of them finally burst onto the scene and are all “hello Shouto, Gigantomachia is on his way, btw do you need help” and so they all get ready to fight Tomura together. Meanwhile in Unnamed Ochako And Toga Fight Town, Toga is all “what’s up Ochako, oh is this the All Might doll Deku gave you, I guess you must like Deku as well, just like me, we truly are the same, btw I can use other people’s quirks now” before she vanishes in a flurry of knives and ambiguity, as mysteriously as she came. So that’s a thing that happened. The chapter ends with Gigantomachia and the League STOMPIN’ ONTO THE SCENE, JUST IN TIME FOR ENDEAVOR TO WAKE UP AND BE ALL “OHHHHH SHIT.” YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT, “OH SHIT.” Finally the pieces are in place for Dabi to reveal his true identity to Hadou and Iida, JUST LIKE WE ALL EXPECTED.

before I start, thank you so much to everyone who sent birthday messages on Wednesday!! I had a good day; my quarantine impulse purchase guitar that I ordered months ago but had been backordered finally arrived, and so now I can do something productive with my time as I continue to while away these months in isolation! not to say that capslocking over fictional characters and their shounen escapades doesn’t also count as being productive lmao. anyways, my fingers hurt so typing is kind of a bitch right now, but I’m having fun still. IF KAMINARI CAN DO IT THEN SO CAN I

anyway so let’s see what mishaps my various catastrophe-prone children are getting up to this week

okay there are several things happening in this panel which I want to comment on

IIDA!!!

HADOU!!!

“some time after” jesus fucking christ though, how long have Deku and the rest actually been fighting?? like it’s absolutely absurd to imagine that they’ve been managing to hold off Tomura for more than a few minutes, and yet everything we’ve seen these last couple of chapters suggests that this is indeed the case. which is just pure insanity tbh. excuse me sir, but I have an emotionally maturing son, a homewrecking grandpa, and a sleep-deprived one-legged platonic husband who are all in DIRE NEED of medical attention just FYI

lastly, I direct your attention to these two cool cats in the background who are both riding on hover surfboards. living it up like it’s Back to the Future. why are there two of them. do they both just happen to have the exact same quirk. what are the odds. ARE THEY TWINS. I want to know everything about them dammit

anyway so Hadou is asking Iida why he’s tagging along, because unlike the others, he can’t fly and is thus vulnerable to Tomura’s attacks and such

well Hadou I’ll have you know that it his DUTY AS THE CLASS PRESIDENT to tag along and THAT’S WHY

oh shit you guys IIDA SAID “FUCK THE LAW”

“plus Bakugou-kun, whom I am not particularly close to, but nonetheless hold nothing personal against!” well uh, kind of a weird distinction to make there bro, but okay. listen everyone, it’s a tense situation; if Iida feels the need to clarify the ins and outs of his interpersonal relationships with each of the people he’s rescuing then please just respect that okay

anyways though have I mentioned how much I fucking love Iida Tenya though you guys. feels like I haven’t mentioned that enough. I LOVE HIM. there

FINALLY

AFTER THREE WHOLE WEEKS WE FINALLY CUT BACK. OH MY GOD. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW LONG OF A TIME THAT IS TO BE HOLDING YOUR BREATH. [EXHALES]

is it bad that my immediate reaction to this page was A LOT OF LAUGHING, though. fkldlksh this entire situation is SO ABJECTLY TERRIBLE that if I were Shouto I would almost be fighting the urge to look around for a hidden camera at this point. ASHTON KUTCHER WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING HERE. OH THANK GOD, IT WAS ALL JUST A PRANK

anyway so uh. heh. how screwed are we at this point, exactly. oh and also, whose speech bubbles are these. who the fuck would look at this situation and these bleeding children and say “HA!” what kind of monster. just ignore that paragraph right before this one please

OH SHIT, OH SHIT, OH SHIT

TOMURA I CANNOT BELIEVE I’M SAYING THIS, BUT PLEASE LISTEN TO AFO FOR ONCE AND JUST LEAVE

pretty please. we kind of have a situation here. not that I wouldn’t love to see what this icy flamey boi could do if push came to shove, but I also have had just about enough of watching children get maimed for today though

OH SHIT

THE TIMING OF THIS MAKES ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE AT ALL BUT I DO NOT CARE!! THE CAVALRY HAS ARRIVED THANK GOD

“WHAT UP GUYS, WE BROUGHT YOU SOME TERRIBLE NEWS” FKLSHLKHLK

WELL GEE IIDA THANKS SO FUCKING MUCH!!

lmaoooo a wild Lida has been spotted what the fuck is this translation though

I don’t know which is better, the “Lida” (DO YOU EVEN READ THE SERIES BRO), or the “CHRIST” gkfhkg. CLASSIC LIDA

OH SNAP HADOU

sobbing at Manual cradling the still-warm corpse of Gran Torino like a tiny baby khlk;h. BUT ANYWAYS HADOU SAW HER TEACHER ALL BLOODIED UP AND IS READY TO THROW DOWN, YESSSSS, THE MY LADIES ACADEMIA ARC CONTINUES

(ETA: listen you guys, there were many things at the end of this chapter that brought me joy, but perhaps none more than the inclusion of Hadou in the final two page spread looking all serious alongside the Todorokis, as if she has any fucking clue at all wtf is going on slfkhlkhgghsl. what I wouldn’t give to see her and Deku and Iida all making frantic bewildered eye contact at each other throughout the next chapter lmao.)

GOD FUCKING DAMMIT DEKU

ARE YOU PROPPING YOURSELF UP WITH YOUR ARM THAT’S IN SPLINTERS, I CAN’T EVEN BELIEVE YOU RIGHT NOW. SOMEONE PLEASE SLAP SOME SENSE INTO THIS CHILD. SIT YOUR ASS DOWN

LMAO TODO’S READY TO TAKE AFOMURA ON. THE SHARED HERO BRAINCELL HAS ALREADY EXPIRED. FUCK IT LET’S DO THIS

“true, I already watched him murder my dad, my boyfriend, my other boyfriend, my teacher, and dozens of other people, but gosh darn it, I just feel like the fifteenth time’s the charm you guys.” shit, I ain’t even mad. who’s up for yet another episode of Todoroki Shouto Attempts to Murder a Bitch

-- “TIME TO CUT AWAY!!” laughs Horikoshi as he gleefully dodges out of reach before I can punch him, that SON OF A --

goddammit. you’re just lucky that I’m invested in the girl power fight too

YESSSSS OCHAKO

DON’T BE SORRY FOR KICKING ASS! NEVER BE SORRY FOR KICKING ASS

damn, looks like she managed to touch Toga’s shirt but not Toga herself. both of them are so fast

now Toga is monologuing from the shadows

we’ve all been there, Toga. sometimes you see someone you really like and it’s just like, ahhhhhh gotta kill them am I right

lol I love Toga so much you guys, but I’m also kind of wincing in anticipation of whatever essays are gonna materialize out of the fandom this week explaining how hero society has failed her utterly and she is just a victim here. CAN YOU NOT SEE HOW SHE JUST WANTED FREEDOM TO BE HERSELF AND MURDER A BUNCH OF PEOPLE flhkklhl

OH SNAP SHE WENT AND TOLD HER THE THING!!

and it was fucking awesome and scary as shit, Ochako. like damn, still sends a chill up my spine just thinking about it

anyway so now Toga is continuing to explain that she can use the quirks of whoever she transforms into

and Ochako is kind of freaking out, which I don’t blame her for, since it’s probably really upsetting to hear that your stolen blood and quirk were used to murder a bunch of people. shit

so now she’s all “WTF WHY WOULD YOU EVEN TELL ME THAT”

??? was this somehow the wrong answer?

for fuck’s sake. Toga you literally came down here to ask her if she would be willing to kill you, and here she is telling you “I would never be happy about killing someone, that’s fucked up”, and you’re all “......”

like come on though, what else do you want her to say?? and why does Ochako look so shocked now

OOP

LMAO

THEIR FACES DKSLHFKG. TOGA NO THAT IS MEAN. and jesus christ Ochako it’s just a toy. I know it has Sentimental Value and shit but is this really the thing to be getting distracted about right now

FOR FUCK’S SAKE

JIN-KUN WHOM OCHAKO HAS NEVER FUCKING MET?? THAT JIN-KUN??!

OM NOM NOM

this entire confrontation makes absolutely zero sense to me you guys. just. Horikoshi was all, “this is the kind of stuff girls talk about when they’re battling to the death, right?” just, are you okay my dude

anyway so Toga has somehow deduced that Ochako got the doll from Deku, which means that she and Ochako are exactly alike in every way, and this is somehow an important plot point, and now they’re finally getting back to the fight lulz

OH SHIT

OCHAKO BOUT TO SLAP THE SHIT OUT TOGA WITH THIS BOOKCASE ON A STRING AND THIS LOUIS BAG OH FUCK

so now Toga’s all excited and she’s all “THERE’S SOMETHING I OUGHT TO TELL YOU, I’M NOT LEFT HANDED EITHER” oh snap

fuck, it almost feels like she’s trying to warn her. Ochako idk maybe you should run shit I do not like this ( ﾟдﾟ)

but of course she is not running, and she’s all “I’ll have you take responsibility for your actions”

HEY NOW

WHAT IS FUCKING HAPPENING, DID TOGA JUST FUCKING MURDER TSUYU, WHAT THE FUCK. I AM TERRIFIED, I DON’T WANT TO SCROLL DOWN, SHE THREW LIKE FOURTEEN KNIVES INTO THE DARKNESS, WHAT THE FUCK

OH

IT’S POSSIBLE THAT I MAY HAVE OVERREACTED

so did Toga just Swip a bunch of knives for no reason and then abscond, lol what. CAN ANYBODY PLEASE EXPLAIN TO ME WHAT THE PURPOSE OF THAT ENTIRE SCENE WAS. ASIDE FROM GETTING TO SEE OCHAKO TRY AND YEET A BOOKCASE AT SOMEONE

fuck, she was crying??

DID MY GIRL TOGA JUST KILL AN OLD WOMAN, NAKEDLY LURE OCHAKO INTO A BUILDING, ANTAGONIZE HER INTO SAYING “I’LL MAKE YOU TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR KILLING A BUNCH OF PEOPLE JUST BECAUSE YOU FELT LIKE IT”, STEAL HER DOLL, GIVE HER DOLL BACK, TELL HER “OH SO YOU LIKE DEKU TOO HUH? BTW I CAN USE OTHER PEOPLE’S QUIRKS”, AND THEN RUN AWAY CRYING??? BRUH

-- OH SHIT, OH FUCK

[SIRENS BLARING WILDLY] [AUDIENCE LEAPING OUT OF THEIR SEATS] [T-SHIRT CANNONS BOOMING IN THE AIR] [VIKING WAR HORN SOUNDS IN THE DISTANCE] FUUUUUUUUUCK

well never the fuck mind about Ochako and Toga and WHATEVER THE FUCK THAT ALL WAS SUPPOSED TO BE, I guess, BECAUSE!! MACHIA MADNESS HAS ARRIVED. SPEARS SHALL BE SHAKEN!!! SHIELDS SHALL BE SPLINTERED!!

AND LOOK WHO WOKE UP FROM HIS NUMBER ONE HERO BEAUTY NAP RIGHT ON CUE, TOO!!! ATTENTION ALL PASSENGERS... IIIIIIIIIIT’S TOUYA TIMEEEEEEEE

#bnha 289 #iida tenya #hadou nejire #toga himiko #uraraka ochako #todoroki shouto #todorokibowl 2020 #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha

[bibliophilea]

The End - Ch. 1

Happy Holiday Truce, @mystyrust! Sorry to make you wait - I wanted to do something big, but I forgot to take into account two things: I am a slow writer, and this story became too big to handle as a oneshot. I do have big ideas for where I want this story to go, but we'll see how the story builds itself as I write! Happy Holidays!

If elements of this story seem familiar, that’s because they are! This is based on @lexosaurus‘s tags on @dannys-phucking-dead‘s post! I hope you enjoy!

ffn | ao3

>1< 2 3 4 ...

"Listen. I've met a lot of great asteroids. Really fantastic asteroids. And they've all told me themselves — they said that I was a great president. All of them said that — all one hundred thousand asteroids. I was there."

The camera switches to Tiffany Snow, sitting at the anchor desk.

"This is what President Drumpf had to say yesterday regarding NASA's claims that an unforeseen asteroid is approximately 21 days from hitting the Earth, creating an extinction-level event on par with what took out the dinosaurs," Snow states with a cheerful smile. "Polls suggest that approximately 48.2% of the population believe NASA's claims to be a hoax; 29.5% believe it's the end of the world; and 22.3% is undecided. Lance, can you tell us a bit about Amity Park's response to NASA's claims?"

The camera switches to a street view outside of Amity Park's capitol building. People crowd the streets, many of them yelling and holding signs. Some signs read "THE END IS NIGH". Others say "ASTEROID SHMASTEROID". A few say "DEFUND NASA". One sign says "[citation needed]".

"Certainly, Tiffany," Lance Thunder replies, nearly shouting over the crowd. "As you can see here, tensions are high in Amity Park. Citizens gather to make their voices heard amidst NASA's claims of doom and gloom. Hey, Bob, what do you think of NASA's statement?"

Thunder turns to a middle aged man beside him wearing a bright red cap. The man bends to put his face by the microphone Thunder is brandishing.

"It's fake news, is what it is! I mean, come on! How does a freaking asteroid come out of nowhere? It's a China conspiracy, I tell you!"

Bob nods, and Thunder takes back the microphone. "Well, you heard it here, folks. Amity Park's citizens think NASA's claims are a ho—"

"THE END IS NIGH!"

A woman wearing a sign with the same message butts in, snatching the microphone from Thunder.

"The Disasteroid cometh for us all! Soon it will be Judgement Day and all of you Non Believers will be found Wanting!"

Thunder squawks. "Hey! That is APN property! Give that back!"

The camera turns to focus on Thunder and the woman as they fight over the microphone, their squabbling barely audible over the feedback. Then the feed cuts back to Tiffany Snow.

"Wow Lance, looks like no one can break Amity Park's spirit," Snow says with a grin. "In other news, Congress has voted to defund NASA—"

The TV clicks off.

Danny carefully puts down the remote before he allows himself to shake. His fists clench, and he hides them under folded arms, lest they be seen bursting into ectoplasmic flame. His face feels taut, teeth clenched, eyes abnormally dry. Toxic green edges his vision, and he clamps his eyes shut, lest they be seen glowing green with his anger.

And oh, he is angry.

NASA is a world leader in space aviation and exploration, and Congress is defunding them. And for what? Because they told the truth? Because there's a humongous asteroid about to hit the Earth? They should be funneling emergency money towards NASA, not taking money away! The world needs NASA, now more than ever! Danny has seen the images NASA shared — the images the media doesn't dare share, lest the wrath of one President Drumpf befall them. He doesn't know how everyone missed it — it's huge and it's glowing green and no stars glow green like that — but now that everyone knows about it, there should be some sort of plan to stop it, right? Wrong! The president says it's fake news, and Congress follows suit, and the biggest space programs in the world can't agree on what to do about it when half the world doesn't even think it's real and oh god we're gonna die like actually 100% die and it's not ghosts it's not Pariah Dark it's a big fucking SPACE ROCK that's going to do us in for good and there'll be no more habitable Earth and no more Ghost Zone and we're all going to DIE—

A hand touches Danny's knee, and he gasps, eyes flying open, cringing away from the contact.

Through the green haze in his vision he sees bright orange and immediately shuts his eyes again. They can't see, can't see him freak out, can't see his powers freak out with him—

The hand touches his knee again, and he freezes at the touch, body tense, teeth clenched, eyes shut tight. Another hand touches his arm and he takes in a breath, shuddering as the hand slowly moves to his shoulder, and then to his back, rubbing large, soothing circles. Danny tries to time his breathing to the circles, like Jazz had taught him to, and slowly the blood rushing in his ears (when had that happened?) quiets to a dull roar.

"There we go Danny, see, just breathe. You're okay. You're at home, and Mom and Dad are out, and you don't have to hide."

Danny uncurls slightly at the sound of his sister's voice. He opens his eyes a crack — just enough to see past the green haze — and really looks this time. The orange isn't the same shade as his dad's jumpsuit — it's a lighter, more natural color, and it surrounds a face with concerned, green eyes. Jazz. Jazz is here, and she has her hand on his knee, and she's rubbing circles into his back, and he's kind of sort of getting the hang of breathing with the rhythm of those circles. He leans into her, and she bundles him into a hug, still rubbing circles into his back.

The front door opens, and Danny and Jazz both freeze. Jazz said Mom and Dad are out, but what if they're back? They can't see him like this, they'll find out!

Danny has half a mind to just turn invisible when their voices hit his ears.

"Man, dude, did you see what Congress did to NASA? That's so unfair!"

"It's totally unfair! They're just telling the truth! This whole administration is the absolute worst!"

Tucker. Sam. Danny relaxes slightly at their voices, but he doesn't turn around — doesn't want them to see him like this, either.

But it's too late.

"Woah, dude, you okay?"

"Danny!"

He hears them rush over to him — feels their worry and the warmth of their bodies as they get close — and tenses up again. He should be better than this, stronger than this! He shouldn't be freaking out about some dumb news report.

Not just a dumb news report, his brain helpfully supplies. We're all going to die. And there's nothing you can do about it.

All of a sudden, Jazz's embrace feels too tight. To constraining. Trapping him where he is.

He slips intangible and flees from Jazz, flees from his friends — flees upwards, up through the ceiling and through the roof and through the Ops Center, flees until there's no more house to flee from. He lands hard on the roof of the Ops Center, scraping his knees but it doesn't matter, hands scorching the metal but who cares, it's just the end of the world—

He pulls his knees to his chest and buries his head in them, his face screwing as he tries to get a hold of himself, tries to rein himself in, it's just the end of the world, just the end of Mom and Dad and Jazz and Sam and Tucker and school and movies and parks and people and everything and everyone he'd ever tried to protect—

"Bite this."

Danny feels something cool touch his lips, and he bites down — then coughs and spits as bitter rind and sour citrus burst in his mouth.

He looks up to see Tucker triumphantly brandishing a whole lemon with a chunk bitten out of it. Sam and Jazz stand to either side of him, varying levels of worry and amusement fighting for dominance in their faces. Danny spits again, and stares at the bits of rind and lemon pulp that vacate his mouth.

"What the hell?"

"Told you it'd work!" Tucker crows.

"A lemon?" Danny splutters.

"It's an... unorthodox grounding technique," Jazz responds, "and it normally isn't administered like that—"

"Point is, it works," Sam interjects. "How're you feeling?"

Danny stares at the three of them for a moment. Then he sighs and chuckles darkly. "The worlds going to end because too many people don't believe NASA about an asteroid hurtling towards Earth, and Tucker made me bite into a lemon. How am I supposed to feel?"

He sighs again, long, hard, and shuddering, and he lets himself fall backwards onto the warm metal of the Ops Center roof. Jazz lies down across from him, and Sam and Tucker lie to either side of him, all their heads nearly touching. The sky above them is bright blue, clear of clouds. Birds flit across Danny's vision, twittering as they chase each other before flying off to who knows where. Does it even matter? They'll all be dead in a few weeks.

"I don't want to die again."

The words slip from his mouth, and he feels his breath hitch, watches as his vision goes blurry. His hands begin to clench into fists — but then Sam and Tucker take his hands, massaging the tension from his fingers and palms, and Jazz runs her hand through his hair like she used to do when they were kids and he'd had a nightmare, and something in him breaks.

A sob wrenches itself from his throat, and he curls in on himself. His sister and friends move to hold him close, and he can't help but lean into their touch. They hold him as his eyes glow green, as his hands fist into the metal of the roof, as his sobs take on a ghostly tinge, nearly wailing his grief and his anger and his fear into the sky. He shudders as he cries, and feels as they shudder with him — feels as Sam and Tucker push their faces into his shirt, and as Jazz buries her face in his hair — feels as his shirt and his head where their faces lie become damp.

Crying. They're crying.

And it's his fault.

A wave of guilt washes over him, and he wants to pull away again, wants to force himself to stop crying, to be strong for them. But their grips on him tighten, and they speak to him, words warped by their own tears. "Just let it out," Tucker mutters into his back. "It's okay to cry," Sam whispers into his shoulder. "You don't have to hide," Jazz repeats into his hair.

But beneath their words, beneath their tight hold on him and the way they push their faces against him is a hidden plea: "Stay," they say.

Please stay.

So Danny stays.

Danny stays, and they cry together, and the sun shines down upon them from the clear blue sky.

*~*~*

Danny doesn't know how long it's been. Only that he's no longer crying, and that his friends and sister are no longer crying. They've melted into a cuddle pile of four, with Danny at the center, and the sun beats down on them from a different angle than before. Danny has wound up with his head in Jazz's lap, and she's playing with his hair. Sam and Tucker are on top of him, still holding his hands. Their weight is comforting.

Danny is exhausted. He just wants to fall asleep and deal with everything later. Crying in front of your friends and sister will do that, his brain helpfully supplies. So will the end of the world.

He sighs heavily and moves to sit up. Sam and Tucker get off him, still holding his hands, and Jazz helps him up, moving from playing with his hair to rubbing circles on his back. He smiles faintly at all of them.

"Thanks, guys," he whispers hoarsely. He really does have the best friends and best sister in the world.

Too bad they're all going to die in three weeks.

He frowns and sighs again, too tired to cry.

"It's heavy stuff, huh," Jazz says gently. Danny looks back at her, an eyebrow raised. She continues. "The thought of everything ending like that — it's really hard to think about. Hell, I'm having trouble processing it." She smiles gently at him. "It's okay to be scared and angry, and it's okay to be scared and angry in front of us. You don't have to hide."

"Okay, okay, I get it," Danny mutters. "No more running away."

"Good," Sam remarks. "Now, what are we going to do about everything?"

"What do you mean?" Danny asks.

"You know. The asteroid?" Sam raises an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah. That." Danny frowns down at the roof of the Ops Center. The metal is warped and singed where his hands had dug into it. "What are we supposed to do about that?" He looks back up at Sam. Her eyes bear into his, and her grip on his hand tightens.

"Look, I know this is hard for you. It's hard for me, too. But we can't just sit here and do nothing."

Danny frowns at her. He opens his mouth to respond, but Tucker gets there first.

"Look, I know we need to have this conversation, I really do. But can we have it inside? The metal's starting to get really hot." Tucker stands up, rubbing his free hand on his jeans from touching the roof.

Danny sighs and stands up, stretching the kinks from his back. Sam and Jazz stand up with him.

"On it," Danny says. "Everyone hold tight."

He feels Sam's and Tucker's grips tighten on his hands, and he feels Jazz grab his shoulder. With a poke at his core, he tugs them all intangible, slipping through the roof to the refreshingly cool interior of the Ops Center. He lets go of intangibility and lets gravity embrace them slowly, gently depositing them all on the floor of the Ops Center. Then he lets go of his friends' hands and steps forwards, turning so he's facing the three of them.

"So, what are we supposed to do, huh? Half the world thinks the asteroid's a hoax, and the other half either doesn't have the money to do anything, or is stuck in petty arguments about what to do and who's to blame and all that shit." Danny crosses his arms and frowns.

"Dude, you're the Ghost King," Tucker's quick to reply. "Doesn't that mean you can, like, do anything?"

Danny facepalms. "Oh my god, Tucker, I'm not the Ghost King. I told the Observants I don't want any part of it. And besides, even if I were, who's going to listen to me? Klemper? The Box Ghost? I'm sure they can convince the world to get its shit together!"

"Hey!" Sam interjects. "You can't just focus on what we can't do. We need to focus on what we can do, as a team."

"Oh, and what can we do, Sam? We're way out of our depth here! The four of us can't stop the asteroid from hitting Earth!"

"You're right, Danny," Jazz says. Sam and Tucker gape at her.

"But dude—"

"You can't just—"

"Hey, let me speak!" Jazz waits until Sam and Tucker close their mouths — Tucker with a perplexed look on his face, Sam with an expectant frown.

"We are out of our depth," Jazz states. "We don't have the resources or political pull here on Earth or in the Ghost Zone to make a significant difference." She pauses. "But we know someone who does."

It takes a moment, but Sam gets it first.

"Oh, ew, we are not asking him for help!"

"Wait." Tucker says. "Asking who for—" horror dawns on his face. "Oh, no. No no no. We can't! Why would you even think of that?"

"Think of what?" Danny asks, a little annoyed that he doesn't get it.

"Asking Vlad," Sam, Tucker, and Jazz reply.

"Oh, ew!" Danny says automatically.

Jazz rolls her eyes. "It's not like I want to talk to him either! I just think given the circumstances, we don't have much choice."

"There's always a choice, Jazz," Sam retorts. "He'll probably try and force Danny to stay with him in exchange for his help."

"Yeah, Jazz," Tucker adds. "He's a slimeball. Who knows how he'll try to play this to his advantage."

"But—"

"I think Jazz is right," Danny says.

Sam, Tucker, and Jazz stare at Danny, flabbergasted. Danny blushes.

"Well, it's like Jazz said — I don't want to, but I don't think we have a choice. We need his help. And besides," he says with a smirk, "the man is way too narcissistic. He doesn't want to die because half the world doesn't believe what's right in front of their faces."

"And we can use that to our advantage," Jazz adds. "He knows he'll need help with whatever scheme he's plotting, and there isn't enough time for him to be picky."

"So, what? We go to him for help, and threaten to walk if he tries to pull anything?" Sam raises an eyebrow.

"Exactly." Jazz and Danny grin at each other.

Tucker sighs and pulls out his PDA. "Alright, fine. One meeting with one seriously messed up frootloop coming right up."

Danny stares. "Dude, what are you doing?"

Tucker looks up. "Um, scheduling a meeting with our evil mayor?"

Sam shakes her head. "He's probably booked. We'll have better luck if we just show up."

Jazz nods. "He's probably expecting us anyways."

Tucker sighs and puts away his PDA. "Alright, fine. But can we take a moment to clean up? I don't know about you guys, but my face is crusty."

Danny looks at his friends and sister. Their hair is a mess, and their eyes are still rimmed red. Sam's mascara has dried after running down her face, and Tucker's glasses and Jazz's headband are askew. Danny figures he doesn't look much better.

He nods. "Alright. But after that, we have a meeting with one seriously messed up frootloop!"

#danny phantom #holiday truce 2020 #christmas truce 2020 #phantom planet #danny fenton #jazz fenton #tucker foley #sam manson #rewrite #dp fanfic #dp fic #mystyrust #lexosaurus #dannys phucking dead #danny #jazz #tucker #sam #i'm sorry this is so late! #but i hope you like this! #i have Ideas for this story #and i'm excited to get to them! #but the kids needed to let their emotions loose first #my work #my write #not a q

[justalittlebluetiefling]

i CANNOT believe we haven’t talked about the moment yet what is happening please tell me the things you need to get off your chest like how ‘i’ll see you in the morning’ haunts you

HOW have we not talked about this yet?!?! Oh my gosh there’s so much. I have so many feelings about this conversation.

Uh oh, this needs a cut. Didn’t mean to turn this into an entire analysis of that conversation, but apparently I had a lot I needed to get off my chest.

How are YOU holding up with all this?!?!

I was really worried about you... when you fell. ... This suddenly feels far more serious than I thought it might be.

UMMMMM. His voice?! This whole time. His voice is like... unsteady and rough and he’s quiet the entire time. Fjord tends to be pretty subtle anyway, so quiet isn’t exactly rare for him, but this actually shook him to his core AND YOU COULD HEAR IT. It messed him up so bad that he threw all of his plans to wait out of the window?!

It felt like hell. It felt like torment.

And we have to stop it, right?

I’m emotional about THIS because JESTER?! She lost FIVE YEARS. Not only did she have to see this again, feel it, but she lost five years. And it’s clearly hurting her, but she’s not letting herself worry about it, because there are bigger things to worry about. It’s just the way both of them push their own emotions to the side to be dealt with later in favor of the larger problems at hand. It’s so admirable.

AND HE’S NOT EVEN... okay wait.

I... I may have a... a... a problem.

THE WAY HE CAN’T EVEN SAY IT. He’s so NERVOUS. Because he KNOWS why he’s THERE.

And JESTER. What is it? So fast! She’s so worried! She probably thinks it’s Uk’otoa or Kotho contacted Fjord about Sabian again or something.

I saw you standing on that pillar. It was the first time where I kept myself from... trying to... stop something that was happening TO you and... I didn’t do anything and it’s bothered me.

He has a problem. His problem is that he can’t focus past the fact that something might happen to Jester. THE THING HERE. IS THE EMPHASIS ON THE WORD ‘TO’. “Stop something that was happening TO you”. Like, all of the times throughout this campaign that we weren’t overanalyzing. We’ve made the list a thousand times and I don’t need to repeat them. here

ALSO. Think about how many things in Fjord’s life have happened TO him. He doesn’t WANT that to happen to anyone else. Especially not Jester.

But wait. Like. He didn’t say it, but he really CAN’T focus past the idea that Jester specifically might not make it out of this. The guilt he’s been carrying after the Iron Shepherds. He took all the responsibility of that onto his shoulders and I don’t think anyone realizes that he’s still hanging onto that.

It seems to have exacted a pretty serious toll.

It’s just... his voice! And the way Jester’s face falls!! I’ve been pretty worried about how Jester still seems to be putting up the ‘happy’ facade for everyone and you can truly see in this moment how much it bothers her that she’s lost time.

I want to come out of this and be able to go back to the sea and go back to Nicodranas and go back to where it’s warm and not fucking freezing and...

Me too.

They miss HOME. The poor Coast Kids miss their home. They’re both so sad. But okay. The hilarious thing here? Is that Fjord? Is talking about how he wants to go back. To THEIR home. With HER. And it hasn’t HIT HER yet, because she’s distracted! She has no idea what’s about to happen.

I just don’t know if that’s... I don’t feel as optimistic now.

Me neither. But... I’ll try to be safe. And you should, too. But if it comes down to it, if it means stopping that thing? I want to stop that thing.

AND HERE. What was it he said to her at Travelercon? And you care about people you know, about people you don't know. You cause chaos, but in the end, you don't want to hurt people. You care. This is something that he LOVES about her, but right now, it’s just... okay I’m trying to put this into the right words.

*sharp inhale* I told your mother I would look after you.

Yeah. I’ll be fine, Fjord. We always are.

Continued from the previous thought. HERE’S THE DEAL. Fjord knows he can’t protect Jester from this, no matter how much he wants to. His voice is breaking over that. And Jester’s is, too. They’re saying all these words here, but they’re also NOT. I don’t know. I’m watching the video again while I’m typing this, so this moment is breaking my heart in slow motion.

It’s not even just on Fjord’s side. Jester’s doing that thing right now where she deflects, because that’s what she does and trying to reassure Fjord because he’s never been so worried about her and she doesn’t know what else do to while Fjord is sitting here like we’re running out of time we’re running out of time we’re running out of time. Like, that’s the whole thing. He can see that they’re running out of time on Jester’s face. Literally. It was one thing for him to wait to tell her until after he sorted out his life when they felt invincible. But... out of all the danger they’ve been in before, he’s always been able to follow her. She’s never had to be alone in it, because he was one step behind her. And this time? There was literally nothing to do. He was powerless. He is powerless.

This part of the exchange is so loaded. You can FEEL Fjord about to break. It is tangible on the screen because his voice keeps shaking and he takes that huge breath.

IT’S JUST. He’s trying SO HARD. I always talk about this, but this one specific  time Travis was on Talks lives in my head rent free. The time when he talks about how much Jester’s unconditional and unrelenting support has meant to Fjord and how much Fjord wants to be able to return that. ALL he wants to do is be there for her and she’s still not opening up to him and he has NO IDEA if what he’s about to do is going to work. He has no idea if she’s going to be okay with what he’s about to tell her.

I care very much for you.

Really?

JESTER’S VOICE IS SO SOFT. SO SOFT. AND HE’S LOOKING AT HER. AND SHE’S LOOKING AT HIM.

I’m melting over this moment.

*huge sigh*

Is it because I have chiseled cheekbones now?

It’s the longer horns.

Yeah, it really does it, doesn’t it?

Yeah. It gives you an intimidating look.

YOU KNOW WHAT I LOVE ABOUT THIS?! Jester saw that Fjord was nervous and she immediately tries to defuse the tension with a joke. And he jokes back. Because that’s what they do together. They’re goofy and silly and they comfort each other and Fjord LIKES that she’s strong.

Listen I’ve got clips saved up from my last rewatch because I want to make a gifset of the times Fjord has been openly appreciative of strong Jester and one day I’m gonna do it.

I mean they’re joking around, but Fjord is like, super attracted to Jester and I really love that for her. But it’s MORE than that, because he’s attracted to her, but the thing that won him over was who she is so every time he talks about how attractive he finds her, it’s just icing on the cake. He doesn’t just want to see her, he wants to know her and I don’t know how I got to this point from this section but here I am, I’m not going back.

C A N I K I S S Y O U

OKAY.

I’m gonna hyperventilate again for a sec.

It caught Jester SO OFF GUARD. AND THEN SHE’S NODDING AND THEY’RE SMILING AT EACH OTHER LIKE THEY’RE SO IN LOVE AND IT’S JUST BEAUTIFUL HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO LIVE LIKE THIS

HOW.

Kissing is a lot more fun when you’re not dying.

Jester!!! She brought up the kiss! THEY SMILE AT EACH OTHER AFTER THIS. LIKE. They both acknowledge the “kiss that wasn’t a kiss” AS A KISS. I never thought we’d hear about this again! But Jester’s been thinking about it THIS WHOLE TIME!!!

I love this though. The first time, he kisses her to save her life so she can get them out of that temple. This time, he kisses her, because he can’t stand the idea of losing her.

BUT ALSO. KISSING IS FUN. Jester!!! Liked!! Being kissed! By Fjord!!!

I want them to have downtime so bad. I want them to be able to spend time walking around Nicodranas and kissing and going on little dates and eating ice cream at the Lavish Chateau and hanging out at the beach with Luc. I WANT THEM TO HAVE QUIET MOMENTS.

I don’t know what to do with myself anymore.

This was so cute! This last part might be my favorite part of the conversation. Because Jester got all flustered and FOR ONCE Fjord didn’t get awkward! He was just so RELIEVED to have told her! And she was so HAPPY?! The CUTEST grin on her face! EVER.

I’VE WANTED TO DO IT FOR A WHILE.

JESTER’S GIGGLE HERE!!!!!!!!!!! I love this for her so much. I just do. She’s been SO into him for SO long and she didn’t think he liked her back and here he is TELLING HER HE’S WANTED TO KISS HER FOR A WHILE. Her giddiness is contagious!

And FJORD! How LONG have you wanted to kiss her?! For some reason, this isn’t something I’ve considered when trying to figure out the timeline of Fjord’s feelings. When is the first time he wanted to kiss her? I think I need to go watch all their big conversations again to see if I think it’s any of them. For some reason, I feel like it’s going to be in one of those silly little moments they have together and I’m going to miss it. Do I rewatch the entire campaign for a third time???? Is that what I have to do?

I’m kind of a big coward.

No, Fjord, you’re very brave.

I am very brave, aren’t I?

You are.

Jester FULLY believes this. She’s just smiling over at him this whole time. But he looks down. Because he still doesn’t think he’s brave. Or he’s brave enough for most things, but there’s ONE THING he knows he can’t do and that’s let her go and I’M. 

Is this all just speculation and guessing and me making stuff up? Yes. Do I care? No. That’s what his face says to me in that moment.

ALL WHILE JESTER IS JUST SO HAPPY. She DOES think he’s brave and she thinks he’s amazing and he just kissed her and it’s not how she thought it would happen, but IT DID and it was so meaningful.

We could get cats and just flee.

I need to get the whole dialogue for this, but I’m tired tbh and I need to sleep, so I’m gonna focus on this last part. How they’re talking over each other to joke around, but it’s really smooth and flows really well between them. But right before this you can still see how heavily the upcoming trials are weighing on them. They feel a little better about EACH OTHER, but there’s a very real possibility that they’re about to lose each other, but they can take this ONE moment of hope?!

And I just love it when they joke around with each other to try to make each other feel better. They’re so good to each other. 

I’ll see you in the morning.

God, the way his voice is just ROUGH and small and quiet and he DOESN’T WANT TO LEAVE and they just SMILE AT EACH OTHER and they’re scared of what’s coming but THEY KNOW THEY LIKE EACH OTHER and they’re SO HAPPY FOR THIS MOMENT. 

And the soft way they say goodnight to each other!!!

THEY!!!!!!!!! make me want to walk into the ocean. In a good way. I SWEAR I CAN’T WITH THIS.

And then the way Jester sighed and giggled after Fjord left! And I can see her leaning back against her door and sighing and looking up at the ceiling and just..... SO. HAPPY.

She doesn’t even ask for a cat cuddle pile!!!! She just stares at her unicorn until she falls asleep. SHE DOESN’T ASK FOR A CAT CUDDLE PILE! 

And then there’s Fjord! Who doesn’t sleep much!

That part makes me a little more angsty. There’s lots of reasons he might be awake most of the night. There are some really cute ones. Like he’s thinking holy shit I just kissed Jester and she kissed me back and she said it was fun that’s good right? And then there are the angsty ones where he could have been laying there thinking about how he doesn’t have any control over the situation and how scared he is. But he did something and he made her smile and that’s all he ever really wants to do. Is make Jester happy. And maybe he made Jester happy in this moment where she was trying to hide that she’s sad. AND THE THING IS THAT HE DID! 

And I’ll leave you with a very short list of random things I expect them to say to one another at one point with no context:

I can’t stand the thought of losing you.

Are you sure you don’t miss the longer horns?

You don’t always have to be fine.

OH. ALSO. 

Get ready for casual intimacy. I’m ready for hand holding. Shoulder touching. brushing someone’s hair out of their face. GET READY BECAUSE IT’S GONNA HAPPEN.

#i didn't proofread this yet don't judge me #i'm not sure if this is what you wanted to happen #but it did #i got very excited and couldn't stop talking #OH MY GOD THIS IS SO LONG I'M SO SORRY #critical role #the mighty nein #fjorester #fjord #jester lavorre #cr spoilers #cr2e118 #gosh these two are adorable #neondvcks #erin answers things

[owlheartt]

Hey guys guess who finally finished chapter 4 of Star Sanses Extended? Anyways this chapter is called Lunch & a Game

Ch 1 on AO3 this chapter on AO3

Perhaps Papyrus should’ve picked a game he was more familiar with. As it turns out, Munchkin was… a competitive game. To put it lightly.

“I place a curse on Ink.” Error announced, grinning. Dream brought his hand up to his face and massaged the bridge of his nose.

“Error, first of all, you want to save your curses until the end of the game-” Dream began.

“I’ve changed my mind. I curse Dream.” Error said, his grin switching to a scowl.

“ERROR, PERHAPS YOU COULD SAVE THE CURSE CARD FOR WHEN YOU’RE MAD AT SOMEONE, OR WHEN YOU CAN WIN.” Papyrus suggested.

“Yea, and I’m mad at Dream.” Error said, giving Papyrus a “duh” look. Error was exhausting.

“Alright. What’s the curse.” Dream said, sighing. Error held up a card, facing Dream. Papyrus leaned over a bit so he could read it too. ‘Curse! Lose the Footgear You Are Wearing’. Papyrus threw a glance at the cards on the table in front of Dream. None of them were even Armor, much less Footgear. Dream glanced down too, his golden eyelights flitting to his cards then back to Error. “You do realize that I-”

“I don’t fucking care! You’re cursed!” Error snapped. Dream took a deep breath (his 10th in the 4 minutes they’d been setting up) and took the curse. Then he dropped it in the discard pile, maintaining eye-contact with Error.

“Fantastic.” Dream said in a honey-coated voice. “That there was the effects of the curse. Ink! Your turn!” Error was visibly stumped (Papyrus could’ve sworn there was a little loading button in front of his face), then Ink distracted them.

“I KICK DOWN THE DOOR!!!” Ink yelled, slamming his hands on the ground in front of him. One eyelight was an orange target and the other was a blindingly gold star. At least Ink was enjoying this game. Dream reached out and flipped a card at the top of the deck, revealing a monster card.

‘Level 16 - Hippogriff’ the top read. Ink’s bravado snapped away.

“Hey Dream..?” Ink said.

“...Yes?”

“What level am I?”

“1.”

“Oh.” Ink scrunched up his face with one eye light turning a sky blue question mark. “Does that mean I lose?”

“If you stick around to fight it, then yes, you’ll lose.” Dream explained as patiently as he could. “But there’s an option to run away. Look, right below its name, it says ‘Will not pursue anyone of Level 3 or below,’ Paper, could you check to see the rules for fleeing?”

“OF COURSE FRIEND!” Papyrus snached up the rules and opened up the paper. Let’s see… Fighting Multiple Monsters, Asking For Help, there! Running Away. “IF NOBODY WILL HELP YOU…”

“Just read how to run away, please.” Dream said.

“ROLL THE DIE. YOU ONLY ESCAPE ON A 5 OR BETTER.” Papyrus looked up at Ink. He was juggling the dice.

“Squid!” Error snapped, causing Ink to drop one of the dice in his eye socket.

“Yes?” Ink said politely.

“Roll the fucking die.”

“Ok!” Ink grinned, setting the rest of the dice down. Then he shook his skull to the point that Papyrus was worried it would come right off. After a few moments though, the die that had been dropped inside flew out of Ink’s eye socket, righteously hitting Error in the skull.

“Fucking Void, Squid!” Error said, bringing a hand up to rub the madly glitching area.

“It’s a 3, what does that mean?” Ink asked, holding up the die.

“THIS IS WHEN ‘BAD STUFF’ HAPPENS!” Papyrus said.

“Well duh,” Error said.

“NO, I MEAN THE ‘BAD STUFF’ ON THE CARD!” Papyrus explained. He put down the rules then held up the card. “YOU ARE STOMPED AND CHOMPED. DA DA DA DA, STARTING WITH THE PLAYER ON YOUR RIGHT, EACH PLAYER MAY TAKE ONE TREASURE CARD FROM IN FRONT OF YOU OR (WITHOUT LOOKING) FROM YOUR HAND.”

“Well I don’t have any Treasure cards in front of me.” Ink said.

“Wait, it says that it won’t pursue anyone of Level 3 or below- maybe that was an automatic escape for Ink,” Dream said, pointing to the part of the card he had read aloud before.

“What does it matter? Make a decision and let’s move on. I don’t want to listen to you mistakes blathering on about the rules forever.” Error said, glaring at the rule sheet discarded on the floor. Papyrus clapped, the sound muffled by his gloves.

“HOW ABOUT THIS: HOUSE RULE! IT DOES MEAN HE ESCAPED.” Papyrus smiled, proud of himself. Dream nodded distantly.

“Alright. Ink, you fled, discard the Hippogriff.” Dream said. Ink picked up the card, fumbling it a little, and moved it to the discard pile. Dream watched him, then spoke. “My turn.” He flipped over the top card, revealing a Level 2 Pit Bull.

“Whacha gonna do goldy? You’ve only got one level.” Error said, taunting. Dream sighed and pointed to a card in front of him. ‘+3 Bonus - Huge Rock’ it read.

“I have 4 Combat Strength total- I win the battle and get 1 Treasure.” Dream dropped the defeated monster in the discard pile before pulling a Treasure card. “Paper, your turn.”

The game went on like that, Error attacking the others as often as he could, Ink always having to be walked through his turn, Dream calmly directing the game (if not with a bit of spite for Error), and Papyrus simply enjoying himself. Really. Despite the seeming chaos, the cards were amusing and the interactions felt… special. He had only ever played games like this with his brother. And Sans was special and important - no doubt about it! But… now Papyrus was playing with his friends. Friends. Sure, Error was barely being civil, but he was still participating. Maybe… maybe the multiverse was Papyrus’s calling. Maybe it was where he belonged and where he would finally make friends.

After 15 minutes (give or take) Sans announced that lunch was ready. They agreed to return to the game later, then went to the kitchen where Sans was slouching next to a pot of mac and cheese. It was the cheap stuff, the kind that all you really had to do was heat up. Either way, it was good enough, and it didn’t look burnt. Papyrus snached up one of the bowls his brother had stacked and a plastic fork from the counter before remembering he was a host. Papyrus grabbed the rest of the bowls and started passing them out along with forks. Forks that looked suspiciously like Grillby’s take-out forks that Sans said he’d thrown away.

After everyone had a bowl, Sans asked Papyrus to serve while he went to get some chairs. The brothers typically ate on the couch, but they wouldn’t all fit on it, especially with the distance Error liked to keep from everyone else. Papyrus scooped mac and cheese into each bowl, though Error scowled hard enough that Papyrus just gave him a little.

“Feel free to get more when you’re done!” Papyrus said, smiling. Ink was already shoveling his lunch into his face, which made Papyrus laugh a little internally. Error took a shortcut (it mostly looked like Sans’s, but Error’s was glitchier) out of the kitchen, and Papyrus could see his scarf hanging over the couch moments later. Dream nudged Ink, gently guiding him to the table with the skeleton brothers’ pet rock as a centerpiece. Sans reappeared, dragging a few chairs that looked a bit too much for him.

Papyrus quickly dropped his mac and cheese on the table before rushing over to help his brother. The brothers set up the chairs (Dream thanking them and the two chaos bringers focusing on their lunch) before settling themselves down. Sans let out a long breath, drawing everyone’s attention to him.

“so. may i have an explanation now?” His white eyelights scanned the room, taking in his guests.

“Ah, right, I’m so sorry,” Dream said in a rush. “I’m… ah… how about we start with introductions! Hello, my name is Dream. I’m the guardian of all positive feelings in the multiverse. This is-”

“sorry buddy, did ya say ‘multiverse?’” Sans cut in.

“Did I forget to mention that bit?” Dream shot a look at Ink, seemingly reflexively. “How familiar are you with the concept of a multiverse?”

“vaguely,” Sans said, waving his hand. “a buddy of mine an’ i talk about it every now an’ then. she’s more invested than i am.”

“Yada yada there’s a multiverse yada yada this is the true timeline something something the three of us are abominations.” Error said languidly. Dream’s face went blank and he blinked in surprise (or confusion, Papyrus couldn’t tell). Sans just raised his eyebrows. Papyrus couldn’t help but feel like he’d been thrown for a loop. Abominations? True timeline? Were there… false timelines? What defined false? Papyrus just thought his home was the original, not the “only right one.”

“I- no,” Dream said, holding up a stiff hand. He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “This timeline, Undertale-”

“sorry ta cut ya off buddy, but i’m just gonna grab a notebook real quick.” Sans stood up and walked over to the wall behind the TV. When he reached it, he blipped right through, before appearing again in his chair with a blue-covered notebook and a black mechanical pencil in his hands. “‘pologies, feel free to continue.”

“Right. This timeline, called Undertale- do you need me to spell that for you?”

“nope.”

“Undertale is the original. Its creator is a creature called Toby Fox, I’d recommend asking Ink if you want more details about that.”

“OOH OOH OOH!!!! Are we talking about creators?!?!?” Ink leaped up, fumbling his bowl, the mac and cheese miraculously staying inside (not that there was much left).

“Not right now, Ink,” Dream said calmly. The disappointed skeleton dropped back to his seat, the poor chair rocking a little. “All other timelines are a variation of this one, more or less. Some, specifically Error, consider it the ‘one true timeline.’”

“I’d be happy to elaborate if you numbskulls want,” Error growled. It sounded reminiscent of a cat with the added glitches.

“thanks for the offer, kiddo, but I’d like to know a bit more of what this guy has to say first. dream, ya said your name was?”

“Yes. My name is Dream. As I said, I am the guardian of positivity. This is Ink, he’s the guardian of the multiverse itself, and he helps creators. Over there is Error, he’s… this is going to sound pretty bad, the destroyer of timelines.” Dream winced. Sans glanced over to the glitching skeleton. Papyrus looked over at Error too. He was just sitting there, and he didn’t look nearly as dangerous as he had before. He was just a guy, not a deadly… er, what could he be called? Papyrus had instinctively reached for the word “psychotic,” but that would be using the term wrong. Error just had anger issues. Well, maybe he had more, but Papyrus wasn’t about to pry.

“that would explain a lot, huh,” Sans said, widening his lazy grin. “so, oh dear destroyer of timelines, why is mine still here?”

“It’s the true timeline, haven’t you been listening?!” Error shot Sans a glare, and Papyrus couldn’t help but tense. “I don’t destroy just whatever! I destroy abominations. Alterations of this bullshit.” Error raised one arm and gestured around the room, presumably indicating the whole timeline. “Though if you keep this up asshole then I might just destroy you too.” Sans raised his eyebrows, clearly contemplating how much he was willing to push that. If Papyrus knew Sans at all (and he did), then Sans was probably also planning to push a few buttons in the best way he could think of.

“good ta know,” Sans said, nodding absently. “anythin else i ought to know?”

“There are other multiversal beings, Error isn’t the only destructive one, there is a void and two known anti-voids though likely more, oh, and Paper is currently substituting for a friend of ours, Blue.” Dream ticked things off on his fingers as he went. “There could be more, but it’s been a while since I introduced someone to the Multiverse.”

“paper?” Sans looked over at Papyrus, who shifted nervously. He didn’t know why, it wasn’t like he was hiding anything? Maybe it was Sans’s scrutinizing look, or that Papyrus didn’t like nicknames. That must be it, no nicknames. His brother would taunt him for at least a month about getting a new nickname.

“There are many Papyruses in the Multiverse, and if you’ll notice, Ink, Error, and I are all Sans-ish. Paper needed a nickname, and he picked this one himself,” Dream said. Papyrus was thankful Dream had explained before he had tried, otherwise Papyrus was certain he would trip over his words.

“a nickname, huh?” Sans raised his eyebrows at his brother playfully. “should i get one too?”

“You are welcome to, especially if you wish to leave your timeline. Most nicknames are based on their timeline’s name or things they like- like colors!” Dream said. He lifted his hand, hesitating as he looked around the room. Then he set his arm back down. Papyrus, glancing around as well, noted that no one’s name was really based on colors.

“for example?” Sans said.

“Ah, see, he isn’t available right now, but Blue!”

“HIS TIMELINE IS UNDERSWAP. LIKE DREAM SAID, I’M TAKING HIS PLACE FOR TODAY.” Papyrus grinned. Sans sat up a little straighter, showing a teensy bit of pride.

“no kiddin’? what’s his role? hope it ain’t like destructo over there,” Sans said.

“Hey, can I like. Get some more of this goodness?” Ink butted in. He had (somehow??) managed to get cheese all around his mouth and some on his forehead. But, of course, the bowl was empty.

“feel free to help yourself.” Sans gestured to the pot in the kitchen, and Ink bounded off towards it.

“Ey, rainbow bastard! You better not make a mess!” Error barked at him.

“What do youuuu care?” Ink huffed.

“I don’t like messes,” Error said. His glitching was just a low buzz, which Papyrus was beginning to understand as calm. “That’s my whole thing, you idiot.”

“you two seem friendly for complete opposites,” Sans said.

“Squid over there refuses to leave anyone alone.” Error still had a scowl on his face, but the glitching didn’t get more intense. Papyrus laughed a bit to himself, Error must like Ink’s company more than he’d like to admit.

“that’s everything?” Sans asked.

“Yes, I believe so.” Dream smiled at him.

“so. what are the rules for tellin’ folks?” Sans leaned forward towards Dream.

“Tell no one. You could seriously fuck up the timeline.” Error said, dropping his bowl on the floor.

“Uh actually- it’s entirely up to you. There aren’t rules for incodes-” Dream got cut off.

“ya keep mentioning incodes, what’re those?”

“Incodes are beings still tied to their timelines, like you and Paper. Blue is also an incode, which is why he couldn’t make it today. Ink, Error, and I are outcodes, which means, well…” Dream trailed off, his eye lights going a little glossy.

“Dream doesn’t really have a home. Error and I made our own!!” Ink said, brushing right over a topic his friend struggled with. Speaking of, Ink didn’t seem to struggle with anything. Was he just… invincible? What a pleasant way to be. Perhaps Papyrus could ask him how he did it (if Ink could focus long enough to answer).

“how exactly do ya… make your own?” Sans asked.

“Hah! As if we know,” Error said, rolling his eye lights.

“YOU DON’T KNOW HOW YOU MADE A WHOLE TIMELINE?” Papyrus asked incredulously.

“It’s not like either of us remember it,” Ink said, shrugging. “Our memories are short! C’mon Paper, you know that!”

“I JUST… THAT’S A LOT NOT TO REMEMBER. HOW DO YOU JUST FORGET THE WHOLE PROCESS?”

“So? Sometimes Squid doesn’t know his own core swallowed name,” Error said.

“so, now that we’ve tried to process that, nice to meet you three,” Sans said. He gave curt nods towards each of Papyrus’s new friends. “dream, i trust that my bro is safe with you?”

“Of course, though Paper does a fantastic job of handling himself.” Dream pointed out. It made Papyrus feel kind of warm, enjoying the feeling of open trust from a monster that just met him. Especially with how useless he’d been during the fight with Error. Sans paused a moment, his gaze lingering on Papyrus, before walking to the door. He sneakily took a shortcut right as the door closed, disappearing into thin air nearly unnoticeably.

“Heeeeey!!! Do you guys want to hang out at Outertale??” Ink said excitedly, setting down a nearly empty bowl of mac and cheese. Goodness, how was he eating that so quickly?

“No.” Error said.

“Don’t we have a game to finish?” Dream tried.

“Actually, fun fact, I’m done hanging out with you shits. Have a horrible day.” Error stood up, opened a portal to who knows where, and left.

“Hey!!! Wait up!!!” Ink whined, racing to make a portal to (presumably) follow.

Dream sighed. “Well, I suppose I’m glad Error’s gone.”

“SHOULD WE BE WORRIED ABOUT OUTERTALE?”

“No, it’s the one timeline Error hasn’t tried to destroy yet.”

“AH.” Papyrus paused. “WHY?”

Dream started, giving Papyrus a surprised look. “I- I guess I’ve never thought about it. It was just… a fact about Error. There are some things none of us question about the two, and they never bother to share.”

“SO… SECRETS?” The more Papyrus thought about secrets, the more his SOUL hurt. He and Sans had been keeping things from each other for so long… he felt relieved that he had told Sans about the multiverse.

“Not really. More like mysteries?” Dream brought a hand to his face, tapping his chin. “I don’t think they purposely hide things, just that they don’t like talking about it. Though they do try and dodge specific questions. And they give different answers for other ones.” Dream looked up at Papyrus again. “I guess they are secrets. Just doesn’t feel that way.”

“LIKE THE ENDING OF A STORY? NOT QUITE A SECRET, BUT IT’S NOT SOMETHING YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO KNOW?” Papyrus liked making comparisons. It showed he understood and could apply things.

“Exactly!” Dream smiled pleasantly. Much more genuine than earlier.

“...DREAM?”

“Yes?”

“WHY WERE YOU SO STRESSED EARLIER?”

Dream wrinkled his face. “Error is always a pain, and I didn’t want to spend Lun-”

“NO.” Papyrus interjected. “I MEAN WHEN I FIRST MET YOU.”

“Oh, uh…” Dream’s composure melted for a split second before he pulled back a fake smile. It was interesting how different it was from his genuine one. “Ink was all over the place, haha! That little dude is a mess.”

“NO, I DON’T THINK THAT’S IT.” Papyrus looked at Dream. He could see how uncomfortable his friend was getting, but it didn’t sound like Dream told anyone his troubles.

Dream sighed. “How about we go for a walk?”

#owl's writing #star sanses extended #dream sans #error sans #ink sans #classic sans #utmv #undertale multiverse #classic papyrus

[urlocalnctstan]

𝚃𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜

Genre : Angst, Fluff, Slow-burnish, Idol AU

Pairing : Jaehyun x Reader ft.Mark (other members too)

Warning(s) : strong language, age-gap, mature contents, weird writing style lmao, uh what else? idk but yeah

Disclaimer :The story is completely fictitious, idol-fan relationships are not common so some of you crazy ones out here, pls don’t get too delusional, your oppas will be your oppas only virtually, not in real life.

Playlist : Youtube Link / Written

Word Count : 5.4k

Summary : ‘Time and tide waits for none’- a quote that is universally accepted and believed. You both had had your experience of meeting the right one at the wrong time, the concept of love long forgotten after the sudden downfall of your relationship together. But will time eventually heal everything for you both?

The car came to a halt, your mind subconsciously drifting back to the humiliation you faced tonight back at the office.

“ARE YOU FUCKING DUMB, Y/N?” your boss was a fuming mess, his whole office scattered with the documents you had brought just a few moments ago. At the sight of the shredded papers, you felt you heart clench. You worked so hard for this project, disregarding God knows how many nights of your sleep. The feeling of abomination was slowly creeping up from the pit of your stomach towards the man who stood taut, seething in rage.

“HOW MANY TIMES DID I TELL YOU TO JUST DO WHAT THEY ASKED YOU TO?” He yelled, his fist furiously banging on his wooden desk, beneath his hand rested some pieces of the torn documents.

“Sir, even you know how risky it is to design as they asked to. If a blunder happens it is our company that is to be held accountable, not theirs.” you knew it was pointless to reason with the stubborn headed prick, but you had to try out your luck.

“Get out. Out, out, out. Get your fucking face out of my face.” He swished his index finger repeatedly, letting out a frustrated shriek just as I was about to exit his office. His wrath was nothing new in the office, as all the other employees shot me a rather pitying look when they saw me exiting the team leader’s office with hands full of ripped papers. Wow, my 2 weeks worth of sleep. Just wow. You didn’t bother to reciprocate their sympathetic glances, storming out of the corridor as you furiously started clicking the floor to your cabin. The jabbing of your finger on the glowing button that read ‘13’ was the only sound that resonated in the fairly empty area, earning annoyed looks from the two individuals who stood right behind you.

“Ah, fuck.” You banged your head against the steering, recalling the even as you clutched the handles harshly. “Why,” another bang. “do I,” bang. “live like” bang. “this,” bang. You could feel your face was burning without even touching it, streams of tears flowing down. Just as you were about to give yourself another bang, the sudden honk of a car made you pause amidst your ritual. Indeed all motherfuckers love to test my patience. You decide to ignore the rider, mainly because you were also partially at fault for resting in your car in the middle of the park. You twisted the metal keys as the ignition went off, signaling your car was ready to flee. Yet again, you were distracted by soft knocks. You prayed to God to help you not lose your shit, at this point you were questioning if He ever hears your woes at all. The soft knocks stop immediately when you started to pull down the window, the person straightening only crouch again.

“Y/n?” his called out unsurely, as if he were afraid of mistaking you for someone else. You knew that voice, and that is not good news. Shit.

“Mark?” you were surprised to say the least, not expecting to run into an old friend. “Oh my god! How have you been?” You shoot out of your driver’s seat, instantly being engulfed into a bone crushing hug by the male.

“I have been good. Oh god, I can’t believe this! I can’t believe I ran into you after so long!” Mark still held you tight your embrace, the sudden reunion making him feel giddy with excitement.

“Yes indeed,” you were the first to pull out from the hug. You took a moment to study him; black mask covering half of his face as he smiled widely, eyes crinkled and the signature cheekbones still the same as they were in the past. God, it’s really been so long. “What are you up to these days?”

“Er,” Mark scratched his head as he laughed nervously, unsure if he was allowed to give you spoilers about his new album. “I have been working on my solo album actually.” 

“Are you for real?” You found yourself hugging Mark again at the joy of his successful career. “I’m so so proud of you mate!”

“Thank you, thank you,” Mark swayed you lightly, his voice muffled due to the mask he wore. Mark was the one to pull out now, still keeping your caged as he placed his hands on your shoulders. “In no way I am gonna let you leave without a trace again,” he almost groaned.

“Promise, I won’t anymore,” you signaled to the stack of files that rested on the backseat of your car. “They won’t leave me alone.”

“I’ll just ask your boss to assign you with more tasks then,” he giggled mischievously, earning a light smack from you at the mention of such an absurd idea.

“I’ll track your way to hell to kill you again if you do something like that,” you hissed at Mark, who was still giggling at your frustrated reaction. The atmosphere became quiet as Mark looked up in the vacant sky, deep in thoughts while you waited for him to continue. Your phone buzzed against your leather coat.

[From Bullhead] : Don’t think I am overlooking your mess. This is the first and final warning from me.

You shivered, half from the cold and half from the text you just received.

“26th, sharp at 8 PM, my place.” He snapped his fingers, hooting at the realization of having a free day in his busy scheduled life.

“Okay, done.” You should have refused, you thought. But for some reason, you found yourself agreeing to his offer, you felt both sad and guilty for disappearing out of your friend’s life without a trace. However, you couldn’t ignore the greedy feeling you felt, the want to see him again. “I think I should be done around...7:30? So I think I’ll be able to make it.” You unlocked and handed him your phone.

“You have to make it,” his eyes focused on the screen of your device, swiftly typing what you assumed was him number. “Just incase, text me if I happen to forget - no I know that look, Y/n, you must text if that happens..” He rolled his eyes, knowing that how much you would be overthinking about possibly tiring him because of his busy lifestyle. Mark dialed his number from your phone before handing it back to you. You visibly snickered at the name he saved his contact with : ‘My Boo MarkLee <3’ 

“Stop pretending as if you never renamed my existence as Markie Boo,” he groans, remembering how this has been his another one of the hundred pet names he had. Your conversation was cut mid way as his phone loudly vibrated in his phone, swiftly pulling it out as the guy whined in annoyance.

“Yo, I gotta go now I guess, something came up at the company.” He looked sad, pouty. “See you around, yeah?” You were pulled into another hug by the male, he surely loved to hug as usual.

“Yes, yes. Now go. Don’t be late.” You patted his back, pulling out of the hug and shooing him away towards his car.

“See ya, Mom.” He beamed as he sped off with his car. 

“Dumbass.” You muttered, softly laughing at the name he would always call you by, despite being years younger than him. You rounded around your car, getting inside. The start was bad but the end was good nonetheless. The keys of your car jiggled as you closed the door. Again, you twisted the keys, your mood slightly better than before for which you were grateful. Your car’s ignition blared, as you positioned towards the exit of the park, subtly muttering ‘long ass ride.’

The digits ‘7:37’ glowed on the the small digital clock beside your desktop. You felt stiff, stretching your neck as your bones made those cracking noes. You stare at your toes, zoning out was your passion and you excelled at it. You snapped straight, letting out a deep sigh as you started to scheme the projects before you were to hand them over to your bullhead boss. Soon enough, you were done, muttering almost too loudly for everyone that you wished your boss would be napping off instead of being awake.

Good for you, your prayers were answered for the first time in a while. You quietly placed the files that contained all the details that needed to be checked again by your boss, quietly making your way out of his cabin as soon as possible. On you way, you informed his secretary you were leaving, her face wore distraught and annoyance but softens as she saw you approaching. Sometimes you felt sympathetic towards her, often asking the heavens to bless her with utmost patience and perseverance to deal with the bullhead.

The marble floor clicked with every step you took, the sounds eerily audible in the serene lobby. It was very rare for the lobby to be filled with people in evening, the employees would practically sprint off their seats as soon as the clock hits 7. You made your way out of the building, making a mental note to buy a gift for Mark on your way back to home. What would he like? Take outs? Homemade? Wine? You drove across the street before halting your car in front of the department store that was situated just a few blocks away from your office. The header of the store glowed, the alleys seemingly half-crowded with people of different occupations you assumed. You let out a hiss as you felt a chill run down your spine, it was almost the end of Autumn which meant Winter was just round the corner. You decided to rely on your instincts, deciding to gift your friend a fancy bottle of wine despite having zero knowledge about it.

You were never quite the fan of wine. According to you, the seemingly alcoholic drink was too expensive, plus the etiquettes that came along for its consumption would always just make your turn your head away every time you laid your eyes across one. You schemed through the white shelves filled with different tastes and colors of wine, each hailing from various corners of the world. “How do I even spell it?” You crouched down a bit to a bottle that had caught your attention, the exquisite name was starting to make your head hurt. It’s probably a white wine you thought, the transparent color of the liquid was what made you convince. But something rather nostalgic caught your sight, before you could even realize, you found your fingertips caressing the cold glass bottle of the red liquid that you held now.

“If were to be a drink, then what would I be?” You lazily laid sprawled across the couch in the living, while you boyfriend who sat on the marble floor across fumbles with the knotted bunch of cables. Jaehyun had his gaze focus of the wire maze in his hands, eyebrows furrowed and lips pouted in immense concentration.

“Peach milk,” he smiled, unbeknownst to you he was actually implying a double meaning for his answer.

“And why that?” You felt his choice a bit amusing, not really expecting that as an answer.

“Because I love your ass and boobs,” he winked, only to be hit by a pillow that was resting beneath your curled legs. Jaehyun felt himself giggling by your reaction, it was cute to see you being annoyed. “Babe, c’mon. I can’t lie about it.” 

“Never mind, just forget it.” You started to get a bit pissed, hurt as well because your sensitive ass thought he would probably say something sweet that would make you heart flutter. 

“Peach milk is my favorite, that’s the main reason why,” Jaehyun shifted his focus back to the cables, the last two knots were too adamant to let go of each other. You felt yourself smiling, too wide, he definitely knew you well. Cheeky bastard.

“What about me?” he asked, eyes still focused as he working on untying the last knot.

“Hmmm...” you shifted your position on the couch, now sitting up as you stared your boyfriend’s figure for a short while.

“Red wine.” sophisticated, classy, unique, warm. If you were to describe the aura around him, these would be the first choices.

However, your answer seemed to have caught Jaehyun’s attention, pausing in his tracks as he got curious as to why the specific choice. He had a huge grin on his face, he adored how you remembered the specific detail of red wine being his favourite, for he mentioned it in your first date which was 2 years back. But he knew there was more to it. He knew you too well. “But why red wine?”

You kept your gaze fixated on Jaehyun as he gets up from the ground, putting the cables in a secure manner to avoid another tie war. He hugged the pillow tight which you had previously thrown on him, before propping down beside you on the couch with a tired sigh, looking at you intently. It was as if you both were having a staring contest. So you rested your head on your right hand, both staring each other with soft smiles before you continued.

“You are much more to what everyone thinks you are,” you notice how Jaehyun cocks an eyebrow, still staring and trying to process what you just said.

“Just like wine, the more I know you, the more I know just how amazing you are. Both sweet and sour, but the balanced ratio of it is what makes you more admirable.” You admired how he was always able to balance things out, prior to what everyone believes about him, he had both good and bad sides to him. And that’s what made him more human, him acknowledging his flaws. That’s what made you fall for him.

Hearing you, Jaehyun thought he might dislocate his jaw anytime soon for smiling so hard. His heart started to do all sort of flips, ears starting to pink. It was at times like this when you don’t need words to express how you were feeling, silent but the communication was still present. Jaehyun slides his hand into yours, you glanced at both of your intertwined fingers before looking at him, his eyes full of hearts for you. You giggled, feeling shy at his intense stare but returning him the same way.

“I love you,” he whispered, his starry eyes which were only looking at you.

“Excuse me miss,” You jolt at the sudden change of voice coming from behind you. You whip around, a girl probably in her late teens stood nervously, her hands fidgets with the belts of her backpack. 

“Miss, you were kinda in the way so..” you felt flustered for absent-mindedly drifting into your dreamland while shopping for your friend, chiding yourself mentally in the process.

“Ah, I am so sorry,” you moved swiftly to the side to allow the teen some space to carry out her shopping. “Please, carry on.” You smiled softly. Though at the back of your mind you wanted to point out how she shouldn’t be consuming alcohol, but disregarded the urge nonetheless. Sometimes children should get to enjoy their minimal amount of fun in their youth too. You were still clutching the red wine bottle in your hand, eyeing it one last time before placing it back in the racks. You cleared your throat, as if to let the voices speaking inside your head know that you are not a stupid 20 year old anymore. You shake your head, glancing around to inspect if others were judging your state before proceeding to the counter for the random wine you picked which might have cost you half of your monthly salary. It’s okay to spend once in a while.

Mark was literally running around his apartment. Running. His head shot up as he remembered something. “Shit, fuck, are the bathroom lights okay?” he murmured to himself, sprinting off to the bathroom that was located in his vast living room first, followed by the ones in his bedroom and guestroom. Mark was still a newbie to the norms of living alone, him being a newborn living-alone man for sparsely 2 months. And he would barely be home due to his schedules. There were even times he would just forget his own bedroom.

“What else, what else,” he glanced over the whole area eyes drifting here and there before he realized something. Dumbass forgot to check if there were even enough food for two. Mark quickly scurried to the kitchen counter, the utensils were more than enough before checking his fridge. Beers? Check. Soju? Check. Kimchi? Check. Slices of chicken breast? Check. But the 33 year old still felt something was missing. Mark shifted his focus on the wooden shelf that was just above the kitchen sink, the transparent glass door of it making a creak sound as he opened it. For an apartment who’s owner was barely home, the shelf was definitely well packed and organized. It contained all sorts of ramen, tteokbokki and any other fast food you could name. “What else, what else, what else, what else,” he kept chanting, as if by some magic his chants of short memory would be heard and he would know what else was he missing out. He hunched over the lower shelf to inspect if all the sauces his housekeeper stores for him were present there. Absorbed in his thoughts, Mark did not notice the sudden sound of his bell going off, before the sounds just got repeated and even more louder. 

“What the fuck?” his eyebrows creased in annoyance, cussing out all the profanities he had in his vocabulary at the visitor’s insolent mannerism. Mark was beyond pissed, the person behind the other side of the door not only disrupted his memory battle but also had the audacity to ring the bell like a 3 year old in the middle of the night. Instead of just answering from the intercom, he directly opened the entrance door. “Look, it’s like 11 in the night - Hyung?” Mark halted his rant session as he realized it was Jaehyun standing in front of his house. Covered in black shirt, black mask, black pants - black everything, it would take a while for others who did not know him personally to recognize the member of the top boy group in the industry.

“Were you shitting or something,” Jaehyun smiled before casually giving his best friend a hug. Mark pulls out some of the spare slippers he had stored, while Jaehyun sits on the wooden step as he unties the knots of his black adidas. As Jaehyun get ups, he looks over to the other male standing in front of him, then down at the slippers and then again to the male.

“What?” Mark laughed, his hands shifting to the sides of his waist.

“Mark, please don’t go shopping by yourself next time,” Jaehyun silently judged Mark for offering him the fluffly colourful pink body and yellow polka dots slippers, similar to the ones he was wearing but the combination in opposite. 

“I got them from the BOGO offer going on in the supermarket just down the lane,” Mark wiggled his toes under the furry layer of clothing, slightly humming at the texture. “Bro this shit comfortable and cute, you can’t deny that.”

Jaehyun gives him another look, amused at how his bandmate’s old habits were still the same. “I help you out with your fashion choices next time. Don’t worry.” He patted Mark’s should, a sympathetic grin on his face as he anticipated the other male’s dramatic reaction. 

“Oh please,” Mark scoffed. “More like you need my and Johnny hyung’s assistance for your monotonous wardrobe!”

Jaehyun laughed at his friend’s rebuttal before lazily propping himself on the bean sack in the living room with a low hum. Oddly enough, Mark’s apartment felt more homely than his own apartment which was just above a few floors.

“But what brings you here?” Mark walks over to his fridge, judging by his friend’s sudden visit, he knew drinks had become a necessary part of the night. “And what about Hayoung?”

“What about her?” Jaehyun raised his eyebrow at Mark, skillfully catching the beer Mark had tossed to him after asking about Hayoung, Jaehyun’s, well complicated girl something.

“I though you guys might just....I don’t know, be official or something.” Mark stole a glance towards his friend, nervously opening his can. The momentary pin drop silence was an indicator, he indeed blurted something he should not have. The fizzy hiss of the beer can being opened barely broke the ice.

“I don’t do things like official,” Jaehyun scoffed, producing a low sigh after sipping the beer. Mark decided not to further press his friend, despite having an old unresolved grudge against Jaehyun somewhere deep within him. It had been years since all of that had happened, but he still felt hostility creep up inside every time he remembers that night, that week, that month. After all, it was you that Jaehyun had completely broken, torn and ripped apart.

Unbeknownst to the rummaging thoughts inside the mind of his bandmate, it took a while for the older to realize how oddly clean and organized the apartment looked. Jaehyun turned to Mark, eyebrows raised with mischievousness coating his words. “You having someone for the night tomorrow?”

Mark almost made a disgusted face but instead opted to scrunch. “Bro, I don’t have Tinder, neither do I wanna be a carrier of STDs.” Mark placed his empty can on the small glass table, simultaneously letting out a tired huff. Jaehyun almost took an offense to the statement, the attack was definitely but indirectly made towards him. But he decided to shrug it off, Mark was not lying after all. Jaehyun did not even know half of the girls’ names he had slept with, someday or another mixing up names which ends in him getting kicked out or being cursed out. That was what had happened that night as well. 

“Okay, I forgot. Hayoung, yes. Speak.” Jaehyun shot an incredulous look to the younger, as if he was able to read his mind or something. Mark only furrowed his eyebrows at the reaction.

“I-I....got kicked out,” Jaehyun’s voice was barely above a whisper, but the sharp eared male was able to catch his friend’s low murmur. Mark stifled his giggle, only to receive a glare from his friend. Jaehyun ran his fingers through his newly dyed lilac hair. Fucking embarrassing.

“But what made her do that?”

Jaehyun felt chills run down his spine as the scenario replayed in his head. He shivered despite the heater being on, an amused Mark glancing while chugging down the small remaining amount of beer. Mark was being a gentleman trying to conceal his laughter as Jaehyun rambled how he managed to fuck up yet another good hook-up buddy. At this point, Mark was not even surprised. Victim to his obvious facial expressions, Mark hated lying, and equally hated being lied to as well. Jaehyun side glanced his friend, a loud annoyed snort escaping from him. “Having fun, aren’t you?”

“Well, I mean it’s fun — sorry,” Mark clears his throat. He should be the type of friend who gives advices instead of laughing. Mark wiggled in his seat, distorting the empty can before having a perfect shot in the trashcan just a few feet away from him. Smooth one.

“I think I might retire, or just quit after the current contract ends,” Jaehyun felt tight, the words came out from him in a way too suffocating form. Mark visibly tenses, his laidback posture now crouching forward to his friend. Mark was too pre-occupied in his escalating solo career, the support he had been getting even before the official stage was way too much for him to fathom, but he was grateful for it nonetheless. A stinging guilt crept up inside him, chiding himself of being such an inconsiderate friend. “It’s high-time I start to live on my own accord.”

Mark decided to rather not pressurize the half-drunk dude with his numerous questions as to why or what has made him to take such a step. Jaehyun struggled to keep his eyes open, exhaustion was taking over his body ever faster now that he had booze in his system. Jaehyun would have rather opted to just spend the night on the couch (he preferred Mark’s limited edition long L shaped sofa over any king sized bed) but the guy decided to not get welcomed by his mate as ‘good morning.’ Mark put a hand on Jaehyun’s knee, an attempt to stop the non-stop stomping which was a very well-known drunk habit of him. Piling the blankets he just brought, the younger warned again, eyes like red lazer lights before trudging towards his bedroom. 

Feet wobbly, Jaehyun struggles to drag his build to switch off the remaining lights in the living room, glancing throughout the long empty space. He gulped down harshly, the familiar empty feeling creeping back to him which he had been avoiding for so long — for years. Jaehyun took a deep sigh, the heavy feeling feeling weighing down his chest as he took light steps towards the big glass window which granted him the view of the whole city. His eyes flickered at the luminous sight. He felt big but small, full, content but numb and empty. 

“Hyung, you’re still awake?” a sleepy voice spoke from behind, breaking out Jaehyun from his trance. 

“Huh?” It took a moment for him to process an answer. “Uh yeah. just like that. You go sleep.”

Mark shrugged, walking towards his bed as Jaehyun plopped down harshly on the duvet, wincing slightly as he felt a sprain in his lower back. With the alcohol slowly losing its effect on him with each passing second, Jaehyun started to feel more sober, more drawn back into the reality. He hated it. This feeling he was feeling.

Mark was having a rather difficult time to fall asleep. He even put on a random sleeping eye mask he uses for travelling, but alas that did not help either. He was too giddy, too excited for tomorrow. Pulling up the blankets over his head, Mark was assured he was safe from everyone, even maybe from God as a huge grin breaks out on his face. As much as he hates to admit it, Mark loved how things turned out to be the way they were.

“Oh god, this is so awkward. Oh god can I please please just die already?” Mark halted on his steps at the voice, glistening in sweats after the recent stage. He thought it would be an adventure to opt for the public washroom in disguise since the green rooms’ ones were all occupied by the rest of the members; and boy, Mark was really giving his all hold his pee.  

“OH GOD!” the sudden yelp caused the male to shriek quietly, muttering an inaudile ‘jesus’. Despite the odds, Mark decided not to test his luck, holding in the bubbling feeling just before explosion as much as he could. Muttering quiet curses, the male struggled to hold his posture as he stealthily tried to get to the other side of the stairs. Too busy in his on the way to urination voyage, Mark realized it was too late, he bumped. Bumped into someone. A girl. Hell yeah fucked. Panic crept at the back of his throat as he anticipated what was coming forth. Him being surrounded by numerous fan as he desperately tries to hold his pee. What a fucking sight.

“Look, I know you might be a staff or something,” Mark whipped his head at your voice. “But please just oh god,” you rambled, leaving the man standing with his legs crossed tightly in utter confusion. “I had no idea — Mark Lee?”

The colors from his faced drained, Mark turned casper for a split second. 

“PLEASE!” he was quick to react, half-whispering as he desperately caught your hands. “Please don’t just, uh.., shout or something.”

You immediately raised your hands in defense. “I uh have no reason to do so?” You stated, observing how he was literally squirming, it did not take you long to understand that the canadian needed to go the washroom as soon as possible. ”Oh!” You quickly moved. “Sorry for blocking your way!” Before he could even say thank you, you disappeared without any trace. Mark made a quick mental note to thank you, well that only if he ever happens to cross paths with you again. And deep down, he wised he would. On the other hand, you let out another distressed growl, promising to all of the heavens that never will you be ever accompanying your cousin sister, or let alone come to any concerts from now on. The stunt your drunken cousin had pulled just a while ago was humiliating enough, but of course, she had to spice it up by vomiting on the hallways just in front of the green room. You silently prayed and hope with all your might that maybe they will be generous enough not to sue you or ask for compensation for the mess, looking around cautiously for any employees before you sprinted off for the exit door, and yes, dragging the passed out stunt lady.

Mark felt as if he had a halo above his head, the water balloon inside him finally set free. But he had to race when he saw his phone buzzing with notifications, all of them belonging to his manager or the group chat of the members chanting same syllables ‘Where are you’ ‘show starts in 2′ ‘get yo ass here’. It did not take the rapper too while before he reached the green room, the makeup artists and stylists immediately wrapping themselves around him with brushes and hair sprays. He was smiling, genuinely smiling as he replayed the encounter he just had. Johnny raised an eyebrow with an amused grin on his face. 

“What’s with the smile, bro?” Johnny pulls up some random exercises to relieve the tension in his muscles.

Instead of dodging his question, Mark replied, still smiling, but wider. “The pee voyage was a nice one.”

Johnny judged the younger for a second before chuckling and heading towards the stage. The loud noises from the fans echoed throughout the whole arena, full of green lightsticks gleeming like blossoming spring garden. No wonder I called them grass, Mark thought. But today, he was looking for a rather specific individual, his eye scanning almost all the faces in the crowd. He hoped to see you again, smiling gleefully as he performed, but thought that it was too greedy of him to want this much in a span of a day. And so he performed, for the first time without any pressure of doing good, enjoying every moment of the stage he was on and yet again, wished that maybe, maybe your paths will collide with his again.

.

.

.

part 2

#wow my writing sucks #pls dont judge oki loves #idk if i should be asking this but #pls support this T.T #jung jaehyun #jaehyun sm #jung yoonoh #NCT #nct2020 #nct ot23 #nct oneshot #nct angst #nct fluff #nct incorrect quotes #nct mark #mark lee #lee minhyung #red wine #mark fluff #mark angst #comedy #jaehyun angst #nct dream angst #NCT 127 #nct imagines #czennie #cznnet #kdiarynet

[petri808]

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

Inukag angst w/happy ending

Two weeks after the accident, Inuyasha received a phone call from his ex to check on him. She’d just heard about the accident and wanted to make sure he was okay. He knew he’d sworn to cut off all contact, but in his grief, Inuyasha latched onto any form of comfort he could and agreed to meet the woman for lunch one last time. Miroku tried to advise against it, only backing down when Inuyasha swore he would cut off all ties after this last meeting. It was just lunch, what could it hurt? It was only fair of him to cut the woman off face to face instead of cowardly through a phone call.

It was a little awkward, he couldn’t lie. But the lunch had been progressing well in a platonic way. Inuyasha was careful not to do anything that might lead the woman on... at least that’s what he believed because to him they really were just friends. They’d dated through high school, but when they graduated, Kikyo decided she wanted to pursue college away from their hometown, and that a long distance relationship rarely worked in her eyes. Inuyasha hadn’t been happy about it at the time, but life went on. He went to the local college and started working for his father’s company when his coworker Miroku introduced him to his then girlfriend Sango’s best friend and the rest as they say, was history.

By the time Kikyo returned, Inuyasha was absolutely smitten with his new girlfriend Kagome. He’d let his anger about his ex go and agreed to remain friends. What did it matter to him anyways since he was happily in love. Inuyasha could never have realized that just five years later that choice would cause his whole world to come crashing down.

“Oh, Inuyasha,” Kikyo reached over the table and took his hand. “I’m sorry this happened.”

He hung his head and ears drooped. “I just keep thinking about how I could’ve prevented all of this.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself. Kagome chose to act childish and emotional, that’s not your fault.”

Inuyasha pulled his hand away and eyes narrowed at the woman. Did he just hear her right?! “She was upset, with every right to be since I was being stupid. That doesn’t make her childish.”

“Inuyasha please,” the woman rolled her eyes. “Kagome doesn’t deserve your protection. Weak people like her aren’t worth stressing over.”

It was an instantaneous lightning bolt strike to Inuyasha’s head. He knew Kikyo could be harsh, but throughout the entire time he was with Kagome, the woman never talked so lowly of his girlfriend. Yet now that Kagome wasn’t around to defend herself, Kikyo’s true colors were blatantly shining through. Inuyasha immediately pushed away from the table and stood up. “All this time,” the deep growl evident in his tone, “I thought Kagome was just being ridiculous in her accusations, but you’ve just shown me she was telling the truth all along.” He glared at his ex, his eyes turning red in anger. “I’m such an idiot for defending you! It’s because of you we fought that night and now she’s still paying the price! I’m done Kikyo.” He gritted out. “Don’t you ever contact me again or so help me I will make you pay for your part in this!”

“Inuyasha!” She called after his fleeing form. “Inu don’t do this! I still love you!”

But he was done. He stopped cold to address Kikyo one last time. “No, you don’t. If you loved me you wouldn’t try to hurt me, but all you’ve done is hurt me. It’s over!”

Ugh! How he wanted to tear something apart! Inuyasha got into his car and gripped to the steering wheel of his car so tightly his knuckles were blanched white. “Fucking bitch!” He roared as he gunned it out of the parking lot towards... towards... “FUCK!!!!” Where? He hated being in his empty house and the guilt tearing him up inside at that moment, it just wouldn’t be right to go to the hospital. Miroku was bound to give him the I told you so speech and while deserving, really wasn’t what he needed or wanted to hear.

There was only one place he could think to run to.

He knocked at the family’s door with his head hung unable to look the woman in the eyes.

“Inuyasha?”

“Momma Higurashi, can I come in?”

“Of course,” she moved aside and gestured for him to enter. Once he dropped onto the living room couch, she sat beside him with a hand on his shoulder. “Is something wrong?”

“You’re gonna hate me—”

“I don’t think that’s possible, so just tell me everything.”

If his head could sink lower it would at the words unloading like a waterfall after a storm as he recounted the twisted triangle, he now knew was real. Kagome had been so right all along about Kikyo, but the woman’s devious and manipulative nature tricked him into believing it was just in the rival’s head. All this time Inuyasha thought Kagome was acting like the jealous one, and in the end, it was his ex all along. How is he supposed to fix this?

“I wouldn’t blame you if you hate me for what I’ve done to your daughter, but I just couldn’t go home...” Tear pool in his eyes ready to burst just thinking about how empty he felt in that moment. “I can’t stand being in our home without her there, it hurts too fucking much.”

“Inuyasha, I don’t hate you. Am I upset, yes, but there’s no hate in me. I can see that you understand now along with the pain you’re going through, and that encourages me to forgive you.” Mrs. Higurashi cradled his face and brought it up so she could look into his eyes. “How could I hate the man who loves my daughter so much that he’s willing to bear his soul to their mother like this? I couldn’t ask for a better son-in-law.”

“But look at how much pain I’ve caused, how can you be so nice to me?”

“Because Kagome wouldn’t want me to hold this against you.”

With that, Inuyasha lost his remaining composure and sobbed even harder, letting the motherly figure simply hold him tight and stroke his back while he processed her words. She was right, Kagome’s heart was the purest he’d ever encountered who would look past the flaws and hold onto the positives. She wanted him for him, and if a person were deserving, fought to show them they are worth so much more. That’s probably why it took so many years for Kagome to leave that night. She’d always held out hope that Inuyasha would see the truth.

As Mrs. Higurashi soothed the despairing Hanyo, she spoke. “I know how hard this is Inuyasha, but Kagome’s body is healing and getting better every day. When she wakes up, she’ll need our love and support more than ever to get her through this.”

“I know...” he rumbled into the woman’s shoulder. “It’s just so scary to think, she won’t even know who I am.”

“And that’s why it’s so important for you to stay strong and help her remember, to show her the man she’d fallen in love with is still there for her.”

“You’re right… do you think she will… love me again?”

“I think so.”

The woman’s words seemed to satisfy Inuyasha for the time being. If Kagome woke up not remembering him it’ll hurt, deeply, but that just meant he’ll need to try even harder to win back her heart— and damn it! It was a challenge Inuyasha was not willing to lose. He couldn’t lose this fight or the road it might lead him down was... not something he ever wanted to think about. This time around he had the advantage of knowing all the things that make her happy, so he’ll put it all to good use. And if at some point Kagome regains her lost memories, hopefully the fact he remembered and did such things gave her the strength to forgive him.

Inuyasha released a grounding exhale. Now that he had a pseudo plan, a tiny weight felt lifted from his shoulders. But one remained. He pulled away from Momma Higurashi as he wiped away the drying tears from his cheeks. “Could I ask for one more favor?”

“Sure, dear.”

“I don’t wanna go home tonight. It’s too lonely.”

“Oh,” she smiled gently. “You’re welcome to use Kagome’s old room. Maybe it’ll bring you a small measure of comfort.”

Whether or not it would, it was better than a cold and empty house. “Thank you.”

And it did help to some degree. Kagome’s lingering scent in the room was both a comfort and a curse. It reminded him of her absence, yet the familiarity was soothing enough to relax him, to remind him of her presence and the importance of staying true to his choices. So, as he lay there that night staring up at her ceiling, Inuyasha allowed the happier memories to come back. Of nights when they first started dating, or times he’d snuck into this very room to watch her sleep. In those early days, he’d been much more brash and walled off to her advances— yes, her advances. He had still been in pain from the break-up with Kikyo when they’d met, but Kagome’s gentle pushing and prodding eventually morphed into something more. She was a shoulder to cry on, and the strength he needed to mend a broken heart. Even the anger he once felt about losing his mother at a young age had haunted him, and it was Kagome who helped those wounds to heal. He really owed the woman a lot, and now it was his turn to return the favor.

#inukag #inukag au #inukag fan fic #inukag fan fiction #inuyasha #kagome higurashi #inuyasha x kagome #angst w/happy ending #ch 3 #missing memories #petri808

[maemi324]

The Rescue

Hello there! Welcome to my first ever BNHA Reader insert!  Reader has a quirk named Harpy. Essentially they can scream really well and that makes the primal part of peoples brains sort of act up and make them freeze, if not only for how loud the sound is. They then use their talons (which are retractable) to go in for the kill.  Warnings: Violence, some blood, brief mention of drug use. Kidnapping.  I think that’s everything. If I’ve missed something please let me know and I’ll add it to the list!

Warmth, safety, the cool breeze of an open window. The smell of his scent all around her in the darkest hours of night.

Brows furrow, two hands grasp at her legs and pull, a startled gasp all too quickly ripped from her throat. She choked, a hand with something sweet smelling pressed tightly against her mouth and nose. Before she could even process who or what had her, she was back in darkness. 

“She’s gotta look a bit beat up, otherwise they won’t think we’re serious!” “ Ya, but you can’t kill her either idiot!” Back and forth the voices went, swinging from side to side. Her body felt heavy, numb, a metallic taste in her mouth, head pounding. Her eyes turned to her arms, tied behind her back, blood dripping down from her shoulders down to her feathered arms from what she could see.

Wait...Blood? 

Blink

The men surrounding her stood up

Blink

Snarl and Hiss at her throat, talons sharp and cutting, arms free

Blink Eyes open

The room was large and dark, blinds closed so that only thin streaks of sunlight entered through the window, air strung tight as a series of groans filled the room, surrounding her. For all intents and purposes, (Y/N) couldn’t tell if that was a blessing or a curse.

She could feel the hair on her body standing on end, the stuffiness of the room pushing down on them like needles that hissed and ached at the barest of touches.

Right, hands off, keep hands off arms. 

Shaking arms moved their sticky hands away from their positions, a rush of cold against the fresh spot- Stop! Stop please stop!- Shaking hands held out bare before her eyes, an image she couldn’t comprehend, heart beating as if echoing out from the appendages

She didn’t know where she was, just that she’d woken up in this dark place with pain singing from her back- Now bare, bleeding, one of them had a quirk? Whip, was it?- and the sides of her face.

Oh god, oh god, what’s happening? What’s happened, what’s going on? You’re not safe here, you’re not safe here, you’re not safe here-

That voice in her head was so distant, saying things through the glass of an aquarium, bubbles of red spilling out and upwards, to where?

No.

No time to ponder, she needed to get out of here, before they got up, before the enemy had time to wake up and-

The room lit up with light, a crashing, booming sound that had her arms up to guard her face, a sharp hiss slipping between sharp teeth. No.

She scrambled, nausea seeping into her arms and stomach as her heart jumped, racing so fast she could feel its beat behind her ears, 123412341234- New bodies swarmed the room, confusion in their voices- they were loud so loud, who was screaming, why did her throat hurt?  She blinked, the faces were blurred, they were below her now, hands outstretched as they came closer.

“We’ve secured the area!” “ The hostage!” “(L/N)! You’re safe now!” “Get back! Get back or you’re next!” She shrieked and snarled, watching as they clapped their hands over their ears, screams muted in agony. Her eyes narrowed at the others who fought through the pain to reach her.

She jumped down from her perch- When did I get up on a table?- launching herself at the nearest person, a sudden sense of euphoria sent something zinging through her veins and sitting sickly in her stomach as talons made contact with soft skin, pulling away wet. 

Strong hands were everywhere, reaching, grabbing, pulling, some far away part of her screamed for them to let go, let go, they burned! Arms wrapped around her torso as the soft sound of chains rang through the fog of her mind, they had her, they had her, they had her- 

Eradicatetheenemyeradicatetheenemy- 

So she screamed.

She screamed until the hands that burned dropped away, until the arms wrapped around her torso dropped, the ground thudding with the weight. She ran for the window, she couldn’t fight them all, she had to run!

She cursed, the bodies on the ground halting her path, she plowed through them as if they were nothing but wooden dolls that now barred talon scratches, but it still slowed her down, seconds mattered, this was life or death, life or  death she didn’t want to die here, she wanted- Gotta get away, gotta get away, gotta get away, need out, need out! Where is- why couldn’t she think, she needed him, she needed-

The window was just within her grasp, just a little closer-!

A large red blur- a feather?- caught her around the middle just as her talons barely scraped the windows sill. She flung backwards, a fault of her own momentum, air a distant memory as she slammed into the ground, everything going dizzyingly silent. Her vision greyed out around the edges as her senses made their way back to her, a gasp of dusty air, whatever remnants of the wall found themselves nicely jammed into her back.

She shook, talons clawing into the floor as she raised herself back up to a standing position, staring down a very familiar face.

“-(Y/N)? Are you with me?” his voice was a level of calm she couldn’t fathom right now as her heart fluttered wildly. She recognized those eyes, sweet honey laced with concern. Hawks, right when she needed him. Her eyes glanced to the ground, captors littered about the place, eyes narrowed as she glanced up at the sudden noise.

“Stand back, she’s overwhelmed!” there were more behind him, oh god there were more behind him, this wasn’t her hero, this was some apparition, this wasn’t her mate-

“No, no you’re not real!”

She turned to run again, back to the window, the feather still in its guarding place. Her body was starting to burn and ache in a new sharp way that was  flooding her senses, eyes watering. She didn’t want to die here, she was so tired, why wasn’t she stronger? Whywhywhywhy-

She gasped as the sound of debris cracked underneath his foot as he stepped forward, wings spread out before him, a brilliant red that had her attention. Her own feathers were so small compared to this, a higher level predator, the others gone behind the wings, scavengers, she was done for- “ Easy (Y/N)...”

“Get back, I won't be fooled by some quirk!”

He put his hands up in surrender, right at eye level. His baser instincts told him to fly over there and reassure his mate with his scent, calming coos while leaving the thugs to the other pros. As much as he wanted to take his feather and slice their throats individually in front of his mate, if that's what it took to make her feel safe, avenged-

His logical half knew that would rile her up more, she could put herself at risk and others. He relaxed his ruffled feathers, though still kept them spread. If she could just focus on him...that would help. The blood stains on her arms and legs, mainly coming from her back, they needed to be tended to, preferably before she passed out.

“It’s alright, no one else is moving, and neither am I, okay? Keep your eyes on me. We’re all just gonna take it slow and stay right here.” He paused, watching for any little tells of fleeing. When he was met with none, he spoke up again, “ I’m going to put my hands down now alright?” he followed through with the action, nice and slow as they went down, quickly discarding his gloves into his pockets. 

She was shaking, shivering, the adrenaline was starting to wear off. She flinched at the sound of more debris falling, a grunt telling him someone wounded had slipped from it. He kept his gaze on (Y/N) making no move to address the noise behind him.

“I can prove to you I’m the real deal.” She looked doubtful but she didn’t say anything. He knew she was preserving what little energy she had to flee or fight again if she had to.

“I know that your favorite color is (F/C). I know you hate it when i steal the last piece of chicken at dinner” his relationship with her was by no means a secret. He felt conflicted about airing such personal things out to the rest of these pros, even if they were small. Her comfort and safety came first, if talking about all the little things he knew about her made things okay in her mind, then it was worth it.

To his, and her surprise, that got a scoff from her. He kept his features neutral, though on the inside, his heart was singing with relief, it was working.

“You love ripping stupid commercials to shreds, and that your favorite scent is (F/S)” Her stiff posture began to relax a bit as he talked, talons lowering down to her sides as the nail itself shrunk down to it’s usual size. 

“I’m going to take a step forward now, alright? Nice and easy.” he stepped forward, his long legs making the distance that much shorter.

“You also call me a poultry shit if I’ve been a bit mischievous, which me? Mischievous? Never” That pulled a soft huff of laughter. He took that as his cue to take another step. When she didn’t put her guard up, he took another, now just an arms length away from her.

He lowered his voice, just for her, “ I also know that when you’re overwhelmed, your skin gets really sensitive, not even air is light enough”

He was so much closer now. She could smell his aftershave, the one he used every morning, and something else under that that always followed him around. It made him so much more...real.

“K-Keigo?” she whispered, the sound just barely reaching his ears. He nodded, his hands casually outstretched to her. “That’s right Angel” Her eyes blurred as warm liquid spilled down her cheeks again, forgoing his hands and launching herself straight into his chest as she sobbed, his name spilling from her lips as if the mantra would keep him here.

His arms wrapped around her gently, hand gently running through her tangled hair and feathers lightly. “That’s it, it’s alright now. I’m here, you’re safe. You did so good Angel, you held out for so long” He praised, ignoring how her nails dug into him.

“Keigo” She whined, nuzzling her face into his chest as if that would bring them closer. He hushed her softly, murmuring to her sweet praises as he carefully took off his jacket, bundling her up in it as he gently picked her up.

“We’re gonna get you all patched up, dove” He cooed, stepping over the various thugs that still littered the group. If he should manage to hit one in the stomach with the tip of his boot, that’s his business.

The paramedics swarmed over, taking her from his arms, but he still held tight to her hand. He wasn’t going to leave his mate, not for the commission, not for anyone.

#bnha #hawks x reader #hawks #takami keigo x reader #my hero academia #maemiwritesBNHA

[pseudofaux]

so..... under Comte's MC worship piece you mentioned having some darker ideas for him....... i think it's only natural to ask if you'd ever expand on that at least a little?... 👀

I would and I will 😤😍, thank you so much for asking!

This is ALL GOING UNDER A CUT. If you, gentle reader, don’t like the idea of the ask for/featuring Comte, this post isn’t for you— so please don’t read it. Totally fine if this is not your cup of tea! It is mine. And under the cut is tea time. 😌

He wants her sparkling with life, and happy, and choosing to be with him, of course. But he would love to have stretches of time where she’s both pliant and reliant— he’ll want her submissive to his wishes... to do everything for her. Feed her, bathe her, cosset her, fuck her. Hard. So, so lovingly, but hard, hard enough that she’ll need rest and care afterward, and that is part of the thrill: he creates her pleasure and any resultant soreness or exhaustion, she trusts him to do that even though she knows she doesn’t know how big a trust that is, and then he’s further in charge of all the massaging and hydrating and sheet-changing and moon watching and everything else AFTER.

He’s not a creature that sweats much and he loves to sweat from the physical ways he fucks her whenever they get the chance: holding her bent atop dressers and desks, pinning her against a wall, holding her over the rail of a theater box all done in velvet and gold, standing up to his shoulders in a river or the great baths of the mansion and cupping his hands underneath her thighs while he keeps her naked body in the air like a dryad and licks into her, anywhere. Anywhere! He’s strong and never gets to showwwwww ittttttt. He’s got this thin, devestating edge of keenness inside himself to reveal his strength to her. His aim here is 500% caveman “I am no threat to you but I am Big Damn Threat to anyone who would ever even think about hurting you” display. Sometimes he sweats just from holding himself rigid for her to touch, and her cool, miraculous fingertips tracing his body with obvious wonder and appreciation make him so, so deliciously tense. But sweet gentleman Comte, he loves that pre-snap as much as the snap itself. 🥰 And he loves! loves! HER sweat. It’s not as though it smells sweet, it smells like sweat. And he loves it and it turns him on. Dirty from the garden = charming, him loves him wife, dirty and a bit sweaty from the garden = he’ll be escorting her to the bath. Now. Good DAY, Sebas. You’ve done well.

He wants her blissed out, fucked out, so lucid she loses all her manners and only has him in her eyes. That’s the intimacy he craves, that’s what he’s dying to see under the Christmas tree.

Speaking of Christmas!

He’s really dying to take her to a little country church, something homespun and humble and holy, and make love to her on a dark wood pew. He wants his hand over her mouth and her hand over mouth and he wants them to be so close to getting caught. He wants them stumbling out and giggling like young lovers and he wants her to fall asleep next to him in the carriage home.

Also speaking of Christmas: loves to see her in rich ribbons. Dark blue velveteen with gold edging is his favorite. If she’s game to present herself as a gift to him, he’ll unwrap her with an open glee he very rarely displays. He’s gotten her several ostrich-feather fans and will get her dozens more if he so much as catches her eyes on their boxes. The slow delight of her revealing herself with them is an unparalleled joy in his life.

He doesn’t like her tied up beyond the ribbons. He likes to be tied up himself. 😏 Lives for her circling a chair he sits in, there in their bedroom, and winding ropes or whathaveyou through the arms and legs and around the back to keep his body in place, all the while teasing him with loving touches and sensual offers. If he makes it through that heavenly torture, he sits tied to the chair while she spreads her legs and lets him watch her get off. If he slips out of the bonds or snaps them before she’s finished... she wins that way, too. 🤷🏻‍♀️ Has considered asking Sebastian or Leonardo to tie him to a chair for her to find, so it’s all set up and a nice surprise. Hasn’t done it but knows he won’t be able to resist the idea forever.

All of his cravings for her dependency, even the dark ones, come from the root of his desire to be worthy of her trust. He’s not too angsty about it once they make it official, but none of it is a desire to hurt or endanger her, only to care for her if she is ever imperiled. The closest he comes to that is edging and biting her, but he doesn’t enjoy edging for edging’s sake and would be Very Content to help her orgasm as frequently, blissfully, and quickly as possible. Draw out the lovemaking session, not the denial.

Oooooh, and he’s a talker, during! Of course! So smooth and polite about it, always so mannerly, which makes the crudeness really leap out. Calls her a naughty girl like he does in that hand-licking card (R.I.P. pseu), tells her that the squelch between her legs is magnificent and musical, very free with praise for how rapturously beautiful she is. Asks if she wants sachertorte or fraises avec crême pâtissière as dinner wraps up, and anyone else still at the table rolls their eyes or flees because that the offer is a coded proposition is so obvious, my god, these two, again?

The entire house ships it, it’s fine, also it is Comte’s house

Her moans thrill him, so he often echoes her. If she should call out something like “Oh, god, yes,” it will be hard for him not to do the exact same. The sounds she makes during sex make his dick throb. He’s really enjoyed sitting her on the edge of a high table and stepping between her thighs, feeding from the top curve of one of her breasts, and toying with her with both hands to get her making noise. One broad finger pressing a line down the small of her back, through the lady’s sweat beading there, and following her body between the cheeks of her ass, flirting with her rim for a long time (she clenches, it’s delightful, you can’t fault a man for pleasing his lover) before he makes true contact and she gasps. His favorite. One of many favorites.

He’s a handful man, not a pincher. He wants to have her full breast against his palm much more than he wants to tweak her nipples, and he loves to cup her cunt with his hand and stroke her slit with more than one finger. He’s all about wide, diffuse, overpowering sensations. He’ll grab (he loves to watch her skin pillow his fingers anywhere he can get it), he’ll hold, he’ll use his hold hand to grip. But he thinks of pinching as both too direct and punishing. He’s not a fan.

I could see (AND ENJOY) a Comte/MC/Leonardo triad, but personally I prefer to ship them with her individually. If it’s Comte/MC I’m convinced Comte would arrange for them to be fucking in places where Leonardo will know, at the time (by sound) or after the fact (stuff moved, a scent in the air). There’s no one else in the mansion on his level like Leonardo is, so a little bit of my dick is wetter showing off... is... gonna happen.

He would share her with Leonardo if they all wanted that, as a one-time or short term (what’s a few years of blissful threesomes between friends?) thing. I don’t think the Comte that loves MC pines for Leonardo romantically, but Leo’s understanding is the best non-malevolent way Comte is known, and there’s trust there. I also! think!!! that Comte respects Leonardo’s abilities and inclinations as a lover, so. 😏

He would drink from her until she was weak, 100%. Not every time! But would he do it? YES. Like so weak she needs to rest for a day or two. So weak she needs to rely on him and he can not only keep her in bed but satisfy all her needs, gently and attentively. It’s not about the ego of holding her life in his hands, it’s the opportunity to be the one who serves her so fully. He probably gets in some dumb, angsty tangles about not wanting to be the one to hurt her, but being deeply moved by the idea of caring for her if she were to be hurt, and not being willing to trust anyone else, ever, to hurt her for them. Ah, this goose, I fucking love himmmmmm

Comte has had a few torturous dreams of leaning her against the wall of a ruin, biting her somewhere high on her naked body, and then waiting for the blood to run down her form so he can lick it from her ankles. Her skin is so fragrant and her blood is so sweet... The way bites and blood flows work doesn’t even make the scenario possible, but the dream is deeply arousing. He is not, at all, into torturing her, but the dream is recurring and he doesn’t mind it as a fantasy. He’s got all sorts of ritualized ways to love her in mind.

He’s so in love with making love to her before they go out to plays and insisting she needs no blush or powder. He’s right, she can see it in the mirrors of their room. Keeps her color high with his hands up her skirts on the way to the theater. And at the theater, if she allows. If they see a tragedy performed he’ll be extra watchful for signs of any lingering distress on her part.

Cock warming’s not a bad idea, she is heaven incarnate, but what he really likes is to undo her with his fingers inside her body and then not take them out. If he’s wearing gloves the next morning before etiquette demands them, it’s because they’re still a bit wrinkled. 😌

Has her pose for as many classical portraits as she’s willing to endure. Touches her bare breast while the painter watches to tease all three of them. Sometimes he asks to be added to the painting. Usually not!

Happiness: a nice, wet,  w i d e  bite over her shoulder.

He doesn’t actually like biting her neck because he loves to kiss and nuzzle it so much, the fucking fool! 😂 He likes fleshier parts of her: the aforementioned shoulders, her instep, the curve of both her hips where they flare from the small of her waist. He’s also REAL fond of biting her on her mons and the sacred place where her bottom meets her legs. Goddddddddd. He thinks he’s a derrière man but it’s really THAT part, that hidden curve that is sometimes a crease. He’d live there if he could, and he spends many happy nights laying her out on their bed on her front, fingering her and nosing up the beloved heft of her ass so he can get his fangs into that special place on her body.

The fleshiness is partially for her comfort and partially a mouthfeel thing for him— it’s the best vampiric sensation for Comte when her blood wells over her skin in his mouth, when he can suck a mouthful of skin between the wounds he’s made.

WHEW okay that’s what I’ve got for now. Thank you so much for this ask. 😭😭😭🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️

* Sachertorte is him eating her ass while she grinds into a pillow, the strawberries would be making a slowwwwwww sash of exquisite bite marks across her back and licking each one... while she grinds into a pillow. Alfajores are her giving him a handjob while he propped over her on their bed, arms shaking because he’s not allowed to move until she says. Chouquettes are him giving himself a handjob and coming all over her breasts. Welfenspeise is ruining all the flowers in a particular part of the garden. Ciardunas...

#ikevamp comte #ikevam comte #ikevamp hc #ikevam hc #a++ aaviav #seriously thank you so much for this #pseu please... pick a direction #direction is... self-indulgence! #DADDY I LOVE HIM!!!!!! 😤

[stacispratt]

hi i wrote a cute lil geraskier drabble and two count em two (2) people told me to post it so here i am (warning for pda obviously and some suggestive touching, but nothing sexual)

geraskier commit disgusting pda crimes at kaer morhen Lambert is sitting frozen at the kitchen table, spoonful of stew brought halfway to his mouth and eyes wide as he stares off toward the small, makeshift common area they have set up on the first floor of the keep. 

"What the hell are you looking at?" Eskel says, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he steps out of the hall. Lambert doesn't startle, just keeps looking off into space, but sets his spoon down. Eskel frowns harder, looks where Lambert is looking, and his mouth falls open too.

Jaskier and Geralt are sitting on the floor in front of the couch, both on a small cushion of their own and Jaskier wrapped in a blanket. Geralt is shirtless and sitting between Jaskier's knees, hunched forward to accept Jaskier's hands rubbing over his back and shoulders– even over his chest, apparently, as Eskel watches one of Jaskier's hands run up and over Geralt's shoulder and down to cup one of his pecs. Evidently still undeterred by the fact that they're sitting out in the open, Jaskier slips his other hand around Geralt's side to press over his tummy, fingers dipping just under the waistband of his trousers. Geralt sighs at the contact and slouches back into Jaskier's touch, allowing the curve of his back to fit into the bard's chest. Jaskier kisses the side of his neck, just once but decidedly less than chaste, and thumbs gently over Geralt's nipple.

"Eugh," Eskel says without meaning too.

“If this is how it's gonna be all winter, I'm gonna puke my guts out," Lambert says, at normal volume, and Geralt doesn't even stir. Eskel knows he can hear them. Geralt's eyes still stay closed, all his muscles loose, gathered in Jaskier's arms. "Of all the people to be absolutely disgusting with a boyfriend, I should have known it would be Geralt."

Geralt tips his head back onto Jaskier's shoulder, prompting more wet kisses on the side of his throat. Eskel can hear the smack of Jaskier's lips against his skin like they're doing it right in his ear. He shudders. "They have their own room," Eskel says, nose wrinkling. "I don't understand why they have to do it out in the open."

"He's a bard, they're flashy and and eccentric. But Geralt knows better, the nasty son of— Oi!" Lambert snaps, cutting himself off leaning half out of his seat. "Get your hand out of his pants, you damn tart!"

Jaskier throws a shameless grin their way, though he does slip his fingers out of Geralt's trousers. "You're the ones watching," he calls, stroking his other hand back up Geralt's chest, then sing-songs, "Wouldn't be grossed out if you weren't looking," while Eskel stares at the way he gently guides Geralt's face into his neck and Lambert glares at the hand settling on Geralt's thigh.

"Impossible not to stare with you while you're doing it in the middle of our common area," Lambert snipes. Geralt is still mostly limp. Eskel is bewildered. The bastard is never this at ease– Eskel swears he hasn't seen him so relaxed since… since ever. His chest rises and falls slowly, slower than any human.

"You're just jealous," Jaskier assures him, and turns to kiss the crown of Geralt's head. "Isn't that right, my love?"

Geralt hums. Jaskier kisses him again. "I know," he murmurs, just to Geralt, but a witcher's hearing is too good to miss it. "I know. You just relax, darling. We have all winter to tease your brothers. You take this night to relax." Eskel feels himself drop his tension and notices Lambert lose some of his fire.

"I'm not jealous," Lambert grumbles, and yanks both himself and his bowl of stew up and out of the common area, likely fleeing to either his room or the library. Jaskier doesn't even bother watching him go, completely absorbed in combing his fingers through Geralt's hair, murmuring sweet nothings, stroking his chest.

Eskel lingers a moment, his chest feeling lighter as he realizes how happy Jaskier is making Geralt. He sways on his feet, shifting his weight from side to side. When Jaskier glances up briefly at him, he tips his head down in a nod. Jaskier smiles softly then returns his attention to Geralt.

It's a good thing Geralt brought the bard, he thinks.

#geraskier #the witcher #geralt x jaskier #geraskier fic #my fic #trinity talks!

[peach-the-owl]

Could I request 61 & 91 from your prompt list with Caleb x child reader? Maybe reader gets hurt and doesn't want the nein to know they're upset/crying? (tho honestly I leave it up to you, loving the child of the nein series btw!) 😊

Thank you soooo much for liking my little series it’s so much fun to do, even if it takes a bit of work sometimes. Anyways I hope you enjoy 😁

Just a Scratch

Child of the Nein (Caleb & Child!Reader)

61- Is that blood!? 91- Look me in the eyes.

I’m setting this a short time after Acidic Touch

Let’s rewind and remember that time you watched an assassin flee, well several days had past since, the group now leaving Zadash for their next destination and said mystery assassin had returned with more friends and a vengeance. Having been a bit more informed of how to actually engage in combat you were doing a lot better at hitting your intended target, it’s still not perfect but defiantly better. Arrows, and bolts of magic were flying every which way but the Nein were able to chip away at the enemies numbers, this time making sure no one escapes. You feel a sudden sharp pain hit your side, looking down you can see where your shirt had been ripped then behind you to see the arrow lodged in a tree. The cut didn’t look that bad so you cover it with your little bag and continue in the fight like nothing happened. After finally taking care of the assassins proper you continue on your way but as you travelled you couldn’t help but start feeling a little lightheaded, not to mention your side felt a little wet for some reason.

"Are you feeling alright (y/n)? You look a little pale." Nott asks concern clear in her voice.

"Am ok, is juss been a lonn day." Your words sounded a little slurred, which gained the rest of the groups attention.

"I don’t think that’s the problem, did any of those assassins attack you?" By now you felt like you were gonna vomit and the world looked as if it was spinning making you teeter a bit in your movements.

"It was juss a scatch, I fine juss a lil dizzy." You say, your little bag having shifted over from your wavering movements.

"Wait, is that blood!?" You didn’t register who spoke that time, their voice sounding a little distant and fuzzy. You look down slightly seeing that you were in fact bleeding, guess that explains the wet feeling. You tried to step forward as if to show them you were fine but the dizziness and sudden shot of pain through your side had other plans, instead loosing balance and falling to the ground but never making contact as someone had caught you. The light of the sun suddenly felt bothersome on your eyes, feeling the need to blink constantly in hopes of being able to find some form of focus if you did it enough times. Voices echoed around you but nothing sounded clear enough for you to make out any words, you couldn’t help but wonder what you did for this to happen. When slight realization set in you mentally kicked yourself for not saying anything sooner but it really did just seem like a small scratch to you, how were you supposed to know it’d end up this badly. There was a sudden warm and pleasant sensation in your side that spread to the rest of your body and the ill effects you had slowly started wearing off.

"Look me in the eyes (y/n), please. I need you to focus on me." You listened and strained your eyes a little to focus on the one who spoke. When the image clears you see Caleb looking back at you, concern written all over his face. "There you are." His expression softens a bit and he lets out a sigh of relief when you regain your full focus back, getting up with you still in his arms making you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck for support.

"I’m sorry." You whisper, hiding your face in his shoulder.

"Sorry, for what?" You peak out to look at him then hide your face again.

"I’m sorry I got hurt and didn’t say anything. I really thought it wasn’t bad." The words came out muffled a bit, but he still heard you. There was a small pause as Caleb thought about a good responce.

"In any other circumstance you would be right, but those arrows they used were laced with a poison that thins the blood."

"What does that mean?" You ask, raising your head to look at him confused.

"It means that even if it doesn’t hit its target the poison can still make you bleed out." Caleb try’s explaining in a way you can understand better.

"Is that what happened to me?"

"We were able to stop it before anything… bad happened." There was another pause before he spoke up again. "Please tell someone when you are hurt, even if it seems small it could be damaging in the future. Do you understand?"

"I do," you say with a nod, "I'll tell someone next time, pinkie promise." You hold up your pinkie making Caleb give a light laugh and hold his own up, connecting them together to "seal" the little promise.

#critical role #critical role & reader #mighty nein #the mighty nein #mighty nein & reader #caleb widogast #caleb & reader #nothing romantic here