#migraine times have delayed this part but they could not stop it

[moonshine-nightlight]

Nothing's Wrong with Dale: Part Thirteen

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding  that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

AO3: Nothing's Wrong with Dale - Chapter 13 - MoonshineNightlight - Original Work [Archive of Our Own]

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six][Part Seven] [Part Seven.5] [Part Eight][Part Nine][Part Ten][Part Eleven] [Part Twelve] Part Thirteen [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] [Part Twenty-Two] [Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four] [Part Twenty-Five] [Part Twenty-Six] [Part Twenty-Seven] [Part Twenty-Eight] [Part Twenty-Nine] [Part Thirty] [Part Thirty-One] [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

You try to distract yourself by fussing with your hat, angling it so it best blocks the morning sun from your eyes. It’s too easy to resituate though and so your gaze is drawn back down the jousting lane where Dale waits at one end for his first jousting round of the tournament.

Already the archery competition had been held, in which Dale had competed last in deference to his recovering injuries. He claimed to be more than sufficiently healed from his wrestling with the boar and the doctor took full credit for this recovery. In the end, he’d placed in the top third of the competition and seemed pleased with that, archery never having been even former Dale’s particular passion or strong suit. 

The martial tournament had three competitions: archery, jousting, and melee. Everyone competed in archery, which determined the tournament match-ups for jousting. The top four competitors in the jousting rounds then also fought with melee weapons in a champion tournament—although there were certain exceptions within jousting that could result in mounted swordplay, something you knew happened but had never understood what actually called for it. Heavy armor was worn for the jousting and then chainmail for the melee. Though no one is supposed to be aiming to kill, injuries are not uncommon. Despite protests to the contrary, plenty of knights bring grudges from outside the competition into it. 

For the first round, every knight jousts against two different opponents, resulting in the elimination of anyone who was fully unseated or too injured to compete. People could also simply choose to no longer compete, but that came with a fee and a significant blow to one’s pride. Then a bracket is drawn up based upon how well each did as well as random lots drawn for those judged to be of equal skill. While no special consideration is given to Dale any further with regards to his injury, he has still ended up being one of the last few to tilt.

At first you had been grateful for the reprieve, but you find it's only given your nerves more time to grow sharper. You’ve never enjoyed jousting, never having been able to watch any of your family members or friends do it and barely able to tolerate watching strangers either. And now, with Dale’s condition, there is a whole range of new factors and considerations and chances for things to go wrong.

Not that he seems nervous, you think a bit impetuously. Dale is already mounted on his horse, a sturdy and beautiful black gelding. If the rumors about animals sensing demon possession are true, they evidently don’t apply to horses as Blacklock appears completely at ease with having a demon on his back. Right after Dale puts on his helm, a trumpet blast signals for the combatants to get into position for the first pass.

Dale’s horse walks over where he needs to go with barely any signal on Dale’s part, clearly used to this activity. Dale lowers his lance into position across his horse’s withers, the blunted tip seeming to sharpen the longer you contemplate it. With his helm on, you can’t read his face, but he seems confident enough in the high tilting saddle with the long lance in his hand. Has he done this before? You rather thought demons were particularly feral with their fighting and had little need for weapons, but who knows how many times he’s been on the Surface. You hope he has experience of his own, or at least can rely on Dale’s.

All you can do is watch as the flag lowers and they charge at one another. It happens both slowly and too fast as they brace and clash together. No one ends up on the ground and nothing breaks, but it's still clear that Dale’s opponent, Knight Catherine of Alry—recognizable to you only because her lands border your family’s—is the superior jouster. Dale hadn’t risen in time to strike well and had been knocked firmly back in his saddle hard enough you doubt its padding helped much. Her follow through was far more clean and confident than his own.

The next pass resulted in her lance breaking off and while Dale had improved his timing, his lance did not break. As such, it’s no surprise that she is awarded to win. Despite the loss, you feel only relief—no one has been injured, no particular mistakes were made, no demonic signs were obvious, and no unusual strength was notable.

You nearly jump out of your seat when a loud ‘harumph’ interrupts your thoughts. You turn to see one of Dale’s uncles—Wellington, who’d been on the hunt—frowning at the field. “Boy’s out of practice after all that time abroad,” he grumbles to Breighton on his other side. “After how he performed on the hunt, I was expecting more.”

While a small part of you wants to speak on Dale’s behalf, mostly this comment makes you want to breathe out in relief that no one suspects anything. Breighton rolls her eyes at her brother, “He did fine—didn’t even get unhorsed. You’re simply still sore over your loss to Alry in that race last year.”

Wellington scowls and Grandfather laughs, clapping his son on the shoulder from his spot in the row behind you. “That so?”

You take the opportunity to surreptitiously check how Grandfather seems to be reacting. He’s rather good at keeping up his usual attitude in public, but he’d been tense in the lead up to this part of the tournament. You hope he hadn’t noticed you’d been the same. He seems to have lost some of that tension, although not all of it. He catches your eye and you resist the urge to duck down and away—trying to think of how you would act if nothing was out of the ordinary. You smile politely, returning his look, before gazing back over to Wellington as he says, “That has nothing to do with this tournament nor Dale’s showing in it. He clearly kept up with his woodscraft and hunting, but obviously his jousting was neglected. That is all I was trying to say.”

Breighton continues to needle her brother, with Grandfather assisting, about whatever race he participated in against Alry while you finally feel that your stomach has settled enough to have something to eat. You help yourself to the platter the family has continually replenished, noting since Grandmother is the grand judge, Grandfather’s tastes are more obviously represented. As such, there’s more dark meat and generally a plainer array of offerings. You don’t mind the change, preferring such simpler fare when your stomach is still rather stirred up from stress. 

Desiring something warm, you help yourself to the stew. Blowing on it lightly, you take a sip. Blinking in surprise, you notice that, unlike how you expected it to be, it is rather heavily seasoned. Primarily with rosemary and thyme you identify after another sip, the dish having been so heavily seasoned you needed extra time to identify the herbs.

In fact, your next mouthful causes you to cough a bit at the overpowering taste. Once you’re able to have a drink to help your throat and are reaching for a piece of bread to help with the strong flavor, you realize Grandfather’s eyes are on you. Abruptly, you recall rumors about both of those herbs supposedly helping to purify those tainted by demonic energies. 

Resisting the urge to look to see if he actually is looking at you, you make the decision to finish off your bowl at least, no matter how heavily seasoned. You don’t want him to turn his suspicions to Dale himself, but you want to do your part in discouraging him from this line of thinking entirely. Also, there have definitely been meals since Dale’s incident that involved those herbs, so he’s obviously only trying very basic testing methods at this point, which makes you feel better.

You’d taken advantage of both Dale’s absence and Steward Bilmont’s knowledge of what had happened, to spend some time in Dale’s study and peruse some of his more illicit books on demonology with mild confidence of privacy. Most of them were too dense and theoretical for you to get much from, but yesterday night you found that Steward Bilmont had slipped one volume in particular into your rooms regarding possession and influence, including signs and symptoms. 

You believe Dale had gone to great trouble to bring these tomes in, given Northridge’s heavy regulation of such materials, and hope Grandfather is having trouble getting his hands on similar books. You also hope that you’re not misplacing your faith in what Steward Bilmont reported regarding Breighton’s disbelief and how he believed Dale innocent of any such studies and therefore would not be searching his study. That did bring up the idea of him searching your chambers, which seems far too overt for him to attempt at this moment. Nevertheless you resolve to read quickly, taking shorthand notes only, and getting the volume back to Dale’s study as soon as possible.

It had a whole section on herbs and plants—identifying which were actually potentially useful in detecting demonic influences and which were mere myth. Most, you are grateful to remember, are not useful generally, let alone in their raw state. However, you didn’t have a lot of time to study that section yet and you make a note to do so once you retire for the evening, before Grandfather stumbles upon something that does more than result in overly seasoned soup.

You finish the stew slowly, with more bread than usual, but no other signs of discomfort as Dale’s next round comes up. This one goes far more favorably for him, even if primarily due to his opponent’s poor horsemanship rather than his own skill. At least no one can claim favoritism on behalf of the judges even if Grandmother is heading the panel—a pair of strong opera glasses to combat her usual sight challenges. Both of Dale’s matches have had obvious winners to be ruled in favor of and all other grandchild—two of his cousins competing as well—matches have been judged similarly. 

The other judges are another of Dale’s uncles and a neighboring Lady. None of the heckling you’ve occasionally heard has started, although perhaps it's simply not late enough in the day for people to be drunk enough to do so. After each bout, they declared a winner after debating and considering each competitor's technique, horsemanship, skill, and strength. Grandfather and Wellington discuss each match on their own, likely mirroring the conversation being had on the other side of the field. Breighton chimes in as she pleases, though you are able to piece together she’s no interest in the lance and is instead holding out for the melee later on, or perhaps even with plans to join the fencing duels tomorrow.

There’s a pause while the tournament brackets are finalized, the remaining spots assigned, and the stew is thankfully taken away—you have no desire to eat anything with thyme in it for a week at least. Grandfather seems to have gotten caught up in the tournament atmosphere and has lost all tension—or perhaps that’s just the wine he’s been drinking. 

Dale ends up one of the first rounds after the break and he wins the first two tilts easily. It's only the third, which hits at an interesting angle, that is at all ambiguous. You keep getting caught between relief as he continues to perform similarly to the others—humanely—while also nervous that he might be more likely to slip as he gets tired, though it's hard to tell how he’s holding up from the stands. When he’s not actively tilting, he’s out of sight with the other competitors and their squires—you hope he won’t slip out there either. Some part of you feels as if letting your guard down will cause something to go wrong and resists the urge to relax.

Dale’s next bout takes time to come about and you distract yourself from the tournament by talking with some of Dale’s cousins on your other side, who joined late having slept in—and who also luckily have no problem carrying the conversation with minimal input on your side.

This time, the first pass goes to his opponent when his shield splits neatly in two. Wellington scoffs, “He should have replaced his shield after his last round, Jellsum got lucky going after that hit from Voothkain.”

“I agree,” Grandfather says, echoing your thoughts, “however, there are still two more tilts. Dale can recover.”

Sure enough, Dale manages to nearly knock the knight from Jellsum off their horse next round and in their attempt to stay seated, they steer their horse into the barrier between lanes—practically guaranteeing their loss by the judges. 

This time between matches you try to pay more attention to the others participating, the competition will be fiercer as only skilled opponents remain. Could one of them be strong or skilled enough to make Dale forget himself? Or perhaps it's the less skilled ones, getting by on the luck of their opponent’s horse getting frightened who might throw Dale off.

Either way, by the time Dale next tilts, the last one of the day and the round that determines who fights in the champions melee instead of the all around, you’re strung tight with tension once more. Seeing who he’ll be competing against does nothing to quell that feeling. The knight from Eastmount had made a few waves as the first person to unseat their opponent, particularly given his less than burly build. However, both Grandfather and Wellington had remarked that he’d done well in other tournaments recently and so weren’t terribly surprised. He’d shattered a lance nearly every tilt in this tournament and is one of the favorites to make it to the final four.

Dale lines up for his tilt, fresh lance in hand. You catch a glimpse of Eastmount’s face before he pulls his helm on, he certainly looks confident. Soon enough they charge down the lane at each other, lances lowered. Both connect with shields and break, cracking about a third off in length each, showing a similar amount of strength and precision from their wielders. 

When they both retreat to their sides, you think you see Eastmount turn to say something to Dale, but it's impossible to say what. Dale is hard to read with his helm on, but his horse is a little clearer, prancing more than usual to offload some tension in his rider as he retrieved a new lance. Something about his demeanor seems more serious, more focused. Eastmount seems cocky still, adjusting his bejeweled gauntlets that glint in the sunlight, ostentatious enough for competition that one of Dale’s cousins remarks on them too.

The trumpet blast and thunderous sound of hooves brings your focus sharply back to the jousting lanes. They hurtle at each other with even more momentum, or so it seems to you, than before. Both their lances shattered in an explosion of wooden splinters. You blink at the sight, and upon remembering the tale of the man felled by one such splinter in his eye, immediately check Dale for signs of distress. To your relief, he seems to have no trouble guiding his horse, though he’s shaking out his hand from the impact.

For some reason that strikes you as odd. Perhaps Dale has gotten particularly good at playing his role, but you’re really not sure he would have thought to do such a thing. That means either it was a normal amount of pressure and he was simply surprised at what could affect humans or… Or that something else is going on here, that the impact was precisely as devastating as it seemed and even Dale, with whatever accordances he had still felt it significantly enough for him to, without thinking, flew his hand.

Still, it's not unheard for both lances to break with particularly strong opponents and they acquire their replacements, lining up for another tilt. This second tilt has the same prickling tension concentrates once more and you find yourself holding your breath as they meet and both lances shatter once more, drawing murmurs and raising your hackles.

Technically, despite the three passes already completed, the tilts have Dale and his opponent at a tie. As such, Grandmother orders a delay in the round while a new set of lances is procured and thoroughly inspected.

The other knight takes off his helm and motions for his squire. He’s a moderately built man with a large mustache that you think must get uncomfortable in the helm. He looks angrier than you expect, not frustrated or bewildered, but furious and, more importantly, trying to hide it. He keeps glaring impatiently at the squire dashing to him or Dale, as if he thinks what’s going on is their fault. He doesn’t look to the judge or to the man who made the lances—currently being questioned by the judge. He’s not checking any of his equipment, just—his squire finally joins him and he dismounts.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Dale’s done the same, but you keep your focus on the opposing knight. His horse is blocking him from view by your side of the arena, but there are dozens of highly polished and decorative shields all around the stands. You find the right one and watch as he seems to berate the squire, gesturing first at Dale and then brandishing his removed gauntlet in the man’s face. 

The squire appears to be protesting, likely trying to explain whatever standstill these two are at isn’t his fault. But why would it be? How could it be? The furious knight jabs a finger at his horse, thrusts his gauntlets and shield into the squire's hands before stalking away. Tents fill the field near the jousting arena, one for each competitor to wait in, and he leaves likely to return to his own. 

Instead of following the knight, you keep watch on the squire, noticing the way he runs his hands over the equipment in his hands, appearing to possibly be check the back of his shield, before running fingers over the saddle and possibly even the saddle blanket underneath? He only does so for a few seconds before he freezes, barking an order to stablehand. To your surprise, he gives the man who comes over the shield and gloves, not he reins for the horse and together the two hurry out of the arena.

Only a few seconds after watching them leave did you realize what else struck you as odd—the stablehand had been dressed as one, but did not look like one. He’s too clean and too pale. They are obviously up to something nefarious—some form of cheating that evidently was not working as expected, hence Eastmount’s anger.

Tuning back into the chatter around you, the twin shattered lances two rounds in a row is causing some talk to fly, but not much. From what you hear, no one in your immediate surroundings thinks anything in particular is happening, merely commenting on the amount of strength the two men must have. Impressive given neither are particularly large or muscular. 

Of course, while Dale is managing his strength better, you know why he might have more strength than he appears to have. But it’s not as though this man likely also has the same condition. But perhaps, given his fixation on his tools at hand, Eastmount is using something to that effect. If he gets careless with such a thing, if either he pushes so hard Dale missteps or enough to reveal what he’s doing and Grandmother judges they must start testing the competitors…

You stand before you even realize you’ve made the decision to, making an excuse to Dale’s family around you about needing  a private moment. Once back on the ground, instead of heading towards the outhouses, you picture the series of tents in your mind and try to deduce where Dale will be waiting to be called back. You aren’t sure if your information will would be at all helpful—he probably already knows what’s happening and who knows if he’ll believe you—but you can’t in good conscience continue to watch this without warning him.

You spot his squire and walk determinedly in that direction to relay what you know.

[Part Fourteen]

#my writing #story: nothing's wrong with dale #story part #nothing's wrong with dale #terato #exophilia #osha compliant #male monster #monster bf #arranged marriage #slow burn #latter dale #migraine times have delayed this part but they could not stop it #idk where this week went #just frantic catching up on work and life and writing #the jousting rules presented herein are not accurate and jsut a mish-mash of rules i found and rearranged as i wnted to #this isn't our world anyways #no regret #will be going to a ren faire tomorrow to see some irl jousting which will hopefully motivate me to write the next part #should b fun regardless ;) #hope you like this part!

[lustspren]

Darkbloom ft Arin.

length: 7k words✦

Arin & Male Reader

genres: succubus¡ (or maybe something else) dom¡ Arin, femdom, cum denial, hard sex, bdsm, diabolical breeding (?, blowjob, overstimulation, thriller, horror attempt (?

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Skepticism is a double-edged sword. You learned that in a way that you wouldn't wish even on your worst enemy.

You were always told to take care of your stress, keep it at a healthy level so that it didn't affect other aspects of your life and your physique, but life events weren't exactly working in your favor. Quite the opposite.

Abusive boss at work, parents who do nothing but trample all your achievements and point you out for what you could be but aren't yet, a completely brainless roommate, a landlord who made your life miserable with the rent, and if all that wasn't enough, you were a complete failure in love. Things seemed impossible to get worse, but you were very wrong.

All the accumulated stress began to take its toll on you one by one. The mildest thing was the constant headaches and chest pains, but as the days went by your face began to stain, it wasn't acne, but you had more pimples and blackheads than normal. You didn't worry too much about it, you just bought a few skin care products and the problem went away.

Until anxiety arrived. And for that there were no products you could buy.

It wasn't something pleasant at all, especially considering that they were random episodes when you least expected it. Knots in the pit of your stomach, panic attacks in high-stress situations, a constant layer of nerves wherever you go, lack of appetite, etc. You lived with it every day, but that didn't stop you from staying strong and continuing to fight life with your head held high.

But since there were never enough misfortunes, something happened to you that, in your 22 years of life, had never happened to you. Sleep disorders. They weren't a big deal at first, from 3 nights you could suffer from insomnia in 2, and it wasn't even anything severe, it just delayed your usual bedtime a little, however, everything went downhill very quickly. The insomnia had almost completely disappeared, but now every time you woke up you felt as if an African elephant had walked over you several times. You slept, but you didn't rest. And that led to the damn narcolepsy.

Just like anxiety, it came at the most unexpected times and in the most inopportune situations. You got more than one scolding at work because of that, and your boss, as asshole as always, didn't even bother to try to understand you or find a solution to your problem no matter how much you explained it to him. Of course you never told him that he was part of the problem.

Everything accumulated, and as if living with anxiety problems, headaches, narcolepsy, and poor sleep wasn't enough, strange things began to happen.

One night you went to bed early, it had been an extremely exhausting day and you had a migraine that was going to kill you at any moment. You thought that valerian tea would help you sleep peacefully that night, and surprisingly you were right, but when you woke up in the morning you felt an intense burning on the right side of your body that went from your ribs to the mid of your thigh. You thought it was due to a bad sleeping position, surely the fabric of your pajamas had been making some kind of harmful friction, but when you undressed to take a shower you froze when you realized that what was burning on you was a large mark of red-hot scratch with a little blood seeping from several of the wounds that, you didn't have to be very smart to know were from a hand. You would associate it with something caused by sleepwalking issues, and taking into account your recent history it wouldn’t have surprised you, but those were nail marks. And your nails were neither long, nor sharp.

You were never a believer in paranormal things, you looked for a logical explanation for everything or left it as a mystery, no matter how incredible it was. But with the incident that night, no matter how much you turned it over in your head and discussed it with one of your close friends, you couldn't come to any coherent conclusion. Something had given you that scratch. Something big.

However, being the skeptic that you were, you didn't let that affect your bedtime —which was already screwed up enough. You continued to sleep every night with the same false optimism, thinking that it was only a matter of time before the insomnia and all your sleep problems would disappear. Much to your misfortune, this time you were wrong. And not only that, the worst was yet to come.

One day you couldn't stop tossing and turning in bed, looking for a comfortable position to sleep for about an hour. Finally you were just on your back, with one leg drawn up towards your body, your left arm on your chest and the other on your  head. You did your best to relax with breathing exercises, and after a few minutes you fell asleep.

Hours later you woke up with a start, agitated and in a cold sweat. Your chest inflated and deflated as if moments ago something had been cutting off your breath to an almost fatal point. You didn't remember anything at all, you hadn't even had a nightmare as such, everything just went from deep black to sitting in your bed, at 3 in the morning, with the strange feeling that you were being watched. Everything seemed in order, but the aura in the bedroom was heavy, as if you were at a high latitude where oxygen became more difficult to breathe. You looked to the left, towards the door whose lower frame let in the light from your hallway, and then to the right, staring out through the translucent curtains that covered the exit to your balcony. The deep silence was overwhelming even though you were used to it, but the wind began to howl, shaking the branches and leaves of the tree that was right in front of your residential building. It was normal at that time, but it started to blow harder, to the point where you thought the tree was going to fall. Your anxiety attacked the pit of your stomach, and as panic began to take over your body, you heard a feminine laugh in the distance that gave you goosebumps.

Despite being several meters away from your window you could hear it clearly. It was creepy, high pitched and uncontrolled, like those you heard coming from witches in the movies, but she didn't sound like an old, dilapidated and crazy woman, she sounded like a whole and upright young woman. It could have been your suggestion at the time, but you felt as if the echo of laughter was resonating within your walls. You soon realized that wasn't the case, but rather the laughter was getting closer and closer. Until he was inside your room.

The noise came from all directions, from the floor, from the ceiling, from the corners and from the walls. It felt like a powerful sound system installed inside the concrete, playing the unbearable sound over and over again. You desperately covered your ears with your pillow, but the noise was so loud it was useless. You had an uncontrolled urge to cry, but just when a tear was about to run down your cheek everything stopped. Sudden silence, once again.

Distrustful, you slowly removed the pillow from your ears, looking at every corner of your room in case the macabre woman appeared, but nothing happened. Everything was still in deep silence, even the wind had stopped blowing, and when you decided to lie down with your heart still in your throat, something started trying to open your door.

With a scream you turned and stared at the door, the knob was moving violently, and the entire door seemed about to fall out of the frame because of how hard it shook. You looked through the frame below, expecting to see the shadow of whoever was trying to break in, but there was nothing. Whatever it was, it was doing it from inside. You were immersed in a deep dread that led you to hide under your covers like a little child, just waiting for everything to stop. A few seconds passed in which you simply stayed in the fetal position, did breathing exercises to counteract the panic, and clung to your pillow as if it were going to protect you. That thing would come in any second, you were already resigned, but everything stopped. Sepulchral silence.

You didn't want to get out from under the covers, the fear that something was still out there not letting you move. The notion of time became blurry for you, it could have been 10 minutes or an hour until you gathered the courage to peek over the top edge of your blanket. There was nothing in your room, everything was still perfectly in order.

Your phone served as a distraction for a few minutes. You scrolled through every social network non-stop, looking for stimuli that would make you relax and forget about what just happened. However, the funny posts did not make you laugh, the tender things did not move you, and the news did not produce the slightest emotion in you. And even though you were still terrified, your body demanded you sleep again, so you put the phone aside and turned to your natural side, turning your back to the door.

But looking there made your blood run cold. The glass door that led to the balcony, which you locked every night without fail, opened.

You couldn't sleep the rest of the night.

From that day on you decided to finally try to make a change in your life. You had a small savings fund that was going to help you survive for at least a month, so you quit your job. Your parents reproached you for this, but you cut off communication with them in absolutely every way. Two stress sources less. Thanks to that you had several days of peaceful rest. You believed that everything would get better for you, however, you had the feeling that it was already too late.

Everything had disappeared, your anxiety, your stress problems, your insomnia and your narcolepsy, but now there was one last big problem that was the icing on the cake. Sleep paralysis.

Same as always, it started in an almost harmless way. The paralysis lasted less than a minute, nothing comparable to those that followed. It got worse and worse with each day, you heard whispers, voices, shadows where before there was nothing, dark silhouettes that looked at you from outside the balcony, and worst of all, you woke up with random scratches and bruises on parts of your body that you would never have hurt yourself.

That was not an impediment for you to continue living your life normally, it was going too well for the first time in a long time for something that happened only once during the night to ruin it, so you decided to focus on the good part that life offered you. Exercise and good nutrition became part of your daily routine, as well as normal interpersonal relationships. Many toxic friendships that did not bring you anything good were also put aside, and you felt like a fuller human being since then. Your life was going so well that sleep paralysis seemed like a rather small price to pay compared to what you got after overcoming it.

But you remember when I said the worst was yet to come, right? Yeah, yes you do.

The worst night of your life. At that moment you thought it would be the last.

That night you had your valerian tea as you always did, an hour before your bedtime. It had been a productive day for you, in the morning you went to the gym, you came home and then you went out to lunch with a girl you met at one of your training sessions, and when you got home you dedicated yourself to building a Lego set that you had saved  for a long time, but you left it halfway because you got distracted and got busy with other things.

When you put on your pajamas and got under the blanket you were more than ready to face whatever you were hallucinating when you woke up in the middle of the night. That had become a habit for you, and you already knew how to get out of it quickly. But this time you noticed strange things again, none of them were especially strange as such, but things that hadn't happened months ago and that were now all coming together. To begin with, the wind was blowing much stronger, just like that traumatic night, and a light drizzle disturbed the previously profound silence that characterized the street where you lived. It was not unpleasant for you, the sound of the drops falling in a certain way contributed to your tranquility and relaxation.

One of the dogs on your street was howling repeatedly, and no matter how much Mrs. Yvonne told him to shut up, he just wouldn't stop. The last time he had done that it was because someone who lived in that house had died, but earlier that day you had greeted Mrs. Yvonne's daughter on the way to the gym and everything seemed in order. The howl could be heard far away and was covered by the sound of the drizzle, so it didn't bother you either. Maybe the booming music just a few apartments away could have been a little annoying, but you could perfectly fall asleep that way. After a while looking at your social networks you were ready to close your eyes, and when you turned to your side you saw something that you wanted to never see again. The damn door was open again, just like that night.

Not wanting to give in to panic, you got out of bed as quickly as you could and closed the door again, but not before taking a look at the long street in front of your balcony. Everything looked as usual, only now the asphalt shone from the reflection of the lights in the puddles that the drizzle was beginning to form. You could see the dog howling at the window of the third floor apartment at the end of the street. You noticed that in his pauses between howling he was looking in your direction. A chill ran down your spine, but you wanted to think it was just a coincidence. You turned to go back to your bed, but first you looked at the Eiffel Tower behind the Paris buildings, hoping that perhaps its light would protect you from the night. How deluded.

As you settled back into your bed you thought about the door, this time trying to fool yourself that it would surely have a logical explanation this time. Maybe this time you did forget, or maybe the wind had shaken it in such a way that the lock came out of place. Whatever it was, you weren't about to ruin your night, so you just turned your back on the balcony, hugged your second pillow and closed your eyes.

You opened your eyes and you were in the most terrifying, atrocious and colossally brutal place you could imagine. The glare of the gurgling river of lava just meters from your feet blinded you and prevented you from seeing the entire scene. You took a few hasty steps backwards, tripping over a rock that made you fall on your butt to the ground, the dark, hot reddish sand staining your hands. When your eyes got used to that light you felt like your soul was leaving your body. Hundreds of people of all ages and ethnicities, chained one behind the other by rusty metal hooks stuck in their empty eye sockets, slowly walking along the river of lava that stretched from up the hill, winding through large rocks of all shapes, most of them with sharp peaks and whose foundations fell off to fall into the lava with big splashes.

The line of people moved forward at slow, tortuous steps, their decomposed and burned bodies somehow still standing. Their feet were scorched up to the fibula thanks to the lava, and their hands were cut off so that they couldn't remove the hooks from where there used to be eyes. But they still had a mouth with which to scream in deep agony and suffering, in a way so heartbreaking that it penetrated your bones and managed to convey to you what they felt. You wanted to look where they were going, but your stupor didn't let you take your eyes off what was watching those people.

Humanoid-looking figures, as tall as a four-story building, with spindly limbs and glossy skin as black as the night itself. They were not wearing any clothes, so their thin, almost bony physique was completely exposed. They also had no facial features, just slight depressions where their eyes should be and a line that ran from their chin to the middle of their neck. Their heads were completely bald, and the fingers of their hands were long and pointed, reminding you of the legs of a spider. They did not interfere in any way with those condemned to torture, they only limited themselves to watching while they prowled around in an apparently intelligent manner. Detailing them, you realized that they did not walk, they floated just centimeters off the ground. All looked exactly the same, some flew away into the air and disappeared in the smoke, others stayed to watch with interest what was happening there.

You looked away for a second, and as you looked further the river became thinner and thinner and the rocks much bigger, now looking more like small mountains. Behind them, a flaming lava fall that came from so high the smoke prevented you from seeing the origin. It was like a huge hellish cave with no roof, a cave in which you were trapped with those things.

You tried to run, but when you tried to turn around, something kept you pinned in place. You didn't feel anything touching you, it was as if your entire body was inside an intangible prison that made your paralyzed muscles vibrate and feel outside that plane. You would soon discover the horrible reason. One of those things was facing your direction. No, in fact it was looking at you. The thing had no eyes, but you knew it, you knew that you had attracted its attention. Not exactly for the better.

You were terrified, you wanted with all your might for that horrible nightmare to end. The humanoid thing, however, had other plans. If it had any plan. The vibrating feeling in your body disappeared, that was a good thing. But you no longer felt your body at all. The next thing you knew, you were levitating very slowly away from the ground, and that damn thing was coming towards you. It wasn't until it was in front of you and you were level with its non-existent face that you really realized the colossal magnitude of that thing. Its head was easily larger than your entire entire body.

You levitated in the air in front of the thing for a few seconds that felt like hours. You didn't know for sure if looking at the slits that it had instead of eyes was the right thing to do, but you couldn't do anything else, in fear even your eyes were paralyzed.

After a while of just floating you started moving again, this time forward. The line that ran down to its neck, which from that distance you noticed looked like a stitched scar with hundreds of small interlocking stitches, opened wide to either side. There was nothing inside, and that was the scary thing. It was pure black in there, not a hint of shadow, or light, or anything. Pure emptiness that you didn't know why, but you had the feeling that it wasn't emptiness itself. There was something in there, something that perhaps escaped your understanding as well as that of the human being.

You floated slowly in there, unable to scream or move a single muscle. Your limbs disappeared into nothingness, and the only thing your peripheral vision saw was pure black. The sound was completely suppressed, similar to when you went underwater. And when you noticed the scar closing behind you, you woke up with such a start that your chest hurt.

You tried to scream with all your might, but nothing came out of your mouth. You also tried to move without any success. Another damn sleep paralysis. You closed your eyes, already used to the sensation and knowing how to get out. However, no matter how much you closed your eyes, the paralysis did not go away. Resigned, you opened your eyes again, thinking that maybe it was a matter of time, but looking around your room you realized that something was not right.

A shadow in the upper corner of your room. It shouldn't be there, there was absolutely nothing to project it, much less when your entire room was dark and the only light in it came from outside. You stared in that direction, and then you heard that damn laugh again, only this time it was within your four walls. It came from the darkness. You were coming from a horrifying nightmare worthy of the most disturbing horror movies, the last thing you needed to hear that maniacal laugh again. The shadow seemed to pulsate with a life of its own with each laugh, and spread in all directions until it broke away from the corner. A speck of pure blackness floated slowly through your room, and after a few turns around each corner, it came down to you. You shouldn't have, but you felt weight on your body. Not the typical feeling that there was something on top of you like in all sleep paralysis. No, there was something on top of you.

The darkness had materialized into a physical object. More specifically a person, who was straddling you and who you could see. She was a woman, but not just any woman, possibly one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen in your entire life. She looked dark due to the lack of light, yet you could make out a faint shine in the dark brown hair that passed behind her ears and fell free down her back. You would have been somewhat turned on by the fact that she had two pretty small breasts exposed, if it weren't for the two enormous horns protruding from either side of her head, curving back and then forward in a hooked shape. Her horns weren't the only thing different about her, so was the strange artificial fabric that seemed to cover every part of her body except for her torso, neck, crotch, and apparently her buttocks. Detailing it, you realized that it looked exactly like the skin of those things in your nightmare, and that it was part of her body, not some kind of suit. A symbiotic relationship between woman and... something.

Dread invaded your body again.

"What's wrong, little boy?" the woman asked with a giggle that you knew more than well. She leaned forward, and you delved into her delicate, princely features. Completely contrasting with the two shiny black irises in her eyes, "Oh... right, you can't talk," her voice sounded like any girl's, even sweet.

She raised a hand and brought a long, sharp nail to your mouth. The nail didn't touch you, but it seemed to tear something in the air around your lips. You were finally able to scream in terror.

"What are you?!! What's going on?!!" you whimpered, trying to move even a single muscle in vain.

"You humans are too stupid to understand," she leaned in even closer, her breasts now pressed against your chest, her face inches from yours, "But I think you saw something very similar to me in that nightmare of yours," Her smile gave you chills. She didn't have teeth, she had blades.

"A-are you one of those things?!"

"See? You're too much of an idiot," she remarked, "I'm one of those things... but at the same time I'm not. If I were, you'd already be dead inside the void."

"The w-...what?"

"In your nightmare one of my kind swallowed you, right? Inside you cease to exist. Your body leaves the physical plane, and your soul is sent into nothingness. Nothing pleasant of course. But luckily for you..." she pressed her nail in the middle of your chest and moved down past your navel, tearing your t-shirt along the way, "I'm not here to do that."

"Please leave me alone... I haven't hurt anyone! I'm a good person!!" Despair grew more and more inside you, and with it, fear.

"I don't care if you're a good person or a bad person," she laughed again, "I just care about what's right here..." her hand moved down to your crotch to cup it against your cock.

"Don't touch me, god, please don't," you wanted to cry, but your eyes didn't even produce tears, "Don't hurt me!"

"Aw..." she straightened, "but I'm not going to hurt you! At least... not too much," her macabre smile spread from ear to ear, and her eyes looked at you before she transformed back into a shadow

The speck of darkness, smaller and more concentrated this time, fluttered throughout your entire body. You tried to follow her with your eyes, but the only thing you saw was how all your clothes were torn to pieces by what you knew were her nails. Once again you tried to scream, but nothing. When you were practically naked she materialized again on top of you, and your body began to burn everywhere. When you looked at yourself you noticed that your entire body was scratched and red hot, some wounds were even bleeding a bit.

"Stop trying to yell, you're annoying," she rolled her eyes, "and don't make me stop you from talking again."

"What are you going to do with me?! Why me?!"

"Because you used to be a little ball of negative emotions... you lured me here. And there's no turning back, not until you give me your darkbloom seed," you didn't have to be a genius to understand what she meant by that.

"But I'm not one of yours!!"

"I know. But I'm not looking to create one of my own..." her devilish smile terrified you again. On the other hand, you weren't completely in control of your body, and her thighs even covered in that fabric felt pleasant on either side of your hip, "You wouldn't understand. You're a stupid, primitive human."

"Y-You're not a demon, aren't you?"

"Demons don't exist, fool. Stop asking questions, you wouldn't want your little brain to explode with information it can't understand... wouldn't you?" She brought her hand closer to your cock, you feared thinking she would rip it off, but she just subtly grabbed it and started rubbing it. You hated that it felt good, but you hated more how you went rock hard in a matter of seconds.

She kept moving her hand on your cock, maybe a little too hard, but it felt like any other girl's hand—clearly none of those girls were half of a species unknown to you. At first she did it slowly, and you enjoyed it. In a normal circumstance you would have let out a small moan, but you couldn't produce any sound other than words.

"Just… don't kill me," you pleaded, looking into her eyes. The fear in you didn't go away, but you weren't going to let it control you. It's not like you could do anything anyway, you just didn't want to give in to panic and test the patience of a supernatural being.

"No one said anything about killing you. But I hope your body can withstand what I'll do to it."

The woman got off you and lay down on one side of you, with her head above yours, so that what was on your right were her pair of pretty tits. You didn't know why, but you wanted them in your mouth. She raised a thigh on top of yours, the artificial fabric covering her body feeling soft and warm against your skin. Her body pressed against the side of yours, her pussy—seemingly as normal as her tits—rubbing against your pubic bone.

"Suck my tits. You humans love that, don't you?" she ordered over your head. Her hand gradually moved faster on your hard cock.

"To human women... yes," you believed what you were saying, but those tits and she looked like a human, "I-I can't move anyway."

"I'd let you move and take control. But I don't think you want to suffer the side effects of touching me with your hands," she moved her hand faster, and suddenly you were able to gasp.

"And they are?"

"You could become addicted to me. Dependent on my body. And believe me, you wouldn't want that," was what she said before covering your view with her chest and putting one of her tits in your mouth.

You expected a different taste, maybe a pungent or rotten taste, but it tasted like skin, normal skin. You started moving your tongue and lips. Her chest felt soft, like a small cotton cloud inside your mouth. You still felt a little uncomfortable and strange with what was happening, but when the hand on your cock started to feel that good you had no choice but to give in to your carnal impulses. Now every time she switched from one mound to another inside your mouth you ate it as good as you could, sucking and licking both nipples as if your life depended on it—maybe it did.

"You seem really good at that," you never thought she would moan, but she did, "what else is that mouth good for other than asking questions you don't want to know the answers to?"

Without stopping moving her hand, she sat up and climbed on top of you again. This time she turned her back on you, which she also had uncovered. At that moment the moon came out of the clouds, and illuminated both her "normal" skin and her other skin. One looked beautiful and pale, the other looked smooth and shiny despite being a deep black. Just like those damn things in your nightmare. Her hair looked normal too, a deep brown and with a shine that looked like hair gel, but you couldn't be sure. Anyway, you stopped seeing both her back and her hair, as she leaned back until her unexpectedly beautiful ass was planted against your face.

Her pair of thighs pressed on either side of your head, as you felt them you realized that the closest thing to what that second skin felt like was the tightest latex. But it wasn't latex, there were no seams or edges anywhere, both skins fused together naturally. Of course that wasn't the important thing at the time. Your face was buried between her ass cheeks, and your mouth met a very dangerously delicious pussy.

You were going to put your mouth in motion, but you felt a tingling in your lower abdomen. She had not stopped moving her hand for a single second, she moved it in a frantic and tireless manner. You were about to explode, and just as you were going to release your load—or your darkbloom seed, as she called it—she stopped. Now you could scream and complain, but it was no use being smothered against tender, warm flesh. You couldn't squirm in protest either. It was a desperate feeling.

"Stop complaining and eat, you damn scum, eat!" it could have been a figment of your imagination, but you almost felt her voice distort a little as she said that.

You ate. You ate as well as you could, imagining that she was a normal woman—in a way she was. Passionate kisses, licking, sucking, everything necessary to make her moan more and more, and louder. You wondered if the neighbors would hear any of it through the walls. It was quite late, maybe 3 or 4 in the morning. If so, you were going to get a good scolding later.

In an unexpected act she collapsed forward, and with one hand grabbed your cock to put it in her mouth. You had to make a mental archive, but you were sure it was the best that had ever housed your cock ever. It was a feeling impossible to describe in words, but it made sense for you to attribute it to her simply not being human. She bobbed her head up and down expertly, as if it were the most exciting sport for her. You just ate, tasting the most delicious pussy you had ever felt against your lips.

Her mouth took every inch of your cock without any problem, making it clear that her gag reflex was non-existent. With each pump you felt her nose touch your balls and her chin touch your pubes. You moaned against her pussy, and she moaned even louder. Her thighs pressed on either side of your head tensed, and you felt that if she wanted to, she would have crushed it like a watermelon. She ground her ass against your face, rubbing her extremely wet pussy against your mouth and nose. That didn't make much sense to you, if she wasn't human, how could she secrete fluids?

Your cock vibrated with her moans, and her pussy vibrated with yours. You knew she wasn't going to let you cum unless she did first, so you doubled your efforts. These paid off faster than you expected, as she seemed to orgasm with a ragged, uncontrolled scream that made her pull your cock out of her mouth.

"Oh yes! YES!" Once again, her voice seemed to distort as she screamed and writhed on your face, but you were no longer sure if it was your imagination, "now you let me see that seed!"

She didn't reintroduce your cock into her mouth, but rather she went back to what she was originally doing. She grabbed your cock with both hands, and she started moving them aggressively up and down. Without any care or kindness. It hurt you a little the way she did it, but apparently that point of ecstasy brought her to a state where she didn't care about you—she never did in fact—but about her own pleasure and desires. You didn't mind this at all, you were already too close, and this time it really seemed like your lucky moment.

Her thin hands rubbed your cock up and down so hard and fast that you felt like it was going to catch on fire any second. You let out a loud muffled moan against her pussy, and in the midst of rapid movements of her wrist you came.

"That's it, give it to me!" She grunted as you shot jets of hot cum into the air, and then she squeezed your balls so hard that you screamed in pain, "More, give me more!"

She didn't stop moving one of her hands, nor did she slow down even though you kept shooting cum everywhere. The overstimulation and the grip on your balls continued to bring uncontrolled screams from your throat. Your cock ached, and you didn't think it was possible, but as soon as you stopped cumming, less than five seconds passed until you had another spike of pleasure. More cum shot everywhere, more screams of pain.

"So hot, so thick… so delicious!" This time you confirmed that, indeed, her voice did distort when she felt sexual arousal.

You were starting to feel too much pain, but she stopped right then and got off of you. When you saw her she was all covered in your cum, from her face to her tits and her abdomen. You also noticed that she had eaten some, as it was between her lips. Her dilated eyes seemed to have a glow coming from within, a sparkling white glow.

"Now you're going to give me your seed..." her tone of voice was normal again, but it sounded menacing and malevolent, "you're going to fill me with that magnificent piece of meat, and you're going to make my dark womb awaken."

"I don't want to put anything inside you… just leave me alone," it wasn't unusual to say that you felt drained during sex, but this time you felt literally drained of your vitality. You even felt dizzy.

"YOU DON'T CHOOSE THAT!" she screamed again with her voice distorted, so much that it didn't sound like her. Then she swiped your cheek with her nails, which sharpness you felt piercing your skin. As you felt the liquid run down your cheek you knew you were bleeding, and not a little.

Dread took over you again, and you began to hyperventilate.

She straddled you and then planted both feet on the mattress, adopting a squat form. She then took your still sore cock in one hand and started to stroke it until in some mysterious way it was hard again. She looked into your eyes, and after putting your cock straight, she impaled herself completely on it. She let out a squeak in her throat and threw her head back.

If her mouth felt good, her pussy felt like a transcendental experience for you. It was a mixture of overwhelming sensations, it felt wet, extremely soft, and extremely tight. You felt it throb around your shaft, producing tickling sensations that made you shudder. It would have felt better if it weren't for the fact that your cock felt like it was going to melt and you felt on the verge of throwing up and passing out.

Of course she wouldn't be nice to you at first, she started jumping on your cock with all the strength she had. You felt her ass bump against you so aggressively that you thought she was going to split you open. It felt wonderful, your cock sliding in and out of an unearthly pussy entirely, the non-existent friction making you moan with what little energy you had left. She dug her nails from each hand into your ribs, and you whimpered in pain. She didn't dig those blades deep, but enough to make you bleed there too.

"YES YES YES! IT FEELS DELICIOUS, YES!" she moaned between growls of pleasure, jumping on top of your cock again and again.

Your room was filled with violent sounds of flesh hitting flesh. You would have worried about the neighbors—not just your building, the entire street—but you were in the middle of a situation that you felt was close to literally killing you with pleasure. Her tight pussy wouldn't stop throbbing and working wonders on your cock. You also started to feel that her walls were feeling warmer than normal. Hot, not enough to cause burns, but hotter than a normal pussy could be.

Inevitably that led to you cumming again. You felt pleasure, and a lot. But you also felt pain, proportional to the amount of pleasure. A bittersweet feeling that made you want to cry. You shot much more cum into her, and felt her walls squeeze your shaft with the force of a hydraulic press.

"GIVE IT ALL TO ME, MGHHH!!!" distorted voice. This time she terrified you.

She had another orgasm while you filled her with thick liquid, but that didn't stop her. On the contrary, she looked even more excited. She didn't seem to look overstimulated, yet you were dying of pain.

"Stop it, please! It hurts a lot! STOP!!" you pleaded desperately, your jaw tense as well as your teeth. You closed your eyes, hoping that everything was just another horrible nightmare and that it would be over. This one didn't.

"SHUT UP, YOU PIECE OF SCUM, YOU'RE MINE!!" The distorted and terrifying voice not only echoed in your ears, but also the walls of your room. Just like that night.

In the blink of an eye she turned into a ball of shadow again, and in a matter of milliseconds she was now bouncing on your cock but with her back turned to you. Now you could see her beautiful ass bounce against your pubes and your cock continually appear and disappear between her butt cheeks. She knew it was going to turn you on. The bitch knew it, and that penetrated your bones with anger.

Her nails dug in again, but now in your calves. Same thing, you felt the burning of her tips digging in. You began to feel pleasure and the tingling in your lower abdomen again. You were close, but you also started to feel terribly bad, as if you had caught a sudden fever that made your body ache all over. Your head hurt too, and your eyes felt heavy. You were fainting.

"GIVE ME MORE!!" With that last evil scream from her you came.

The last thing you saw was your cum spilling between her folds and staining all over your cock. This time she did move slower, and the moment she got up from your cock, her second skin began to crawl with a life of its own to cover her entire body in black. Your cum stayed inside that bodysuit, and your vision went black.

The last thing you heard was that damn maniacal laugh.

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

Spren Notes:

Well, this is certainly radically different than anything I've written before lol. I hope I did well and didn't embarrass myself.

#oh my girl smut #smut #kpop smut #smut fanfic #x male reader smut #x male smut #horror smut #arin smut #male reader smut #male reader insert

[dudadragneel]

Hello guys! It's me!

How are you guys doing?

So. My dear anon who requested the Winter Cabin sickfic, you waited far too long!

FINALLY! THE REQUEST IS DONE!

I'm sorry for the delay! But it's here!

Just a warning: this s*** is long af 🤣

I really hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing!

💜

*requests are open, read pinned post*

Hii Duda, I thought of this idea for a request in a dream (funny I know) okay so picture the scene— SKZ is on break and it’s winter and they’re all staying at a luxurious cabin and y/n is excited to finally get some alone time and rest with her bf Hyunjin. But Hyunjin develops a bad migraine and he’s hesitant to tell her at first because she’s so excited for a romantic getaway but he decides to just be honest with her and tell her how bad he feels. Like he’s SO nauseous and keeps trying to be sick but can’t, We need the “I feel like I’m going to throw up” line somewhere in there because 🤭. Eventually he does start throwing up but then he can’t stop, every time he eats it just comes back up and he may be miserable but his lovely gf and members are always willing to help.

For an idol, having some free time was something as rare as seeing Halley's comet, so whenever they had, they made it worth every second.

This time, their so dreamed break was during the winter season, a time of the year when everything looked beautiful but also, sometimes, gloomy. The boys decided to rent a luxury winter cabin to spend part of their break and you were going as well.

Even though you went to some of their official schedules to keep Hyunjin company, sometimes you had to work or study, so you couldn't make it. So whenever he had free time or vacations, he would make sure that you both did as much as you could.

You were the organized one when compared to the rest of the group, so you were all packed a day before the trip.

Morning rose, despite being extremely cold, the sun was still rising and shining and it looked beautiful. You were going to leave at 7 AM to get to the cabin around 1 PM.

You were supposed to meet at the dorms and from there get on the bus you guys decided to rent and head for the cabin.

Arriving at the dorms, you were met with 8 frantic boys finishing packing.

- Good morning! Really, guys? Really?

You just stood there, at the doorway, with a not-so-amused or surprised look on your face.

- Oh hi y/n!

Han said running from one side of the room to another with a pack of clothes.

- didn't we plan this trip, like, two weeks ago? I'm not even surprised...

You said defeated as you entered the chaotic house and headed to Hyunjin's room.

- Oh, hello my love!

He said, going to give you a kiss and a hug.

- How's everything? All done packing?

- Almost. I'm just looking for my brush...

- You're bringing your painting kit?

- Yes! The scenery is beautiful, I felt inspired. I just can't find that brush...

- The medium-sized one?

- yeah!

- This one?

You said holding the brush in front of your face with a cute smile.

- Yes! You're life saver, babe!

- You left it at my house last time you spent the night.

- Thank you so much!

He packed his painting kit inside his bag before sitting on the bed. But one tiny action caught your attention, a subtle wince and a twitch of the eyebrow.

- What's wrong?

- what?

- you just winced. What's wrong?

- You noticed that?

- Yeah.

- We've been dating for 2 years and I still get surprised by how perceptive of details you are...

- So, honey, what's wrong?

- A teeny tiny headache...it must be from the cold

- Well, if it's from the cold then you gotta keep yourself warm. Put this binnie and these ear muffs. And this scarf.

You handed him a thick black scarf with a small piece of paper attached to it.

- Woah! You made this??

- Yes! Did you like it?

- It's beautiful! It matches any outfit! Thank you so much, babe!

He gave you a kiss and a hug and then stepped a bit away so you could wrap the scarf around his neck.

- Can you grab me that bag over there?

- Oh, you're bringing your camera?

- Yeah! This weather will give us some beautiful photographs!

- I'm bringing mine as well. A polaroid!

- Oh, you don't like my photos then?

He said jokingly and giving you a sassy look

- No, you silly! I just like the vintage touch to it! I feel like they portray better what we're feeling.

- So my photographs are lifeless?

- No, babe, stop.

You said smacking him on the shoulder, which made him laugh.

- I'm just joking.

You helped him finish packing and then headed to the living room to wait for the other members.

After 30 minutes, the dorm was still in chaos, and by now you were just wondering if you'd actually go on this trip.

- Guys, we have 40 minutes to get to the bus. Come on! I'm totally gonna mom you right now, but, make sure you're not forgetting anything and go to the bathroom before we leave. It's a 3 hours drive to the first rest area, so please.

- Wow, you really momed us...

You just dug your head into your hands and laughed.

Finally, everyone was ready to leave and they made sure that everyone was taking what they said they would, Chan and his computer, Felix and his brownie cooking stuff, and so on.

Much to your surprise, the company allowed you to go on this trip alone, without the staff, since you'd be going to a rather distant place.

So the bus was rented by all nine of you and it was a luxurious one, it was spacious, the seats were comfy, there was AC, heater, WI-FI, and some other cool stuff. Honestly, it felt more like a motorhome rather than a bus.

You sat with Hyunjin and he let you be by the window since you felt cold easier, so you could have some sunlight to keep you warm.

- So, we'll be trapped here for the next 3 hours, what do you want to do?

You asked turning to him with a big smile.

- Since we have a table, I'm thinking of sketching some stuff.

- Cool! Just be careful not to get car sick.

- I will.

- And I'm gonna start taking the pictures!

- Right now?

- Yeah! It's the perfect timing! I want to capture the raw moments, no posing, just you being your natural selves.

- Do you have enough tape/film?

- Oh I have plenty! A bag of them, actually!

He just gave a little laugh and turned his attention to his sketchbook.

You spent a good 30 minutes or more taking pictures of the boys and when you were satisfied you sat back down and opened a journal and started to glue them on the pages with little notes about the moments.

In the beginning, everyone was being loud and cheerful but then the duration of the trip hit and eventually, most of them were asleep.

Hyunjin was still sketching, even though you kept glancing at him and noticed he kept dozing off every once in a while.

- Babe, why don't you take a nap for a while?

- Hm?? I'm not sleepy...

He said pouting and rubbing his eyes.

- Yes, you are. I can see you dozing off

- I'm just resting my eyes...the light hitting the white pages is making my eyes sting.

- Really?

You took a glance at the white pages of his sketchbook and almost immediately closed your eyes.

- Oh, geez! Yeah, that's blinding!

You said making a dramatic pose that made him laugh. A laugh that always made you laugh.

- And you babe, what are you doing?

- Oh, I'm doing my journal!

- Now? Wouldn't it be better to wait until we got to the cabin?

- No, I like it this way. It feels more natural, to just let it happen.

- Interesting.

Hyunjin went back to sketching while you worked on your journal. He tried to concentrate on the pages in front of him but that stinging behind his eyes was still persisting, so he decided it would be best to just try and get some sleep.

- You know what, I'm gonna take your offer and get some sleep.

- I'll wake you up when we get to the rest area.

He put his headphones on, reclined his seat, and was asleep within minutes.

You finished your journal and also went to sleep, the weather was cold and the cozy clothes made you feel relaxed.

A few minutes into sleeping, Hyunjin noticed that the stinging in his eyes wasn't going away. Maybe he didn't get enough sleep? He didn't know, or rather, he didn't want to know, because deep down inside he felt a really light headache starting.

He woke up about 15 minutes before the bus arrived at their first stop, and just stayed silent, listening to music while you're asleep.

He was excited about the trip at first but that headache earlier, the stinging in his eyes, and the headache that was coming back now were worrying him. It was one of your first trips together in a while and he didn't want to ruin it for you, he knew you were really excited for it as well.

He felt nervous and disappointed, but he didn't want to worry you, so he decided to just brush it off. But he knew all too well that the stinging behind his eyes was a sign that a migraine was starting.

Before the bus came to a stop, his stomach was already starting to feel funny, he didn't feel nauseous but it wasn't settled as well.

The bus finally arrived at the rest area and they were relieved to finally be able to stand up and stretch their legs.

- Babe, wake up, we're at the rest area.

- Oh, Hyunjin. You're already awake?

- I woke up about 15 minutes ago.

- Are you okay?

- Yeah! Let's go!

The boys went directly to the bathroom and then to the counter to order some food, even though they had brought some with them, most of it was snacks, and they wanted to have a proper meal.

You got yourself some sweet bread and so did Hyunjin.

His stomach was funny but at the same time he was a bit hungry, so he brushed it off as being too much acid from not eating a lot during the ride.

He ate the sweet bread but it didn't sit that well, his stomach felt heavy after and still funny. He tried drinking sips of water to see if it would calm down but it didn't help. So he decided that maybe he would feel better if it was out of his system.

- Babe, I'm gonna go to the bathroom.

- Alright. I'm gonna eat some more.

He left to the bathroom and locked himself inside one of the cabins. He just stood there, breathing and trying to understand what exactly his stomach was feeling. And the light headache was starting to grow strong.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to throw up or not but something was wrong with his stomach.

He bent over the toilet and gagged, trying to bring something up, as he thought that throwing up might help ease the weird feeling in his stomach.

He gagged a few times without success and eventually one of the members came inside the bathroom making him freeze on the spot.

He leaned his back on the cabin's wall, as his head was beginning to pound from the effort of trying to throw up just a few minutes ago.

He squeezed his head in an attempt to make the pain go away but it didn't work. When he heard the member walk out he bent over the toilet one more time and tried contracting his stomach and gagged again, but nothing but saliva came out, and it certainly didn't ease the discomfort he was feeling. And to top that, the pounding in his head increased again by the effort he was putting his body through. He flushed, washed his face, and rinsed his mouth before walking out to meet with a worried expression on your face.

- Babe, are you okay?

- What?

- Not to be rude or invasive, but you took a long to come out. Is everything okay?

- Yeah. I'm fine. You don't need to worry.

- Okay. Let's go, the bus will leave in a few minutes.

He was trying to stay positive about everything, he didn't want to worry you, not when you were so excited for this trip.

The rest of the ride to the cabin was a mix between being chaotic and sleeping, and they couldn't wait to get there, eat, and sleep on a comfy bed.

The cabin was isolated, luxurious, and rather big. Its interior was mostly made of wood which had a nice contrast with the white from the snow outside.

- Woah! It's so beautiful!

They all said with their mouths wide open. Just like usual, the first thing they did was a little game to decide the rooms, and you participated as well.

In the end, you and Hyunjin got one of the bedrooms with a "king" sized bed.

You all went to your bedrooms to organize your clothing in the wardrobes since you'd be staying there for a little while. After that, the boys went downstairs to prepare lunch, they were starving.

- Let's go downstairs and eat something then we can decide what we'll do today.

- You can go first, I'll be there in a few. I gotta go to the bathroom.

- Okay.

You went downstairs and helped the ones in charge of cooking, prepare lunch.

After you left, Hyunjin entered the bathroom and the light bothered him a bit, there was this strange pain in the corner of his eyes when he tried turning them. His head wasn't giving him a break, it felt like the pain increased little by little as time passed. And to add to his suffering, his stomach wasn't exactly happy about it since earlier.

His mouth kept salivating and everything in his body kept telling him not to swallow any of it.

He just stood there in front of the mirror as he felt his mouth pool with saliva. He bent over the sink and just let it out of his mouth, it was so much it made him gag a little but he didn't vomit. He spat out a few more times before rising his mouth and going downstairs.

Lunch went on as usual, loud and fun. The food was delicious and warm, just perfect for the weather.

After lunch, some of the boys went to their bedrooms for a well-deserved nap, others played video games and you and Hyunjin decided to go out for a while since the snow wasn't as deep as to make a nice walk a difficult task.

There was a beautiful lake near the cabin and that's where you two went for a little date.

When you arrived at the lake, you were just as happy as you could be and Hyunjin was happy that you were enjoying the trip.

You turned around smiling at him and the image in front of him made him feel as if he was falling in love with you for the first time again.

The sun cast a light blue shadow on the snow behind you as well as the little bits covering the trees, and the light on the lake's surface cast a beautiful golden shine on your face. Hyunjin felt his heart racing at the beautiful image in front of him.

- I love you.

Was all he could say while looking at you with bright sparkling eyes.

- I love you too.

You kept on walking alongside the as he took pictures of you. Eventually, you reached a nice spot where you could relax so he sat down and pulled out his sketchbook and started to draw.

- What are you doing?

You asked him turning around and smiling.

- Just sketching the beauty in front of my eyes. I wish I had brought a canvas and paint with me. This scenery is just mesmerizing.

He just sat there taking in the imagery of the place.

But being in the cold was starting to show its effects. His nose was getting runny and the headache got a little stronger, he started sneezing which caught your attention.

- Bless you! You okay?

- Yeah! My nose is a little runny.

He said laughing at you with the cutest face.

- Let's get back to the cabin before we catch a cold.

You headed back to the cabin as the sun was starting to set, which made the place even more magical. You both turned back to look at that mesmerizing view one more and take the last picture of the day.

Getting back to the cabin everyone was sitting down deciding on what to make for dinner. But when they asked you what you wanted, Hyunjin's response made you raise an eyebrow.

- Hyunjin-ah, what do you want for dinner?

- Me? I don't know, I'm not really hungry.

- Really?

- Yeah.

You tugged his shirt and whispered into his ear.

- Are you okay?

- Yeah, I guess it's just the stress from the trip.

- Are you sure?

- Yeah.

You just looked at him and nodded, if he said so then why say otherwise?

He let you take a shower first because he knew you feel colder than he does.

The day had been nice until now, but everything started to go south the moment he entered the bathroom to take a shower.

Because of the cold, he obviously took a hot shower, and while that did provide some comfort in a way it also worsened his headache. The temperature of the water relaxed his body which made his blood circulate better, making his head start to pound. For a brief moment, he swayed to the side and leaned against the wall so he wouldn't fall and startle you. He changed the temperature of the water so it wouldn't feel as stuffed inside the bathroom and stopped to take a few deep breaths trying to control the sudden dizziness.

As he did that his stomach twisted making him feel nauseous. He leaned his head against the wall and kept taking deep controlled breaths to ease the nausea. But it was a failed attempt. He covered his mouth to surpass a gag so you wouldn't hear him because he really didn't want to worry you when you were enjoying this trip so much.

He bent over the drain and gagged silently and unproductively before he gagged again but nothing but bile came up.

He rinsed his mouth with water and washed his face a few times, calming himself before turning off the water.

He put on some comfy clothes and took a look in the mirror and notices how his complexion looked a little tired but he could try to lie to you by saying it was because of the cold. Even though he knew deep down you would notice something was off.

His head suddenly stung with pain and the dizziness washed over his body once more, he felt the floor sway beneath his feet and grabbed the edges of the sink for support, and crouched down before the worse happened.

He took deep breaths and tried to focus his eyes on the tiles of the floor.

When he deemed it safe, he stood up carefully and washed his face before leaving the bathroom.

Once out, he was met with a rather worried expression on your face.

- Babe, are you okay?

- Yeah. It's just because the bathroom was warm after the hot shower and I didn't want to leave.

He said laughing a little trying to cover what once was a slight headache and now was a pounding migraine.

He tried to brush it off but his body said otherwise. Suddenly his head stung making him squeeze it in an attempt to ease the pain away. Now he wouldn't be able to continue with the farce.

- Hyunjin, are you really okay?

- No.

He said almost breaking down but stopping before crying and making that pounding even worse.

He didn't want to ruin your trip or worry you, but now the pain was getting unbearable.

- My head is killing me.

- Oh baby, since when?

- Since morning, even before we left.

- Why didn't you tell me?

- It was so light before and I didn't want to ruin this trip for you. You were so excited.

- Hyunjin, you could've told me. You're not ruining my trip.

- I'm sorry, baby. I'm really not feeling well right now.

- Is that why you took long on the bath?

- Yeah, it suddenly got worse and it made me feel dizzy twice and I didn't want to pass out.

- Hyunjin, why didn't you tell me? You could've fallen! At least I'd be able to help you before you actually fainted.

- I'm really sorry, I didn't know it would get this bad.

- How bad is it right now?

- Like someone is hammering my head from the inside. I can barely open my eyes, because the brightness makes it sting even more.

- Oh my love. Come here.

You hugged him and pat his head, trying to relax him a little.

- Do you think you're up for some dinner?

- I think so. At least then I could take some medicine. Do you have it?

- Yes, I'll give it to you after dinner. Come on.

- One more thing. Can you please not tell the other members? I don't want to worry them.

- Okay.

You said sighing.

You both went down to meet with the boys in the living room and dinner was already set on the table.

- Let's eat!

Chan said smiling and sitting down.

You sat beside Hyunjin and gave him a little squeeze in his hand reassuring him you were right there for him if he needed.

You all began talking and eating and for a few minutes, Hyunjin kept eating and talking as well.

But as time passed, surprisingly, his headache increased even more. He grew quiet, which thankfully they didn't really give much thought to, as everyone was tired from the trip.

He tried to keep on eating, but his body decided otherwise. Each mouthful got harder and harder to swallow, to the point where he kept on chewing, afraid of swallowing the food. He took another mouthful and the process repeated until he managed to finally swallow the food.

He put his chopsticks down and leaned back on his chair, which caught your attention.

- Babe, you ok?

- Hm

He just hummed and nodded.

But his stomach was already decided that it didn't want that last bite. It started to turn and the nausea hit with full force, sending hot liquid up his throat not giving him much time to control the situation. He grabbed your hand and squeezed it tight.

He let out a muffled burp which ended up bringing his stomach content up even closer to his mouth.

- I feel like I'm going to throw up.

That was all he managed to say before a gag filled his mouth with vomit making him dart to the bathroom, you following right behind leaving everyone shocked.

- What just happened?

- I don't know. But he was a little off today, wasn't he?

When he got to the bathroom he barely had the time to reach the toilet before vomit spilled out of his mouth hitting the edges of the toilet in the process.

He grabbed the edges and kept standing up as he gagged and vomited everything he had for dinner. The fact that he had just eaten was the worst because it felt solid and harder to throw up and he swore he could feel every texture in his mouth as the waves came out.

You entered the bathroom shortly after and ran to his side and held his hair back as he threw up one more time.

- Oh my god babe.

He felt the grains of rice and that made him gag harshly, bringing up a stronger wave of vomit that arched his back and didn't give him time to breathe before another wave came out, this time coming out of his nose as well.

You tied his hair in a short ponytail and proceed to rub his back and stomach, providing him some comfort.

He just stood there, in the same position, grabbing the edges of the toilet for support, and left his mouth open, while saliva kept pouring out.

The whole strain that vomiting put on his body made his head feel like it was about to explode.

He could see black dots in front of his eyes and he felt the ground melt beneath his feet and his knees buckled without he could notice.

You were quick to grab him by his chest and waist to guide him down to his knees. You were thankful this time that he was rather light.

- Don't worry, I've got you. Let's sit down now, ok?

- ok...I feel dizzy...

He just let himself lean his weight on you as you had your arms around his chest and waist.

- let me stay like this for a while...

- Of course.

With the hand that was holding his waist, you decided to rub his lower back.

- You're gonna be okay. Just breathe for a while with me okay?

Chan knocked on the door before entering the bathroom to analyze the situation his dongsaeng was in.

- How is he doing?

- He threw up basically everything he ate.

- How are you feeling, Hyunjin?

Chan said kneeling down close to you.

- I feel like my head is going to explode. And my stomach just keeps on swirling around. Everything is bright and it stings my eyes.

He said, not daring to move from his position.

- I'll go tell the others what's happening and get your bed ready.

- Thanks, Chan.

You said giving him a soft smile.

He left the door open and Hyunjin tugged your shirt and motioned for you to close it before reaching the toilet. Once you were beside him again, he proceeded to throw whatever remained in his stomach.

- Oh babe, he's seen you sick before.

Hyunjin knew that, but he just wanted to be alone with you for a while. The lesser information around him, the better.

His stomach contracted painfully making him gag harshly another thick stream of vomit mixing with what was already inside the bowl.

The sigh and smell of it only made him gag more bringing more and more food up his throat.

- Jesus, babe. You're really not okay.

He threw up one more time before his stomach decided to eject only bile, and by now his throat was hurting with the strain and acid from his stomach.

- Honey, I think you're done. If you keep this up you'll hurt your throat even more.

- Hmm

You flushed the toilet, pulled him close to you, and cleaned his mouth with a wet cloth.

- Do you still feel nauseous?

- not that much...but let me stay like this a little longer, I don't feel like moving...

- okay...

You kept patting his head and drawing patterns on his hand and just let him relax a little.

- Are you feeling a little calmer now?

- Hmm

- Let's go to the bedroom then. Can you stand?

- I don't know...

He tried getting up with your help, but his vision got blurry and he slumped to the ground, the only thing keeping him from actually falling was you. You took a good look at him and noticed he was barely conscious, and you wouldn't be able to support his weight like that.

- Chan! Can you come here, please?

- What is it? Did he faint?

- Almost, we tried getting up but he just fell.

- Okay, I'll carry him to the bedroom.

Chan positioned himself in front of Hyunjin and you helped the sick boy get on his hyung's back.

- Don't worry, Hyunjin, hyung's got you.

Chan gave him a piggyback ride to your bedroom and propped him down on the bed, and you carefully guided him to lie down.

- Does that feel better?

- Hmm...

- I'll leave this bucket next to the bed, just in case.

- Thanks, Chan.

- we'll prepare some light soup for him to eat later.

Hyunjin just grumbled and shrugged at the mention of food.

- Are you gonna be sick again?

- No... just don't talk about f-food...please

- Sorry.

Chan left you two to go prepare something for his dongsaeng to eat once his stomach was a little more settled.

You got some cold water for the poor sick boy to drink to try to calm down his stomach and ease his throat.

- Here drink this. It's just cold water.

- Thanks...I'm sorry for ruining our trip...

- No babe! There's nothing to be sorry for! It's not your fault you're feeling sick.

- But I could've told you sooner but I didn't want to worry you...

- Stop saying that, Hwang Hyunjin.

You said firmly, which he understood, and shut his mouth before he made you angry instead of worried.

- Honey, can I take some medicine? My head is killing me...

- I don't think that would be a wise decision, babe. It's not good to take medicine on an empty stomach, and your migraine medication is rather strong.

- I don't know if I can handle this pain anymore.

- Then put this on.

You gave him an eye mask to help with the brightness and encouraged him to sleep while he couldn't take the medicine.

You guided him close to you and pat his head and started humming, you could feel his body relaxing and within a few minutes, he fell asleep.

He slept for about 2 hours before waking up, looking a little confused.

- Hey, babe. Are you okay?

- My head still hurts a lot...

- And your stomach?

- A little less nauseous...

- Do you think you can keep down some food?

- I don't know...maybe...

Chan brought the soup the group made while he was asleep, and they tried to make it as light as possible without losing all its taste.

- Here! We all helped make it! We hope you'll like it.

- Thanks, hyung. It smells good.

Chan left the tray with you and went back downstairs to meet the boys.

- I'll try to eat some...

- Good. But you don't need to force it. But if you can keep a few mouthfuls down, you can take your medicine.

- Okay.

He got a spoonful and hesitated for a moment before bringing it to his mouth. He took small sips of the soup to not upset his stomach.

- Hmm! It's good!

He said in a rather excited tone, considering how miserable he was feeling.

The boys brought bread for him to eat with the soup as well, so it could protect his stomach for his medicine.

He ate basically the whole soup and then took the pill with some water.

- It was really good.

- I'm glad you liked it.

You kissed him on the forehead and a bright smile, which he returned.

You two decided to stay seated on the bed because you knew that laying down right after eating in his state, would upset his stomach.

You watched some series and Hyunjin was dozing off every once in a while, and you were somewhat relieved. But you knew deep down this day was far from being over.

Hyunjin loved the food his hyungs prepared for him, it felt light on his stomach which he was grateful for. However, his migraine didn't give one sign that it was getting better. His head still pounded, it was as if he could feel every heartbeat inside of it.

His stomach started to twist and turn making him wake up, though he didn't open his eyes. He kept them shut in an attempt to go back to sleep but to no avail. The nausea grew stronger making his mouth start to produce more saliva, forcing him to swallow it.

But it didn't stop, his mouth kept pooling with saliva and he started to swallow convulsively, trying to keep everything in.

For a moment it worked, and he felt this relief wash over his body. But it didn't last long.

The nausea came back even stronger, his stomach was bubbling and he felt this bubble come up his throat and get stuck. He felt suffocated by it and he needed to burp.

He contracted his stomach lightly to force the burp out but it just brought up hot liquid up his throat and he knew this time he wouldn't be able to hold it in.

He stood up startling you, and quickly covered his mouth as he turned to his side of the bed. He tried getting up but it was too late, a harsh gag made some of the vomit come out, spilling through his fingers, but he kept his hand on his mouth, not wanting to make a bigger mess. He needed to get to the bathroom but he felt too weak to even get up from the bed.

You sat behind him, patting his back reassuringly.

- It's okay, babe. Just let it out. I'm right here with you.

You said, giving him a little kiss on his back.

The words of comfort coming from you relaxed him, so he let go of his mouth and bent over as another harsh gag arched his back sending another stream hitting the ground.

You quickly grabbed his hair to prevent from vomit getting on it and kept rubbing his back, up and down.

- That's it. Don't worry, okay? Just let everything out, you'll feel better after.

His body gave him only a few seconds to breathe before sending another wave of watery vomit up his throat, making him bent forward almost falling from the bed.

- Woah! I've got you, I've got you.

You said embracing him with your arms across his chest and pulling him back.

He burped another wave but the only thing coming out now was bile. His stomach contracted painfully, forcing something up to the point where his face got a little red, but only a tiny stream of bile came out.

- Honey, I don't think there's anything left in there. You'll just hurt your throat. Sit back a bit, lean on me.

He leaned his weight on you as you stroke his hair.

- I'm sorry for the mess...

- No, no, no. Dont, apologize. Dont worry. I'll clean this up in a bit.

You let him stay like that for a while, guiding him through deep breaths to calm down.

- I think I'm okay now...

- really?

- Yeah...I just feel lightheaded

- Then lay down, I'll clean this up.

- Okay...I'm sorry...

- Stop, please.

He laid down facing up, not wanting to give a chance for his stomach to do flips again and closed his eyes.

You left the room to get wet cloths, a mop, and a bucket to clean up the room before it started to smell like vomit and triggered Hyunjin's nausea again.

When you arrived at the kitchen, the boys gave you a worried look.

- Is everything okay?

- Yeah, I mean...Hyunjin threw up again.

- he didn't manage to keep the soup down?

- No... but he said it was delicious a lot of times, he really liked it, but his migraine is just making him suffer.

- Do you need help?

- No, at least not now. But I'd like it if you could keep him company later, so I can take a quick shower.

You said giving a shy smile.

They all agreed and just waited for your request.

Getting up to the bedroom, you found Hyunjin dozing off rather peacefully, so you tried to keep as quiet as possible while you cleaned the mess.

He didn't even flinch while you were there, so after you were done cleaning, you took the opportunity to take a shower. Yes, just like a mother would do with her kid.

You messaged the boys so one or two of them kept company to Hyunjin, just in case something happened.

Felix went upstairs to keep the sick boy some company while you showered.

Hyunjin woke up but was barely conscious and just greeted Felix confused.

- Felix? Hi?

- Hey, there. How are you feeling?

- Hmm, tired...

He said going back to sleep without much thought, making Felix giggle a little since he seemed okay.

He just stayed there, patting the sick boy's thigh, even though the latter didn't even notice until you came back.

You saw how he was still sleeping so you just whispered.

- Was it okay?

- Yeah. He didn't actually wake up, just for a few seconds, and went back to sleep.

- Thank God.

- We'll come upstairs in a bit to sleep as well, so if you need anything, you know where we are.

He gave you a pat on the shoulder before leaving the room.

Night fell and everyone settled in their rooms, despite the rather tiring day, the night was quite beautiful. And you were somewhat relieved that Hyunjin basically didn't move an inch since the ordeal earlier. You quietly laid down beside him and whispered a soft goodnight before falling asleep.

Around 1 AM, Hyunjin started to feel weird again. His migraine was just as strong as before and no matter how much he kept his eyes shut, they still stung.

He tried to focus back on sleeping, taking controlled breaths, but it was not working.

He didn't want to wake you up because he noticed that you were really tired and he knew that was mostly his fault, so he tried to deal with it alone.

He covered his eyes with one arm while his other hand rested on his stomach, and took deep breaths. But the nausea was settling in and it wanted everything out. He felt his stomach contract and try to bring up its content, his mouth started to pool with saliva making him start to swallow convulsively, while he squeezed his eyes and clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.

The process lasted a moment but for Hyunjin, it felt like an hour. When he felt that horrible feeling going away, a wave of relief washed over his body.

He decided to turn to his side to not bother you, but that was the worst decision he made that day.

The moment his body turned, his stomach turned as well and sent its content up his throat without much warning, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep it down as he already felt the liquid hitting his throat and starting to fill his mouth.

He clamped his mouth shut and got up from the bed, rather quietly for someone who was about to throw up, so he wouldn't wake you up.

However, he got up too quickly, making his blood run through his body and making his head throb painfully, as if someone was hammering inside of it.

He leaned on the wall for support, while he still kept his hand over his mouth, he needed to at least get to the bathroom.

But he felt the strength drain from his body as his vision blurred with black spots. He panicked, not only was he not gonna make it to the bathroom but he was going to pass out as well.

He started to slide down the wall when someone grabbed him and held him up.

It was Chan, his fatherly instincts didn't let him sleep, knowing his dongsaeng was sick and anything could happen.

- Woah! I've got you, I've got you.

Hyunjin just looked up, barely opening his eyes to recon his hyung beside him.

His stomach contracted aggressively making vomit slip through Hyunjin's fingers and hit the ground.

- Oi! Let's get you to the bathroom, come on.

Chan quickly helped the sick boy to the bathroom, while the latter leaned his weight against him, which he didn't really mind since Hyunjin was light.

Getting to the bathroom, Hyunjin didn't even have time to reach the toilet so he went to the sink before vomit escaped from his mouth.

Chan stood by his side, holding most of Hyunjin's weight as he grabbed one of the edges of the sink for support.

Chan rubbed his back up and down as he threw up one more time and coughed.

- Oi, oi, oi! Let's move to the toilet, okay? Otherwise, we'll end up clogging the sink. I'll leave the water running for a while.

The older boy helped Hyunjin to the toilet, where he grabbed the edges and kept standing and looking down.

His stomach gave him a little break, only making saliva pour out of his mouth, almost like water.

Chan kept rubbing his back and reassuring him he was not alone.

- It's okay. Just take your time okay? Do you feel like you're gonna throw up again?

- Y-yeah.

Hyunjin barely managed to answer as a gag made him spill even more watery saliva.

He gagged again a few times but despite making him feel miserable and incredibly nauseous, his stomach wasn't sending anything up.

- I can't do it...

- What? You can't throw up?

- Nothing's coming up hyung...but it feels horrible

He was almost sobbing but he managed to hold it in since he knew that could just worsen his already killer migraine.

- Do you want me to help you?

- Please...

- Okay. I'll just press down on your stomach a little bit okay? It might feel uncomfortable but it will help.

- Ok...

Chan rubbed and gently pressed Hyunjin's stomach down in different areas to stimulate it to contract and expel whatever was left in there that was bothering his dongsaeng.

He gave one more gentle press in the middle and that stimulated a gag and a burp that brought up some vomit with it.

He kept standing up and just bent over a little more as he threw up after his hyung's help.

He barely managed to close his mouth and breathe before a harsh gag arched his back painfully, vomit coming out with even more force, making him bend even further and sway a little bit.

Chan was quick to wrap his arms around him and guide him down to his knees, to prevent the sick boy to injure himself.

- There, there, there. I've got you, hyung's got you.

He proceeded to rub his back from his lower back all the way up to his shoulder blades to help the sick boy expel everything inside his stomach.

And wave after wave, more and more vomit hit the water inside the toilet with a sickening sound, making Chan grimace a little.

- You're doing good. Let everything out.

He kept reassuring Hyunjin he was okay and that he was not alone.

Eventually, he was just dry heaving.

- Hyunjin, you're just straining your throat. Straighten your back a little.

Chan flushed the toilet and proceeded to help his dongsaeng through a breathing process to calm him down a bit.

Once he was finally relaxed he slumped down leaning his whole weight on his hyung.

- sorry...hyung...I feel...dizzy...

- Shh, it's okay. Just relax, I'm right here, I've got you.

Chan reassured embracing his dongsaeng as the boy's consciousness drifted away. In other situations, Chan would've gotten worried, but given what happened today, passing out was basically a blessing.

He waited a moment to make sure Hyunjin wouldn't wake up or get sick again before he stood up.

Chan got up, and helped Hyunjin up, which the boy also helped, managing to stand on his feet, still barely conscious.

Before he picked him up, Chan warned him so he wouldn't be surprised.

- I'm gonna pick you up, okay? I'll be careful don't worry.

The boy hummed in agreement.

Chan picked him up, carried him to the living room, and sat him on the couch.

- you good?

- Hmm.

- I'll take that as a yes. I'll go get a pillow and some blankets for you, okay?

- Hmm

Hyunjin's brain was barely processing any information at that moment, he was close to passing out, he just wanted to sleep.

Chan came back with the 'sleeping kit' and carefully helped Hyunjin lay down on the couch.

He barely laid down and was already falling asleep.

- Don't worry, Hyunjin. Hyung's right here.

He laid down close to Hyunjin to keep the boy safe and also keep him company.

A few minutes later, Felix woke up and found them in the living room.

- Hyung? What are you doing here?

He said whispering.

- Oh, Lix. It's Hyunjin. He woke up and got sick a few times.

- Is he okay?

- I think for now yes. He almost fainted twice, well, I think he actually fainted now. He won't even budge.

- I'll stay here with you guys as well.

- Oh, there's no need to. You can go back to sleep.

- I'd rather stay here and be able to help in any case.

- Okay, then.

Felix bought his pillow and blanket and settled in as well.

And one by one, the members gathered in the living room, and eventually all eight of them were sleeping close to each other.

Chan just kept observing as all his kids gathered around and smiled fondly.

The rest of the night went on without any other incident and they all slept peacefully.

The next morning, the day started with gloomy weather, the sky was grey signaling a rainy day, the perfect weather to sleep all day long.

You woke up to find that Hyunjin was not there and kindda panicked. You got up from the bed and started to look for him, you went to the bathroom and no one was there, so you went to the other boys' rooms and no one was there as well, so you understood what had happened during the night.

You made your way quietly downstairs and halfway through you noticed where everyone was.

You found them all curled up together on the couch sleeping profoundly, and you noticed how peaceful Hyunjin looked.

You couldn't help but smile at the scene in front of you and you carefully made your back to the bedroom and got your polaroid, when you went down again, not one had moved an inch.

You took a picture and then wrote a note before putting it in your journal and then joining them on the couch.

"Brothers from different mothers"

#emeto #sickfic #whump #kpop sickfic #kpop emeto #stray kids emeto #stray kids sickfic #hyunjin emeto #hyunjin sickfic #hyunjin x reader #skz x reader #SKZ fanfic #SKZ sickfic

[gumnut-logic]

Number Four (Part 9)

Supermen!AU - Intro | One Thing | Superman Number Four - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Apologies for the delay. The end of the week is busy for me and then the weekend was taken out by 4000 words of a random fic plus three migraines. This bit is on the shorter side of things, but I think we are heading into a resolution and a little bit of relief following the events of this fic :D There may even be an end in sight.

Many thanks to all of you who have helped me and supported me with this fic. Thanks to @the-original-sineater​ for reading this bit.

I hope to have more fic soon. WI hope you enjoy Johnny getting his hair scared off in this bit :D

-o-o-o-

Dad made John go to bed. It was a common thing. Their human family had this erroneous thought that sleep fixed many things.

As far as John was concerned, sleep only gave the terrors the chance to leap up and overwhelm him.

Sleep had never been his friend.

However, somehow, today was the exception. A shower, clean clothes, a long talk with Dad that despite having no answers, was inexplicably comforting, and when told to sleep, Dad at his bedside, he did.

Only to be woken by an alarm and Eos shouting that Virgil was in trouble.

John was off the bed and moving before Dad had a chance to stand up.

He found Virgil on the floor in the hallway outside the infirmary. There was broken glass and blood.

“Virgil!”

His big brother startled and attempted to push him away.

John grabbed his flailing arms, trying to still and calm.

Virgil’s right arm snapped in his grip.

As John’s heart stopped, a rock fell from Virgil’s limp hand and his brother collapsed, John catching him before his head could hit the floor.

No, not Virgil, too!

But John was a first responder as much as any of them and he knew the routine. His fingers and eyes ran vitals as Dad, followed by Alan and Grandma, skidded to a halt beside him.

“What happened?”

John curled Virgil into his arms, lifting him effortlessly from the floor and turning towards the infirmary. Blood dripped from several lacerations in his palms, knees and feet.

Alan’s eyes were wide as he stared up at them and then at the mess. Something caught his eye and as John lifted himself off the floor and floated Virgil into the infirmary, he was vaguely aware of their little brother grabbing the rock that Virgil had dropped before hurrying in after them.

John gently lay Virgil down on the last bed left vacant on the other side of a very pale Scott. He palmed a scanner, waving the yellow light over his prone brother as their family gathered around.

Several alerts were triggered at once and the same symptoms as both Gordon and Scott etched themselves into John’s soul. As Alan approached, the numbers dropped even further.

Virgil squirmed on the bed.

John frowned. “Virgil, can you hear me?”

His brother shifted again, this time his clearly broken arm almost hitting Alan. Fortunately, Dad grabbed their youngest brother and pulled him away, both moving back, closer towards Scott and out of the way.

John moved in to immobilise Virgil’s arm, only to be interrupted by an alarm from Scott’s bed.

Grandma hurried over just as their Eldest stopped breathing.

Time blurred after that. John moved faster than he could ever recall moving. Knowledge, chanted by Eos so many times during his desperate research, about the needs of the Kryptonian body when not supported by the golden light of Earth’s sun.

Alan was removed from the room, his crying protests ignored as Gordon’s vitals dropped dramatically as well.

John was in the midst of losing all his blood brothers at once and nothing…nothing!…he was doing was having any effect…

Until it was.

The soft beep as Scott’s heart started beating again. One snapped rib from John’s attempts to keep him alive…but beating and growing stronger by the second.

The small sound that slipped between John’s lips was broken and ever so fearful that it might stop again.

But, as if the bottom of hell had been reached, his three brothers began rebounding. Vitals began to increase towards norm and in the case of Virgil, John was able to see the knitting and regrowth of the bone he had moments ago snapped with his fingers.

It was Grandma who caught John.

Small and soft, she was a gentle embrace, her arms wrapping around him from behind as his worse fears were avoided.

Because there was no way he could survive this planet alone.

Not without the Eldest’s strength, Virgil’s compassion or Gordon’s joy.

He couldn’t.

The moment Virgil’s eyes opened, he knew he had been saved.

-o-o-o-

 Next

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #John Tracy #Alan Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Supermen!AU #nuttyfic

[senadimell]

Re: the death post, is it wrong to ask why you see it as a bad ideal for society to aspire to? I agree that coming to peace with death is healthy for individuals but I don’t think we should have that attitude as a society. The ideal of immortality, of being physically ~26 forever, seems a noble one to aspire to. Our deaths should ideally be under our control. That they aren’t is probably not changing in the near future (hence the need to come to peace with it as individuals) but it doesn’t make it any less of a tragedy imo. Plus as an ideal it doesn’t seem that impossible in comparison to others, we have real life examples of immortal organisms, we have no indication that it goes against the laws of physics (unlike, say, teleportation).

Sorry for the long delay in answering @urupotter. It's not wrong to ask, but the answer is complicated because it's deeply personal and touches on my moral convictions, so it's emotionally taxing to discuss. Also, my religious upbringing likely plays a part in how I see things and I don't expect that to be universal.

The short of it is this: I cannot imagine a society that seeks immortality that is not deeply, deeply ableist.

I live in a country that used to be renowned for its eugenics and those attitudes didn't go away after the second world war, we just focused it on health and beauty and perfect babies and anti-miscegenation.

Literally, there's a supreme court ruling still on the books that upholds state-decided compulsory sterilization. Legally, it's just fine for the state to decide who's allowed to reproduce because "three generations of imbeciles is enough."

I already live in an ableist society, and I live in a society that's terrified of and ignorant towards death. We are phobic towards aging and disease. We bury and hide those things. Parents go to live in nursing homes when they're sick and unless someone dies in hospice in your home or you were in an accident or the military or work in hospice or mortuaries etc., most people have literally not seen an unembalmed corpse. You also don't see fragile, elderly people in public, and multigenerational households are rare.

I don't know if I'm communicating this well, but for us to pursue immortality, I have a really hard time believing we could do that without denigrating mortality, aging, and disability.

So if we have a system where those things are looked down on, then we think about who has access to life-extending treatment, and that's where class comes in. Even if we could technically come up with something that makes you immortal, I highly doubt that everyone would have equal access to it. So you end up with an amplified version of the society we live in now, where youth and beauty is praised and age is feared or disparaged, and even more than now, access to beauty and immortality is tied to wealth and power. (ageism in hiring is already a huge problem!)

Do I think it's a good use of societal resources? Not really, no. Even if we put aside all of the problems for the policymakers, I think there's other things I'd rather medical researchers be focusing on.

Now, there are definitely age-related things that I think are great to focus on fixing. Coming up for some ways to get rid of arthritis = great! would make lots of people's lives easier! Getting rid of Alzheimer's and other kinds of dementia? Absolutely! While we're at it, let's cure Parkinson's.

It might seem contradictory that I'm totally find with finding cures for degenerative diseases but am not okay with treating death, perhaps the ultimate degenerative disease. But I guess that's the thing, I don't see death as a disease, and I don't see disability as inherently bad (some kinds of disability are just bad—there is nothing redeeming about migraines. Or Alzheimer's). I'm not sure how to describe why those two goals feel different, but it just seems like hubris to pursue eternal youth, whereas stopping specific kinds of suffering seems noble.

Here's where I get into the fuzzy philosophical side of things. I think aging and death have a whole lot to teach us as a society. I think we learn compassion through caregiving. I think we learn humility and patience. I think there's tremendous wisdom to be found in aging and dealing with aging and death. I don't think we should go around inflicting it, obviously, but I do think that we have so much to learn.

This is the part where I'm speaking purely personally, and don't expect others to have to agree with me, but I don't think in a perfect world we would have control over our deaths. This has to do with what I understand the purpose of life to be.

(I'd rather not get into a public discussion on assisted suicide; the short of it is that I'm not blanket opposed to it but I think it's a very very delicate issue and I lack the life experience to know if it's something I would ever pursue, so I'm not the one who should be setting policy)

And maybe this is silly or morbid or crass, but tbh it does give me a sense of relief to know that we all die because there are some sucky people in the world with a lot of power and money and I don't think it would be a better world if they were immortal.

So in conclusion, I think it's actually worse for a society as a whole to be pursuing immortality (as opposed to individuals) because of all the attitudes that go around with it. Also, there's enough preventable deaths to go round and I think we should focus on that.

#you sit through one vigil for disability day of mourning and it just weighs on you how many people kill their kids for being disabled #re: the medical system: without insurance the monthly dosage of one of my medications costs about 4x my rent #so i think we have a loooooong way to go and plopping immortality into the mix is a bad idea

[glasschampagne]

A Fake Date

MASTERLIST

(Sirius and Y/N go on a fake date so that James can go on a date with Lily)

Pairing: Sirius Black x Potter! Reader

Word Count: 2.1 k

Warnings: Some swearing and general stupidity.

Author’s Note: Part of me loves this and part of me hates it. Still, I hope you love it. Sorry for the delay, I’ve been drowning in assignments.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

The day had started up pretty normal for James Potter. He woke up, attended Quidditch practice, had breakfast, went to class, and playfully asked out Lily Evans. And everything would have gone normally if she had answered with her usual “go to hell Potter”. But this time she decided to crush all of his hopes when she declared she would go out with him the day Y/N Potter went out with Sirius Black.

James took his gaze away from her, he knew it was Lily’s way to tell him he had no chances. It was universally known Y/N and Sirius had as much chemistry as an eggshell and a pencil, meaning there was absolutely no way they could ever work romantically.

James looked at the back of the class, spotting his sister laughing at Sirius’ attempt to transform a teacup into a fork. He watched as they playfully wrestled as McGonagall tried to tell them that no matter how ugly Sirius’ fork was, they couldn’t disrupt her class like that. Yeah, it would be a cold day in hell before those two went out on a date.

He spent the whole day trying to hide his heartbreak from his friends, but he should have known they were all quite perceptive when it came to him.

It was Remus who decided he had had enough of sad James. He saw him absentmindedly watching the fire in the common room, not cracking a joke once.

“That’s enough” he declared, putting down his quill “What’s wrong with you?”

James shot him a pained looked, and made a pathetic attempt at a reassuring smile.

“I love her Moons” he answered, “I am irrevocably in love with her. I love her so much it hurts, because I know she will never reciprocate my feelings” he had tried to keep his voice from breaking, but it was useless. His voice broke as a few tears fell down his face. He wiped them quickly, not used to being the one in need of consolation.

Y/N raised from her seat, moving to be closer to her brother. She rubbed his back gently, knowing it always soothed him.

“Lily smiled at you today” she pointed out, knowing who her brother was talking about without him having to say it out loud. But he didn’t smile as he would usually have. “I think she’s warming up to you”

“Yes Prongs, she’s starting to realize you are a great bloke!” Peter added, desperate to cheer up his friend.

James gave them a sad smile.

“Thanks lads. But really, it’s hopeless” he whispered.

“Why would you say that?” Remus snapped. James was usually Mr. Optimism, and it was hard to deal with this depressed version of him. “Don’t be a twat and listen to Y/n/n. If she says Lily is warming up to you then she is”.

“And even if you don’t believe Y/n/n, believe Moony. He’s always right” Sirius added, playfully winking at Remus, who replied with an annoyed “I am not giving you the answers to the Potions homework”.

Sirius muttered a low “fuck”, but Remus decided to ignore him for James’ sake. They needed to focus on helping him.

“Listen Prongs” he began “She seemed quite content with you this afternoon on Transfiguration. You must have done something right, what did you say?”

“I asked her out” James answered, as he let out a humorless chuckle “But she said she will go with me the day Y/n/n goes out with Pads”.

“Then we’ll make it happen” Remus claimed. He understood James saw it as an impossible quest, but he also knew Y/N and Sirius would do anything for James. “Sirius, ask Y/n/n out”

“Oi” she complained “I want to be the one who takes the initiative!”

“Love, I am a charmer and you are as romantic as a beozar” Sirius mocked her.

Remus took a deep breath and held his head with his hands. The Y/N-Sirius banters always gave him terrible migraines. Luckily Peter stopped it from going forward, by bringing to the group’s attention how “beozars must be bloody romantic for Snivellus”.

They all erupted in laughter at peter’s comment. Even James laughed in spite of his grey mood.

“Would you really do that for me mates?” he asked shyly, as if he feared his friends would take back their offer.

“We would do anything for you Jamie-boy” Sirius said, easing his fears.

“But you’ll have to ask me out nicely Black” Y/N teased “We have to set a standard for my future dates”

“Oi! There will be no future dates” James stated, leaving no room for discussion.

Remus simply smiled. Their James was back.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

When Y/N Potter sat down at the breakfast table the next morning, she found Sirius Black with the biggest shit-eating grin ever plastered on his face.

“What’s with you this morning?” she asked “Do we have a prank planned?”

“You will have to wait and see” he replied, trying to sound mysterious.

She gave him a questioning look. Sirius had never withheld information about a prank from her. she was about to inquire further, but before she could do so, Loverboy by Queen started playing. The Great Hall darkened, and some colorful lights danced through the room. When the chorus came, Sirius jumped on the table and all the lights focused on him. He looked like a rockstar.

Using his wand as a microphone he began to sing quite off-tune, and changing the lyrics.

“I’d like for you and I to go to Hogsmeade,

Please say yes, I’ll make you happy babe.

Uhhh Y/n/n, Uhhh Y/n/n Potter

Go out with meeee”

He then placed the wand in front of her, and she sang a Yes for an answer.

The Marauders began to cheer for the embarrassing proposal, and soon the whole Gryffindor table was cheering with them. But they were forced to go back to silence when Professor McGonagall stated she expected both Sirius and Y/n/n in detention.

The lights came back, and students resumed their breakfast. And that is when the impossible happened. The Marauders were approached by the one and only Lily Evans.

“Well Potter, I’ll be damned.” She said “Sirius asked out your sister. I guess we’ll be going on a date”. And then, after dropping such bomb, she left.

James was struck dumb. He blinked and passed out, leaving to Remus the task of carrying him to class.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

The weekend arrived, and the marauders could only watch as James freaked out over what to wear for his date.

“I don’t want to look like a creep who’s trying too hard!” he cried, while holding two almost identical shirts.

“Well, you don’t want to look like a tramp either” Remus commented as he flipped the page of his book, not aware of the havoc he had just summoned.

“I hadn’t even considered that possibility!” James was now in fetal position and tugging his hair. He was the human depiction of stress.

“Fuck Moony, now he looks crazy” Y/N complained.

“For fuck’s sake, just wear what you wore last week you looked good!” Peter shouted. Remus, Y/N and Sirius looked at him in shock. Apparently, even Pete had a limit on James’ whining.

“You sure Pete?” James wondered, stopping the torture on his hair.

“Listen to him” Sirius interrupted “We are going to be late”

James got dressed in lightning speed, and hurried downstairs to the common room.

“It’s showtime Potter” Sirius whispered playfully as he took hold of Y/N’s hand.

And for a second, she wished it was real. She wished he actually fancied her; she wished the ruse to be more than a favour to a mutual friend.

Little did she know he wished for the same thing. but neither of them would say anything, used as they were to bury their emotions deep inside their souls.

The walk to Hogsmeade started off quite normally for Sirius and Y/N.  He had his arms over her shoulders, and they both laughed as they discussed their latest read by a muggle author.

“I wonder if James and you could pull that off, what would Minnie say?” Sirius snickered, right before Remus hit him to call his attention.

“Firstly, The Twelfth Night is a comedy for a reason you idiot it wouldn’t work. And second, you two look way too friendly” he criticized.

“What do you mean” Y/N asked

“He means the pair of you don’t look any different from any other weekend” Peter explained, appearing from behind Remus.

“Exactly” Remus confirmed “this is supposed to be a date. Act more lovey-dovey.”

“How?” Sirius wondered.

“I don’t fucking know you dimwit!” Remus cried, stress taking over him “#Ever seen me on a date?”

“I know” Peter said. And the rest was not surprised, for somehow Peter managed to get more dates than any other Marauder “Sirius, hug her by the waist. And Y/n/n, rest your head on his chest”

They did as they were told, feeling weirdly comfortable by the closeness. And then feeling guilty, for friends are not supposed to like the other’s touch that much.

They followed Lily and James into the three broomsticks. They seemed to be enjoying their time together. No one in Hogwarts had ever seen Lily Evans laughing that hard.

Sirius and Y/N sat with the other couple. They ordered butterbeers and tried to not interrupt as James told embarrassing stories.

“…and then Y/n/n ran into my room screaming. James, James there is a poltergeist in the roof! Then she grabbed a bat to try and scare the poltergeist, but turns out it was my dad fixing a leak. So, when she hit him and realized he was not a poltergeist, she was so bloody scared she fell down the roof”.

Lily bursted out laughing. Either James really knew how to tell a story or Lily was bloody smitten, because Y/N didn’t think it was funny.  

“Ha-ha. Don’t forget the part when you went all mother hen and stayed up all night taking care of me.”

Sirius snickered “Aww, nurse Jamie” He teased.

“He even wore our mom’s medi-witch hat” she added, delighting in the way Sirius looked when he laughed.

His laugh was contagious, and she began to laugh as well. Meanwhile, James looked like he wanted to punch both of them.

“I think that was very sweet of you” Lily’s voice cut the tension. She was looking at James with a particular gleam in her eyes.

“Really?” he asked, not knowing how to react to the praise and feeling weirdly shy.

“Yes. I didn’t know you could be so caring” she smiled up at him.

“Caring would be an understatement” Sirius meddled.

“He’s like our mother” Y/N added.

“Sirius, you can’t go into the pitch without protective gear” he said, badly imitating James concerned manners.

“Y/n/n, put on a coat its’ freezing outside!” she followed.

“Remus, have you eaten today?”

“Pete, you scrapped your knee! Let me take a look”

While Sirius and Y/N howled in laughter at their imitations, Lily stared at James as if she was looking at him for the first time.

“Do you want to go for a walk by the lake?” she asked softly “I would like to hear more about this caring James”

James was looking redder than the Gryffindor common room. He nodded, grabbing her hand as he looked at her with adoration. He led her to the door, leaving his sister and Sirius to their own devices.

“Do you think she bought it?” Y/N asked once Lily was out of sight.

“I suppose so” he replied “We were practically glued together”.

“We always are” she whispered, almost hoping he would not hear him.

But he did.

“Yes, we are.” He took a deep breath before speaking “do you…do you think we look like a couple?” he asked her, afraid she would be grossed out by the suggestion.

“What do you mean?” she asked back.

“Well, on the way here we were trying to act like people on dates. But according to Moony that’s how we normally behave” he explained

“We are quite touchy” she admitted, scratching the back of her head “I guess we do look like a couple”

“Does that bother you?” he blurted out.

Y/N found herself taken aback by the question. His voice was lacking the characteristic cocky tone, replaced by a much more vulnerable one. He sounded almost insecure, fearful.

“It doesn’t bother me, I like being close to you” she confessed “I like holding your hand, and I like it when you hug me”.

He moved closer to her, placing one hand on her knee.

“I like it too” he began tracing a pattern on her knee, affection in every stroke of his finger. “Maybe because I love you”

“Maybe I love you too” she said, not letting her intrusive thoughts stop her from telling him how she felt.

He looked at her, his eyes glowing with hope.

“Are you serious?”

“No” she laughed “You are Sirius”.

Then she kissed him. She kissed him for real, not as part of their plan. And he kissed her right back.

#jily #Sirius Black #Sirius orion black #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #Sirius x Y/N #Remus Lupin #James Potter #Lily Evans #Lily Potter #peter pettigrew #sirius x potter! reader #y/n potter #Marauders #the marauders #the marauders era #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #fanfic

[chaoticevilbean]

An (Un)Official List Of Things Only Anakin Skywalker Can Do

Originally written by Ayala Secura

Blow people up with his mind on accident

Anakin expressed concern over his lack of emotional control. He gave many examples of normal problems that can arise from this. He then casually added one that is not common, usual, or even plausible for known Jedi. From his recollection, he would often cause beings who enraged him to spontaneously and violently combust.

I did my best to reassure him that such things were considered unusual, but weren't reason for him to be fearful. At the time, I simply didn't wish to increase his worries. I did maintain that the exploding of beings is very bad, and that he should work on finding ways to productively release such strong emotions.

I apologize here for the "renovation" of the hangar. (Secura)

Hear as far as the length of the Temple (without meditation)

Amendment: Hear as far as the diameter of Coruscant (without meditation)

Anakin once again was expressing concerns over his lack of control. He also complained that it was causing him headaches. Upon my questioning, he explained that he could hear the younglings playing on the other side of the Temple. I tested this by having us stand on either end of the longest part of the Temple we could reach. I asked if he could hear me (without a comm) and he responded that he could (using a comm).

Later, when he was still within the Temple, I found myself on a mission with my Master. It was not a very rushed assignment, and I began humming. Upon my return to the Temple, Anakin asked me if I knew what song it was, humming the exact tune I had. Apparently, he had been walking with his own Master and had heard me, though he hadn't been focusing enough to identify what he was doing. (Secura)

Smell differences within water despite being a non-variant Human

Smell differences within air despite being a non-variant Human

He accompanied me to the Room of a Thousand Fountains. It was a normal walk through the gardens, until we came across one of the smaller ponds. He commented that someone had cleaned it recently. When I asked how he knew, he explained that it smelled different.

He and I were sitting within his quarters. We were simply chatting when he complained that someone had messed with the ventilation without alerting him or Knight Kenobi. He could smell the air was slightly different than before. As he put it, the smell wasn't the problem, but the lack of communication was.

Both instances, he couldn't elaborate on what exactly the smells were, nor how he knew what each one meant. He simply knows these things. When tested with some other Padawans, the only ones that came close to knowing such things were Nautolans, out of a base group of 15 species. The experiment is listed in the Archives as Liquid and Gaseous Change Detection. (Secura)

Eat death sticks without consequence

Both of our Masters brought us to the lower levels in order to fulfill a mission. Anakin and I were left in a corner booth, with instructions to remain there and cause a commotion if someone attempted to harm or harrass us.

I looked away for TEN SECONDS. Ten seconds, and he was being offered a death stick by a clearly intoxicated individual who had no sense of what should and shouldn't be given to a barely ten-cycle-old. Anakin had no experience with such things. He had no idea what he was being given, and managed to get instructions to pour the liquid into his fizzyglug within the fleeting moment I was not paying attention.

He consumed it, chugging the liquid when I attempted to order him to stop, and then take it from him when he didn't listen. The individual who gave him the death stick had the sense to begin to panic, finally realizing Anakin's youth. However, Anakin finished off every drop with nothing but a smile. I got our Masters attention, but even after taking him to the nearest medcenter and runnign multiple scans, there were no signs of any harm. I have received significant therapy for that event, and Anakin has since been informed to not take anything from strangers. (Secura)

Generate electricity on levels that a (non-variant) Human cannot perform (without a health declination)

He was making his hair do that weird static thing that Human hair does every time he got excited. He also kept causing screens and pads to glitch or turn off whenever he picked them up while in a similar state. A solution of temporary insulating gloves and frequent reminders helped him gain control. (Secura)

Communicate words through the Force with minimal bonding

Amendment: No bonding is necessary for this form of communication, and is possible within the expanse of the Temple

Amendment: Communication is possible over most distances

He asked me if Aayla was available to study (with the Force) because his mouth was full and he'd already been told off that day. (Vos)

Skywalker told me that my Padawan was experiencing a panic attack from across the Temple. No bond existed between us before or after the interaction. (Fisto)

Skywalker informed me of a mission delay over several systems. He explained later that he was attempting to prevent his Master's worry about informing the Council and knew I would inform the other members for Kenobi. (Windu)

Consume raw meat (without a health declination) despite being a non-variant Human

Nervous to eat lunch alone, he was. Asked to eat together, I did. Showed him the kitchens, I did. Ate five live frogs, he did. Proud, I am. (Yoda)

I handed him a rodent I had found within my quarters, asking him to hold it so I could call someone. I was going to call a being who could help me prevent further instances and get rid of this rodent. I needn't have worried about relocating or disposing of the creature, though. I remember hearing a loud squeal, then turning to find Skywalker trying to tear away the fur of the rodent. He had no notion that it was an unusual habit for a Human. (Ti)

Jump into the Temple vents without using the walls

Amendment: Without using any aid

Amendment: Jump in/out of the Temple vents and on/off obstacles of similar height without any aid whatsoever

He's proved this multiple times over various training excercises, and occasionally his attempts to avoid said excercises. There's footage of it from the Temple's cameras. He has no regard for safety when it comes to jumping off of ledges, cliffs, or roofs/out windows. Caution advisory does nothing. (Kenobi)

Send emotions through the Force without a bond

Amendment: Send emotions without a bond, over great distances, with extreme precision and without any meditation or prior preparation - such emotions will likely be magnified upon reception, and can cause fainting, among other symptoms

Upon the death of notable Jedi Master Pak'll Tiffn, I had decided to participate in their culture's traditional week-long mourning practices. Near the end of this, young Skywalker asked me why I seemed so "down". I explained my grief at the death of Master Tiffn, and he continued to question me on the cause of my "distress". When he discovered I had technically finished the practices an hour before, he sent such a strong wave of excitement to me that I found it hard to not smile for the following three days.

I also found myself wishing to work on starfighter engines, which I attribute to the excitement being of Skywalker's creation. (Tiin)

I had a migraine while on a mission. Skywalker sent me a wave of comfort that caused me to pass out. He has since been informed that he should not interact with Jedi in the field unless he is certain they are in a safe enough position to do so. (Windu)

Accidentally cause plants to grow at a visibly accelerated rate

Anakin fell asleep in the Room of a Thousand Fountains while attempting to meditate. Upon my arrival, I found the grass already past my knees in height, and several nearby shrubs beginning to flower. I write my apologies here to the caretakers of the Room, and express my gratitude that none of you commented on it. (Kenobi)

Accidental levitation whilst walking

Amendment: Accidental levitation whilst walking, running, and other movement in which one is not standing/sitting/lying in a singular place

Witnessed during sparring practice with Master Kit Fisto and Master Ki-Adi Mundi

Bypass shielding enough to receive a clear perception of a being's emotions

I was working through some guilt over a recent mission and the requirements to fulfill it. Anakin walked over and did his best to comfort me without any understanding of why I was feeling that way, but knowing exactly what I was feeling. Throughout our entire interaction, my shields remained firmly in place, and strong enough that he really shouldn't have been able to even know where I was.

Oh yeah. He came from across the Temple to find me. He bypassed my shielding from across the Temple, without realizing his actions, and did so with better precision than a fully trained Master. (Vos)

Carry items of any weight without strain from channeling

According to Skywalker, the only trouble he has with lifting all the furniture in his quarters is he has to focus on the act while also looking for his missing holopad. (Koon)

(regarding previous entry) Reminds me of the time he lifted all the ships in Hangar 6 in order to find a single wrench, which was in somehow within the vents. (Billaba)

Cause a building-wide power outage from a nightmare/vision

Incident recorded as Padawan-induced. (Nu)

Bite through beskar when curious

Taste the strength of metals

Skywalker is no longer allowed in the forges without someone actively supervising him and him alone. He saw a piece of beskar I had managed to aquire. He was curious about the ore, due to it being unknown to him. I caught him with it in his mouth like some youngling sneaking a cookie. Apparently it tasted really strong. I thought he meant the taste was pungent, until he said that even durasteel didn't taste as strong. (Ria)

Heal minor personal wounds immediately, within a few seconds and without discernible energy usage

Heal major personal wounds immediately, up to halving recovery time and with lessened energy usage

Incidents recorded in mission reports including Skywalker (Nu)

Accidentally mind trick crowds of 20 or more

Amendment: Untested limit of how many can be affected, although the effectiveness of the tricks varies between individuals, and can reach up to 50 beings (recorded)

Note to all those who may serve a diplomatic mission with Skywalker: he can safely diffuse mobs, protests, and other upset crowds. He will need time to calm his own emotions afterwards, as it is (theoretically) his increasing anxiety that causes such effects. (Fisto)

Learn a language after hearing it only once

Amendment: Anakin will not know this is happening. He will simply begin to speak the language back at whoever spoke it to him.

Incidents recorded in mission reports including Skywalker (Nu)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

All Jedi are now welcome to add to the (Un)Official List of Things Only Anakin Skywalker Can Do. All editors are asked to put some form of a source, even if such source is simply a page-long rant about Padawan Skywalker's habit of not checking if a substance should be poisonous to him (condolences to Knight Vos).

Please also include some sort of identifier to connect each edit to the being(s) who created them.

Sincerest gratitude and condolences to all Jedi who find themselves editing this file. (Secura)

#star wars #anakin skywalker #fanon #jedi #jedi temple #aayla secura #quinlan vos #obi-wan kenobi #kit fisto #mace windu #saesee tiin #jocasta nu #ki-adi mundi #depa billaba #plo koon #shaak ti #yoda #minch yoda

[mandoalorian]

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — Three: Beauty

Summary: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person’s relationship with his son. You’ve heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You’ve felt his pain and anguish and you’ve never been able to relate to anything more. But things don’t come easy for you, and they certainly don’t come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: 18+ description of male masturbation, descriptions of blood and injury, mention of childhood trauma as well as legal battle of custody over a child.

Word count: 5,200>

Masterlist

I Believe In Love Masterlist

Previous - Chapter Three - Next

Maxwell had to stifle back laughter from your comment. A hero? There wasn't a chance he was a hero. You didn't know what he had done. How he'd almost destroyed the entire planet without even realising. The guilt was eating him alive, it was all he could think about at any given second of silence. How could he have let himself become so power corrupt— to the extent he'd forgotten what really mattered? Alistair might have forgiven him, but there wasn't a chance the rest of the world would. It had only been a day and Maxwell didn't know how he could possibly live with himself.

"I need help." you announced, breaking the silence. Maxwell looked at you momentarily in curiosity but then looked away, sighing with discontentment.

"Look, whatever it is, I'm sure you don't want my help." Maxwell told you with a frown. You admired the deep shade of brown that was his eyes. It was so easy to get lost in them, they were hypnotic.

"You're the only person I know," you explained to the businessman sheepishly. "You and Alistair. And Raquel too, who is lovely, but I sense that she doesn't like me very much," Maxwell raised an eyebrow. You had wandered into Black Gold Cooperative wearing a crazy brown tunic, and you were covered in mud saying words like Themyscira, Hestia, hearth… jargon that not even Maxwell could understand. It didn't surprise him one bit if Raquel was a little put off by you. Until he learned the truth, he was borderline about to call you crazy and run ten mile. He believed you now. He had no reason not to. "I'm looking for someone." you told the man as you nervously bit your lower lip.

"Yeah, the thing is, I'm not going to be able to help you look for him, if that's what you're suggesting," Maxwell hummed. He wanted to get out of here. It wasn't your fault— you weren't doing anything wrong, but since seeing the lasso and remembering what had happened in the bunker just a day ago… a mixture of guilt, anger and hurt consumed him. "I have to go." Maxwell gasped feeling the desperate urge to get some air.

Of course, you chased after him. "I shouldn't really need any help finding him, I shouldn't really ask anyone for help either…" you mumbled, fumbling with your fingers as you shimmied through the revolving doors that led out of his office. "As the goddess of home and hearth, it would be my duty to see the man, and his child, myself."

"So you're looking for a man and his kid?" Maxwell asked, relishing the feeling of relief washing over him as the cool air hit his skin. He wasn't a smoker, he hadn't been since before he moved to the U.S., but in this moment of pure stress and anxiety, he had never craved a cigarette more. He turned to you for comfort. "I'm afraid ‘the world of man’ is full of those."

"That's what I was afraid of," you sighed, running a hand through your hair. "There's not a single man on Themyscira, we are all children of Zeus, sculpted in his image only,"

Every time you mentioned your homeland of Themyscira, or one of the Olympian Gods, Maxwell's curiosity piqued greatly. He had so many questions— so much he wanted to learn about you. He wondered if you'd even give him the time of day to answer them.

The delay in a response from Maxwell prompted you to speak up again. “As I was saying… I don't know anyone in D.C., I don’t have a place to stay… so I was wondering...”

Maxwell’s head snapped to face you, his eyes going comically wide. “I don’t know.” he said quickly and almost defensively. Yes your beauty was unimaginable and he had so much he wanted to ask you, but was now really the right time? What would happen once you learned about the terrible things he had done, how he was an awful father? And why did he care so much about what you thought of him when you were merely just a stranger? You looked down at your feet, your toes beginning to feel fuzzy as the evening grew colder. He couldn’t just let you stay out on the street, alone. Without any further prompting for you, he pulled out his car keys and tilted his head in gesture for you to follow him. Unlocking the car, he slid into the driver's seat as you waited outside. “Are you coming or not?” Maxwell huffed.

“What is this?” you asked after sliding into the passenger's seat. You were completely awe inspired by your surroundings.

“It’s a car,” Maxwell said hesitantly. “Wait, let me guess. You don’t have cars on Themascream, you have unicorns.”

“It’s Themyscira,” you corrected again, feeling only mildly irritated and wondering if he was deliberately just being that obnoxious. “And no, don’t be silly, unicorns don’t exist. We ride horses.” you sighed, shaking your head. Maxwell almost had to stifle back an incredulous laugh. Everything he once believed to be mythological was turning out to be true, he wouldn’t even be surprised if you had a license in Pegasus flight.

As he turned on the engine and began to reverse out of his parking space, you gasped, clutching onto the gear stick. The same gear stick that Maxwell was holding as he pushed the car into reverse. Your hand grazed his, and the skin on skin contact practically took Maxwell’s breath away. You grabbed onto his hand in fear as the car moved, and you stared out of the window. Of course, this was your first time in a car. Maxwell’s eyes flicked between the road, the frightened delight on your face and the way your soft hand enveloped his. He wanted to curse at the feeling of your touch and how it went straight to his manhood - this was the second time you had him feeling things he shouldn’t. Was there something in the air? It’s not like he wasn’t that touch starved. He shouldn’t have been reacting to you like this, but he was, and he didn’t know why. Swallowing the lump in his throat he gently removed his hand from yours and placed it back on the wheel. He wondered if the sexual tension was one side, if only he could feel it. He saw the innocence in your pretty eyes. You were just an oblivious girl trapped in a new world, seeking guidance from Maxwell, out of all people.

“Is this car… dangerous?” You asked nervously, the palm of your hand resting against the window.

“Not as dangerous as a horse,” Maxwell chuckled, taking his sunglasses out of the glove compartment and pushing them up the bridge of his nose. “I once knew a girl back home who fell off a horse and broke her leg. Couldn’t walk for a month. But, she deserved it.”

You gasped in horror at his statement, your eyes widening as your lips parted into a perfect ‘O’ shape. “How could she deserve it?” you asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“She wasn’t a nice person,” you watched as Maxwell’s face hardened at the memory.

You frowned but chose not to question him further. “So, you aren’t from here?”

“Wh- what makes you say that?” Maxwell asked, feeling a well of familiar anxiety.

“You said ‘back home’.” You acknowledged and Maxwell’s grip on the steering wheel tightened so hard his knuckles turned white. You were certainly right about that. You’d caught him out.

“Yeah uh, that’s just something we say over here. In the ‘world of man’.” Maxwell muttered, hoping you wouldn’t question him further. And thankfully, you didn’t.

“I think there’s a lot you can teach me about the world of man,” you smile pleasantly at the businessman who is doing his utmost to keep his concentration on the road ahead, rather than getting lost in your divine beauty. “Mr Lord?” You asked when he didn’t reply.

“You- you don’t have to call me Mr Lord,” Maxwell said awkwardly, turning at a junction.

“That is your name, isn’t it?” you quizzed.

“My name is Max Lord.” he was a little taken aback upon realising he hadn’t yet introduced himself to you. He’d just made the assumption you already knew exactly who he was, just like the rest of the world did. He’d come to think that maybe that wouldn’t be the case.

“Well then who is Mr?” “I’m Mr,” Maxwell furrowed his eyebrows. “Mr Max Lord.” “Why does Raquel call you Mr Lord?” you quizzed further, and Maxwell could feel an onsetting migraine. He actually hated talking about himself.

“She- because- I-” Maxwell stammered out, before shaking his head profusely. “Doesn’t matter okay? Just call me Max.”

“I’m sorry if I’m being annoying.” You admitted timidly after another silence. 

Max sighed. “You’re not annoying. Look, we’re almost home.”

The final five minutes of the journey were sat in complete silence. You spent most of the time looking out the window, trying to find clues and wondering how you were planning to find Lorenzano. There must be a way. You contemplated asking Maxwell for help, but you knew, as the daughter of Zeus and the goddess of home and hearth, it was your duty to find him and help him yourself. And that’s exactly what you were going to do. Of course, it was hard to ignore your mother’s word’s before you left Themyscira, regarding Romulus and Dolos. The God of Lies. You looked over at Maxwell who was staring dead ahead. You wondered if you could poke his brain about that… or even about the two dreamstones. Might he know something?

While you were thinking about your objective, Maxwell simply couldn’t stop thinking about you. Ashamed to admit it, but his cock was still semi hard and it was becoming difficult to ignore when he couldn’t help glancing at your reflection in the rear view mirror. He’d known you for barely an hour and he could already feel himself growing attached. Maybe it was the glitter in your eye or the way you spoke every word like it was your last. You had such joy and passion in your soul. Maxwell didn’t have any of that. All he had was his deep, dark secret as well as the anxiety and guilt which was eating him alive. There was something so perfect about you. Maxwell had sworn that nobody could be perfect, but he had also sworn that places like Themyscira, magical lassos and Gods and Goddesses weren’t real. He could be wrong about one more thing.

You followed Max as he slipped out of the car, and you found yourself absolutely astonished by his large D.C. home. Like everything else you had seen so far, it was beautiful. It seemed extensive in size, especially for just one man and possibly Alistair, but you refrained from making a comment. The exterior of the house was framed with beautiful greenery, tall trees, blooming bushes, and flowers that you only assumed could be native to the world of man. You knelt by a bush, admiring a red flower, as Maxwell fumbled with his keys to unlock the front door.

“What is this?” You asked, unpicking the flower from the bush.

“Be careful.” Maxwell gasped, his eyes widening when you hissed and saw blood trickle slowly down your finger. “It’s a rose, and they have thorns and if they prick you it’s gonna hurt like a bitch. Are you okay?” He grabbed your hand and pulled it to his face. You swiped your thumb over the wound, cutting off the bloodstream and healing yourself within seconds.

“I’m okay.” you confirmed, pulling your hand away from Maxwell’s. His vision crossed you in bewilderment.

“How did you?” He stammered, rubbing his eyes. “You just-”

When Maxwell saw you shiver from the cold, he ushered you inside his home and shut the front door behind him. He walked behind you, taking in your every step as you looked around his home. You admired all the little things, like the oil paintings that were hung upon the cream coloured walls and the ornaments scattered around on every surface. He supposed he could tell you to make yourself at home, but as you bent over and let your fingers grace the softness of the living room carpet, he figured maybe you already had. You stood up again, taking a deep breath before turning to face Maxwell.

“Us Amazons aren’t like humans,” you began, your eyes still scattering around his spacious living room. The sofa, although not as big as the one in the lobby of Black Gold Cooperative, was still extensive in size and made from the same plush velvet, this time in a coppery colour. It seemed he had a television too, which just so happened to be the biggest one you had seen yet. He had so much stuff, but his home was so big it still felt kind of empty. You found the mismatched patterns and colours endearing and you wondered if he had decorated himself.

“I’ll say,” Maxwell mumbled, walking over to the mini bar in the corner of the living room and pouring out a glass of whiskey. “Can I get you anything?” Max offered.

“No thank you,” you hummed, looking at all the paintings on the walls. “We’re immortal.”

“Immor- so you mean, you can’t die?” Maxwell looked at you dumbfounded.

“Immortal not invincible,” you laughed, and Maxwell felt his cheeks heat up slightly. There was no reason for him to feel embarrassed, this was all extremely new to him, and yet, he didn’t want you to think any less of him. He wanted you to believe he was smart and knowledgeable. “We don’t age. We’ve lived on Themyscira for centuries. We have enhanced strength, coordination, agility, stamina…” Max listened intently as you educated him about your kind. “If the injury isn’t too bad… I can heal.” you explained nonchalantly but then frowned.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, putting his glass of whiskey down on the grand piano and walking over to you.

“My powers aren’t as refined as the other Amazonians,” you said weakly. You had been so used to being made feel inadequate by the warriors around you. They'd judge you and call you for being the goddess of home and hearth— telling you your powers were pointless and would never lead to greatness. Maybe not their greatness, but you had truly found your calling and maybe this time, just for once, things could be different. With a sudden bolt of confidence, you felt Maxwell take your hands. You looked up at him with a doe-eyed expression. "Are you judging me?" you couldn't help but ask him. It wouldn't surprise you. Everyone else judged you.

"No," Maxwell replied almost breathlessly. He was too lost in your eyes, too enamoured with every word you spoke. "I think you're… sensational."

And with that, your lips curved into a small smile. He was so entranced by your beauty. He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to lean in and kiss you. He tried to shake away the feeling, like it wasn't all he'd imagined since the moment he laid his eyes on you. It was wrong of him. Besides you had only just met, and once again, he was swarmed with guilt. If you found out about what he'd done, you'd want nothing to do with him— nobody would— he was certain of it. It was only a matter of time before even Alistair walked out for him. Alistair. That's when Maxwell remembered the letter Theodore had given him, which was sitting on the kitchen cabinet.

"Zeus brought me to D.C, he will bring me to the man from my dreams. And with the lasso of Hestia to aid me, it shouldn't take me long at all," you told Max. "I'll be out of your hair in no time."

Maxwell wanted to tell you to stay. He didn't want you to hurry. He'd come incredibly lonely over the years and he was really beginning to value your company.

"Zeus is your father… right?" Maxwell asked, trying to recall the way you spoke about him earlier.

"Yes."

"What's he like?" Maxwell prodded further with genuine furiosity.

"Oh, I've never met him," you replied, rubbing  your eyes.

So he's a deadbeat— Maxwell thought. Max knew exactly how that felt. "But he's king of the Olympian Gods, the ruler of the skies. He crafted us all in his own image and gave us a purpose."

"And your purpose is to find this man?" Maxwell quirked an eyebrow.

You nodded in affirmation. "It may seem simple and unimportant, but I assure you, it isn't. This man is special. He's unlike any other man and Zeus will bring me to him for a reason. Before I left, my mother Hestia told me of two Gods, Romulus and Dolos… they were the God of Lies,"

Maxwell's eyes widened. He had heard of them, very little, but he'd heard their names through researching the dreamstone. "They were deceiving and created a darkness amongst the world. They harnessed the power of wish-granting and were responsible for death and destruction… the world of man had to be rebuilt from scratch." you explained, a horrified look on your face as you recalled the events that your mother, Hestia had educated on.

For Maxwell, this was hitting far too hard. Things weren't adding up but he did deem it to be more than a mere coincidence that you had shown up just a day after the world had gone to hell. He didn't understand— he couldn't fathom the connection he had to you, or that laying on his sofa was a beautiful Amazonian goddess. He hoped that he could figure it out soon enough, but for now, he had his own troubles. He has to focus on fixing things with Alistair.

"I'm tired," you announced with a yawn, breaking Maxwell out of his thoughts. You raised your hand and cupped Maxwell's cheek, mirroring his own actions to you back at the office. "Your home is beautiful." you whispered lovingly.

You found the crinkles in the corner of his eyes so handsome, and you even pondered if the perfect curve in his nose had been sculpted by Zeus too. He wasn't like the Themysciran depictions of 'man', he was worn and slightly miserable, but there was no denying the connection you felt to him. For a second, you wondered if he was your reason. If he was your purpose. You'd grown so attached to him in just a matter of hours, you'd even grown attached to Alistair without even realising. Alistair was the first person you had met upon waking up in the world of man. But there was no way, you were looking for Lorenzano. Lorenzano…

You slipped your hand away from Max and sat on the soft couch, relishing the same feeling you loved so much back in the office. You took off your tiara, placing it on the coffee table, and unbuckled your sandals. You went to remove your tunic and skirt, but were cut off by a yelp from Max as he diverted his eyes.

"What- what are you doing?" Maxwell gasped, looking away.

"I'm undressing," you replied simply. "Amazonian clothes are so uncomfortable to sleep in."

"I- I'm sure," Maxwell nodded his head, feeling himself become flustered. "But uh- you can't just- I mean, I don't know what it's like in the Themy place-"

"Themyscira." you deadpanned.

"-Right, well I just think. You know. Maybe don't get naked, right now. Not yet anyway," Maxwell wanted to curse out loud. Not yet anyway? What was he saying? "Let me find something for you to sleep in okay? Something comfortable."

"You don't sleep naked?" you asked, tilting your head and readjusting your skirt so you were covered up again. Maxwell turned back to you.

"I- I do, sometimes." Shit, Max was definitely blushing.

"So why can't I sleep naked?" you shrugged your shoulders.

"I just… don't want you to be uncomfortable." Max trailed off.

"Does it make you uncomfortable?" you questioned further.

No, it didn't, but the thought of you laying naked on his couch went straight to his cock. "Let me get you a shirt." he said, avoiding your question.

While he was gone, you turned to the small side table to the left of the sofa. There, in a small frame, was a man who, although younger, was very clearly Max. He was sitting in a chair, smiling holding a newborn baby in his arms. You picked up the photo and analysed it, admiring every part. You guessed the baby was Alistair. It was hard to see the child's face, being that the photograph had aged and was slightly blurry. It dated ’1978 in the corner. Six years ago. That would make Alistair only six years old. 

Maxwell was back in no time with a folded pinstripe button down. You took it and muttered a thank you before going to undress yourself again. Seeing this, Maxwell turned back around and figured he could grab you some soft blankets from the guest bedroom. When he returned, you were already sleeping peacefully on the sofa, wearing his shirt.

Maxwell thought he could've spent hours just watching you sleep. You were so peaceful. He watched as the way your chest rose and fell with every shallow breath, he admired your little snores and the way you stirred slightly now and  again. He'd never been so entranced with anyone in his entire life. Not even Julianna.

And shit— he was still semi-hard. He was going to shower, he'd decided. He'd shower away all these feelings, all this anxiety and he was going to be okay. He'd wash his hair, brush his teeth— he'd make an effort. He couldn't keep sulking around. He had to try for his son.

Maxwell gasped as he stepped in the shower. His hunched up shoulders became relaxed and he was able to unclench his fists as he let the hot water envelop his body. His eyes fluttered closed as the image of you scattered his thoughts. He tried to shrug it off, but he couldn't. Just knowing you were laying on his sofa in one of his dress shirts stirred something primal within him. He dropped his hand down to his cock and began to jerk himself off, his fingers rubbing against the small slit in his tip as he wiped the precum down his length. The hot water felt so good, and Max had forgotten to open a window so the steam from the shower made the air foggy and moist.

He dragged his fist down his throbbing length, his movements becoming fast and erratic as he squeezed his eyes tight shut, trying to hold out moans. He couldn't let you hear. He couldn't let you know. He hadn't done this in so long. He'd always had his assistants at his beck and call, he never needed to relieve himself in the shower since his and Julianna's marriage broke down.

You consumed his every thought. He imagined your pretty lips wrapped around his cock, he imagined you giving him sweet kitten licks as you massaged his balls. He imagined you gagging around him as you took his long, thick length to the back of your throat. He imagined fucking your mouth. The thought of him being able to get a literal goddess to choke and whimper really urged his power complex enough to throw him over the edge. In only a matter of minutes, Maxwell spilled his milky white seed over the tiled bathroom walls, gasping your name as he came.

And when it was over, he felt a familiar remorse. A familiar guilt. He knew he did not deserve you.

Maxwell had to force himself to get washed, using his apple scented shampoo and even conditioning his hair. He was satisfied with his minty fresh breath as he walked into his bedroom in only a towel that was wrapped loosely around his waist. Since it was approaching night, and fast, he picked out a pair of light grey sweats and a wooly sweater before combing through his unnatural dark blonde hair which just so happened to be naturally wavy.

He sighed, padding into the kitchen quietly being careful not to wake you. He knew what he had to do next, what he'd been putting off since he received the damn letter. The envelope was staring at him on the cabinet. He picked it up, an anger engulfing him as he read the name ‘Maxwell Lorenzano’ on the paper. He ripped it open furiously and opened up the letter.

Dear Maxwell Lorenzano

I, Theodore Thomas IV, attorney of Miss Julianna Grey, present you with a civil lawsuit case regarding full custody of Alistair Lorenzano in favour of my client, Miss Grey.

-—- please see proceedings below -—-

I, Theodore Thomas IV, share a bond with Miss Grey and recognise that she is a caring and devoted mother. We are in full belief that Alistair Lorenzano would be better off, in the care of his biological mother.

Mr Maxwell Lorenzano and Miss Julianna Grey divorced on the seventh month of 1980 after being married for two years. Miss Grey notes that their relationship was strained since the beginning, with Mr Lorenzano too preoccupied with his career to focus on his family.

I have known Miss Grey since 1980, after working on her and Mr Lorenzano's divorce case. As not only her partner, but also a trusted lawyer of our capitol’s legal enforcement, I can whole-heartedly ensure that sole custody of Alistair Lorenzano must be granted to Miss Julianna Grey.

-—- proceedings concurred -—-

Please find us at the District Columbia Court, D.C., in one week from the date stated on the letter. If you make no effort to show and fight your case, you will be banished from seeing Alistair until he turns eighteen years of age.

Sincerely,

Ted

Maxwell screamed as his face turned bright red with astonishing rage. He crumpled up the letter into a ball, throwing across the kitchen. Tears fell from his eyes in complete and utter disbelief. No, this was the worst thing that could ever happen to Maxwell. He'd rather die than not be able to see Alistair. His heart felt like it was shattering into a million pieces. 

It was ridiculous and down right unfair. Max began to laugh manic as he swept the plates and glasses that were standing by the sink into the floor. He'd forgotten about you, sleeping in the other room. He didn't care. He was done being considerate.

Maxwell had made a lot of mistakes in his life— a lot, but he loved Alistair so much and Alistair loved him. He couldn't let Julianna and her stupid lawyer boyfriend rip him away from his son. If that happened, he'd be no better than his own father. Maxwell let out another scream of frustration, clenching his fist until his knuckles were white. This was nobody's fault but his own. He was too much like his own dad— too much like his own fucking deadbeat, abusive dad. Max had tried his whole life to make Alistair proud, to be different, a good different. But he wasn't a Lord, he was a Lorenzano, and maybe blood was thicker than water. He was nothing but a low life conman who had almost singlehandedly destroyed the entire world and now, he was about to lose his son.

How was he ever going to win this case? Julianna literally had one of the best family lawyers in the state on her side, and Maxwell wasn't even sure if he could afford a lawyer given the circumstances. What he had failed to think about, was the fact he had a literal goddess sleeping on his sofa. A goddess who’s purpose was to reconcile families.

A shatter of broken glass awoke you from your nap. You rubbed your eyes tiredly, lifting up onto your elbows before hearing a thud and a crash. Alerted, your eyes snapped open and you swung your body out of the big warm bed, bolting into the kitchen where you had heard the noise. Fragments of a broken vase were scattered over the tile floor, soil spilled everywhere and some daffodils that looked like they had been dead for at least a month already. The sound of gushing water drew your attention to Maxwell, who was standing at the sink. Stepping over the broken glass, you padded over to him and placed a hand into the small of his back. He jumped slightly at your touch. You peered over his shoulder and saw a really deep cut in his hand, blood dripping into the sink. Not even the water coming from the faucet was enough to wash it away. It trickled down his arm and you looked up at him, noticing he was pale in colour.

“Are you okay?” you asked him, your voice smaller than it intended to be. Your gaze trailed along the kitchen surface tops until you spotted a roll of kitchen paper. Taking plenty, you ripped it and gently wrapped your fingers around Max’s wrist, maneuvering his still bleeding hand away from the sink. A few drops of blood fell to the tiled floor, but you quickly wrapped the paper around his wound and applied pressure. “That looks really deep.” you hummed, looking up at your friend with concern.

“It’ll be fine.” Maxwell mumbled, watching you intently as you cared for his injury. It was a strange feeling. No one had ever looked out for him the way you did, and you’d only known him for a few hours. Your soft was gentle, he even noticed the way you subconsciously began to rub comforting circles into his skin, like it was just natural for you.

You frowned, slowly lifting up the soaked tissue paper and discarding it in the waste bin. The bleeding had settled down, but it still looked incredibly sore. Dampening another paper towel, you tried to clean around the edges of his cut. He hissed in pain as your finger accidentally grazed over the wound and you shot him an apologetic look. Maxwell was like putty in your hands. He let you do whatever you needed to - and he absolutely wasn’t like that with anyone else. “You might need stitches,” you sighed, taking a closer look. “If only we were on Themyscira, I have a friend who could heal you in a matter of seconds.” Themyscira - there it was again, the mystical place Maxwell had never even heard of. “What happened?” you asked eventually, your gaze meeting Maxwell’s.

“Uhm-” his eyes flicked around the room, searching for something that would fuel the white lie. "Was changing the flowers and dropped the vase."

His lie didn't account for the broken glasses and plates that were also on the floor. You looked at him in bewilderment, knowing he wasn't being entirely truthful to you. He couldn't stay. He couldn't stay with you right now. He had to go see Alistair. "I- I gotta go." Maxwell said quickly before bolting out the house.

He left you standing alone in the kitchen amongst all the mess. As you began to pick up the pieces of the broken vase, you noticed the scrumpled up ball of paper in the corner. Picking it up, you slowly unravelled it in hope it would give you a clue regarding Maxwell's behaviour.

Your heart practically sank when you read the first three words.

Dear Maxwell Lorenzano,

Lorenzano. He was Lorenzano.

-----

Taglists - let me know if you wish to be added: I Believe In Love: @mrschiltoncat @thebloodrobin @greatvaluedazzler @bxxbxy @marydjarin @the-feckless-wonder @typicalnerd98 @biharryjames @thwiso @pedrolorian @julieteagk @starsandmando @kishie8 @supernaturalcat7 @depressedchillipepper @galaxypox @cocastyle @welcometothepedroverse @galactic-rhi @honestlystop @walkerchick007 @winchesterxxl @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @why-cant-i-hold-all-my-husbanda @criminalmind1927 @seasonschange-butpeopledont @lola-max-sugar @thesadvampire @wonder-jedi @eternallyvenus @way-too-addicted-to-anime @spacedaddydinn @mack4676 @vonschweetz @tanyaherondale @thisis-theway

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja190 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #max lord #maxwell lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #pedro pascal smut #maxwell lord smut

[padfootagain]

Grumpy

Hi everyone! I'm back with a very cute little drabble for Christmas! We're one week away from Christmas, and I'll try to post a few of those little drabbles before the 25th!

This is a very cute, grumpy Ben with a cold! I hope you like this!

A little comment is greatly appreciated, if you have a second to spare!

Pairing: Ben Barnes x Reader

Word Count : 1672

Ben was grumpy.

It wasn't in his nature, and it wasn't in his character at all. He was a rather shy, goofy and quite adorable man with a mischievous sense of humour most of the time. There were only a few instances that brought him to a more bitter state of mind: the remnants of a hangover in the early morning, being stuck in traffic for a long time, and being sick.

And now, Ben was sick.

Nothing dramatic, but a seasonal cold that would have disappeared in a few days. But for the moment, Ben was in the dark phase of the disease.

A runny nose, a sore throat that was sometimes scratched with a rough cough, fever and a migraine that made him feel like someone was piercing his skull with needles. He had no energy for anything and was stuck in his bed, under a pile of blankets and pillows you had brought for him.

And it would have been bearable, had you been there with him to distract him from his miserable state, give him cuddles and bring him regular doses of his favourite tea. But you were at work, and he had to survive four more hours without you. And the more time he spent on his own, the grumpier he became.

It was snowing outside upon London, large snowflakes brightening the days of children and turning the old city into something a little enchanted, a little magical. Low clouds almost as white as the snowflakes they released hovered lazily above the tall buildings and worn-out stones, businessmen hurrying under the cold weather while the more innocent kinds carved faces for snowmen and threw snowballs at their friends. Cars of those reckless enough to try to drive through the city under this weather honked loudly, punctuating the rhythm of the city that never slowed down, especially at the approach of the holidays. And Ben would have loved the spectacle it offered, had he moved to his window to glimpse at the outside world. He would have dragged a chair by the window, and enjoyed a warm cup of coffee while watching peacefully as the snowflakes fell in his garden. Or perhaps, had you been there, he would have enjoyed looking at strangers running down the slippery street, imagining with you crazy lives for these people he didn't know. You would have found an astronaut in their midst for sure, you always did, for some reason. Ben's theory was that it was because of how much you loved the stars.

But again, you were not there, he was alone in your shared home with a buzzing brain that was slowly turning into jelly, and sore limbs, and a nose that wouldn't allow him to breathe. And now, the snow annoyed him, the cold weather the cause of his pain, after all.

He checked the time again, and heaved a desperate sigh as he counted – with much difficulty – how many more hours he had to survive through without you. He had never cursed your job more than now, as he grumpily mumbled a string of curses under his breath, wrapping himself even more in his blankets until the only part of him still visible was his forehead and messy dark hair.

He counted the minutes till you'd be back to fall back to sleep, and he spent most of his afternoon tossing around, somewhere between sleep and reality, in a daze that wasn't peaceful and didn't bring to his tired frame any rest. He reached for a book after a couple of hours, but the words written on the page required from him way too much concentration and his migraine got worse after only a couple of pages, so he discarded the item once again. He checked the time one more time.

He had two hours left.

He made an almost-unbearable effort to extract himself from the covers and finally head for the shower, figuring that some warm water would help.

And it did. The shower gave him enough energy to carry his set of pillows and blankets to the sofa instead, moving his mess to the living-room so he could watch some stupid things on the TV.

He spent most of the rest of his time alone watching some old episodes of Columbo, keeping an eye on the time while he waited for you, hoping you wouldn't be delayed by the snow on your way home, his mood darkening some more at the mere thought.

And when you finally walked in your shared home, Ben couldn't refrain a relieved sigh.

He waited for the sound of your keys to drop on the little bowl by the door, for the sound of the shuffling of fabric as you took off your scarf, beanie, gloves and coat, and finally the thud sound of your shoes being kicked off. Finally, the muffled thumping of your footsteps on the wooden floor echoed through the hall, and you appeared by his side, your hair a little wet because of the snow, but you still seemed warm and cosy in your warm jumper.

"How are you feeling, baby?" you asked in a soft voice, tilting your head in wonder, and Ben swore that he had never seen anything cuter in his life.

He let out a groan, pouting dramatically.

"I feel awful," he mumbled, letting out a grumpy growl and holding his cover closer to him.

You sat down by his side on the sofa, and rested the back of your hand against his forehead.

"You still have fever, babe," you told him in the softest voice you could muster, your fingers sliding from his forehead to his hair, soothingly travelling through the dark strands. "Have you taken a shower?"

He nodded, before sneezing very loudly, the noise echoing throughout the room, and letting out a frustrated groan.

"I hate being like this," he pouted.

"I know, love. But you need to rest to get better, that's all we can do. I'm gonna make you some tea with honey, it'll help, okay?"

You were about to get up when he quickly grabbed your wrist, pulling you back to your seat gently. The quick gesture seemed to exhaust him even more, but he didn't mind, for once.

"No, stay. You'll do that later."

"It would be good for you…"

"No, please. Please stay with me. I've waited for you all day. Just… stay."

His eyes were watery because of his cold, and his nose all red, and his cheeks flushed with fever, and he was poutier than ever, buried under three blankets. There was simply no way for you to say no to him.

And it was unsaid, right now, but it wasn't hard to read in his eyes that he meant to add I love you to his plea.

So, you settled properly in the sofa, opening your arms for him to snuggle into your side.

He heaved a sigh, finally relaxing, as he tucked his head in the crook of your neck.

"I hope you don't get sick holding me like that," Ben mumbled into your skin, his voice muffled and barely audible, but you were so used to his voice by now that it wasn't hard for you to decipher what he was whispering.

You smiled a tender smile, that he couldn't see and that you barely noticed yourself as it formed across your lips, but it didn't matter. It wasn't aimed at anyone in particular anyway. It was just how he made you feel all the time.

"Well, if I do catch your cold, you'll have to nurse me back to health too, then," you replied, making him chuckle, his first laughter of the day.

"That's a deal. Besides, I'm gonna be a little selfish here, but I need you too much now to really care if you get sick or not."

It was your time to laugh, and your heart was filled with love as you did so, the bright sound illuminating the whole room.

"Well, you're feeling very bad, so, I won't hold that selfish act against you," you reassured him, and Ben closed his eyes as you started running your fingers in his dishevelled hair again.

"Thanks. Because I really do feel awful."

You hummed, focusing on the TV before you, but only for a moment, as Ben spoke again. He had missed your voice too much during the day, after all. And if having you in his arms was already working wonders on his mood, still, he wanted you all to himself, and you seemed to give way too much interest to the crime show on TV.

"How was your day, baby?" he asked in a hoarse voice, before he would be shaken by a cough.

"It was okay, a bit long," you admitted as Ben settled back into your arms.

"Tell me everything that happened, please?" he asked, looking up at you with puppy eyes, and you could only let out a fond chuckle as you kissed his forehead and proceeded to tell him everything about your day at work.

"Well, Marjorie broke the coffee machine this morning, which was undoubtedly a good odd for the rest of the day!"

You went on for a long time, sometimes slowing down to a stop when Ben's eyes remained closed for a while, and you thought he had fallen asleep, but he kept on asking you to continue then, his eyes still closed, so you did. He did fall asleep though, once you had finished your story and settled back in a comfortable silence with him nestled in your arms. You didn't mind, despite your position growing a little uncomfortable after a while. You watched TV while Ben caught up on some most needed sleep, a soft snore coming out of him once in a while making you smile fondly at him.

Yes, Ben was grumpy when he was sick. But then again, sometimes, he wasn't that grumpy, even if sick, for as long as he had you.

************************************************************

Taglist :  @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet@notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky@snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity@i-padfootblack-things  @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi​@jigsawlover10 @emyyjemyy @addictedtofictionalcharacters @staringmoony​@geeksareunique​ @giggleberts​ @sad-orange-thoughts​ @aylinnmaslow @benbarnes-world @ladyblablabla​ @madamrogers​ @drinix​ @joelynnp @mxrihollxnd @rockintensse​ @newtstarmander​ @iammadeofstarsandlazyness @shinebrightlikeafanbase​ @wangmangagavroche​@presstocontinue @ilmiopiccolounivers0​

#ben barnes #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes fanfiction #ben barnes imagine #ben barnes drabble #ben barnes fluff #christmas fic #ben barnes fic #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #drabble #imagine

[high-warlock-of-brooklyn]

would things be easier if there was a right way? (honey there is no right way) (Ao3 link)

@thehuntersmoondiscord Masquerade Exchange for @valinphatombeliver (Hope you like it!)

Ships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood (Alternate universe: This World Inverted) 

Summary: After that fateful party at the Institute, Magnus's magic is not the only thing that comes back. His soulmark feels alive again, and this time, Magnus is not alone. 

Alec feels like an idiot, betting his heart like that, especially after the sting of an almost rejected soulmark pains him worse than a broken heart. So he does the only thing he knows the best, he throws himself into work. 

Little do they know that the universe doesn't make mistakes, and will keep pulling them together till they both truly see the truth for themselves.

Alec feels sick.

He’s planned exactly one hundred seventy events in his career, big or small. He’s got a stellar reputation, his own party planner business, his schedule is booked for the next five months in advance, and he’s put the full deposit down for his own apartment in the middle of the city, all at the mere age of twenty seven.

And yet, every time, those words are like a punch to the gut he would never admit out loud to anyone. It’s his own fault, he supposes. That he has to hear it so many times in just a week. And that every time, it’s a false alarm.

Well, all but one.

This one seemed different. This one felt different. At least for Alec.

But then, at the end, another one bit the dust.

Isabelle had warned him, when he showed her the words the day after his eleventh birthday. She’d looked so sad when he first told her about the career he’s chosen. Alec never understood why, until he heard those words for the first time at the first ever event he planned, a small, intimate birthday party for a Manhattan socialite.

Check it again, I’m on the list.

It had felt like he’d been electrocuted, and Alec had dashed outside to the door as fast as he could, pulling down a tablecloth with him as he went, the groans and yells of the restaurant staff unheeded by his heart. But it had been the grandfather of the birthday girl, and a voice in Alec’s heart told him to wait a little bit longer for his soulmate.

That voice had died down entirely after his eighteenth event.

Until this evening at the party at the Institute. Until he felt compelled to let that man in. Until Magnus.

And now, standing here, helping his crew clean up after the party, Alec feels his guts twist in a flurry of emotions he is too tired to process.

Fuck this . He’s just put on the most unique and successful party the business world of New York has ever seen. He deserves a break.

Alec grabs a bottle of whiskey on his way out.

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

The first time the words appeared into his hands, Magnus didn’t understand them.

It had been in a strange script, the letters so different from the ones he’d only started to get acquainted with. But by then he’d been part of something stranger, and started to live with a green-skinned man with horns and white hair who called himself a ‘warlock’, and had told Magnus that he was one too. So knowing his soulmate might be from a strange distant land didn’t seem as jarring as it would have been.

Then he’d lived through times that would have seemed as dreams in his childhood. He’d lived through his travels in the wonderful country of Peru, then had fallen in love with Imasu knowing he wasn’t the one, and had gotten his heart broken. Axel hadn’t even given him a chance, and from what Magnus saw peeking out of the cuffs of his shirt, he’d already found his soulmate in the French court.

The words didn’t lose their effect through the centuries however. Every time he heard someone say ‘ what seems to be the problem? ’, Magnus could feel his pulse racing, his heart swelling, his mind going berserk at the possibility of being united with the one he’d been destined to be with.

It wasn’t the case any of the times. Often it was a Shadowhunter, trying to maintain their precious Law so that no so-called troublemaker Downworlders wouldn't disrupt the precious ‘peace’ they insisted on withholding. Sometimes it was a particularly demanding client, and Magnus delayed more just to piss them off.

One time though, it was a Mundane who came to his rescue to smooth things over when the guard at a bar took offense at Magnus’s general existence. Etta had been a beauty both inside and out, and Magnus had been genuinely happy for her when she left once she found her actual soulmate.

It didn’t make him sad to lose her. She was a friend more than anything else, and her story gave him hope to hold on longer.

After that there was Camille. A force to be reckoned with. Camille, with her sharp edges and sharper fangs. Camille, who made him believe in a love through the ages, only to be betrayed brutally. Camille, who he was ready to beg to so she’d come back to him. Camille, who never told him that her soulmate died the day she was turned, which Magnus found out on his own the day after she cheated on him. Magnus had felt hollow, and empty, and felt like a fool for holding on to hope.

The day he finally closed hell off permanently, he’d lost more than just his magic. Magnus had given up on hope entirely.

Then there was that one boy at a party Magnus wasn’t even invited to. Alec had said those words, looking at Magnus with eyes devouring every single aspect of him. Magnus had half expected himself to turn around and leave. But then Alec had surprised him, and made him come inside.

But then there was a demon attacking Clarissa and the blond boy, the first demon in almost a century. And Magnus had almost forgotten about the boy with those hazel eyes by the time he rushed home, magic singeing the inside of his coat pocket.

It must’ve not been meant to be, Magnus thinks as he nurses the same glass of Rosé for almost an hour, the once warm bathwater now running cold. He pauses for a moment, thinking carefully about what he’s about to do.

Magnus waves a finger, the movement graceless, halted. But the sparks come out anyway, the bathwater warming, turning light pink as Magnus focuses on summoning a bath bomb from his collection in the cabinet near the sink.

Magnus smiles. His soulmate doesn’t want to find him. But that’s okay. He’s got his magic.

Everything’s going to be just fine.

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

Alec is, most definitely, not doing fine.

“I need this banner yesterday.” Alec rubs his temple letting out a tired sigh, “I literally needed that last night so my team can finish setting up, and now you’re telling me it’s still not ready?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what else to tell you. Our primary printer caught on fire and we had to unplug all of them to manage the fire before it went out of hand, and all our orders were cancelled from the queue.”

Alec scrubs his face with the back of his hand, and groans, “My assistant put in the request almost two weeks ago. This is for a dinner party at a multinational company, Andrew. And as we both know, the one of the only things those people spend ridiculous amounts of money on is the banner. I can’t throw a party without one.”

“I’m sorry, Mr Lightwood.” Andrew’s smile is genuinely apologetic. “There’s really not much we can do. If it helps, there’s another customer in booth number three whose banner we were printing when it caught on fire, and he’s been on the list for almost over a month.”

“Eesh, poor guy.” Alec winces.

“Tell me about it.” Andrew tsks. “And he’s a really sweet guy too. Some customers throw a hissy fit if we’re ten minutes late in delivering a order they’ve put in maybe an hour ago, and he’s really understanding and patient. But it’s for his psychic shop and he’s checking in maybe the tenth time now. Kaelie was just telling me that we might lose that account for good. I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Alec nods, then looks down as his phone pings with notifications from his team about going over swatch cards. “Andrew, is there nothing you can do? Is there no back alley super shady banner maker somewhere?”

“They make something vastly different than banners, Mr Lightwood.” Andrew chuckles good-naturedly, used to the antics of his long time customer. “Well, I could run to the place near 34th and Wilshire. My cousin works as a temp there. The price is way higher, but they can do a quick job.” Andrew taps away on his phone for a second. “Oh good, Artie says they’re open for another five hours at least.”

“Money’s not an issue.” Alec lets out a relieved sigh, and brings out his credit card. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I know.” Andrew offers him a bright smile. “I’ll inform you as soon as it’s done.”

“Thank you.” Alec nods, before a thought flashes. “Oh, and, Andrew?”

“Yes, anything else, Mr Lightwood?”

“Yeah. I was thinking you could take the other guy’s order there too?” Alec jerks his head in the direction of the other booths in the shop, the silhouette of another customer visible through the blurry divider between the counters.

“That’s a good idea. I’ll ask him.” Andrew gets up to approach the man, but Alec stops him.

“Don’t tell him anything, just put the extra fee on my card.”

“But-”

“It’s okay,” Alec smiles.

Andrew shakes his head, his golden curls shaking with the motion. “You’re a good egg, Mr Lightwood.”

“Just paying it forward.”

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

The fire alarm goes off after the second time. Magnus groans as the noise threatens to invoke a migraine. At least he can use his magic to soothe it this time.

The same magic that caused the fire he’s been scrambling to put out for the past thirty seconds. For a small cauldron fire, the sparks are notoriously hard to douse. Being dormant for almost a century, and then suddenly trying to make a magical banner for his kinda-sorta psychic business would do that to a warlock’s magic, he supposes.

Maybe he should consult a spellbook or something. Only there’s no precedent for a banner making spell because graphic designed banners didn’t exist by the time magic was last used.

Well, first time for everything.

The doorbell rings, and Magnus sighs, trying his best to smooth down the no doubt wild hair he’s got from running his hand over and over through it. Pardon him, it’s been a very stressful day.

“Mr Bane? This is Sananda from the Banner Emporium. I have a delivery for you.”

The girl with a neon green streak in her braid hands him a large roll of paper, which Magnus holds up with more than a little difficulty.

“Sign here please.” The girl says, chewing gum disinterestedly. Magnus puts the banner down before taking the signing sheet.

“I thought the shop printer broke.” Magnus returns the sheet. “Did you guys fix it already?”

“No clue, I just work as delivery.” The girl shrugs. “My boss told me to make two deliveries only today, one to you and another to some party planner office. Guess they did some fixing, huh?”

Magnus smiles, tipping the girl a twenty. The girl offers a mock salute, and walks away humming the tune of a pop song. Magnus closes the door behind her, a smile slowly spreading on his face as he uncoils the banner.

Bane: Psychic and tarot card readings

It looks perfect. But Magnus doesn’t get long to marvel at it, because the phone rings. His old landline, which means only one person could be calling.

“Hello Ragnor.” Magnus answers, happy to talk to one of his oldest and closest friends after such a long time.

“Magnus, why didn’t you call me? I had to hear from Catarina that you might have met your soulmate?” Ragnor goes right to the point, tone accusatory.

Magnus takes comfort in the fact that while the whole world might change, Ragnor Fell, ever the a wonderful friend, never will. “I’m not even sure myself, how was I supposed to tell you? I’ve heard a thousand of those Ragnor, you know that better than anyone.”

“Still, Magnus.” Ragnor’s voice comes out tinny, “You don’t have to have the perfect relationship, because there is nothing like that in the world. All we can do is take a leap of faith, and hope that it’s not an abyss. But you have to keep taking that leap.”

“Why are you giving me relationship advice at what is supposed to be early morning at yours?” Magnus asks, eager to change the subject.

“Because I never needed mine, and I’m happy that way, yet I know how much you’ve waited for yours. One of these days, you’re going to have to seize the opportunity no matter what, and take a chance upon love.”

By the time Magnus hangs up, it’s been almost hours. Ragnor’s phones are a rare commodity, the warlock ever so averse of technology, and they do have almost three years worth of conversations to catch up on. Magnus is exhausted, and even though he hates admitting it, Ragnor is right. He could’ve stayed at that party, checked up on Clarissa and her boyfriend, made sure their memories didn’t resurface.

He could have stayed and danced with Alec too.

But he’s been so freaked out, he tells himself. He’s been out of his mind with worry for the demon attack and his magic and different worlds and his probably shoddy memory spellwork.

And maybe he’s also been afraid. Afraid that if he went after Alec, he’d risk everything, his life, his secrets, his meticulously prepared facade that he’s totally fine, especially with the explicit probability that he might not be Alec’s soulmate, even if Alec is his.

Ugh. Magnus scrubs his face with the back of his hand. What a mess this is.

Chairman struts his way into the drawing room, fresh up from a nap, and rubs his face into Magnus’s calf demanding pets. Magnus picks him up, scratching him under his chin. The cat purrs happily, and Magnus makes a decision.

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

“One honey macchiato with extra whipped cream please.”

Jace turns to see the man on the other side of the counter, a small frown on his face as he tries to place the face somewhere in his memory. Magnus shuffles from toe to toe, lips pinched together tensely. Jace regards him closely, and doubt rises in the back of Magnus’s mind.

Did he do a sloppy job?

It’s not an exact science, to be frank. Memory magic hardly ever is. It’s not quantifiable like potions, and definitely not by the book like a summoning. Memory magic is, at its root, intuitive. Blindly stumbling about in another person’s mind and hoping as hell that you didn’t erase some developmental memories.

And if anyone knows anything about Magnus, it is that he really isn’t a coffee man. Not anymore anyway. He used to be, once upon a bygone era, when waking up after a night of partying and starting the day with another bout of partying had to be connected with the help of a magically summoned cup of coffee. But those days are far gone, and Magnus mostly prefers his jasmine tea with a touch of honey. Which is why he came to Java Jace to check up on the blond. He’s no more his old self than his magic is controllable.

Still, he’d hoped that it would’ve come back like riding a bicycle.

That hope seems pretty bleak now, as Jace crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at the man in a white cardigan in front of him. “Is this his way of apologizing to me after he criticized my barista skill yesterday?”

“Uh….what?” Magnus asks confusedly.

“I told him that honey macchiato is my least ordered item and literally he’s the only one who orders it and that’s why I have to keep an entire thing on the menu, and get honey from the supermarket too.”

“Sorry, I have no clue what you’re talking about.” Magnus winces.

“Wait, you don’t know the Lightwoods, do you?” Jace nods gravely, “And I just accused a customer for no reason at all, what a dumbass I am.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Magnus waves it off.

“No, no, seriously. Sorry man.” Jace goes to make the drink with a practiced hand. “But I have to say, you seem awfully familiar. Did I see you somewhere before? Maybe in college?”

“Uhh….” Magnus chuckles nervously, panic rising steadily in his heart, “I don’t think so. Unless you went to school in Indonesia.”

“That’s a no. Born in London but grew up here.” Jace nods. “Sorry, I can just really picture you and Clary inside a basement, I was there too.”

“Um-”

“Oh god that sounded so creepy. I swear it wasn’t something weird or anything, I can just remember feeling really scared all of a sudden. Maybe I should stop drinking from my own shop, huh?”

Jace’s casual grin does nothing to soothe Magnus’s nerves, and he smiles along politely, and sends wisps of magic through the minute contact between them as the barista hands over his order. Jace jolts immediately, looks down, curling and uncurling his fingers over and over.

“Everything okay?” Magnus asks tentatively. Jace throws an unsure smile his way.

“Yeah, just, almost burnt my fingers I guess. Hazards of working in the food industry, right?” Magnus doesn’t answer, instead brings out his card to pay, till Jace claps his hands loudly. “I knew it! I knew I remembered you from somewhere.”

Magnus’s heart sinks faster than lead in water, and he racks his brain for any spell that could come in handy for a quick memory erasure. Except it’s been over two centuries, and his memory is definitely not what it used to be when he used magic regularly.

“You’re that psychic right? The one Luke went to? You know, Luke Greymark? He owns a bookshop on the crossing of 22nd and Richardson.”

A breath of relief punches its way out of Magnus, shoulders sagging visibly. “Yes, I remember him. He’s a very good man.”

“He is.” Jace nods. “He’s my girlfriend’s godfather, actually.”

“Oh.” That’s all Magnus says, afraid to shake the still brittle effects of his spell. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome.”

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

“Dude, I almost lost a customer because of you today.”

“What?” Alec asks, half of his attention on his phone where his assistant’s been sending him swatches for their latest event. “No no no, pink’s all wrong.” Alec mumbles as he types, “Go for lilac, much more elegant.”

“Here you go, one honey macchiato with chocolate drizzle.” Alec reaches for the cup bindly, but is met with blank space. He looks up finally, only to meet with Jace’s unimpressed glare. “What? I’m arranging a gala for a very, very, very moody client. I mean ‘changes the guest list every three minutes’ kind of moody.”

“Ugh, whatever.” Jace hands him his coffee finally, wincing as Alec takes a sip of the still hot drink. “Seriously, how does that not burn your throat?”

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” Alec throws a lewd wink his way, making Jace throw a bunch of stirrers at him. Alec finally puts the phone down after a bout of rigorous texting, and looks up at Jace. “Now, what is this customer you were telling me about?”

“Just some psychic dude, came in and ordered that godforsaken drink you make me make you every morning. I half thought he was joking and you sent him.”

“I didn’t.” Alec shakes his head.

“Yeah, he told me. It’s all cool,” Jace shrugs. “Funny thing too, he seemed really sweet, and with a sweet tooth like yours. You would’ve liked him.”

“Uh huh.” Alec says off-handedly, already busy texting back to his team.

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

The last gala Magnus went to was in 1903.

It’s been a hell of a time. Quite literally too, since a hellmouth opened in the middle of the dance floor. It had taken all the warlocks present to close it, and even then they couldn’t have done it without the Shadowhunters pouring in with weapons drawn.

It had also been the last time Magnus ever used magic in battle.

It seems that way now, bringing out the outfits that found their way in the back of Magnus’s closet, unused and unneeded for decades after decades. Magnus had lost touch with his magic, all warlocks did, but for someone like Magnus, someone breathing and living in magic day after day, needing it like air in his lungs, it had been drastic.

Magnus had cut ties with almost all of his old friends. It hadn’t been intentional, for most of the cases. Just seeing those warlocks ready and accepting eternity without magic made him despair far more than the actual reckoning of it. Catarina still comes around every few weeks, more often if she’s exhausted after an especially gruelling day at the ER. Ragnor still sends letters every few years aside from his phonecalls, his horned friend adamant on keeping the beautiful traditions of penpals alive by his sheer force of will.

But somewhere down the road, Magnus had stopped being the man he once was.

The clothes of an era bygone stare him in the eyes as he brings them out one by one- shirts, pants, breeches, boots, accessories that museums would give a limb and a half for.

The reason for all this, lies heavy at his desk in this other room.

Malcolm Fade was a wild man while he had magic. After losing his soulmate to the whims of the Nephilim, he’d grown almost mad it had seemed, until he lost his magic as well. Magnus had visited him a few times in the past, while everyone was still reeling from the loss of the Shadow World. Malcolm had seemed like his older self, more cheerful, more present in general. Magnus had been glad to see his old friend coming back to himself, and hoped this change will continue to be good for him.

It seems that his love for extravagant parties has not changed however.

The pale lavender envelope was hand delivered almost two days ago, making Magnus lose enough sleep over it already. What does it mean to have been invited to a gala, while his magic is back and in such a precarious way?

Magnus had stayed up staring at the invitation for hours, until he had decided to go at precisely 3:47 am, and to conceal the return of his magic until absolutely necessary.

Malcolm may be a friend, but he's a friend who suffered the loss of a soulmate, who Magnus last remembers having the Black Volume necessary for necromancy, and who isn’t above violence to get his Annabel back, if history is witness.

It’s better to bide his time. Learn to control it better.

And there's still a tiny part of him that thinks this is all temporary, and that this too will pass like a phase of the moon.

Magnus doesn’t pay any attention to that part, instead gathers up some clothes to take to the tailor nearby for a quick fitting.

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

“Holy fuck.” Alec gapes at the fabric lying on the fitting table at David’s tailor shop. It’s practically Manhattan’s worst kept secret at this point, that while a big name company may provide you a great designer dress or suit, you always come to David and his wife Genya for fitting. He’s seen them work wonders with his most nitpicky of clients, and for all the business the Lightwood name brings, he practically has an open access to the place.

The fabric’s unlike anything he’s seen before, the threadwork in gold and the artistically arranged deep brown buckles might seem too much, but yet it all ties perfectly together somehow.

“Is it the fabric you’re making my waistcoat in? Please say yes!” Alec tries to make a pleading face, but Genya hits his slouching back with the back of her measurement board.

“Stand still. Or I can’t work on you, and you can go wherever you’re going in this weird bulging state.” If it had been anyone else, Alec would’ve had a comeback, but Genya is a force to be reckoned with, and that eyebrow quirk is sure to leave his gambit backfiring. So Alec keeps his mouth shut, and the ginger hums appreciatively.

“This isn’t ours, sorry Alec.” David answers him with an apologetic smile.

“All good.” Alec offers, standing as still as possible, so as to not anger the seamstress currently working on the seam of his cuffs.

“That’s actually from one of our oldest clients.” Genya says, her voice muffled as she turns to work on Alec’s pants. “He came in and said his great grandfather had this made from us in the early 1900s. Said he’s going to a themed party and needed a refit.”

“Funny, the party I’m arranging is also themed around the early twentieth century.” Alec nods, before rolling his eyes. “Though honestly my client has made it into an hodgepodge if you ask me.”

“I’m sure you’re gonna do a wonderful job either way.” Genya offers, David nodding along with his wife.

They always seem such an odd couple, Genya with her fiery heart and strong smile and eager to talk to everyone, and David with his quiet sketches and always busy doing something . Alec has never seen two people so opposite, yet so in love.

His soulmark itches in the corner of his ribs, and Alec moves involuntarily, making Genya tut loudly. He doesn’t have time to think about wherever his soulmate is, whatever he’s doing.

He can’t.

That’s why he took this gig, after so many of his friends gave up trying to coordinate with Malcolm Fade’s- ahem, eccentric- choices. They all warned him about it, about the insufferability of it all, but he needed something, anything , after that day. Because no matter what he did, those kind brown eyes would come back to haunt him in his sleep, the smile in them so cruel, so mocking.

Genya taps on his shoulder, shattering his thoughts for the time being, and Alec’s grateful for the little intervention before his thoughts could turn dark like they’ve been for a few days now. Alec understands it, has heard of it. It’s the lack of the bond while coming so close to his soulmate. The bond is snapping forward, trying to find its twin, only to meet with emptiness.

Alec wants to rip it out of himself.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Alec. You’re going to be okay.” Genya says, not unkindly. She’s always had the uncanny ability to understand exactly what goes on inside someone’s head, and no matter how much Alec tries, it works on him nonetheless. It used to unnerve him, now it just feels familiar.

“I’m going to be more than okay,” Alec jokes, trying to lighten the mood, “I’m going to be fabulous in this suit. You’ve truly outdone yourself, David.”

The man in question only smiles a little, while Genya looks over her husband proudly, love shining in her blue eyes. Alec looks away from them, the bond screaming all alone in his chest. It’s too painful to look at people so clearly in love.

“When they come back to pick it up, tell them I said they have excellent taste.” Alec spares one last glance at the cloth lying on the table, before walking out to the counter.

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

Magnus is late to his first proper gala in over a century.

It’s really the Chairman's fault, he sighs to himself. If the cat hadn’t decided to be an absolute arse today, he would’ve been out the door to get his waistcoat at least an hour earlier. It’s a miracle he’s not missing the party entirely.

Well, a miracle and maybe a little bit of magic.

Okay, maybe more than a little.

It’s dangerous to try out portalling at such an early stage of his magic’s comeback, Magnus knows. The theory has also been proven multiple times as he stumbled across a petting zoo in France and an abandoned ruins of a church in Rome for the past hour. It took him three tries to finally get the location right. At least, knowing New York traffic, he’s still earlier than it would’ve taken him in a taxi.

Maybe he shouldn’t have uninstalled uber so soon.

The doorman regards him closely, and Magnus feels himself stiffen under the strict scrutiny. He feels like an actor playing pretense, his clothes and makeup all done in the hands of a man he no longer is. But, it’s still fun to see so many familiar faces under the same roof.

Whoever planned this party did a wonderful job of it, Magnus thinks. The chandelier is reflecting all the disco lights currently hanging from the ballroom, a swath of artifacts and activities from several different decades all in the same place, as is Malcolm’s taste, Magnus remembers.

But there’s still order in this chaos, a type of organized mess of a beauty, and Magnus can appreciate it. His thoughts flow, unbridled, as he takes a glass of soda on the rocks from the bartender, about a similar party he went to not too long ago, and how everything changed since then.

His moment of tranquil appreciation is soon interrupted by a pink-skinned phouka slamming into him. Magnus loses balance at the collision, and the world flips the centre of gravity in a blink of an eye, his drink spilling everywhere.

“Shit.” Magnus swears low in his throat.

“Can’ye see w’er y’er goin’?” The phouka yells in a deep accent, startling Magnus.

“I’m sorry.” Magnus apologizes, knowing full well it was not, in fact, his fault. It’s not in his nature to cause conflict. Even if he’s the one drenched in soda.

Even if his magic is crackling at his fingertips for a retaliation.

“What seems to be the problem?”

Magnus feels his magic going into overdrive, his skin feels too tight- too hot- too everything . He’s feeling like he’s seeing the whole party from a different perspective, the colours feel more vibrant, the chandelier a little sparklier, the sweet stench of the spilled drink a little stronger.

He feels drunk without having a single sip of anything.

“This nothin’ nobody’s tryna ge’ in the par’y for a quick sip, I reckon. I doubt he’s even in the list Mr Fade gave’em.” The phouka gives him a dirty glance. Magnus considers baring his eyes- his true eyes- for him to see exactly who this ‘nothing nobody’ is.

He decides against it at the last moment, instead pulls himself to his full height, towering over the barely four feet tall fae. Magnus juts his chin out the way he’s seen his best friend do every time he asks Raphael for a movie night, puts his mask away, and buttons the open jacket, regardless of its now drenched state. “My name is Magnus Bane. Check your damn list again.”

“Magnus.”

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

Alec feels like he’s dreaming.

This party is a dream in itself, the setting is done deliberately to emulate a sort of dream like chaos. He’s chosen his own outfit accordingly, a white a black ensemble, with an elaborate angel mask that covers his cheekbones in what looks like wings.

He looks divine and he knows it.

He was ready to be a professional tonight, making sure everything goes off without a hitch, half because Mr Fade is late to his own party, and half because he had to be, because staying cooped up in his apartment with netflix and pizza sounds a lot less appealing than whatever happens here.

Even though his mind is swimming with pain from the almost rejected bond.

Even though the pain of it seems imprinted on his very soul.

But then there’s a disturbance, one of Malcolm’s tiny bouncers yelling at a man who smells like the kind of expensive soda Isabelle likes. A man wearing the same jacket Alec saw on David’s table only a few hours ago.

Alec had been delighted, ready to make conversation with the man wearing the jacket he’s been so fond of- the same man in that simple yet elegant black and white handheld domino mask, until he’d noticed his eyes.

Until he’d said those words.

Alec feels the floor tilt from under him, every inch of his body screaming to go up to him, to introduce himself, to dance with him until they can’t anymore. It seems like a different sort of madness, and Alec’s not sure he’s objecting.

“Magnus?” He asks, hope blossoming like ivy under his skin.

“Alec.”

His name on those lips is what leaves Alec undone. All his professionalism, all his suaveness, everything Alec Lightwood ever is or ever will be, concentrated on those two syllables from the man Alec has waited a long- maybe too long- to meet.

Alec starts forward, a step taken almost unconsciously, his words warm against his ribs. Magnus has put his mask down minutes ago, and as he looks at his face, Alec feels like he’s falling into a never ending tunnel of love.

Those simple strokes of metallic eyeliner, like starlight bathed in gold. And in between them, the kindest, most beautiful eyes he has ever seen.

“Magnus.” Alec chokes out again, unable to say anything else. Magnus stretches a hand out for him to hold, and Alec takes it like a drowning man being offered a raft.

It takes him a moment to realize that the words have stopped hurting, as if a simple touch from Magnus have doused the burning flame into cool waves of calm.

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

Magnus takes a leap of faith.

Alec’s voice feels choked, like it hurts him to breathe anymore, and Magnus feels his whole life flash in front of him, all eight hundred years of it. It’s been too long, far too long, since he’s taken a chance on love. He’s gone cozy in his little comfort zone, happy to stay unrejected.

But he doesn’t want to do that anymore. So he offers a hand, a simple gesture masking a thousand words.

I’m sorry it took me so long.

I’m sorry I ran away.

I’m sorry I didn’t look for you.

I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere else.

Alec catches his hand, holding him close like the only hope in his whole world, and Magnus feels like he’s weightless, floating on clouds.

“Dance with me?” Alec asks, the question more of a request than anything else.

Magnus doesn’t find it in himself to say no, and quite frankly, he doesn’t want to either. So he smiles, eyes crinkling with hope and happiness and possibility. “I thought you’d never ask.”

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

The fast pop music changes into a slow waltz as the two of them go down to the dancefloor, a round ballroom stretching almost fifty meters every which way. Alec pulls Magnus right underneath the enormous chandelier, the reflected golden light painting them both in halos. They sway together, happy to just be close for the moment, and Alec is grateful. He doesn’t have it in him to talk right now, not when everything feels too perfect and too much like everything he’s ever wanted.

Finally, the music ends, and Magnus looks at him for a long moment right in the middle of the dance floor. Alec feels uncharacteristically nervous, everything he is laid bare in front of his soulmate. But he doesn’t shy away, instead he meets his gaze head on, before Magnus grabs his hand. Alec lets himself be led out of the ballroom, away from the crowd, finally stopping at the adjoined balcony, away from prying eyes.

“I’m sorry about the other day.”

“I thought I’d never see you again.”

Both men speak at the same time, before pausing to comprehend what just happened. A small smile graces Magnus’s face, and Alec wants to live in it, revel in it, spend his forever in it.

“I’ll go first,” Magnus says, “I’m sorry I walked out on you abruptly that day. There was an emergency and I had to leave.”

“Emergency?” Alec asks, concerned, “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, of course. Everything is fine.” Magnus assures him. “Just- I told myself I left for that reason only, but the truth is, I was scared. I’ve heard those words a million times before, and every time they scarred me like a blade. I was so scared- scared of everything that I would be taking a chance on- afraid what I would be risking. I’m sorry. Really really sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Alec stops Magnus, clasping both his hands with his own, “I could have looked for you, tried to understand why you left, why you didn’t talk to me. I’ve heard my words too, over and over and over again. Until they hurt like a million paper cuts at the same time. And- and after you, I was so caught up in my own hurt, I didn’t stop to think there could be a second explanation.”

“I’m so sorry.” Magnus lowers his eyes, guilt overflowing his heart.

“Don’t be. Please don’t be.” Alec brings up Magnus’s hands, kissing them both, “You came back to me, that’s all that matters. I’m so so so happy to see you again.”

“This whole time I’ve been running up and down the whole city, trying to forget you somehow , but it’s like the more I tried to forget everything, the more the world just pulled me towards you.” Alec lets out a surprised chuckle. “I tried to plan a corporate party, but the banner place fucked up, and I had to get it done from somewhere else, and they told me about this other guy who’d been the same kind of bindup like me, and that he’s sweet and polite and that he’s been trying to get his banner for weeks, and all I could picture was you, and I just- I just couldn’t not help him.”

Magnus feels recognition hit him full force. “You’re the one who told Andrew to get my banner done in time?”

Alec stares at him for a full minute before speaking. “Oh god. Please don’t tell me it was you who went to Jace’s to get the same order as me.”

“You know Jace?”

“Our parents are high school friends, we practically grew up together.” Alec explains. “Honey macchiato?”

“Honey macchiato.” Magnus smiles, the two sharing a secret between just them under the night sky while the party rages on inside.

“And you were at David and Genya’s,” Alec says half to himself, before smiling mirthfully, “I told them to tell the owner of the jacket that they have great taste.”

“And?” Magnus goads him on.

“And I’ve decided that the owner has amazing taste, especially in soulmates.” Alec winks. “Though their taste is not enough to rival my own, because my soulmate is better, prettier, more amazing, than everyone else in the world. Brighter than all the stars in the sky.”

Magnus sputters for a second at the compliment, splotchy blush blooming on his golden cheeks as he ducks his head. Alec can’t stop grinning.

“Can we get out of here?” Magnus says in a stroke of sudden confidence, the surety in his voice evaporating as soon as the words leave his lips.

Alec makes an exaggerated gesture of being surprised, and Magnus can’t be annoyed with him even if he wanted to. “Mr Bane. Oh my. So forward.”

“You don’t have to.” Magnus adds quickly. “I get it, this is your event, and we can leave once it’s over. It’s okay.”

“I didn’t say that, Magnus.” Alec practically bounces the way to the reception, and signs off on a few papers, before explaining some things to his assistants. All the while holding Magnus’s hand in his own, like it’s his second nature by now.

Magnus feels like he’s walking on sunshine.

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

Later, Magnus and Alec stumble into his shop-in-apartment in Brooklyn, tangled together with limbs and mouths and hearts and bonds, losing touch with the reality of where one begins and another ends, words of love and promises whispered into every kiss.

I love you.

I’m not going to leave.

We’re together.

Everything’s going to be alright.

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

#alec lightwood #magnus bane #hmdiscord #malec #malec fanfic #jay.fic #mine #writing #my writing #this world inverted #twi!alec #twi!magnus #alternate alec #alternate magnus

[mrs-hilmarson]

Run to Me (Part 5)

Pairing: Diane Sherman x Fem!Reader

Wordcount:2.4K 

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

Taglist: @fauxplant​ @deliacoven​ @escapetodreamworld​ @kikaykimkim​

A/n: Sorry for the delay! I am fighting a serious virus and the holiday... and I may have fallen in love with the real Diane Sherman? I dunno, long story. Anyways, hope you like and Part 6 will be close behind! Love you guys! Thanks for the kind words!

Diane bobbed her head to the music, singing the song on the radio under her breath.  You laid your head on the window, the cool glass relieving some of your discomfort.  You felt like you were on a roller coaster, the world around you spinning one way then the next. You looked over at her, slightly jealous that she felt fine. She noticed and took her eyes off the road long enough to get a good look at you. She frowned and put her hand on your knee, caressing it with her thumb.

"I can turn around if you want. I think you need the rest," she said, drowning out the music.

You shook your head, groaning. For some reason the pounding behind your eyes grew stronger. You shouldn't have done that.

"I need to see Mandy. I need to talk to her face to face. I won't stay long, but I still need to do this."

Diane bit the corner of her lip, thinking about something. She nodded in response, removing her hand and then sticking it in her coat pocket. She pulled it back out, holding out her hand in front of you. In her palm sat two different pills. You sat up, looking over at her.

"What are those?"

"Aspirin, to help your headache," she said quietly, forcing a smile.

You picked up the pills and looked at them. One was different from the other.

"One of them isn't the same as the other though," you said, wondering if she had accidentally pulled out the wrong pills.

"One is an aspirin, the other is a stronger pain killer. A full dose of aspirin isn't enough to knock that migraine out completely, but a full dose of a pain killer would knock you out, and I know you want to be as coherent as possible during your meeting with Mandy."

Diane smiled nervously at you. You couldn't help but smile back. You knew she didn't want you to go off alone right now, but the fact that she was trying her hardest to make sure you could do what you wanted just made your heart sing. You threw back the pills and swallowed, eager for them to kick in.

Diane watched you for a moment longer and you raised your eyebrows at her, chuckling nervously.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" you asked.

She smiled and blushed, turning her eyes back to the road. Her smile remained though.

"No, just making sure you took your medication since I can't trust you to eat your breakfast," she said, her voice laced with a sassy tone.

You laughed, even though your head protested. You reached over and hit Diane's shoulder and she gasped, holding her arm dramatically.

"Watch it missy, or I'm going to have to punish you."

Suddenly the air in the car seemed thick, and she looked over at you in a way you hadn't seen before. Something was different in her eyes and her smile was curved... differently.

You laughed nervously, unsure of what to do. She looked at you for a moment longer in silence before coming to and turning her eyes back to the road. She cleared her throat and her eyes seemed to dart around the road.

"So I am going to run by the pharmacy when you're with Mandy and pick up some flu medicine. I think that's what going on with you. It wouldn't be surprising after that week you spent cramped on a bus with God knows who," she said. She said it in a completely normal tone as if what just happened, hadn't.

You slumped in your seat and nodded.

"Yeah, sure. Okay," you mumbled as you turned the other way. Diane confused you.

Diane dropped you off a block away from the coffee shop. It was a real fight for her to agree, but she finally said okay if you promised to take the mug of tea you hadn't touched with you. You told her you just wanted to stretch your legs and walk a bit, but really you just didn't want to look like you were a little kid being dropped off by your mom to a playdate. You agreed to meet her back in two hours and you went on your way.

You saw Mandy in the coffee shop window, early as usual. She always liked to be the first one to arrive, no matter what the circumstance. She was on her laptop, sipping her drink, looking beautiful and healthy. You could barely contain your excitement and your chest tightened. You quickly took a puff of your inhaler and ran inside, another sweet little bell signaling your arrival.

Mandy looked up and met your stare, her face nearly splitting in half from her smile. She hopped off the stool and ran to you. You met her in the middle and you crashed into one another's arms. You nuzzled into her hair, letting it hide your tears. You had missed her so much. It had been so long since you had seen her face. She pulled back, looking you over. Immediately her face fell.

"What happened to you? What is this cut? Why are you so pale?" she asked, her hands frantic on your face, turning it from side to side looking for more injures.

You laughed and knocked her hands away.

"Well hello to you too.. I had a little bit of an accident and I think I'm coming down with something, but truly I'm fine."

She lead you to the table and you sat across from her. You forced your face to remain normal, even though climbing onto the stool was painful. You placed your cup on the table and leaned on it. Mandy stared at you for a while.

"So, what was this accident that left a dent in my baby sisters head?"

"Someone accidentally.... hit me with their car?"

The silence between that followed was deafening. Her face was void of any emotion, unblinking.

"I'm sorry, what? Someone did WHAT?" she hissed, suddenly exploding.

You leaned back, afraid Mandy may actually smack you.

"I walked into the street without looking. But it's okay because the person who hit me with their car had medical training! They took care of me. Really, I'm fine."

Mandy looked at you, dumbfounded.

"Okay, we are gonna touch back on that later. Do you want anything to eat or drink? I'll cover you."

You shook your head and pushed the travel mug towards her on the table.

"No I'm okay. I promised I'd drink this."

"Who brings coffee to a coffee shop with them? And what is that? Why does it smell like that?"

"I promised I'd drink it. It's some sort of herbal thing, I dunno. Supposed to help with my immune system or something."

Mandy took a bigger sniff of it, gagging. She pushed it back towards you again.

"Please tell me you didn't take that from someone off the street. You don't know how to say no and Y/n I'm pretty sure that's someone's pis-"

"No! Why don't you have more faith in me? The woman I'm staying with makes it for me," you said, grabbing it and taking sip, suppressing the grimace you felt. You hated it, but she didn't need to know that.

"Ahh okay. Yeah, please tell me more about this mysterious woman who just let a random stranger into her home with no ulterior motives," she said, taking a dramatic sip of her own drink. She coughed, choking on it. You tried to suppress a smile, but you couldn't and she saw it so she kicked you under the table.

"She's not some weirdo. She's actually the one who hit me with her car-"

"OH MY GOD. You're making this up. This can not be real Y/n."

"Would you stop? You make it so difficult to tell a story! Yes, she is the one who hit me with her car. Her name is Diane and-"

"Diane what?"

You looked over at Mandy, angry for her cutting you off once again, but the look on her face made your stomach drop a bit. She wasn't playing. She was serious.

"Uh, Diane? Diane Sherman.." you squeaked, clasping the cup in your hand nervously.

Mandy shook her head violently, her face suddenly pale.

"No. No you can not go back there Y/n. She is dangerous."

"What? No she's not! She's been nothing but nice and has taken care of me."

Your voice shook. Why did Mandy have to be so negative about everything?

"Do you know her?" Mandy asked, her voice sharp and abrasive.

"She's a teacher, she lives alone, she had a daughter once, and she travelled and then settled down here."

Mandy shook her head again.

"No, she's NOT a teacher. She can't be around children after her arrest."

You sat and looked at her, shocked.

"Then, what does she do? She has a big house," you said, looking at the ground. You felt small again. So small.

"THATS WHAT YOURE WORRIED ABOUT? Did you hear me? She was ARRESTED! She didn't travel, she was in jail!  Wanna know why, Y/n?"

"No-"

"SHE KIDNAPPED A BABY! She never had a daughter! She tried to steal someone elses! Right from the hospital! Went into the infant ward and plucked a random baby from a cot and tried to stuff it in a bag and run off with it! Thank God that baby was wearing a security bracelet or she could have gotten away."

You slumped in the stool, unable to keep your body up. Your head spun. Nothing felt real all of the sudden and you were sure you were going to be sick. Your eyes stung and you felt your chest tighten. You were drowning.

"No. Th-that can't be true. You're lying."

Mandy huffed and turned back to her laptop, smacking the keys violently. She clicked on something and turned it around to face you, the screen on a newspaper article.

Diane's mugshot was bright and harsh, staring back at you. Right above it was the headline "ATTEMPTED BABY SNATCHING IN ILLINOIS". You opened your mouth, but could find no words. Instead, tears fell from your eyes silently, landing on the table top.

Mandy could see your distress, taking the laptop and  shutting it. She reached over and grabbed your hand and caressed it. You looked up at her, your chest aching.

"I'm sorry Y/n, but it's gonna be okay. We're gonna get you some where safe, okay?"

"But-but.. I am safe. That was a long time ago Mandy. She's changed. She's different," she murmured. You couldn't accept what Mandy was saying.

"No honey, she hasn't. I know this about Diane because she was stalking me. She seemed nice at first, but then she started following me. She'd call me nonstop, and just show up to where ever I was. I know she broke into my dorm and stole stuff of mine. Before I started suspecting something was up, I'd go over to her house for dinner and everytime would leave so sick and tired. I could never prove it, but I'm certain she was drugging me."

You shook your head. No, no, absolutely not. You stumbled out of your chair, your head pounding. Your vision was blurring, and you could feel your heart in your throat. You tried to pull in a breath, but your throat was closing. You stumbled and fell, knocking the travel mug onto the floor. You heard it shatter, but it seemed like it happened in another world. Nothing was happening here. It was just you, the cold floor, and your heartbeat.

You heard Mandy say something, running towards the bathroom. You weren't sure what she said, but you didn't try to move. You couldn't move, your body felt like stone. You gasped for air, but you began to choke and gag instead. You were scared, you were sick, and you were heartbroken.

You heard the little ringing of the door's bell in some far off land, and suddenly before your eyes was the face of Diane. You tried to move, and you weren't sure if your goal was to get away from her or to cling to her, but either was pointless. You had no control over your body. You were in one of your panic attacks

All you could do is search her face with your eyes. She looked scared, tears in her eyes, her nose running. She looked to something in the distance, her expression almost scary. She looked back down at you and kissed your forehead before leaning closer to you.

"Hey sweet girl. It's okay. I've got you. I'm gonna take you home now, but I need you to be quiet," she whispered so close to your ear that you could feel her lips on the shell of it.

You wanted to scream, to yell for Mandy, but you could not. You wondered where the coffee shop employees had gone and if they were going to get help. You looked up into Diane's eyes and she smiled desperately at you. Your heart ached. You were so scared, you did not want to go with her. Yet at the same time, part of you did. You could not believe what you had been told.

You felt Diane pick you up from the floor, leaving behind the shattered cup and rushed you out of the door, running down the block with you. She threw you into the passenger seat, not even bothering to buckle you up. You leaned against the door, slumped over. Diane got into the drivers seat and fumbled with the keys, her hand shaking. She turned the ignition and hit the gas, leaving town before Mandy even came back from the bathroom.

Diane drove fast back towards the house, biting her nails. She breathed heavily and you could only watch her out of the corner of your eye. Who was she? Why had she lied? What else was she hiding?

Suddenly Diane took a sharp turn, not breaking, causing you to fly from the seat and fall into her lap. You groaned, feeling a bit more in control. Diane looked down and smiled. Sniffling she petted your hair and shooshed you. You went to push yourself up but Diane pushed you back down. Your breathing became ragged again and you were afraid you were going to hyperventilate.  

You felt the car go off road and then go into park. Diane reached behind your seat and got a first aid kit, opening it. Then, you felt a prick in the side of your neck. You gasped and cried out. You scratched at Diane, attempting to push yourself away from her body. Warmth spread through your muscles and your vision seeped away into a black mist, but not before you heard it. Her voice in your ear.

"It's okay baby. I'm here. I'm here now."

#Run to me #run film #sarah paulson #sarah paulson fic #sarah paulson x reader #diane sherman x reader

[artxyra]

Healing Gotham | Part 3

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2

Bruce knew that wrangling his children an hour before Marin Etta’s arrival was going to be messing. First, they had to save the Gotham Airport from Clayface and that took a long minute. Bruce just hopes that it wouldn’t put a delay in his sister’s plans as he knows how much Marin Etta loves to be on schedule—little did know.

“Boys! Clean up that mess.” He shouts pointing to the couch that is upside down on the floor along with the throw pillows, the coffee table is sitting right side up clearing meant to be out of the way. While next to the grandfather clock, Damian is fighting Dick with a katana in hand. Dick is clearly trying to take the weapon away. Jason, Cass, and Steph watch on the sidelines clearly entertained by the battle before them. Tim was nursing a fresh cup of coffee this late in the day.

Bruce swears that between them all he will be gray before the age of 50 and that is saying a lot. “Alfred will be any minute with Marin and I refuse to show her this mayhem.” No one was listening to the man of the manor, though that title kind of belongs to Alfred.

“He started it.” Dick and Damian shout at the same time before glaring at one another. Bruce expected this with Jason and Damian (or even with Tim) but not Dick and Damian. He wonders what his youngest did to be tackle by Dick.

“Father, I refuse to allow this harlot, you call my aunt, to live with us,” Damian states causing Bruce to face-palm not even acknowledging that Damian had called his sister a harlot, but Jason did which then caused Jason to join the battle.

“That’s it, Demon Spawn, you’re going down,” Jason growls as Damian swings his sword to block Jason’s incoming attack. thus continuing the battle onto the floor.

“Why can’t you three be more like your sisters.” A migraine was growing, and it didn’t help by looking at the clock to see that Alfred would most likely be here any minute. “Cass stop recording your brothers and go help them.”

Cass shrugs and turns to Steph, who was holding in her laughter. “Send that to Barb.” She whispers in between snickers. Cass nods and stops recording the video.

“I am gone for less than an hour and the manor is a mess…not that this isn’t normal.” The voice of the butler freezes everyone. Bruce’s eyes widen in shock and disappointment. Shock because Alfred is back so soon, and disappointment because this was not how he wanted to greet his sister. Behind Alfred is the one person that holds him together looking more and more like their mother every day.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting this. Is that Dickie on the floor?” Marinette asks before walking over to Bruce, “Hello Brucie.” She greets with a smile. Bruce wasn’t sure what to do, so he wraps his arms around her and pulls her closer.

“I miss you, Sunbeam.” He whispers holding in his emotions. Behind them, the fighting between the three brothers had stop and Dick was bouncing in place. Jason look like he was about to pass out while Damian was glaring at the scene before him.

“Sunshine, you’re back! Now I have a real acrobatic partner to work with.” Dick exclaims rushing forward to embrace Marinette just as Bruce steps away. Alfred leaves the scene to go get some refreshments as dinner was only hours away.

“Hi Dickie, but before we could catch up, I believe there are some people that I should meet?” Marinette despite her small figure tries to look over Dick’s shoulder as she pats his back missing her first nephew as well. Bruce now appearing behind everyone’s back takes Damian’s katana and place it behind the couch. Damian elbows him in the gut, but Bruce makes no noise. He just wasn’t sure how Marinette would react to his youngest holding a sword.

“Yes. Mari, I like you to meet Cass…Steph…Tim…and my youngest Damian.” Bruce points to each and every one of them with breathing room for them to wave, send a smile, and nod (or in Damian’s case, glare) at Marinette. He purposely makes sure not to introduce Jason to Marinette kind of wondering if his plan will work. While doing the introductions, Alfred returns with a tray of refreshments, he too notices the lack of Jason’s introduction.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Marinette’s smile sends a wave of something unknown down their spines. Everyone san from Bruce, Alfred, Dick, and Jason felt that way. “Tim, I hear that you’re currently one of the CEO for Wayne Enterprise, I guess we’ll be spending a lot of time together. Cass, you don’t seem like a people person, perhaps a game of chess might help us bond, and Steph, I’m sure you and I will get along great.” Marinette turns to Damian, unsure what to think of her brother’s biological child. He was practically identical to her brother when he was that age (that’s from all the photos she had viewed) and the only difference was his skin was few shades darker.  She can also tell by default that he had a troubling childhood, something that was not inflicted by her brother or his siblings (her nieces and nephews). His mother perhaps? Keeping her wanting to squeal down, she sends Damian a curt nod ending their moment to which Damian huffs and looks away from.

When she turns to Jason, all hell freezes over. Squinting her eyes, she instinctively caresses her hand over his cheek. She could feel a large amount of darkness surrounding the male, but the look in his eyes said a different story. Marinette knew those blue eyes from anywhere. They were always much different from Dickie’s in her mind.

“Jay-Jay?” She whispers, her voice cracking never preventing the tears that were slowly forming in her eyes.

“Hi Pixie, it’s me.”  Those words solidify everything that Marinette secretly hoped to be true, but now she just wonders for how long? Embrace the taller male, she doesn’t want to let go.

Finally getting past her reintroduction to Jason, someone she thought of like a son she turns her head to look over her shoulder, her eyes narrow at her brother and oldest nephew.

For Bruce and Dick, they could feel that their lives were in danger. Alfred watches off to the side and straightens out his tie. “Run.” Immediately, Dick takes off running first. Marinette had fully turned around with a shining star of evil in her eyes. Bruce couldn’t breathe, it felt like his tie was constricting his neck. It didn’t take long before he too follows the same procedures as his oldest. Marinette was quick to chase after them shouting in a series of French some of which are curses.

Jason was breathing heavily his entire being was being questioned. To his remaining siblings, it was odd to see the person that tried to kill them act as if he was on the verge of a panic attack.

“Well, now that… is a family reunion.” Steph laughs before taking off to film the whole ordeal. Damian tsk and walks away mutter how unfit Marinette was to the family. Cass, on the other hand, turns to Jason.

“She’ll be the one to bring the light to Gotham. You wanna spar?” Jason wasn’t sure how to answer Cass’s request. He, himself, couldn’t breathe.

“Master Jason, maybe you should go lay down. I know this is a lot for you to take in.” Alfred suggests as the butler could see that Jason was internally battling himself.

Jason doesn’t answer either of them as he walks out of the room in deep thought.

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#maribat #sibling brucinette #ml x dc #mlb x dc #fic: Healing Gotham #ml crossover #dc crossover

[factual-fantasy]

I got 25 asks that took me WAY too long to reply to! :}

I have two top favorite episodes, the cone snail episode and the beluga whales episode.

When it comes to my favorite part of both episodes..?

..Not happy parts...

I have absolutely no idea what you just suggested.

(Referring to this post)

Thank you! That was the intention. :} I was worried that their faces all looked weird..

You want to learn more? Man.. maybe I should post that headcannon draft..

Yeah haha, this blog has taken quite the U-turn hasn’t it? I’m just glad everyone seems okay with it so far. <:} I’m excited for season 5 also! I hope it comes out soon! :D

THANK YOU, I WILL CHERISH THIS LOVE YOU HAVE GIVEN ME FOREVER

Yes and no.

Does he think of his crew as children? Absolutely not. They are all fully grown, intelligent and capable adults, and he darn well treats them like it.

But you bet that if one of them is in danger or is frightened, he’s dropping everything he’s doing and rushing to their aid as if they’re his cub that just wondered out onto the highway.

ME TOO! I always felt like he had this fatherly vibe to him with some professionalism sprinkled on top. Like he’s always looking out for his team because he cares for them and worries about them, but its kind of disguised as him just doing his job as the Captain.

I plan to draw more Protective Barnacles because its my jam, so don’t worry! That side of you will have some more fuel soon XD. And thank you for all the compliments! :}

Daww thank you, it twaz nothin. I’m just glad that people want to see my art.

Well, taking everyone into consideration, the tallest is Captain Barnacles, and the shortest is Tomminow. (This little guy 👇)

The Vegimals aside though? Peso is the shortest. 

(And thank you! I’m glad :})

Honestly? Awful. I feel like absolute garbage, I just hope this will all finally go away soon.

Not really no, and no thanks on the cookies, I shouldn’t eat anything until I get super hungry because everything gives me stomachaches.. But a hug would sure be nice right about now.

I can give you a link to their wiki pages if that’ll help, I’m not really good with my words and you can learn everything you need to know about them there. <:}

Captain Barnacles (The polar bear guy)

Kwazii (The orange pirate cat guy)

Peso (The bby Penguin doktor)

Shellington (Tall Otter boi)

Dashi (Doge girl with skirt)

Professor Inkling (Fancy squik)

Tweak (Green bunny country gal chick)

The Vegimals (Little veggie dudes)

All the Gups (Metal fishes)

The Octopod (Momma metal squik)

Whos the youngest Octonaut? Well, if we’re not including the Vegimals, I’d say its probably Peso. And the oldest is most likely Professor Inkling.

Does anyone have claustrophobia? Yes! Captain Barnacles canonically does. He got trapped in a deep hole in some icy caves as a cub, since then he’s been afraid of tight and closed in spaces. I have extended on that fact and thought of many different scenarios relating to the aftermath of the Octonauts movie, but you know.. still not confident in all this Octonauts stuff so I haven’t posted my headcannons yet. <:/

Novelas translated into English means Soap Opera.

You think so? I feel like that’s not Kwazii’s thing, he’d probably like horror movies and action filled movies. But Peso probably would like them not gonna lie, him and Dashi would probably watch them together.

Well, in my draft post I’ve got two headcannons for her so far.

Tweak likes sleeping in the launch bay for the #1 reason that she can hear the water sloshing around in the bay. Which mimics the sound the water in the swamp used to make when she lived there with her Dad.

Tweak gets bad migraines when she’s sick, so the other Octonauts have to do a lot to accommodate her. Because the beds in the med bay aren’t that soft, she prefers to sleep in her room when she’s sick. But then the usually comforting sounds of the water in the launch bay become pain inducing. So the launch bay is emptied of all its water, the lights are shut off and, unless its an emergency, no one is allowed in the launch bay until she recovers. 

I looked it up, and its true.

KWAZII WAS A GIRL IN THE BOOKS?? THEN WHY IS HE A BOY IN THE SHOW?? WHY DID THEY CHANGE THAT?? WH??? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like this Kwazii more than I would any other version of him, but still, WHY’D THEY CHANGE THAT?? IM GLAD THEY DID BUT WHY??

Hmm.. let me think...

Captain Barnacles most likely doesn’t ever have uninterrupted free time, and even when he does, he probably still prefers to be up in HQ where anyone can find him if they need him. But lets say for the sake of it that he has some free time and he takes it. He’d probably either want to play his accordion, or want to read a book.

I feel like there’s a lot of different things Kwazii likes to do in his spare time, but goofing around in the Gup-B is probably his favorite.

Peso probably likes to do puzzles and play his xylophone.

Dashi probably reads books while listening to music. How she does both of these things at the same time I have no idea.

Tweak probably plays video games.

Professor Inkling and Shellington both probably read books in their free time.

I’m not too sure what the Vegimals would do in their free time though..

Oh yes, indeed it does. 

Before becoming the Captain of the Octonauts, Barnacles had to ask himself,  “Am I really ready to be their leader?” Can he handle managing a team of that size? Can he react to situations fast enough and make the right choices? He thought it through and believed that yes. He was ready.

But he wasn’t. He wasn't prepared for that gut wrenching anxiety when one crew member goes missing. He wasn't prepared for the crippling heat that most everywhere else has compared to his home. He wasn't prepared to become so attached to his crew that the thought of something happening to them keeps him awake for nights in a row. He wasn’t prepared for that overwhelming nausea of missing home and his sister. 

There was a lot he didn’t know. They’d all turn to him when something went wrong and ask if everything's going to be okay. He’d say “don’t worry, its all going to be okay.” but he’s just as unsure as everyone else.

Now don't get me wrong, he’s not this completely hopeless and unexperienced Captain that bit off more than he could chew, no. There’s just somethings he didn’t think about before becoming Captain of the Octonauts.

Now usually he can really keep himself composed almost always. He’s very level headed and very good at thinking his way through things, But sometimes? He just.. needs a break. He usually cant get a break because he’s the Captain and always needs to be alert, so everyone else that sees it usually tries to help.

Some crew members, like the Vegimals and Kwazii, have a habit of following the Captain around when they see that he’s tired to keep an eye on him. Others like Shellington and Dashi tend to give him space and keep things quiet for him. Some crew members, like Peso and Tweak tend to clean up around the place to take some weight off the Captains shoulders, they all help him out in some way.

Professor Inkling will sometimes find an excuse to pull him aside to have some tea with him. They’ll sit and talk for a bit but then he’s back up on his feet and back to work. This poor bear..

..hold on.. was this a drawing suggestion?

Dashi and Tweak would probably hang out in Dashi’s room and goof around. Not sure what they’d do.. maybe read, talk, play games or.. idk pillow fights? I don’t know what girls do on a girls night.

As for everyone else? I also am not sure, I don’t know what all those characters with all their clashing personalities would do on a boys night. Maybe they would all watch a movie? All attempt bake something obnoxious together? They seem like the kind of characters that would do that.

I’ve never been to a girls night or a guys night, so I don't really have much of a base to go off of.. but both groups would probably get together and do something they’d all enjoy. Guys maybe a funny movie, and the girls just talking and reading books? <:D 

For real that’d be hilarious. Imagine if their voices were deep and gruff too but they just make them sound high pitched for fun?

Dude that’d be so funny. Like Kwazii’s up to his shenanigans again blabbering on about some sea monster or what have you, and Tunip out of nowhere just goes,

“Kwazii legit stop, we all know that you’re just talking about some ordinary sea creature that pirates interpreted as a sea monster.“

The whole crew gon be like

If this game existed in their world and they all played it.....

Captain Barnacles would make it through a pacifist run and would be satisfied. He’s some kind of weirdo who doesn’t think of characters as real people and doesn’t obsess over them and cry about them. Overall he thinks the game is pretty neat, but probably not his type of game.

Kwazii would want to test his skills by attempting a genocide, but his heart of gold would get in the way and he wouldn’t be able to complete it. He’d feel terrible for killing goat mom, reset and go hard pacifist next round. Overall he thinks the game is awesome.

Peso would want to talk to every character so they’d all be included in the story. He’d go full pacifist and cry over the story and its characters. Overall 10/10 for him.

Dashi would probably cry over the game a lot and would never attempt a genocide run because the characters are now her family.

Shellington would hate the fighting parts so would delay those bits by walking around and talking to characters over and over again.

Tweak would go through a neutral run because she sometimes accidently kills weaker monsters. Overall she loves the story and its characters, 10/10 would play again.

Professor Inkling would become invested in the story I bet. Complimenting the story arcs for the characters and its creative game play. But I feel like he’d only play it once and probably wouldn’t beat it, but would have fun with it none the less.

Thank you!!!♡♡♡ Man, I never expected such a positive response to switching to Octonauts, I cant believe everyone is so excited about it! I’m so glad you like my Octonauts art, that really makes me feel better and like what I’m drawing is worth while. ɷ◡ɷ

Aww I’m glad! And oh yeah, the animals at the end were always scary. Remember the Boo the spookfish?

Boo was a cute little googly eyed fishy boi who was just so sweet and somft until the creATURE REPORT AND I-

THAT’S MY QUE TO YEET THE COMPUTER

Dawww thank you!! I tried. <:}

#octonauts #my response #octonauts headcannons #octonauts spoilers

[vampiresuns]

Something Wicked This Way Comes | Prologue, Part 1

✴︎ SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES ✴︎

As Asra gets ready to leave again, Anatole handles two unexpected guests: one will alter his future plans, and the other will give him a headache. 2.7k words. For Anatole’s apprentice timeline, compliant with all the routes.

You can read the rest of Anatole’s apprentice timeline series here.

Asra was leaving. Again. 

Anatole wasn’t thrilled about it, but him and Asra had had this conversation several times and Anatole trusted his friend and teacher enough to not enquire any further — or to enquire behind his back. He said he had his reasons, and Anatole would respect that. Besides, it’s not as if he minded being alone. Maybe he had at the beginning of his recovery, when the City was still too unknown and disorienting, too much happening in it at all times, Anatole himself barely there.

He had read somewhere that all traumatic injuries which resulted in memory loss were different. Annoying as they were, he was better at handling the by-products of whatever the hell it was that had happened to him. Somewhat. He wanted to think he was, that even though the migraines still lingered, he could handle the shop, himself, his magic (magic that had begun advancing towards places and forms Asra could only guide him towards, not teach him). He just wanted to be good enough at it all, and he supposed he’d have no one he’d felt comfortable asking for help to if Asra wasn’t around.

He sighed. it didn’t matter, well, it did, but he’d be able to handle it. He was sure Antu would gladly help.

“I’ll miss you.”

“You better miss me, Asra Alnazar. Though, must you really leave tonight?

“In the dead of a moonless night. The right time for the beginning of a journey.”

Anatole frowned; Asra was full of shit. “Is that a ritual thing? Or is it a poetic licence thing?”

The magician didn’t reply, changing the topic instead like he always did when Anatole guessed too close to the truth about things Asra did not have the means to explain to his pupil. Instead he gave him his tarot deck.

Anatole can’t remember a time Asra’s separated from it. Normally, when Asra’s gone and Anatole had to a do a reading he used his own deck. It used to belong to his aunt, his connection to it jumping to his tongue before Asra could ask him if he knew, or remembered, whom it had previously belonged to. His cards were different from Asra’s — they were quiet, they gave him analytical and interpretational leeway. Asra’s were... too alive.

He took the Deck as Asra handed it to him, looking at the cards. “You trust me with your deck?”

“I do, Nana, I’d trust you with anything.”

Anatole decided to ignore the charged nature of his words. He had discovered within the last six months he was often able to call for the intention behind people’s words, how they were feeling in the moment, or if they were being dishonest. While most of the time it was useful, sometimes it was wildly disconcerting, others exhausting, or inconvenient. Like right now.

He was witness to the in-between-the-lines of communication whether he wanted or not, being too much information to handle at times. When it was too much, it could feel from invading someone's privacy to being overstimulated.

Instead of asking Asra if he had done that on purpose, he said: “You think I’m ready to use it?”

“You know I can’t answer that for you.” 

“I did it again, didn’t I?”

“It’s okay to need validation, Nana.”

Anatole knew that, in theory. Though he couldn’t deny Asra was right: he knew he still needed confirmation that he was doing things correctly, that he was doing a good job, that his efforts were meriting. Even when he had something completely figured out. Out of all the things Asra had thought Anatole would carry back from the dead, his tendency to overcompensate wasn’t one he’d accounted for.

Alright, that was a lie, he hadn’t accounted for Anatole’s entire personality to barrel through death to assert itself over the blank canvas of whom he had come back as. He should’ve foreseen Anatole to manage the impossible, twice. 

“Do you think you’re ready?” Now it wasn’t the time to allow his anxieties to govern over his capacities. Breathing steadily twice, he managed to give Asra the debonair smile with an inquiring, raised eyebrow the magician adored to see on his face. He hated not knowing, and the only way of knowing was to ask.

Asra found himself smiling too. “Why don’t we ask the cards?” 

✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ 

As Asra said his last goodbyes, a knock on the door interrupting them both, Anatole thought he ought to ask where had he gotten his feathered hat. Another time.

Anatole wasn’t surprised Asra had already left when he went to the front of the shop to get the door, having slipped he High Priestess and her foreboding messages back into the deck. She’d have to wait for whomever had decided ‘after-hours’ wasn’t a real shop-keeping concept. Customers, Anatole swore. He really couldn’t blame Asra for leaving now. He himself hated being delayed or interrupted when he was focusing on something, and while Asra wasn’t quite the same (or didn’t have the same reasons) it was the same outcome. 

After-hours was the time he spent on himself and tonight he wanted to tackle his Zadithi. He had only just began picking it up again.

Again? That couldn’t be right.

A second, more impatient knock pulled him out of his thoughts. Anatole lunged forward to open the door, only to be met with Countess Satrinava, out of all people. He didn’t even know their shop had reached the Palace’s radar. For some reason he couldn’t pinpoint right then, he didn’t know if he liked it.

“Countess. Welcome to Moonstone & Jasmine how may I help—”

“Please,” she said, paying him little mind, “you must read the cards for me.”

Like he had said before, customers.

However, Anatole didn’t need to pick up on her words to notice the Countess was genuinely troubled by something, her comment on sleepless nights confirming his suspicion. So he decided to give her the benefit of doubt, instead of pinpointing the hour she decided to come at as a display of nobility’s entitlement.

The talk about his reputation was what shocked him the most, however. The temptation to dismiss her words as hyperbole was strong, but she sounded  too honest — a by-product of her state of necessity, Anatole thought, people tended to be worse at lying under pressure (How did he know that?).

When the Countess mentioned Anatole looked different in a dream she had, he speaks as if something had possessed him, having no idea he would speak until he did. “Do you possess any sort of clairvoyance, your Highness? I have a cousin who—”

He stopped as a throb made its way through the back of his head. As far as he knew, he didn’t have any family, he didn’t have anyone but Asra and a dead Aunt, but saying he had a cousin felt right in a way he couldn’t ignore. He had never been very good at lying to himself. Once he knew something was true, it cemented itself in his head, unshakable. He preferred it that way: falsehoods, even if lasting, crumbled. When you built with what was true, you built steady.

This felt like the truth, but was it? Was it a wish, or was it a lost piece of whomever he had been before? In the before he couldn’t remember?

Pushing his thoughts away, he said: “Excuse me, Countess. I forgot myself.”

“No matter. I come with a proposal.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Come to the Palace, and be my guest for a short while. You will be afforded every luxury, of course. I ask only that you bring your skill… and the Arcana.”

His first thought was ‘no’. His second, ‘absolutely not’. He had things! Plans! The only luxury he wanted right now was to be allowed to fill his after work hours as he saw fit. But this was a customer. They could use the money for supplies, and something told him — something he couldn’t pay any attention to right now, something inside of him he could only trust — the Countess was indeed in trouble. The kind of toruble where if he refused to help right now, he’d end up in the Palace anyway.

Sometimes it is better to cooperate with the universe; he had heard that somewhere, or perhaps from someone he couldn’t remember. Perhaps he read it. One way or another, now was not the time to mourn his plans.

“It’ll be an honour.”

“I will alert the guards to expect you tomorrow, but before that...”

Of course, she had come with a tarot inquiry, so Anatole redirected her to the backroom where readings and private consultations were held, finding himself face to face with Asra’s cards again.

He’d have to get used to their liveliness, sooner or latter. Unlike his own card, these spoke to you completely at random, compelling you to deliver their message, so you never knew if you were doing the reading or if the cards themselves were. Anatole didn’t love it, if he was honest. Nothing to do with the cards, though. It had everything to do with having asked Asra why do his cards work like they do, and Asra not giving him an answer which had fully made sense to him. 

He didn’t know what to make of the Countess as she talked to him about other times she had had her fortune read. His headache had moved from the back of his head to his temples. Familiar wasn’t the word for it, but she felt trustworthy, in an inconsequential sense. Like a coworker with good intentions but not enough turn out for his liking. He saw her out, opening the door for her, after her reading was done, still having not the faintest idea where on earth did he get such an impression from the Countess. He must’ve been reading too much, that was certainly it — too much politics before bed made Anatole a very imaginative man. 

As Countess Satrinava left, Anatole wondered if he should’ve told her anything about fees, at least as a joke. He wasn’t sure she’d appreciate the joke. 

He decided to brew something for his headache, worrying it might grow too big to sleep. Potions and brews had never been his strongest fort. He always needed to spend extra attention on them and their instructions, coming less organically than other forms of magic. Like languages. Languages were easy, even if messy sometimes. He still remembered one day, years ago, when he could speak nothing but a gibberish mess of Balkovian, Vesuvian and a very distant variation of Nopali. 

Still, it would keep his mind away from all the reputation talk the Countess had brought with her. He wanted to be convinced she must’ve been thinking about his aunt — Paris, that’s all Asra had told him — but Paris had been dead for even before his accident, so maybe... He took a breath, he was overthinking his way into a migraine again so he went back to his brew. 

He was missing enough of one ingredient, which meant he had to go to the Shop’s storage quarter, accessible only from outside and through the backdoor. As if anticipating his need, Antupillán, his familiar, fetched the keys for him and climbed onto his shoulder as Anatole made his way outside, looking for the sweet relief of willow tree bark. A victory which came at the price of getting his storage key stuck, fumbling for five minutes to unstuck it so he could go back inside. 

With all ingredients in front of him he could finally make himself a headache remedy. 

“Strange hours for a shop to keep,” said a muffled voice coming from somewhere, interrupting him.

If he got mugged, in his own house, he swore to everything he thought mattered in this world he’d spend the rest of his life finding whomever had come into his shop and making their lives miserable. He was sure no one had been around when he went retrieve the willow bark, Antu would’ve told him if there was someone. He was sure he had locked that door the moment he came in.

The thought that someone could’ve been staying in his own house, waiting for the right moment to strike made him sick, but mostly, angry. He knew he had a dagger somewhere in one of the drawers, if magic was not enough.

“Whomever it is, come out of where you are, and tell me what you want.”

“Behind you.” Anatole jumped back, giving himself more distance between this person, levelling a look to the red glasses the mask had for eye-sockets.

“So this is the witch’s lair… and who might you be?”

“Who’s asking?” He tried to sound as surefooted as possible, but the eye sockets of the mask were so vividly red, like a halo of auburn hair under the noon sun. His headache threatened to get stronger.

“I’m asking. I’d rather not do it again.”

The person lifted their hand, Anatole’s brain springing into action as it remembered the dagger was in the third drawer to the left. He lunged forward, he was quick with his feet he could just grab the dagger and protect himself with a shield if he— 

Instead of grabbing him, the stranger threw the mask to the floor. 

The flash of pain between his eyes, right where his nose begins was so intense it burned, making him wince. He patted the front table of the shop to hold onto something, fearing he will lose his balance and fall. He’s— he’s— he swears there’s a name on the tip of his tongue.

“As I suspected, shock, horror—”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s etched on your face! The gruesome reaction of facing the murderer himself. Fear not, I do not care about you, I only want information, so if you stop fooling around and tell me where is the witch.”

“The whomst?”

The man blinked, confused for a flash before he scowled again.

“Where is the witch?”

Something inside Anatole clicked. He was too tired to deal with any of this. If the intruder wanted to attack him, he would’ve done so already.

“Listen,” he said, barking back at this person who had interrupted his evening. “I have a migraine right now, so I will need you to be a little more specific. Secondly, you come into my shop, demanding things without exaplanation, manifesting behind me, and I do have to tell you, even with a migraine, I’m probably better with sharp things than you are so stand back and give me a bloody fucking second, alright?”

It wasn’t a lie. Anatole had always been good with blades. It worried Asra, for a reason he had never explained, but Anatole didn’t think it was a problem.

“You know, if you’re really feeling ill, I’m a medically trained professional—”

“Did you seriously just offer me medical help after you tried to intimidate me for information.”

“I—I, look you don’t look well… wait, did it work? Are you telling me where he is?”

“What? No, no it didn’t. There’s a lot of people who go by ‘he’ this City.”

“Not even the murderer part worked?”

Anatole shot him a death glare that made his uninvited guest look away. After finally retrieving that damn dagger, which he did just in case, he set himself to prepare his migraine remedy.

“You’re the guy who’s wanted for murdering the former Count, right?” He asked as he worked.

“Yes?”

“Wasn’t the guy a bit of an incompetent despot? Created a sanitary emergency and ran the city’s coffers dry? I’m neither of those things, nor I plan to rat you out before you try that line of intimidation, because I’m not a snitch. So please, if you could be specific.”

The intruder did not reply, instead he looked at Anatole like he was the weirdest person he had ever met. He shook himself from it. “The witch, I’m looking for him and I know he lives here...”

“Since you have no clue who I am, I will reckon you’re talking about Asra. He left. Don’t know when he’s coming back, don’t know where he went.”

“But if you don’t know, and I don’t know… why don’t you ask your magic cards?”

God, this man didn’t give up. Normally, Anatole would appreciate that, give him at least some credit as an interesting enemy to run into in the night, but right now? Right now he wanted him to go away. “Because the shop is closed.”

“That’s what the backroom there is for, right? Look, I’m already inside.”

Despite himself, Anatole couldn’t find it in himself to say no, so with a hesitant nod, he left his conoction on the counter and showed his night-time guest to the backroom, but he insisted on Anatole going first. He did, as he didn’t have time for plesantries, though he had to admit, for someone who just broke into his home, he was being very polite.

As he dropped himself into the reading chair, Antu climbed onto Anatole’s lap, sitting there, a comforting presence amid his very annoying evening. He had been his constant companion for almost two years. Antu came in one day unannounced and hadn’t left Anatole’s side since.

“Is that a Raccoon?” The stranger asked, with eyes wide open as he tried to pet him. Antu bit the air in front of him before he could come too close. 

Not forgiven yet, Antu said at the stranger, though only Anatole could listen. 

Anatole smiled to himself, making a mental note to give him extra grapes later. “His name is Antupillán.”

To Anatole’s surprise, the stranger pronounced the name perfectly. “What does it mean?”

“Not many people pronounce that correctly, look at you. People accent it wrong,” he paused, in all honesty Anatole didn’t know what it meant. Yet, once more, he found himself speaking without knowing what he was about to say. “A ‘pillán’ is a spirit, an embodiment. Antu means sun in Mapudungún, so Antupillán is the spirit of the sun.”

Anatole felt his stomach drop as he awaited for the migraine that would inevitably blotch his vision with black spots. However, it never came, the misplaced information settling into him like a homecoming he was not yet able to process.

As Anatole shuffled the deck, the stranger looked friendly, almost awkward in an endearing way. 

“Go on. No need to be shy.”

“Says the man who refuses to give out his name. I need to know it for the ‘magic card reading’, you know?”

“Julian, you can call me Julian,” he said after some stammering and a scarlet blush on his cheeks. His eyes followed his movements as closely as they could, a nervous anticipation to them.

Anatole pulled Death. It was, in Asra’s deck, a particularly quiet card. The horse skull was quiet like someone who opened their mouth to speak, but couldn’t articulate any sound. He wondered if the card in his own Deck — Anatole’s Death major arcana was a moth person holding a mask and a scythe — could hold any answers, other than white noise. It was cheating, technically, but Julian called them ‘magic cards’, Anatole didn’t think he’d mind.

Before he could do anything, Julian laughed. “Death? That means nothing to me. Death cast her gaze upon this wretch and turned away! She has no interest in an abomination like me.”

"What? Julian this isn’t how—”

He stood up abruptly, his mouth seeming to run on automatic pilotwith fatalistic statements and Julian’s hunch that Asra would come back. Which he would, Anatole knew he would. Asra always came back.

Instead of Julian’s advice about seeking him out when Asra did come back, for ‘Anatole’s own good’, whatever that could mean from a fucking stranger, he thought he ought to have accepted the medical help. Perhaps that way, Julian would’ve left earlier and his headache would’ve been dealt with.

Later, as he laid in bed drifting to sleep, he thought Asra left that day not because it was best for a journey, but because he somehowknew all of this would happen and he didn’t want to deal with any of it. 

#the arcana #the arcana oc #the arcana apprentice #apprentice the arcana #aelius anatole #apprentice anatole #julian #julian the arcana #the arcana julian #nadia #the arcana nadia #nadia the arcana #Countess Nadia #doctor devorak #asra #the arcana asra #asra the arcana #asra the magician #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #arcana prologue

[thecasperanfamily]

Can we get a sock monkey part two? Maybe taking place in the present?

(Link to Part One)

I am sooooo sorry about the delay on this one. First I had a solid week of ADHD Brain Doing Its Thing, then a dentist appointment, then my bedroom flooded, then a migraine...ANYWAYS I hope this was worth the wait!

~~~~~

They say that behind every great wizard, there is a great witch. Whether or not this was a universal truth or just a nice-sounding sentiment someone came up with to discourage squabbling between witches and wizards, Lin couldn’t be sure. But he did know that it was true in his father’s case, if nothing else. Hisirdoux Casperan was an immensely powerful wizard in his own right, capable of feats of magic unlike anything seen since the age of the great Merlin Ambrosius. But he was also what Lin’s mother liked to affectionately call “a mess. An absolute disaster. Gods, it’s a marvel you’ve survived this long.” To which Douxie would inevitably reply with, “The only marvel is you, my love.” And Lin would always immediately leave the room because he had no desire to witness whatever came after that. But Douxie did have a point, albeit one that felt a bit lost underneath all the sap and sentimentality. The fact of the matter was that Master Wizard Hisirdoux Casperan likely couldn’t be a Master Wizard without his wife. Archie could protect Douxie in battle, Nari could heal and encourage him, but Zoe was their last and strongest line of defense. Be it a desperate struggle against an ancient and horrifying monster or simply keeping the household running, when all others fell, she continued to stand, often pulling them back up and keeping them on their feet with her own strength. Douxie once said that he could face his own fears because he knew Zoe was standing fearless by his side.

In hindsight, he really should have chosen his words more carefully. Because when Lin handed his mother his oldest, most beloved toy from childhood and asked her to repair it, “fearless” certainly wasn’t what came to mind when beholding the look of intense discomfort on Zoe’s face as she eyed the offending object.

“...It looks normal to me,” she said stiffly.

“It....there’s a massive rip on her side?” Lin replied hesitantly. “That’s not supposed to be there. And Comet tore off one of her eyes, too.” The boy shifted awkwardly, still cradling the abomination in his hands, since Zoe had refused to touch it. “I-I mean, I know it’s stupid, but Georgina--uh, I mean, this old thing...it means a lot to me. Been with me for a long time, and all. I just--”

“Fine, fine, I’ll patch it up for you,” Zoe blurted, snatching the cursed thing from his hands. “Now go get ready for school. You’re running late as is.”

“...It’s Saturday,” Lin reminded her.

“Then go bother Archie or something. I can’t fix this thing if you’re breathing down my neck the whole time. Restorative magic requires concentration.”

“...I’ve seen you piece a broken mug back together in five seconds flat while also fighting the endgame boss of War Dudes 7.”

“Out, Lin.”

“Alright, alright!” He raised his hands placatingly and swept out of the kitchen, calling back over his shoulder “Thanks, Mom!”

The moment he was out of sight, Zoe pitched the sock monkey as hard as she could against the opposite wall. It landed on the counter with a sad little flop, looking no less abominable for its current state of disrepair.

“I hate you,” she told it quietly. “I know you know I do. I can see it in your one remaining eye. I’ve endured your mockery of me for the past seventeen years for Lin’s sake, but this...” She raked her fingers through her bangs furiously. “...Oh, get a grip, Zoe,” she muttered. “It’s just a stuffed animal. It’s only ever been a stuffed animal. It will never best me. I’m one of the greatest hedgewitches of my time. I am Zoe Casperan, I am she who remains when the masters have fallen, I am--”

“Introducing yourself to someone, are you?”

Douxie was very fortunate that he did not touch Zoe when he spoke up from behind her, because the pulse of electricity that surged through her veins would have certainly laid him flat on his back for at least a week. As it was, Zoe’s wand was pointed at his throat before he could so much as blink, a few angry pink sparks spitting from the end.

“Woah, woah, okay, nope, bad time for jokes, I got it! Take it easy, love.”

“Don’t do that!” Zoe hissed, stuffing her wand back into her belt as her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. “I could have hurt you.”

“Trust me, I’m well aware,” Douxie replied, taking one of her hands and pressing an apologetic kiss to her knuckles. “I didn’t mean to startle you, I’m sorry.”

“Stop being sweet.” Zoe grumbled. “It’s distracting.”

“Distracting you from what, exactly?”

“Lin wants me to patch up that...thing that Barbara gave him all those years ago.” She flapped a hand at the sock monkey sprawled pathetically across the counter.

“I didn’t even realize he still had that,” Douxie remarked, taking in the damage with a critical eye. “Mm. She’s certainly seen better days.”

“I want it to see worse,” Zoe seethed. “...But Lin still loves it, gods only know why.”

“Bit of a moral conundrum, eh? Take your vengeance on your worst enemy and break our son’s heart, or grant her mercy for Lin’s sake.”

“This isn’t funny, Douxie.”

“It is, just a little bit.”

“You know I can’t stand even looking at that reject voodoo doll. How am I supposed to cast a restoration spell when all I want to do is douse this thing in gasoline and throw it on a bonfire?”

“Attempting a restoration spell with that mindset would likely end very badly,” Douxie agreed. “My feelings towards the lady in question are far less hostile. Perhaps I should take this one for you.”

“No! No, I-I...” Zoe sighed and ran a hand through her bangs yet again. “...I don’t want this thing to get the better of me. I’ve never backed down from a challenge before, and I definitely don’t want this to be my first time. Besides, you’re pretty sloppy when it comes to restoration magic. Lin will know right away who performed the spell just by looking at it, and I don’t want him to feel like I let him down.”

“With the utmost respect, Zoe,” Douxie replied hesitantly. “I think Lin would prefer a messy patch job over the many ways this spell could backfire if you’re the one performing it. You do understand that swallowing your pride isn’t the same as cowardice, right?”

“Pride or not, I will not let my son experience the shame of knowing his mother was defeated by an ugly stuffed animal,” Zoe countered. She stalked up to the counter and arranged the bedraggled sock monkey carefully, nose wrinkling in disgust as she ran her fingers over the material.

“Zoe, darling--” Douxie tried to protest again.

“Shush. I need to concentrate.”

“I really think you ought to let me--”

“I said shush, Douxie. I know I can do this.” She brandished her wand and, with a few quick motions, guided her aura to surround the sock monkey, which began to float a few inches off the counter. She pushed back against the wave of revulsion that crashed over her as her spirit made contact with the cursed object, and managed to spit the spell out through clenched teeth. “Refectio.”

The moment the spell was activated, Zoe knew she had made a mistake. The feeling of disgust she had tried so hard to stifle refused to detach from her aura. Her magic flowed out of her in a hot, angry rush, and the sock monkey writhed and contorted as though possessed.

“Zoe!” Douxie pulled her back from the counter, arms wrapping around her as his own aura flared defensively. The sock monkey gave one final shudder, then flopped back onto the counter.

“It’s fine!” Zoe insisted. “Look, see? It’s fixed.” Indeed, the sock monkey appeared to have been restored to mint condition. The rip had closed, the missing eye had returned from wherever Comet had hidden it, and the old stuffing had softened and puffed out again. “I told you I could do it.”

“That could have been a disaster, Zoe,” Douxie scolded.

“Any spell has the potential to be a disaster,” she argued. “But I had to try. And I feel so much better now that--”

The sock monkey twitched.

Douxie’s arms tightened around her, and Zoe instinctively brandished her wand again. The toy twitched again. Then it shuddered. Then it flopped over. And then, like a phantom from a nightmare, rose to its feet and slowly turned to face them, black button eyes cold and lifeless.

“...Okay, yeah, this is a disaster,” Zoe breathed. The sock monkey hovered in place for a moment longer.

Then suddenly, it was zooming across the kitchen. Douxie shoved Zoe to the side, but the vengeful toy didn’t seem to notice her at all. It gleefully slammed into the Master Wizard’s head and began wrapping itself around his face. He stumbled back and fell against the counter, sending a few dirty dishes crashing to the floor as he clawed at the soft little demon that was attempting to suffocate him.

“NO!” Zoe screeched, and before she could think twice, there was a blinding flash of bright pink light and the crackling snap of a thunderbolt. The sock monkey exploded into a cloud of stuffing and fibers that fluttered to the floor and dissolved into ash.

Zoe dropped to her knees, wand still outstretched in her trembling hand. Douxie leaned back against the counter, sucking in huge gulps of air.

“...Well,” he wheezed. “At least you finally got your revenge.”

“...No. Oh, no no no,” Zoe whimpered, dropping her wand and burying her face in her hands. “Oh gods, what have I... Lin is going to... Gods, Douxie I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” She emerged from her hands to see him giving her a thumbs-up and a sympathetic smile.

“The only damage done was emotional,” he assured her. “...At least where I’m concerned.” His gaze drifted across the floor, taking in the ashes scattered all over it. Silence hung between them for a few long minutes. “...What do we do now?”

“...Do you have your phone on you?” Zoe asked. Douxie nodded. “Give it here.” He pulled the item in question out of his pocket and tossed it over to her. She scrolled through his contacts list until she found the name she was looking for, then pressed call. Douxie pulled himself to his feet and began searching for a broom. There was a click on the other end of the line.

“Barbara Lake speaking.”

“Hey, Barbara? It’s Zoe. ...Yeah, I’m using Douxie’s phone. Long story short, we’ve had a bit of an accident and I need to know where you got Lin’s sock monkey from...”

*****

“Hey, Lin.” Lin looked up from his sketchbook to find his mother standing in his bedroom doorway. “Catch.” She tossed a familiar grey and white figure at him.

“Wow. She looks like new,” he observed, turning the sock monkey over in his hands. “...Very new.”

“Yeah. That’s...why it took me longer than usual to fix her. Take good care of her, alright? I don’t want to have to fix her again any time soon.”

“Yep. Thanks, Mom.” He watched her leave, then looked back down at the toy. “...Huh. I don’t remember you ever having these tags, Georgina...” The sock monkey smiled up at him benignly. “Weird.” He shrugged and sat the stuffed animal up on his desk before bending over his sketchbook once more.

Meanwhile, Zoe went to brew herself a very strong cup of herbal tea.

A very special thanks to @poetryinmotion-author and @rikalovesrice for helping me with this one, and to @dreamsarelikedragonflies for beta reading. ✨

#tales of arcadia #toa #the casperan family #douxie #toa zoe #zouxie #lin casperan #fic #niki answers

[littledanette]

Please, please, please I need the second part of the Northern Lights.

Here it is!! 

Guys, thank you all so much for your patience.Thank you for being so supportive and for all your kind comments.  Apart from a chaotic schedule, I’ve been delaying this because I was indecisive between a couple of development ideas...hopefully I picked the most interesting one! This is shorter than part 1, but the good news is I’ll indulge our common Lee thirst in part 3... Once again, the storyline is slightly altered to give this relationship more time before Lyra, Iorek and the others step into the picture. Hope you enjoy it! 

In case you missed it, Part 1 can be found here.

NORTHERN LIGHTS - Part 2.

(Lee Scoresby x Reader)

“Tonight,” he promises. And then, just like that, he’s gone. And you have absolutely no idea how both of you are going to make it to tonight.

Except, he doesn’t show up that night. Or the next. Lee Scoresby seems to have suddenly disappeared into thin air, and you have absolutely no idea where he’s gone. You try to carry on with your daily routine, as though nothing is wrong. But Lee is constantly on your mind.

You go through various emotional phases. Initially, when he doesn’t show up at dinner that first night, you’re confused and more than slightly frustrated. Your last encounter had left you…well, breathless, and for more than one reason, and you’d been anticipating this moment to finish what you’d started.  Then, you try to rationalize: he’s probably late because he’s taking care of some business… You expect to see him show up after dinner. No trace of him. You go to bed, still disappointed. You feel hopeful the following morning, sure that he’ll show up for breakfast. No such luck. Frustration starts turning into doubt. But you know he’s a man of the world, this is probably normal for him. No plans, no responsibilities, no expectations. You try to suppress the bitterness  from creeping into your thoughts, but as the day progresses you feel yourself becoming more angry at him at first, then concerned as lunch comes and goes. Dinner follows soon after. By now, you’re genuinely worried.

You try to keep yourself busy with your dinner shift, but it’s not an easy task. You heart races every time the tavern door swings open and you look up expectantly, but still no trace of Lee. Your head is pulsing with a storm of emotions that are giving you a migraine. You half heartedly finish your tasks, and when you feel like you can't take it anymore you quickly decide to grab your coat and excuse yourself from your boss, telling him you need to go take a walk. You step out into the cold, your fox daemon close behind, and as soon as the tavern doors swing shut behind you, the noise immediately dies down and you’re surrounded by peaceful silence.

You take a few deep breaths, exhaling little puffs of smoke as you simply enjoy the quiet. Your fox sits down besides you, waiting.  Someone opens the door behind you, prompting you to start walking away as the tavern noises threaten to make your brain combust again. Your daemon follows. You wrap your scarf tighter around your neck and start trudging through the snowy streets, not quite sure where to go.

You walk aimlessly for a while, allowing your thoughts to drift back to Lee. Why had he disappeared so suddenly? What could have happened to make him leave like that? You figured he knew what he was doing, but the North could be a very dangerous place, even for a guy like him… You stop in your tracks. What if…something bad had happened to him? Your breath hitches slightly. Oh God. What could you do? You try to focus. Think. Think, damn it! Where could he have gone? What did you know that could help you find him?

Out of nowhere, a brief memory flashes in your mind: Lee talking secretively with his daemon at lunch, whispering about the bear and the…stolen armor…? You pause. You know this is a dangerous matter. You’d heard the rumors, and had always made sure to steer clear of them. But what if that was exactly your answer? You hesitate for a moment. But then you realize your concern for Lee is greater than your reluctance to get involved in something so taboo, so you decide to throw caution to the wind and head towards the first place that pops in your mind… the exact place where - you’d heard - the bear could be found, hiding…

You’re quietly marching towards your destination when a sudden movement catches your attention out of the corner of your eye as you’re passing by an alley. You stop, frowning, and look down as your daemon. She’s also looking towards the alley, ears pricked up in confusion. You exchange a glance with her. Had you imagined it? Just as you’re about to carry on, a faint groan makes you jump. You take a cautious step in the alley, and as your eyes adjust to the dark, you see another movement. Followed by another lament. Your eyes widen and rush towards the sound, your daemon running behind you. You have to push two heavy barrels and a couple of garbage bags out of the way to follow the noises…. And then you gasp when you finally see him. Lee is crumpled on the ground, leaning against the alley wall, head hanging low and eyes closed. Hester is cowering on his lap, scared by the ruckus you’d made but still trying to protect him. You notice one of the daemon’s ears is flopped, and there’s a bruise on one of her hind legs. Your fox daemon cautiously steps closer to her, sniffing her attentively.

“Oh thank God…it’s you!” Hester whimpers when she recognizes both of you. “I was afraid they’d come back!” “Hester! Lee!” You call out, pushing more stuff out of the way to clear the space around them. “W-what happened to you?” You ask the daemon as you crouch besides Lee, placing one hand on his arm and the other on Hester’s fluffy head. Lee groans, lifting a hand to his forehead and forcing himself to open his eyes and look at you. You notice there’s a dark bruise beneath his left eye, and his upper lip is cut. “Ow…’evening, darlin…don’t worry, it’s nothin’, just a little unexpected altercation…” he winces and closes his eyes again as he tries to straighten himself up. He clutches his side, a painful hiss escaping his lips. “Lee!” you and Hester both cry out, worried.

Lee frowns, “Stop makin’ a fuss, the both of you…I was just…just tryin’ to rest my eyes for a second…” “Lee,” you interrupt him, placing your hand above his and making him look back at you, “You’re hurt. Both of you are. I’m going to go get some help -” “No!” He exclaims, jolting upright for a moment before collapsing back down, wincing in pain. You place your hand on his chest, to try and keep him still. He automatically takes your hand into his own.  “N-no, darlin’…” he repeats, slower, looking at you intently, “Help is the last thing I’m gonna get from the people in this town right now…you just…would you mind just helpin’ me out here for a second, sweetheart?” You cast a worried glance towards Hester, but she nods in agreement. “We can’t risk them coming back,” she whispers. You understand now is the worst time to ask who ‘they’ are, so you merely nod back at her and scoot closer to Lee. You help him drape an arm around your shoulders, and clumsily manage to drag both of you on your feet, staggering slightly under his weight. Your fox stands besides Hester, both daemons eyeing you worriedly.

“My sincere apologies, darlin’,” Lee mumbles, wincing in pain once again as he tries to stand a little more on his own two feet, “Under normal circumstances, I would never allow a lovely gal such as yourself carry my damn weight like this…” You shake your head, “Shush, and knock it off with the charm, Lee… We gotta get you both out of the cold right now.”

It’s no easy task. You tremble under Lee’s weight, stumbling as both of you try to make your way down the alley to take a shortcut back to the tavern. The cold wind pierces your flustered cheeks, you struggle step after step as you try to avoid the snow slush, and you have to stop every couple of seconds to catch your breath. Lee keeps muttering apologies under his breath. You can tell he’s not used to being helped like this. Your two daemons lead the way, making sure the coast is clear. After what feels like forever, you arrive at the back door of the tavern. You manage to stumble inside the kitchen and then into the main room, where you help Lee slump onto a chair as you collapse into a messy heap on the floor, panting for breath. You rip open your coat and tug your scarf away to help you cool down. Your daemon delicately sniffs around Hester to examine her. Nobody talks for a good few minutes as you collectively catch your breath. Then you break the silence.

“Lee…we need to get you to your room to check your wounds.” “Darlin’, I’m sure I can make it -” he groans, slumped over the table with his head on his hand, “Just give me a double whiskey and give it a second…” You frown at him, lifting yourself up from the ground, “But you’re too hurt, it’s dangerous for you -” He raises a hand to interrupt you, and lifts his gaze to meet yours, “Hey, I know what I’m doin’ here, okay? Appreciate the help, but I’ve managed much worse than this. Just give me that drink and let me breathe for a moment….” His eyes soften as he sees you taken aback by his firmness, “Please, darlin’. Just help me out like I’m telling you.”

You finally give in, and head behind the counter to pour him his drink. When you place it in front of him, he places his hand on your forearm and bows his head slightly. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he mumbles, nodding towards the chair besides him to signal you to sit. You do, pulling your chair right besides his, and gently taking off his hat as he takes a sip of whiskey. Now that you can see him up close, you notice he’s more bruised than you’d imagined. As he drinks, you quickly scan over his body and notice there’s a dark stain on the side of his ribcage, and a cut on one side of his pants. You shake your head with worry, “I don’t even want to think about what might’ve happened if we hadn’t found the two of you in that alley….”

You catch him looking back at you with his usual smirk. “Stop worrying so much ‘bout me, honey…” he says, “It’s just another beatin’, nothin more…I’m used to it.” You huff, raising your hand and gently running it through his hair to push it out of his face before caressing his jawline. “Finish your drink, we’ve got to get you in your room and out of these clothes to clean you up…” Despite the seriousness of the situation, he can’t help raising his eyebrows at your proposal, “Well now, missy, when you put it that way…” You slap his forearm lightly, and he winces, “Seriously…? Now’s not the time, Lee!” “All right, all right…I was just tryin’ to lighten the mood…”

Somehow, he actually manages to get back on his feet, and although he’s still unsteady and keeps stopping step after step, groaning in pain and frustration, you slowly make your way. Getting up the stairs is a pain in the ass, but you help him out and finally manage to reach his room. You swing the door open and help him over to the bed, letting him slump on the mattress and lean against the headboard. Hester and your daemon stand silently by the door.

“Listen to me,” you sit next to him, placing a comforting hand on his leg, “I’m going to be right back, okay?” You try to move but his hand grips your wrist. “Darlin, I told you…” “…And you can trust me. I know what I’m doing, okay?” You look at him intently and he surrenders with a huff, letting you go. You try to get up, but then he grips your wrist again. You look back at him, slightly annoyed. He’s serious. “Hey…” he whispers, before pulling your forearm gently towards him. He leans in closer to you, eyeing you intently, and you feel that familiar rush of heat flooding back to you. He stops just a breath from your face, his forehead almost leaning against yours, the sudden intimacy of the gesture flustering you. He doesn’t take his eyes off of yours. “Thank you for finding me,” he murmurs, and before you can answer he leans in and kisses you.

You close your eyes, the blissful feeling of his lips back on yours flooding you in a very welcome haze of happiness. You tentatively place your hand on his torso, afraid to hurt him, but he takes your wrist and pulls your arm upward and around his neck, letting you know it’s okay. You wrap your other arm around him too and gently dig your fingers in his hair at the nape of his neck. He moans appreciatively, shifting his body to face you and slowly running his own hand up your thigh and up to your waist. You let out a breath didn’t know you’d been holding, feeling the relief of having him in your arms again wash over you. You move your hands to cup his face, caressing his jaw and neck. He bops his nose against yours, urging you to deepen the kiss. Your consience suddenly tugs at you, reminding you of the urgency of the situation. “Lee…” you try to whisper against his mouth, “You need help…” “This is all the help I need, sweetheart…” he murmurs back, silencing you with another kiss.

You know you need to go fetch help and you know Lee is still very much in pain. But his lips are intoxicating, and the feeling of his arms encircling your waist to pull you against him, and his mouth nudging yours open, and his shallow breath against your lips, and his soft moans, and his hands gripping your skin tighter, make it so hard to concentrate on anything else… For a moment you allow your mind to go blank, except for the way you taste his lips with yours and you fill your breaths with his scent. His hands slip under your shirt and his cold fingers caress your back, making you shiver...He bites down on your lower lip, softly moaning when you mirror his action...His tongue caresses yours, making you whimper as his hands glide further up your back and he starts leaning forward, slowly trying to push you on your back...He feels so good that you almost forget what’s going on, and start abandoning yourself backwards....

But then you accidentally move your hand down his torso, and when it glides past his ribcage he breaks the kiss, letting out a pained gasp. That’s enough to pull you out of your lusty haze. You mentally slap yourself: what were you doing?! The man was beaten up and you were letting yourself get turned on instead of running to find help! You pull away and straighten yourself up, ashamed. “Lee, I’m so…I’m so sorry, sorry, I’m…I’m the worst,” you stutter, even though he immediately raises a hand to signal he was fine. “Darlin, it’s nothing, just a tiny scratch…” “No,” you say resolutely, taking his hand in yours and looking intently at him, “I’m going to help you, okay? I’ll be right back,” you promise, leaning in for a quick reassuring kiss before straightening up and heading for the door. You cast a quick warning glance to Hester, “Keep an eye on him, the front door’s locked and there’s no one else here.” Hester nods.

You leave Lee with one last meaningful glance, and rush out the door and down the stairs with your daemon trotting besides you. Thankfully, you knew exactly where to find help. You only hoped you could keep all of you out of trouble.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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P.S. Please forgive me if I’ve forgotten someone, I suck at tagging these lists !!!

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