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shiny-jr · 3 months

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✦ damnation [ the vizier's vassal ]

– Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.

– Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

– Characters: Kalim Al-Asim, Jamil Viper.

– Note: Please enjoy this post! Hopefully everything is okay, since I just copy and pasted from the quiz and skimmed.

– Pages: 42

– Not satisfied? Try looking here for the quiz to take it yourself and see where you end up banished!

The Diviner | The Vizier's Vassal | The Raven Retainer

Feathers. Colorful feathers tickled your nose. A woven shawl sat on your shoulders with vibrant colors and macaw feathers along the clip that held it in place above your collarbone. As your vision readjusted to the scenery, you could make out an old desert city stretching out as far as the eye could see, until it met over the horizon with the starry night sky. It was nothing like the court you were in moments ago. Instantly everything came flashing back to you, the trial, the judges, your punishment. This was your punishment. “Holy shit.”

“Is something wrong?”

You looked to the side, surprised to see a servant placing a tray beside you. You were on a balcony, a beautiful grand spacious terrace where the arches were decorated with ivy and walls of flowers while pillars of flames provided light and there was a large water fountain in the center. You were laying on the edge of that fountain, when you pushed yourself up and looked around. That’s when you noticed your clothes had changed too. Somehow your simple change of clothes from before had become easy-to-move-in loose trousers and a simple tunic, but with the colorful shawl over your shoulders that resembled wings. “What? What the hell?”

“Is there something wrong with the food?”

Food? You looked down at the tray the servant had brought, surprised to see a plate of kofta with a chalice of water. The delicious smell wafted in the air, making your mouth water and stomach grumble. How long has it been since you ate? Probably well before you were arrested. If you got food, you were expecting cold slop, not this scrumptious meal that was cooked to perfection. Instantly you snatched it up, assuring the servant, “No, no, forget it! This is fine, uh, thanks…!”

“Very well.” They bowed their head to you, “Please, enjoy the meal, vassal.”

Vassal? You stopped mid-bite, about to ask them about it and where you were, but they had already taken off. Well, you weren’t complaining. You had thought you were going to die, or end up in some horrible hell. This place was actually quite nice. You could feel the breeze of the cool desert air and smell the flora growing on this terrace, you heard the city below with the crackling of fire from the pillars and the running water beside you, not to mention you were eating the best food you ever tasted! If this was hell, then being banished might be the best thing that’s ever happened to you!

“You! Jamil’s vassal!”

There it was again. What the hell did they mean by vassal? Your cheeks were stuffed with food you had shoveled into your mouth, as you slowly and awkwardly turned around to face whoever called you. Who was Jamil? You had no idea. A little annoyed that your dinner was interrupted, you eyed the approaching stranger up and down before swallowing your food and muttering, “What do you want?”

Appearing offended at your response, the young man stomped up to you, closer so you could see him better in the dim lighting. He looks a little young, if you had to guess, you’d say the guy was no younger than eighteen. Sharp blue eyes and long thick black hair styled into a single braid, not to mention he wasn’t smiling. This was no servant judging by the expensive looking blue garbs he wore and the gold on his bronze ears that complimented his handsome face. It had to be someone of high standing. When he was right in front of you, he frowned down at you and placed his hands on his hips, “Where is Jamil? And where is my cousin?”

You lowered your plate of food, squinting incredulously at this stranger. Who did he think he was? Jamil? Cousin? “Your cousin…? Jamil…? How should I know?”

“You should know. As the vizier’s only vassal, you should know where Jamil is. That is your job, to serve him. Or is he slithering about in places he shouldn’t be?” As his blue eyes bore down at you, he continued his tirade, “You haven’t bowed your head or greeted me as everyone does, by saying, good day, Prince Jaseer. And you’re here slacking off while everyone else in the palace is dutifully working.”

“I’m on a lunch break.” You mumbled in reply, tempted to snap. Wait… had he said prince…? A beautiful royal in blue wearing gold, with long black hair, who is spirited and no-nonsense, like a princess in a fantasy tale. A princess that lived in a palace just like this one, where there was a vizier and sultan–– oh fuck. How was that possible? This was like a stupid kid’s story you heard all the time! Before you could ponder on the topic, you were reminded of who was in front of you by him cleaning his throat. You immediately bowed your head sloppily, begrudgingly, as you recited the words he wanted to hear. “Good day, Prince Jaseer…”

At your less-than-satisfactory response, he crossed his arms over his chest and replied still with that frown, “If you can’t answer my question, then there’s no use talking to you. I’ll find someone who can tell me where my cousin and Jamil are. Let it be known, I have my eye on you and your master. My cousin may be fond of you both, but I am not.”

When you slowly lifted your head, you watched the prince storm away, likely to go find his cousin, whoever that was, and the vizier, this Jamil guy. As soon as he turned a corner, you scrunched your nose and scoffed, “Brat.”

Wait… that meant this was a story. It was all too similar to a story that began much like: it begins on a dark night, where a dark man waits with a dark purpose. If this was that story then what were you…? Apparently working for the vizier, wearing a shawl of rainbows, and feathers… oh my god, you were the fucking parrot. As you resumed your eating you busied your mind with processing these thoughts. “At least the tax collector can’t find me here.”

All you knew was that you were in the role of his parrot, his pet. What a stupid role to end up in! In this version you hoped you were at least some sort of glorified servant! At least you weren’t dead, this was much better than that. You knew the tale of Aladdin by heart, it was a very popular story growing up. You had even envied the protagonist, a thief, for ending up with a genie and winning the love of the princess. Turns out that princess, or prince in this case, was not all that. Well, they always say to never meet your heroes. But, there was one thing that was bound to be great, no matter how much this story would change. The magic lamp that held the genie. You wanted it. Maybe if you stuck around this vizier long enough, you could take it for yourself whenever the opportunity presented itself. You had the advantage, you knew exactly what was going to happen. That genie could grant any of your wishes! It could take you home if you wanted. You could make all those judges rue the day they banished you! You could rule this world and yours! You could bathe in an endless amount of gold and cash! The possibilities were endless!

As you finished your meal, another figure came into view. The figure of a guard, like the ones you’ve been watching patrol and march around, approached you nervously. Only when he noticed you glance at him and nod your head, did he begin speaking, “G-Good evening, vassal. The candidates, they’re ready for the vizier, he’ll be here any moment. You are the only one he trusts, everyone knows this, won’t you put in a kind word for me? I fear he’s in a foul mood, his venture to the cave in the desert didn’t end well again.”

Candidates? Vizier? Cave in the desert? After a few seconds of the guard waiting in anticipation, you were able to connect the dots. This must’ve been a specific rendition of the story where the vizier found the Cave of Wonders in the desert but instead of using a magic machine he created to find the diamond in the rough that could enter the cave, he used his power behind the scenes and in the dark to search through prisoners and criminals and send those he thought might be worthy to die trying to enter the mystic cave. This vizier, Jamil, would no doubt be growing frustrated since he’s likely been keeping at this for so long without finding a single person that can successfully enter the cave. Jumping off your seat on the fountain after finishing your last bite of food, you looked over to the guard and smiled, “Alright, let’s go. We can’t leave the master waiting, can we?”

“Of course! Allow me to lead the way.” So you followed the meek little guard, and as you trailed after him you thought about what would happen and what would you do. The guard had said that it was a fact that the vizier trusted only you, or rather, the person who you’ve replaced. The prince didn’t notice you were not the vassal, and neither did this guard or any of the other servants, so it was likely that no one would notice unless you slipped up, not even the Vizier Jamil. Hopefully.

You watched as the pristine halls of the palace became dark and dim the deeper you went. As the smooth walls became rugged stone lit only by lamps of fire, and the lush green plants and overpriced furniture and decorations became absent. There were also, noticeably, less people. It felt like you and the guard were the only ones as you followed them deeper into what you guessed was a dungeon where you heard chains rattling and the echoing screams of those held captive. Before you could enter the room, the guard turned to you and pleaded,

“Please, stay here. I’m sure seeing you will give the vizier a bit of peace. He should be here any second now. I will go ahead and be sure everything is in order.”

Before you could even protest, the guard scurried ahead to the end of the hall and not too long after, you detected footfall behind you. When you turned around, you saw what you presumed had to be the Vizier Jamil. The vizier looked sort of imposing as he appeared from the dimly lit halls, and with the flames on the wall you could just make out his appearance. A thin figure clothed in red and black robes decorated with gold, holding a golden staff that ended in the shape of a cobra’s head. Long thin hair as black as night coiled down his brown shoulders like snakes in multiple small braids and loose strands decorated with gold, and instantly his sharp gray eyes painted with eyeshadow darted over to you upon noticing your staring. He looked irked, but since you supposedly had a good relationship with him, maybe you could poke and prod without worrying about suffering any consequences. From what you recalled, the vizier’s parrot in the tales was a loud-mouthed creature with a bad temper.

“Welcome back, oh great vizier. So, how did it go?”

“Not a word.” The vizier hissed, sending you a glare. Yet it wasn’t threatening, it felt more… annoyed. Like when your friend was pestering you, except without the light-heartedness. At least he didn’t snap, he did have the power to command you to be put to death. Yet all he did was give you a look before his frown instantly morphed into a stoic expression in the blink of an eye, so fast that it sent you reeling.

Jamil wasted no time in walking forward, not bothering with greetings as he entered the first room of the dungeon that was dingy and dirty. Inside was the guard from before, nervously standing off to the side just across from a line of prisoners in shackles with their heads hanging low, and more guards behind them. These prisoners reminded you of yourself, but less. Now you’re free of any shackles, you’re wearing fine clothes and eating food made by the best chefs while living in the luxurious palace. To avoid being at the center of attention, you stood off to the side, leaning against a corner. Listening in could give more insight.

You watched intently, curiously, as Jamil approached the line of prisoners, scanning them all with those sharp eyes as he walked by them slowly. The men and women in rags and chains tensed when he stepped near, but kept their eyes glued to the ground. Whether it was out of respect or fear, you weren’t sure, but you watched as some of them squirmed in place or nervously glanced at him. After a minute of going down the line of a dozen or so prisoners, he stopped in his tracks and turned to face the guard who guided you. On his face was obvious disappointment.

“You bring me the rough, but never a diamond.” That cold stare of his remained on the anxious guard, never looking away even as he commanded the others, “Take them away.”

You purse your lips and shake your head, watching as the other guards forcefully dragged the prisoners down another hall, to a fate unknown. Poor suckers. You could hear them pleading, begging the vizier for mercy from whatever end they knew awaited them. In one rendition of the story, when the princess snuck out of the palace and gave apples to poor children, apples she had no money on her to pay for, she nearly lost her hand as punishment. It was likely that these prisoners were about to lose much more than a single hand.

The meek guard sent you a pleading look as they whispered frantically, “You said you would put in a kind word for me…!”

Turning your attention to them, you scoffed, “I never said that. I said I would follow you.”

“You…!” At your shrug, he directed his sights towards the vizier who was walking away, his back toward him as he seemed to be prepared to follow the guards and prisoners going elsewhere within the dungeon. “Please, my vizier.” The vizier stopped, and the words were caught in the guard’s throat until he finally forced them out with wavering uncertainty, making it sound more like a question than a statement. “... Perhaps this diamond in the rough does not exist…?”

For a moment he paused but didn’t turn around, and quietly replied, “They’re out there.” A response with unwavering certainty.

“But we’ve searched for months!” It appears that the guard was showing signs of frustration as well. Who knows how many prisoners they’ve interrogated and how many criminals they’ve captured in these months, all in an attempt to satisfy the vizier’s wish of finding a diamond in the rough. “I do not understand what could possibly be in that cave that could help a… a man as great as you. You are already second only to the sultan!”

“Second? Uh-oh.” You exclaimed, bracing yourself for what was to come and ignoring the guard’s growing irritation towards you. In the tale, yes the vizier worked for the sultan, he was the sultan’s most trusted advisor. But, behind the vizier’s facade of charm and loyalty, there was only a burning hate for the sultan who believed in him. The vizier wished to be the most powerful man in the kingdom, second to no one. So to be told he was second, straight to his face, would be like a slap. You watched as Jamil turned to the guard with a deep frown, and you could only whistle, “Who’s in trouble now~?”

Jamil turned to face him fully, staring at the guard beneath him with such a disdainful gaze before questioning firmly, “Do you believe second is enough?”

Without hesitation, they nodded, the answer to them was obvious. “Yes. You were not born to be sultan, you are not of royal lineage. His Majesty, Kalim Al-Asim, was born to be sultan.”

Kalim Al-Asim. So that was the sultan’s name. The mere mention of him was enough to tick off the vizier. He narrowed his eyes and began to speak in a quiet murmur, “Do you know that I’ve served him my entire life? From the day I was born, they dictated that I was a servant to him and they chained my entire existence so it depended on him.” Slowly he stepped forward, inching closer with every word he spat like venom. “You have no idea of the things I’ve been forced to do for him. The sacrifices I’ve made and blood that’s stained my hands, the bodies I’ve buried and times I’ve watched him be praised for his minimal efforts I can easily best.” The closer he got, the more frightened the guard appeared until he was right in front of them. “Everyone will one day learn that I am not worthy of a mere second place, I am supposed to be first. That’s why I need the lamp, and I no longer need you––!”

Right before your eyes, you watched as Jamil swiftly struck him with the bottom of his staff and he fell backwards into a well. A seemingly bottomless well, because you heard his scream growing distant until an unsettling silence lingered. You covered your mouth in shock, but Jamil paid you no mind. It’s as if he’s done a dozen times before, as if you had witnessed all of them before.

After a moment, he sighed and lowered his staff, regaining his composure to cover up for the anger that slipped through in that moment. Again, in a flash, he had a stoic expression as he turned to gaze at you in the corner, when he beckoned you closer with a motion of his finger. “Come here, my vassal. It’s time for a meeting with that irritating sultan.”

Now you were on your way to meet the sultan. Kalim. You hoped he wasn’t anything like Jamil. This vizier was to be feared, but at least he didn’t seem to mind you. So you probably won’t be pushed down a well anytime soon. As you followed him when he began walking, he questioned abruptly,

“What did you do while I was gone?”

This wasn’t good. You weren’t here for that long before he returned, and you got the feeling that Jamil was a particularly observant fellow judging by how he glanced at you from the corner of his eyes. “That royal brat confronted me while I was eating. They’re so annoying.”

“Ah, Prince Jaseer?” Slowly he nodded, as if agreeing with your words. Phew. You were doing alright, fitting the role just fine it seemed. “Annoying would be putting it lightly. He’s just another entitled royal born with a golden spoon in his mouth, an ignorant person who knows nothing of how the real world works.”

“You’re telling me. The guy made me bow and recite a greeting like I was nothing but a pleb beneath him! Then he had the gall to say I was lazy! I was eating! Can’t a person like me eat in peace once in a while? I was starving!”

By now you were in a better part of the palace, where you were once again surrounded by riches. Upon hearing your response, Jamil replied without hesitation, “You are lazy when I’m not around.” At his remark, you stared at him incredulously as he continued with zero reservations, “You are uncaring, murderous, deceitful, aggressive, cunning, and annoying.”

Unable to help it, you snapped back in reply, beginning to rant and list off your fingers. “ME? Look in the mirror bud, you just basically described yourself! You’re cruel, immoral, narcissistic, power-hungry, sadistic, and secretly deranged! You're a two-faced, snake!” When you looked over to him, he still had that stoic expression but he rolled his eyes. Your jaw dropped. There was no way he just fucking––

“You used that insult, two-faced snake, two weeks ago.” Before you could add anything more to the growing pile of insults, he lightly tapped your forehead with the cobra head of his golden staff, appearing unbothered. “Come up with something else or get on my level, then you can talk back. For now, be quiet. We’re nearing where Kalim wanted to meet us. I don’t need to remind you to be on your best behavior around the sultan.”

Rubbing your forehead, you glared at him and mumbled, “Oh, I’ll come up with something shocking, you sorry sack of––ACK!” You coughed, bending over in pain as he quickly jabbed the end of his staff against your stomach to shut you up just before a silk curtain separating the halls from a room opened up.

“Jamil! Oh, and your vassal too! I’m so happy to see you guys! You’re just the ones I wanted to see!”

You had to squint just to look past the stranger’s bright beaming smile. It was a young man, just a bit shorter than Jamil, yet he was dressed in finer garbs than the vizier. The bright pearly-white smile matched some of his odd white strands of hair that poked out past the silk cloth messily tied around his head, the turban he must’ve usually wore to show his high status was off to the side beside a model of the entire city. The energy in his red eyes was just as bright as his smile, but even brighter than that was the gleaming golden accessories glittering over his tawny brown complexion. Golden rings and jewels over his fingers, gold buttons stitched onto his silk clothes, even the tiniest patterns on those silk garbs looked shiny enough to be real gold. So much gold––

Jamil wore a charming devilish smile, but once this Kalim looked away for a second, he quickly slapped your hand as soon as you lifted it, sending you a warning glare, as if saying, do not touch. You glared right back, but as soon as Kalim returned his attention to the two of you again, he pleaded, “I could really use your help, Jamil! You’re the person I can trust the most!”

“You have always placed your trust in me, and I’ve never failed to deliver.” He replied smoothly with a bow of his head. Damn, he was really good at lying. It was a teensy bit concerning.

“It’s all this suitor thing with Jaseem!” Kalim exclaimed, beginning to lay down his worries, “You know I promised I would take care of my cousin before his parents passed, I promised them to help him find a wife when he got older. And now, well, he’s older! I don’t remember it being nearly this hard when I had to marry.”

The vizier followed Kalim as he continued to rant and bemoan, stepping beside him as they stopped in front of various shelves of scrolls and books and tables of documents and knick-knacks. Meanwhile, you followed closely behind, reminding yourself not to input anything or risk gaining suspicion. Once Kalim was finished, only then did Jamil respond casually, “To be fair, your marriage didn’t last long due to… unfortunate circumstances. I’m afraid Prince Jaseer is different. He’s already met ten times the suitresses you ever did. Your standards are nowhere near as high as the prince’s.”

“Pfft…” You slapped your hand over your mouth, going quiet as both Jamil and Kalim looked over at you. Fuck, you were in trouble now, weren’t you?

Kalim blinked before joining in on the shameless laughter, lifting the mood substantially. “You’re right, I never had this problem. It honestly didn’t take a lot to impress me! Oh, have you eaten today? You should totally try these cheese and sauces on crackers! They’re my favorite snack right now! Here!”

You held up your hands in defense, “Wait, a minute. Actually, maybe–– mmph!” You nearly choked as he abruptly stuffed a handful of the crunchy saltines in your mouth, and he placed his other hand to pat your back so you couldn’t step away.

The sultan grinned as you were forced to swallow the food. That’s when he held up more, and urged, “It’s good, isn’t it? You should try more! Hey, you can even have dinner with me if you want! The more the merrier, right?” Before you could even input anything, Kalim shouted loud enough so the servants outside could hear him, “Keep the snacks coming! And make sure to have an extra seat for later! I’d like to eat dinner on the balcony tonight with Jamil’s vassal! Make sure to serve the best, most delicious dishes we have to offer!”

“Hah, you have such a kindness that extends to everyone, don’t you, Kalim? Even to the dense little attendants.”

You shot the vizier a glare at his not-so-subtle jab directed towards you. The only reason you didn’t say anything to his face was because you still had a mouthful of crackers that you could barely swallow without gagging.

Clearing his throat, his soft laughter stopped as he resumed his professional attitude and he was back to business. “Now then, allow me to divine a solution to this pesky problem. As well as take care of… the work you often leave in my care. As per usual.” When you glanced at him, the moment Kalim spun on his heel to catch up with the slowly moving vizier is when you noticed the dark haired man’s annoyance that flashed for a second. “However, I will be needing access to the restricted area of the library, to look at the ancient texts of laws and such. You understand, don’t you?”

“The restricted section? The one reserved only for me and other members of the royal family?” The young man tilted his head, appearing a bit apprehensive as he tapped his finger against his chin in thought. “I dunno, Jamil. Normally I’d let you, but I think that’s against the rules. There’s a lot of secrets hidden there.”

“It’s necessary for us to continue.” Lifting his golden staff, he nonchalantly examined its enchanting ruby red eyes before his fingers slid across the smooth golden surface and he turned it so the cobra head was gazing right at the sultan. A slight sly smile grew on his face as he hummed, “Don’t worry, everything will be fine.”

You watched with intrigued, both fascinated and horrified as he pressed the end of his staff against the ground and leaned the cobra head forwards, causing the sultan to stiffen up and go oddly silent. That’s when you realized it was happening. Jamil was using his powers to hypnotize and manipulate the sultan, just like in the stories.

The sultan’s own red eyes mirrored the rubies of the staff, but quickly his smile dropped into a blank expression as held a staring contest with the cobra head. As if in a trance, he quietly repeated the words spoken to him. “––Everything will be fine…”

That smile on his face grew to a smirk as the vizier repeated his request, “Permission to use the restricted area of the library?”

“Yes, Jamil…” Kalim remained unblinking. His once bright eyes full of life were now… empty. It’s like they were covered with a mist. Slowly, robotically, he held up a blue diamond ring and spoke, “The key… Whatever you need will be fine.”

Instantly he snatched it up, tucking the ring away safely within his robes as he thanked, “You are most gracious, my liege. Now, run along and have fun, enjoy your dinner. Hm?”

“Yes…”

With a swish of his cloak, Jamil began to walk away and you trailed behind him as Kalim stayed in the room, mindlessly gazing out the window. As soon as you were past the curtains and saw no one else present, Jamil’s professionalism dropped and he rolled his eyes, wearing an annoyed frown. You spat out the crackers you couldn’t swallow, it left crumbs in your mouth and salt that burned the roof of your mouth but at least now you were able to speak your mind a little more freely. “I can’t take it! If he tried to stuff one more cracker in my face, I’m was gonna––!”

“Calm yourself, my vassal.” Jamil replied, his expression less refined and now just a resting bitch face. Turning to you, he stopped and instructed, “I will go scour that private area of the library to see what secrets it may hide. The key to our troubles may very well be hidden among those carefully guarded secrets. You will stay here.”

You gawked. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” Pressing a pointed finger against your shoulder, he continued his instructions, “Keep that halfwitted idiot busy, stay for dinner as he wants. Have a little tea party with him if it amuses him. Afterwards, I expect to see you back within my tower. I’d prefer you not stay around Kalim for longer than necessary, especially because his ignorance may rub off on you. Or has it already?”

“Haha, yeah, sure, laugh it up. Very funny.” You scowled at his grin, watching as he turned to leave. “Have fun doing that lame boring reading! I’m gonna enjoy this time off eating until I can’t take another bite!” Once he was out of sight, you spat, “Jerk.” And promptly returned back inside beside the sultan.

When you found him, he was still gazing out the window with those empty eyes. The hypnotic technique continued to last for a few seconds even after Jamil took his leave. However, thankfully, after waving your hand in front of his face and lightly slapping his cheeks, he was beginning to regain consciousness. “Hey, you! Kalim–– er… sultan, wake up.”

Kalim blinked repetitively, the hazy mist in his gaze disappearing until his eyes were bright and red like polished rubies once again. As if awaking from a deep sleep, he groaned and pressed his cheek against your hand, not fully realizing what was happening until he blinked again and looked up at you. “What…? What happened? Ah, I’m sorry, I zoned out again…!” Despite realizing how close you two were, he made no effort to move. Was he that trusting or that stupid? “Where’s Jamil?”

“He’s busy. Had to go back to work, uh… sultan.” You were a little upset that he’d leave you with this odd little ruler, but you couldn’t complain too much when you’d get to have your fill of food.

“Ooooh, okay then! And please, you can just call me Kalim! Any friend of Jamil’s is a friend of mine.” He hummed, taking your hands as soon as you stepped away and lowered them away from his face. “I’m so happy to finally get to spend time with you! Jamil is always so hardworking and you are too! I mean, you’re always helping him, and he seems to trust you a lot and that’s saying something because he hardly trusts anyone! So I’ve never gotten to really talk this much to you until now! This is a little exciting, isn’t it? Come on!” Without warning, he began to tug you along, apparently forgetting the exchange from earlier. So he really didn’t remember that he had been hypnotized. As he dragged you along outside of the rooms and down the pristine extensive hallways, he continued, “I wanna know all about you! Our dinner should be ready by now! And what better way to get to know someone than over dinner? What kind of food do you like? What’s your favorite drink? Oh! And we can’t forget dessert!”

Suddenly you were out on the balcony where you first gained consciousness, it was still dark out. It all happened so quickly, in a flash you were seated on a long plush chaise lounge draped with numerous pillows and blankets. In a rush, the servants came out, setting out tables and trays filled to the brim with food until you were surrounded by mounds of food that all smelled so delectable. Before you could even think of something to say, Kalim was already piling food on your plate, making it so high that it resembled a small mountain.

“Eat as much as you want! Oh, try this! And this too! And you gotta have a little of this! Dinner is one of my favorite times of the day, because you get to relax with someone, whether it be family, a friend, or a complete stranger, and talk about anything!”

There was so much on your plate that you almost struggled to peek over it just to see the face of the sultan. Yeah you wanted food, but this was too much even for you… As the young man explained what dish was what, you glanced behind your shoulder at the servants transporting trays and pitchers. Your eyes narrowed, but you pretended to pay attention to the sultan by nodding at whatever he said, as you watched out of the corner of your eye. One servant carrying another silver tray, leaned forward to place it on the table, while his other arm was folded at his midsection. His body had been covering your view of the pitcher, but once he stepped back and began to walk away, you noticed the liquid fizzing for a moment and became an odd color before the solution dissolved to blend in with the beverage. That substance he slipped into the drink… was he trying to poison the sultan?

Your eyes followed the servant as he turned on his heel and began to retreat towards the kitchen. Narrowing your gaze, you interrupted Kalim while he was going on about some story of him having dinner with other royals, when you blurted out, “Hey, you.”

It went quiet, the sultan appeared confused and leaning over to get a better look at what you were glaring at while all the servants froze in their tracks.

“Yeah, you with the stupid face and red sash. I’m talking to you. What the hell were you slipping in that drink? You sure have guts to be doing that in front of me. Either that or you're brain-dead.”

Everyone tensed up at your implication, the guards nearby honing in on the servant with the red sash around their waist. Immediately they had them restrained, one of the head guards ripped off his sash to remove a suspicious vial with some liquid still left in it. Despite the servant’s panicked squirming in the hold of the soldiers, the head guard turned towards the sultan, holding up the vial and nodding in affirmation, “Your Majesty, it is poison…”

“Again?” Kalim sighed somberly, slowly gripping onto your sleeve.

Again? What the hell did he mean by again? How many times did this usually happen? As if on cue, the remaining servants rushed in to remove all the food that had been brought. Now, they would have to double check everything to make sure nothing else was poisoned. Without even being told, the armored men escorted away the frightened servant that had failed to harm the sultan. Instantly the area was cleared, save for extra guards further away but still close enough to watch.

After a few seconds, the realization of something appeared to dawn on the sultan’s face as he gripped your sleeve tighter and peered up at you with wide sparkling red eyes. “You… You saved me! I knew it! You are trustworthy! Wait, what am I talking about? Of course you’re trustworthy, Jamil trusts you, but this just confirms it! I might’ve been poisoned if you hadn’t said anything! You are a good person, just like I thought! You see, I’m a great judge of character so I knew that you were good from the moment I met you!”

You resisted the urge to laugh at his choice of words about you being a good person. At first you thought of letting it happen, but if the sultan were to die now, that would rush things along. Prince Jaseer would inherit the throne if he gets married quick enough, and then he would definitely get rid of you and Jamil. Then, you’d be poor and powerless on the streets, or worse, dead. So what did you do? Call out the servant, duh. “It’s nothing, really.”

Shaking his head in refusal, he continued to insist, “But it is something! Don’t be so modest. Everyone should know of what you did for me tonight! The whole kingdom deserves to know! You deserve a reward! If you need anything, just say it, and it's yours! Anything at all!”

You couldn’t help but scoff, rolling your eyes as a semi-amused smile appeared on your face, “Don’t say that, I’m going to make you regret it.” You’d definitely rob him blind if you could. He would be such an easy target too, like stealing candy from a baby, if he wasn’t always being watched by a troop of guards twenty-four-seven.

For a moment he was quiet, his red eyes analyzing your smile with surprise before he broke out into the brightest beaming expression that nearly made you shriek from being blinded. “But I mean it! I really do!” As his hands gripped your arm a little tighter, he noticed your colorful shawl. Curious, he began to trace his fingers across the woven shapes, entranced by the colors as he murmured in awe, “Woah, I really like your shawl. The feathers are pretty, and I love the colors! I think I might want something styled like that.”

He was actually… strangely casual for a guy that was nearly poisoned. Then again, maybe it was a common thing for him. He was the most powerful man in the entire kingdom. “You like it that much?” You watched as he quickly nodded, to which you plucked one of the five long red feathers beside the clip of the shawl. Its red faded into blue, with one edge even tinted with the tiniest bit of yellow and green. “It’s the only thing keeping me from freezing right now, so I can only give you this. That way you can show it to your tailors or stylists or whatever you rich people have, and they know what you want.” It was totally not to distract him and get the sultan off your back so he’d let go of your arm.

Kalim’s eyes widened as he swiftly reached out and gingerly took the feather in his hands. Those eyes of his looked at the feather with wonder, as if it was worth more than rubies or gold. Turning his wonder-filled expression up at you, he looked so joyful as he leaned forward and spoke, “Thank you…! I love it!” Then, his expression flattened a bit to a more solemn look as he glanced down at the feather he held tightly and back to you. His voice got even quieter so as to not be heard by anyone that may be in the halls nearby. “Since I trust you… can I tell you a secret…?”

You deadpanned, turning your attention away to the scenery. “No.”

“Whew, okay, here it goes…” Focusing on the feather, he quickly forced out, “I’ve never gotten a gift like this before…! There. I said it!”

In that moment you stopped to squint at him, not believing a word he said. “Wait a second, you’re kidding, right? I mean, you’re sultan. You live in a giant palace, you have countless servants and soldiers, your kingdom is one of the most powerful and prosperous! Don’t lie to me, I bet you have people lining up to give you gifts everyday! Gifts of gold, jewels, all that fancy expensive stuff!”

“I’m not lying! All of that is true, but… this gift is special!” Kalim immediately replied, only gripping the feather tighter as he explained, “I think gifts given on the spot, out of the goodwill of your heart, are way more valuable. Yeah, I get a lot of gifts, and I’m thankful! But it’s not the same! I will treasure this feather because it’s from you, and your kindness!” Eventually his gaze traveled down to your shawl, he was shivering a bit from the cold desert winds. Looking back up at you, then your shawl, then you again, it’s as if he was trying to convey something. “I-It’s getting a little cold, aha… Can I…?”

Frowning, you flopped back onto the soft cushions, your fingers gripping the very edges of the shawl. “This is the one thing that’s mine. No, you can’t have it.”

“Haha, I wasn’t asking for it! Don’t worry, I’ll definitely be asking my tailors to make me one like yours so we can match! I meant I wanted to share it with you right now!” With zero hesitation, he flopped down beside you. He was close, so incredibly close, enough that you could feel his body warmth and he could probably feel yours. It did not help that when you tried to inch away, he took the initiative to snuggle closer, draping the ends of your shawl around himself as he continued to hold the feather you gifted him.

When he was right up against you and gazed up at you with those bright eyes and always happy smile, you scowled and muttered, “What’s with you? You got a problem, princey?”

Without missing a beat, he responded casually. “I’m not a prince, that would technically be my cousin! I’m a sultan! Although I was a prince before, but not anymore.”

“That’s not what I–– nevermind.” You tried to ignore him for your own good. You couldn’t exactly get away with hurting the sultan, no matter how much you wanted to take a swing. Well, it wasn’t all bad was it? This meant you were on his good side, right?

As you glanced back at him, you could feel him beside you. Shoulder-to-shoulder, as he gazed up at the stars, looking up at the endless night sky with twinkling eyes. “This is great! I rarely ever have company like this. I mean, I always have company but like–– company that I can just relax with, you know? Oh, look up there, at those stars––!”

At this point you weren’t really focused on the sultan or what he was saying. Actually, you were focused on something just past him, past the stone curved ends of the balcony where you could see the rest of the city and part of the palace. That's when you made out a figure, like a small ant against the vast backdrop, running fast. They moved quickly, jumping over obstacles and climbing walls like an acrobat, as if it came natural to them, all while avoiding the lights of torches and staying in the shadows. They were dressed in rags too, like a peasant. Like… a thief.

“––Anyways, that’s the story behind my favorite constellation! What about yours? Do you have a favorite?”

“OH MY GOD––” Your eyes widened as the realization struck. The thief, they were the protagonist! The protagonist was making their move!

The sultan appeared startled at your sudden exclamation, but his shock quickly turned to a smile as he laughed, “Did you like the story that much? I like it too! Let me think of another one to tell you about!”

Immediately pushing him away, you sat up and scrambled to get off the chair, “Welp, this is getting weird. And I have to go report back to Jamil! Damn, you know how it is, with work and all. You get it, don’t you? Yeah, of course you do!” Brushing yourself off, you bolted just as the sultan was sitting up and looking bewildered at your odd reaction. “Okay, I’m gonna go before you can say anything, m’kay, bye!”

“W-Wait!”

Nope. Not waiting. You ran, not even sure how to reach the vizier because you had no idea where his main quarters were, so you disguised your lack of knowledge as questions such as looking for his extra robes or even where the vizier himself was currently at, demanding answers along the way from unsuspecting servants until they pointed you in the direction. You had to hurry, you had to point out the thief so Jamil could use him and lure him to the lamp. Once he got the lamp, you’d take over from there, you’d come up with a plan eventually. Just not right now, not when you were rushing to make it back to inform the advisor of the intruder as quickly as possible. You climbed the spiraling staircases to one of the towers where the vizier’s quarters were located.

As soon as you threw open the doors, you found him looking over a tome. However, as soon as you entered, he turned to look at you, raising an eyebrow as you heaved for a breath while you slammed the door shut behind you and leaned your weight against the wooden surface. You exclaimed breathlessly, “Thief!! Thief in the palace!”

“Thief in the palace?” Jamil parroted, looking even more perplexed as he narrowed his eyes at you and you pointed to his open balcony that overlooked part of the city and part of the palace.

Stumbling over to the balcony, you leaned your weight on the stone edges, letting the cool desert air fan your face. Quietly you mumbled, “That’s what I said. Catch up, or are you deaf?” When Jamil joined you at the balcony, he stood straight and tall as his dark eyes gazed out into the night.

There, shrouded in the shadows, was the thief moving nimbly on rooftops and wooden pergolas covered in vines. They moved so quietly and effortlessly, going unnoticed even by the armored guards on patrol just below them. Finally, they disappeared into a hall, where there would only be servants cleaning and handling chores to keep the palace pristine. For once he finally appeared pleased, content, as he glanced at you and instructed, “Have the guards extend an invitation to our intruding guest. I will be escorting them to the cave. And you, my vassal?”

You? As much as you wanted to go, it wasn’t like you could go into the cave yourself. You also couldn’t reveal that you knew that this thief was the diamond in the rough that the vizier had spent months searching for. No matter how much you wanted that lamp now, you couldn’t risk changing the plot. It was probably better to stay here until the thief would come back with the lamp, genie, with riches and a new name. While they would be busy with wooing the prince, that would be your opportunity to strike. “I’ll stay, keep Prince Jaseer and Kalim off your back if they come asking.” When you noticed Jamil’s attention still on you, you clarified smoothly, “I don’t wanna watch another failure with the cave going up in smoke.”

“Quit being so pessimistic. This is the one.” He scolded, immediately turning to walk away. However, not before leaving another command to follow. “Go, make yourself useful and inform the guards immediately. I’ll be preparing to leave with the thief.”

Rolling your eyes, you stood up and prepared yourself to rush down the steps and inform the guards. At the very least, you could get some well-earned rest once he left. “As you wish, your rottenness.” ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“(Y/n)?”

Your peaceful slumber in the vizier’s quarters was disturbed. On the lounge on the balcony you lay, eyes groggily blinking open only to be met with a familiar face leaning over you. You blinked again for extra measure, your mind processing who you were seeing.

“Good morning!” Kalim smiled, his head just over yours. Out of instinct you jolted upright, accidentally hitting your forehead against his. “Ow! Ah–– you’re finally awake!” The young man cheered, ignoring the pain on his forehead as you hissed and rubbed your own head where it now hurt from the brunt of the impact.

Glaring at the sultan for waking you up from a pleasant sleep, you squinted at his bright expression while rubbing your eyes and the now sore spot on your skull. “What the hell are you doing here? How did you even find me? How did you get in here? I locked the door before I fell asleep!”

“Oh, that? Well, when everyone found out I was looking for you, they told me that you were asleep in Jamil’s tower. Obviously I knew where that was, but when I came to find you, the door was locked! I know, I know, Jamil really likes his privacy, but I just wanted to see you and you wouldn’t open the door! So, I just had the guards use the backup key to open the door and I’ve been waiting here ever since!”

You sat up, taking a moment to process everything. If you weren’t already squinting because of your vision not yet adjusted to the brightness of the sun from the open balcony and grogginess from your own sleep, you would’ve been squinting even more to look at his smiling face incredulously. Rubbing your tired face, you sighed, “Let me get this straight. You couldn’t wait, so you had your people basically break into the vizier’s room and for what? Just to say good morning? How long were you waiting for me to wake up? Don’t tell me you were watching me sleep.” You scoffed somewhat sarcastically.

“I wasn’t watching you! Well… kinda. I just wanted to make sure you were okay! I do owe you.” You were kidding about that last part, so his response genuinely surprised you. Before you could even think up something to say, he stopped leaning over the long lounge chair you were on and stood up to show off a new article of clothing. A colorful woven shawl, similar to yours. “Look! Isn’t it great? They finished it while I was sleeping, and now we match! The tailors sprayed it with perfume too so it even smells like jasmine!”

Frowning as you watched him happily twirl and show off the shawl, the feather you gave him stuck to his headband, you muttered, “All I smell is bullsh––”

“Shhhh!” Appearing incredibly content with his new shawl, he continued to chatter on happily. “I love it so much! Tell me, is this the latest fashion trend in the city? It’s been a while since I’ve gone out.”

You replied gruffly, “I dunno, why don’t you stick your head out the window and check? I’m not your tailor. Why don’t you ask them? Or even ask to go out or something.”

At your words, his smile faltered the tiniest bit. It turned somewhat sad, but he continued to force that cheery expression as he averted his gaze downward albeit awkwardly. “I’d love to go out! But… I’m not really allowed. I’m sultan, remember? I’m only allowed to go out during special occasions, and I’ve never been allowed to just be with everyone else past the gates. My dad used to say it was dangerous, and even now the council says it’s not a good idea.”

Wait a moment… This could work well to your advantage. There was plenty of time before Jamil returned. It would serve as a good excuse to gain your bearing and at least a bit of knowledge on the environment past the high palace walls. Plus, you would get points with the sultan if you made him happy. Besides, being on Kalim’s good side, as annoying as he was, could work out in the end. Especially if things start to go south. It didn’t hurt to be trusted by both the first and second most powerful people in the entire kingdom. Damn you were a genius. You smiled somewhat slyly. “Who says you gotta ask?”

“H-Huh?” For once Kalim was caught off guard as you hopped up from your spot on the lounge. Once you got up, so did he. He followed you as you stepped over to open a cabinet of clothing. “You mean, go without asking? You really mean it?”

Kalim was sultan, he’d obviously be recognized without a disguise. But if you just covered his white hair and lower face and switched his riches to common rags, he’d be fine. Probably. Hopefully. Picking up a few handkerchiefs and scarves he could use, you pretended to reconsider, “I dunno… We’d have to sneak out and break the rules–– just kidding, let’s sneak out!” Holding up some cloaks and fabrics he could use as a hood to cover his signature white hair and to mask his lower face, your smile grew as you persuaded him further, “Come on, let’s just go for a midday stroll and snack. We’ll just let everyone think you’re spending time in the vizier’s chambers waiting for him to return or something. Just follow me, out the window, ‘round the garden, I’ll carry you over, and we’re gone.”

Those red eyes of his turned to the open balcony and view of the city on this hot summer’s day. He stood still, as if contemplating it. But it didn’t take much convincing, or that long to ponder over his decision, because like in a snap, he broke out into a grin and eagerly bobbed his head up and down. That’s when you knew you had him in the palm of your hand.

It took a bit of tip-toeing around, but eventually you managed to get Kalim past the gates with little to no trouble. You had a few coins you snatched from Jamil’s chambers safely secured within a pocket on the inside of your shawl, along with a few knives you tucked away in various parts of your outfit but those were mostly for a last resort. You didn’t plan to go too far because you didn’t know the layout of the city well, and plus you knew there was always the chance of thieves and pickpockets skulking about. The good thing was, that thief protagonist wouldn’t be here, they’d still be in the desert and the Cave of Wonders. All you were here for was a snack and to make the sultan happy, and happy sounded like an understatement.

The young man was practically glowing, vibrating with energy as he danced on his heels. Kalim fit in surprisingly well. Since he wasn’t tall, he didn’t stand out that much in the busy crowd. Not to mention the lack of silks and fancy garbs helped. It was a good idea you gave him that average quality material to wear. On his body he wore a casual old white tunic turned beige with age and loose-fitted orange pants, with that rainbow shawl he commissioned recently and a dark orange hood with a black cloth around his lower face to top it off. The only thing you could really see if you got close to his face, were those big red eyes just sparkling with life.

“Stop staring at me with those big old eyes.”

Immediately he closed his eyes. Although the black fabric concealed the lower portion of his face, you could just tell he was wearing some stupid grin by the slight crinkle appearing on the bridge of his nose and the mirth dancing in his tone. “Sorry, sorry! This is all just so exciting! What are we going to do now? Everything smells so good! Oh, what’s all that––”

When the sultan seemed set on some shady foreign merchants selling a variety of unlabeled goods, you grabbed the back of his collar, preventing him from dashing across the busy streets and being run over by carts hauling goods or being scammed for all the cash he had, or worse. “Hold on. When was the last time you actually went out? Like, as a normal person.”

“Oh, the last time was… the beginning of never, actually. This is my first time!” The sultan beamed.

Kalim was a merchant’s dream, like a sitting duck susceptible to astronomical prices and greedy exchanges. But more like a golden goose instead of a sitting duck. For now, the plan was to safeguard him. He already owed you for saving his life when calling out that assassin with the poison, but there had to be a definite connection. The sultan would be your plan B, should all else fail when attempting to acquire the lamp with the vizier Jamil. If Jamil were to go down, you would betray him in a heartbeat, and turn to Kalim. However, in order for Kalim to truly believe you, the trust had to be as solid as the gold that filled his palace.

“Of course it is. I should’ve guessed.” Resisting the urge to just drop him off at the gates and enjoy your freedom, you opted that the safest options would just be the food stalls and he would be entertained by all the happenings in the market.

And you had been right, but what you didn’t take into account was how talkative he might be. Even as he happily munched away on street food sold at various stalls and carts. “You know, it makes me sad that I can’t go out like this. This is the first time I can stand in the middle of the city, without people crowding and staring. People just walk past me as if I’m nothing–– do you know how crazy that is?”

He was sultan, and a prince before that, so he must’ve been accustomed to everyone bowing to him as he passed. All eyes would be on him, but here? Not a single person gave a passing glance.

Taking a bite of the skewed spiced meat and grilled vegetables you bought for yourself, you shrugged at his words before finally adding in your own two cents. “If you take away your title, you’re just a guy.”

“Just a guy…” He murmured quietly, like he never really considered the fact that without his name and his family’s wealth, he was practically a nobody. Taking a slow and concentrated bite of his own skewer, he allowed the taste to settle before looking down at it with a sense of wonder. “This is delicious! I’ve never had the privilege of just eating food without a taste tester. I might have to bring the man who made this back to the palace with me.”

“Don’t blow your own cover.”

“I won’t, I won’t! It’s just…” Kalim appeared to look down thoughtfully, taking another bite. As a sultan, he was probably so pampered and protected that he never once tasted street food or walked on a dirt road before. “Today, you’ve done something truly special for me, my friend. You gave me something worth more than gold or gems, you gave me a once in a lifetime experience! These days it’s hard to trust anyone around me.”

Pausing mid bite, you raised an eyebrow and listened attentively. Possible intel? This could be useful, good information to store in the back of your mind for a later time to utilize when it was most advantageous.

“All the servants are loyal for the most part, but that’s because there’s rules and payment involved. Sometimes, there’s one or two among them that have tried to harm me and my family.” He continued softly, almost seriously. This wasn’t like his usual cheery demeanor and loud tone. Right now his gaze was eerily calm and he spoke quietly, just loud enough so you could hear as you stood beside him. “For a while, I was okay with it. That’s how I grew up, it was my normal. But then I got older, my parents passed on, I got married for a little while but that didn’t last. Even some of my siblings, who I thought I could trust, turned against me just to get to the throne. It seems like everyone I love is either taken away from me or turns against me.”

In that moment, he turned to face you, gazing at you with those big red eyes.

Softly, he pleaded, “Promise me you won’t be like that? Taken away from me or turned against me–– I don’t think I could bear it. I can’t believe I never spoke to you properly sooner than I did! We could’ve been best friends by now!” His soft hands clutched yours, as he still awkwardly held the skewer between his thumb and pointer finger.

You began freaking out a bit when his hands moved up to your face, squishing your cheeks between his palms as he brought your face closer to his

“I mean, you make me so happy I could just kiss you! It wouldn’t be hard.”

There was no way you just accidentally snagged a sultan. How? You of all people! With the rotten personality and a heart so shriveled and three sizes too small that it could rival the Grinch’s own beating core. Oh this made things too easy. Kalim was now the ace hidden up your sleeve. If worse came to worse and the original plan had to be abandoned, well, certainly playing the role of the sultan’s favorite little lover wasn’t too bad. At least until you could obtain the lamp.

Certainly while the sultan was oblivious, he wasn’t dumb. However, he was most likely no expert when it came to love, as it appeared he wasn’t the most skilled at basic interactions from his cushy palace life. It couldn’t be that hard to keep him seduced, could it? Surely if he miraculously felt attracted to you, it was possible to keep him hooked for a while, until you had the wishes you desired.

All it took was a single kiss on his forehead, to see those ruby red eyes dazzle so brightly in the sunlight. Although his lower face was concealed by the fabric around his head, he was bound to be grinning ear-to-ear like an idiot. And wrapped around your pinky to have at your disposal. “Happy?”

Eagerly he nodded, taking a deep breath to hold so he wouldn’t squeal with joy. What a sucker. “So so happy, my dove!”

“My dove? Huh…” At the little nickname, you sigh and shrug, stopping yourself from rolling your eyes so as to not appear too cold toward his advances and words. “Then let’s go back now before they go looking for you. Oh, look over there, what a beautiful bracelet…” You casually remark, gesturing toward a stand across the road that sold a variety of jewelry. If you had to kiss up to a man, might as well make it all worth it by causing his pockets to hurt. But what was a bit of gold and jewelry to his pockets that ran so deep?

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“What is that…?” The vizier demanded, glaring at you. When he returned, he was in a foul mood. It must’ve been because the story was progressing and that thief got trapped in the Cave of Wonders with the lamp, but he said nothing about it other than it’s gone. However, even when he was outraged by his recent failure, he still noticed the golden bands wrapped around your arms.

Seeing where his gaze was directed, you lifted your arm and showed off the golden bands speckled with white diamonds and decorated with swirls within the metal itself. “Oh, this? You like? The sultan gifted them to me.” You grinned, noticing his frown deepening. Using the opportunity, you flaunted. “I think that chump has taken a liking to me ever since I saved his skin.”

"So I heard of your heroic deed." If the vizier had laser vision, he’d be searing your bracelet into a puddle of molten metal liquid by how hard he was glaring. “Don’t lose sight of what we’re after. In the end, the lamp can provide enough wealth to put that tiny gaudy thing to shame.”

At his words dissing the rather expensive and delicately crafted accessory, your eyes widened as you pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Ohhhh, I see… You’re jealous! Ha! You’re mad! Stay mad!”

A scowl etched his way onto his features as he hissed, “You think I’m jealous…?!” Pausing, he collected himself. Or at least, he tried to. But it was probably difficult to do so with the reminder in the back of his mind that his victory was within his grasp, only to be fumbled. Taking a deep breath, he seethed, “No, I am not jealous. In fact, you’re doing me a favor by distracting that airhead and also that bratty prince in the process. So, continue. I encourage you, but remember who your efforts are for. Now, there has to be another way to find another person worthy to go into that cave…”

Scoffing, you readjusted the bracelet over your arm. Such a shiny thing that would’ve cost a small fortune back home. “Don’t worry, even though you’re a despicable serpent, you’re still my favorite.” Whether that was true or not, it was best to stay in his good graces. “I heard what happened from the few guards you took with you… it’ll be fine. The lamp is gotta still be there under all that sand.”

Ignoring your words, he still paused when he heard them, but he didn’t acknowledge them in the slightest. In fact, he only gave a command without so much as a glance in your direction. “Go get me my tome from that shelf.”

Offering a smile without the pretentiousness, you went over to the shelf and picked the heavy tome he required. Almost everyday he seemed to read from this thing. “Okay, master, I’ll get you the dark wizard daily so you can enchant yourself some bitches.”

Bringing his fingers to his head, he rubbed the bridge of his nose as if in annoyance. For a moment you thought he might snap, but instead he only muttered, “I already have one that talks day in and day out, endlessly bothering me to no end. I do not need another one of you.”

“Haha–– Wait, what?”

That cold expression didn’t change, until his eyes wandered down to your arm. And as he continued speaking slowly, he grabbed your wrist within his hand. He removed the golden bracelets Kalim had bought for you in the market. Those golden bands were eventually in his hands. At their brilliant shine, he scowled and tossed them aside. On your arms, he placed silver ones. Silver bands that curled around your arms like snakes, to replace the ones the sultan gifted you.

“What I mean is…” Using his golden staff, he extended it outward, using the cobra head on it like a hook to turn your head towards where he was seated, directing your gaze to his eyes. Those gray eyes were hypnotizing, this was what it must’ve felt like when Kalim was met face-to-face with the cobra head on his vizier’s staff. However, there was no magic being used at the moment. “You’re mine, not Kalim’s. Do you understand?”

You frown as he switches them, closely examining the shine of your new bracelet. “Gold is shinier than silver…”

He sighed, irked. “Then I’ll just make sure to take a gem, as big as your greed, from the treasury and have it engraved into one heavy necklace. Now––” Seeing you grin in content at his promise for another shiny treasure, he continued from where he left off. “You are mine. My vassal. Say it back to me. Yours.”

Jamil was dead serious as he spoke, clearly not in the mood for too many jokes or teasing. And for once, you were too stunned for words to blurt out anything. Besides, it wasn’t like you could when he was so close and staring at you so intensely.

“You… Yours?” You parrot awkwardly, wincing at the way it came out of your mouth. However, the young man still keeping you close with his staff seemed content with your response.

Those gray eyes remained focused on you. His eyes were thin and sharp, making it look like he wore eyeliner. As cruel and cold as he could be behind that calm and polite facade, there was a mysterious charm to him. It was as enticing as it was dangerous, and yet that was how you liked most things. Curse him for that.

It’s strange. You thought he would be more enraged about the lamp and the incident at the Cave of Wonders. However, he seemed almost calm as he gazed at you. And without his fancy garbs composed of so many layers that pooled around him, he didn’t look so intimidating. The black sleeveless shirt he wore was loose but intricately decorated, and his pants looked like flowing silk. There wasn’t even that headpiece over his hair, which made him look… normal. If that were even possible. It made you forget the fact that he was a villainous vizier, meant to eventually go mad with power and accidentally curse himself to an eternity of solitude and servitude when he finally wished to become an all-power genie. Maybe if you could steer him down that path, you could have him for yourself as a second wish-granter...

“Mine.” He confirmed, giving you a hard stare as he lowered his staff. With a hand, he guided your fingers to his long dark tresses. Most of it was loose, but some strands were in thin braids that extended all the way up to his scalp. When you delicately pinched one of the braids between your fingers, the braids tied so tightly made them look like little scales. Slowly you unravel them for him, he didn’t protest. In fact, he appeared almost relaxed. “I’ve let him take away many things from me. Too many things. And I’m not about to let him snatch you away too.”

“Eh, he’s annoying. Silly, but annoying. You on the other hand… my boss who’s a tall, dark, and sinister ugly man.”

His eyes watched your every movement, looking on idly as your fingers slowly untwined his braids. So casually you were touching a man who had committed unspeakable crimes, most of which you could not even begin the picture. What else had he done to defend the sultan when it was his duty? What had he done to climb the ranks and try to climb even higher to the most dangerous heights? How many souls had he sacrificed to the Cave of Wonders? How many assassins did he personally fend off? How did he punish and silence those that dare try to reveal his secrets and plans working behind the scenes without the royal family or others taking notice?

Jamil crossed his arms, indifferent to your insult. His gaze never once left your figure as he replied smoothly. “You’re a terrible liar… If I was as ugly as you claimed, you wouldn’t be staring at me like that or touching me. Now, sit down.” He was close–– too close when he added the next words in a way that left you puzzled as to what exactly he could’ve meant. “You’ll be rewarded for recognizing my greatness, before anyone else did. But for now.” He handed you a scroll. "Read, find something useful of the lamp or the cave."

Maybe the most unnerving thing about Jamil, was his mysterious allure. The sultan you knew was cheery and laidback, the prince was spirited and independent, and the thief you would learn about in due time. But the vizier? It seemed impossible to pinpoint anything to him. One moment he was stoic and silent, the next he could be taking your banter and come up with a witty reply, and the very next second he was enraged and permanently extinguishing a life. Yet he wasn’t wildly violent nor too charming that it felt like a mask. And yet, you couldn’t distinguish was was genuine emotion from him or just acts with different intentions behind them. And that was the most concerning part about the vizier–– did he truly like you or was this some elaborate facade?

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The following day you were awoken by thumping. Staying up late to assist the vizier search through old scrolls and books, wasn’t the brightest idea. The night was a bit of a blur, as you had stayed up so late researching with him. It was a blur of printed text, bickerings and snide remarks, fingers running through hair, and intense gazes, among other things. As you awoke later in the morning to an uproar from outside and a shaking of the ground like an earthquake. Trumpets and bells served as your alarm, as you fell out of the desk you had slumped over last night, a blanket over your shoulder that you hadn’t placed.

Outside was quite a parade that could put all festivals to shame. White stallions carrying men with banners, camels carrying drummers whose sounds vibrated in the air, bands marching in the most vibrant uniforms, dancers in fine purples like pristine peacocks. It was like a traveling circus, zoo, and party all in one. And in your dazed state, the realization arrived suddenly––

“That’s the thief––!”

Instantly you ran to your own room, or rather, the old vassal’s room, to wash up and change as quickly as humanly possible. You knew this would happen eventually, but you didn’t expect it to happen so soon. The thief, now a princess, was here! Here, arriving with a genie masquerading as their most faithful trusted servant. The lamp, she had the lamp with her!

Once changed, you stepped back into the vizier’s tower. There was no one there, he even cleaned up after his research session, leaving no evidence behind of his plot with the Cave of Wonders. No book, scroll, or even a page was left. Damn, he was good. In your mind there’s no doubt he’s cleaned up after other plots and murders. What a slippery cretin.

Quickly departing from the tower, you made your way through the grand halls, past the guards and servants. Although most were entranced by the grand spectacle that princess, or rather a crook, managed to display through the streets of the city. To think all that splendor and so much more was just within reach. But just because the finish line was in sight, did not mean that it was safe. There were more ways to die here than the number of tales Scheherazade had to tell. While having the favor of the sultan and vizier was certainly both an ego boost and a benefit, it didn’t make you invincible. That could only truly happen when you finally had the lamp in hand.

As soon as you turned a corner, you heard laughter. Immediately, you got the wind knocked out of you and went flying. Literally. You went tumbling backwards, some type of fabric draping over your face and the weight of a body crashing into yours as you collapsed on your back in an awkward angle. You were milliseconds away from screaming bloody murder and ready to tear into whoever could be blamed, but you shut your mouth and clenched your teeth shut when you heard the familiar giggling.

The cloth, whatever it was that had been over your head and obscuring your vision, was removed. However, it wasn’t removed by a person, it moved on its own. That’s when you realized it wasn’t a piece of cloth, it was a piece of fabric, woven wool to be more specific. The wool that composed the magic flying carpet from the story. It moved like a sentient being as you blinked at it in shock, and it extended one of its tasseled yellow ends to dust you off.

“How in the hell…?”

“My dove! I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?” He was gasping a bit from laughing so much on that magic carpet joy ride he must’ve just been on, the adrenaline still pumping through his system from flying within the palace’s high-ceiling rooms.

Yes, you simple-minded idiot, you hit me like a train at full speed! Is what you would’ve said if you could, but it wouldn’t do to say that aloud when others might hear and get the wrong impression. It would attract too much attention if someone was blatantly disrespectful to the sultan. “No, I’m fine––” Your backside would be aching for a whole day. God, if only there wasn't a need for formalities, you would–– “And thank you… carpet.” The thanks came out awkwardly, as you were unused to thanking carpets but it seemed like a rather harmless and curious thing.

“This contraption that the princess has brought is wonderful! You should try it!”

The sultan gestured to the carpet. For such a priceless magical item that was stuck in a cave for who knew how long, it was in shockingly good condition. It had vibrant blues, and yellow patterns and symbols etched onto its surface. Yeah, you were definitely gonna keep it once you were in charge.

“You know, I really think that my cousin Jaseer will love her! You have to meet her! And well…” He awkwardly scratched his cheek, looking somewhat sheepish as he mustered up the courage to speak the next words. His cheeks grew warm when he averted his gaze. Yet after a moment, his eyes shifted back to you. Such big innocent eyes, like the rarest of rubies. Usually you would try to admire the shine in such gems, but it was impossible to not take note of the obvious adoration within his gaze. “I was thinking, maybe you would like to join me later? We’ll be holding a banquet tonight, a party to celebrate our guests. But also, I wanted to spend time with you. What do you think? Is that alright?”

For a moment you thought about it, slightly distracted when the carpet’s tassels were brushing against your arm and it appeared to stand so close. Not that you blamed the thing. If you were trapped in the Cave of Wonders like it was for so long, you would’ve gone insane. Maybe the thing just craved company or attention. Maybe it craved freedom.

Kalim was providing the perfect excuse. You were the distraction, while Jamil could do whatever nefarious deeds he needed to complete in order for the plot to progress. However, it was already past the tipping point. Last night within those books, there was mention of the magic carpet within the Cave of Wonders. So chances are, the vizier already knows the princess is a fraud.

“Hm, sure. Why not?”

“Yes! Yes!” Quickly, he took your hands, clutching them tight. His energy was contagious apparently, because the carpet who had calmed down from the flight, received this burst of energy and was spinning around you too with great speed. “You won’t regret this! We’re going to have so much fun. And don’t worry about being overwhelmed by everyone, I know it can be a lot. So I’ll have an area set up just for us, away from the party guests, okay? That way, when we’re together and want to be alone, we can retreat there. Alright?”

Somehow with that invitation, while Jaseer and the princess whose name you’ve yet to learn, let alone care for, were likely learning about each other during the festivities and going off on their own romantic flight on the magic carpet, you were keeping the sultan distracted as the vizier had other matters to handle. Even when you were certainly not elegant or charming in even the slightest sense, appealing to the bubbly young man was surprisingly easy. Perhaps it was because he already was attracted to whatever he saw within you.

Forced to entertain his request for a dance when the music began, he pulled you back behind a curtain to avoid people seeing, much to your great relief. He had a great big smile as he spoke about various things from the happenings of his kingdom to his own personal matters.

“Do you care if I was married?” He asked a bit nervously, looking unsure if he should have even mentioned that to you. As far as you knew, the sultan was previously married, but nothing really came of the union. For whatever reason, he was single now with no children and his wife was no longer in the picture. Some creeping suspicion conjured up the possibility that Jamil had something to do with that.

“I do not care.” You answered honestly. Why was he even asking that like how a boy would shyly ask a girl he liked if they mind the fact that he dated somebody before? Talk about zero charm. Was the only reason he got married because of his status? Most likely. Even if he was filthy rich and powerful, maybe even elegant looking in a way, he wasn’t exactly marriage material. “Tell me anyway. Details. I want details.”

Surprised, he blinked at you. “Me? You wanna know about that? Well, it’s not very interesting… I would say it’s a long story, but it’s really not.” He chuckled a bit dryly, absentmindedly fiddling with the ends of the curtains where they had privacy on a balcony with a wonderful view of the port where the city met the waters. “I was young, an eighteen-year-old prince. Accidents happened to most of my siblings that were my age, so I was next in line. There’s a law that states that those next in line for the throne have to be married by a certain age. My father picked her when I couldn't decide. She was a princess from the north where apparently it’s all cold and snowy. A year or so after the wedding, my father and mother passed in an accident. Then, later on, she was gone too.”

These sort of details were never mentioned in any rendition of the story that you remembered. At least, none that you recalled. However, it had been a while since you read them, so it could just be your memory. And the fact that in those takes, the sultan was an old man. “Do you ever miss her?”

“Hm… sometimes. I thought I would miss her more, I feel like I should miss her a lot, but… I don’t.” He admitted quietly, lounging on his stomach so his arms were folded in front of him and his cheek was resting on his arm. “Over the years, I feel like I’ve lost track of all the accidents. My brother married into the royal family of a neighboring nation and urged them to wage war on our home, my sister attempted to bribe bodyguards to do her dirty work, aunts and uncles sent assassins.”

“Drama.” You hummed as you lay across from him, laying flat on your back instead of your stomach.

At your casual remark he almost laughed. Maybe that was his way of processing trauma, through humor and positivity. All this betrayal and hurt was certainly enough to drive someone mad. Maybe he wasn’t completely right in the head. “Okay, this is getting depressing, so I’ll stop. But you see why I like you? Why I trust you with my life? You’re so… so… real. It doesn’t feel like you sugarcoat things, and you’re so blunt! No one ever talks to me like that. You talk to me as if I’m just a guy, and nothing else.”

He remembered what you said that time in the market. “You are just a guy.” You repeat. And that’s all he would be. If you couldn’t get the lamp, and Jamil got his greedy hands around it first, well maybe it was worth wishing for the vizier to spare the poor sultan. Besides, he was likable. Annoying, but entertaining. “And you really shouldn’t.” Trust. He shouldn’t trust you.

“But I do!” He pushed himself up, until his head was right above yours. Those ruby red eyes gazing right down at you, his face so close to yours that his nose brushed against yours. Gold around his ears dangled, making small rings like wind chimes. Kalim peered at you so immensely, so focused, but it was a gentle tender gaze as he lowered his face closer to yours. “I trust you, so, so much…”

It only took a few moments for things to get out of hand. Oh, it was so easy, too easy. You were no tempest, but Kalim made it simple. Like toying with a doll. So after several minutes in, you hear the familiar voice of the vizier calling you, you immediately pull away and sit up. Panic was plastered over your face at the thought of being seen by that envious viper. When Kalim sat up with you, he looked much more dazed, like a lovestruck fool. To which you immediately pushed him down and hissed. “Shit! What’s he going to say if he finds me here with the sultan?”

Part of his white hair was messy, as the cloth he usually wore around his head fell off sometime ago. His short strands stuck out at some angles, and he didn’t bother recollecting his composure as he was still dizzy. “Lucky sultan?”

When he gave you a stupid grin, you pushed him aside. Luckily the spot was relatively hidden by curtains, pillows, and plush blankets and carpets. “Shut up…! Just, stay here.”

Quickly you smoothed down your appearance before exiting the area, entering the halls to search for the vizier that had called you. Apparently, the time to act was here. Mere moments ago, he had instructed his loyalest soldiers under his command to bring in the princess they had cornered.

So by the time you arrived at the vizier’s tower, there in the open window strapped to a chair atop an elevated surface of a table was the princess. Beautiful, sure. Especially when she wore such flashy garbs of pure white and purple. Cleverly she had wrapped a cloth around her head like a shayla, hiding her hair which could’ve been a key feature used to identify her, besides her face of course which she couldn’t exactly conceal under these circumstances. Her feet and wrists were bound tightly with rope, and if her chair tipped backwards she would meet a cold end in the salty waters of the sea right below.

There was a distinct hint of nervousness in her tone as she attempted to persuade the two guards that this had been a misunderstanding, that they must’ve had no idea who she was, you watched the pair of soldiers double-check the security of the ropes bounding her. While in walked the vizier. It seemed like he was busy while you were taking a… break. Now, if the princess was here, where was that cursed lamp? Your eyes scanned her figure, searching for pockets she might’ve had.

“We know who you are, Aliyyah.” The vizier spoke, sounding way too casual at the moment as he walked over to his tome situated on his desk. So that was the thief’s true name.

“Aliyyah…? I don’t know who that is–– I’m Princess Alya!”

Jamil interrupted her, as she looked increasingly anxious. “A princess from a kingdom which does not exist. And who arrived on a magic carpet told to only be obtainable from the Cave of Wonders.”

Carpet. That’s right. The carpet and the monkey the thief owned were still somewhere within the palace. There couldn’t be any loose-ends. Not when the lamp’s location was still unknown. It could be anywhere within the palace.

Silently stepping over to the door where two more guards were situated to look-out, you allowed the vizier and thief to continue their stand-off while you opened the door slightly to whisper to one of the additional guards. “Go to our guest’s quarters. There, you should find our visitor’s pet and that magical carpet. Do not let them leave the quarters. And do not go alone, bring multiple other soldiers if you have to, but this is to remain discreet. I don’t care what you do to the monkey, but I better not see so much as a loose piece of string on that carpet. Capeesh?”

Being the vizier’s vassal had its benefits. As they usually only ever responded to the vizier himself, but since you were known to be the wise young man’s trusted advisor, your words carried weight among the staff wielding weapons and wearing armor. So obediently, the soldier nodded and immediately went off to see that the task was done. Afterwhich, you closed the heavy wooden door shut to prevent any sound from escaping, and returned your attention back to the vizier and the thief.

“I’m afraid you’ve worn out your welcome.” His tone was no longer so casual. There was an icy coldness to it as he stalked closer, quickly growing tired of her adamant denial. “If I throw you off of that balcony, and you are who you say you are, you will die a watery death.”

If Jamil pushed one of his own guards into a well for even considering the action of refusing orders, well, pushing a thief turned princess off several floors into deep waters was something he wouldn’t hesitate doing. So you watched carefully as the severity of the situation was settling on the princess, as she struggled in her bonds and her seat. However, there was no lie or tricks that could get her out of this one.

“And if you survive, it can only be because of the lamp. Now…”

Waving off the pair of soldiers, they left, leaving only the thief, the vizier, and yourself. As the dark-haired sorcerer did the familiar movement of lifting the end of his spear so it was directly against her collarbone, the princess gulped and an ominous look came over the vizier’s face. When the princess glanced at you, you only grinned and wiggled your fingers like waving goodbye. However, when she turned to face you, that’s when your sharp eyes caught a glimpse of something sparkly in the cloth around her hair, right behind her neck. Slowly you walked closer.

“Where is the lamp?” Jamil demanded.

“Listen,” The young woman pleaded. She was young, about your age. And surely you knew that she would die a watery death, because now you knew where the lamp was. Whatever name she went by, or whoever she was, Princess Alya of a faraway nation or the thief Aliyyah, it wouldn’t matter. “I swear to you,” Her voice wavered with uncertainty. “I am––”

You bumped the tip of his staff, with enough pressure to tip her off the end just as you leaned forward to reach the cloth around her skull. Your grip was on the fabric, not her. So she went tumbling down multiple floors, plunging into dark brine. Her scream was cut off by the sound of a splash and the breaking of wood. The chair must’ve broken upon impact, but she went sinking down and down. The only thing preventing you from falling as well, was the curved cobra head Jamil had used like a hook around your back to secure you from falling. And in your hands, wrapped in the silk white cloth, lay what would’ve been her salvation, what was your salvation–– the lamp.

“This is convenient. Now it’s time for you to answer the same question I asked her.”

“What? Aren’t you going to pull me to safety?” You stared at him wide-eyed, as he practically dangled you above your doom. Yes, the lamp was in hand, but you couldn’t rub it to summon the genie. Not when your fingers were gripping it tightly so it wouldn’t fall into the waters below and risk hitting the jagged rocks, while your other hand gripped the golden staff to avoid falling, your toes just barely on the edge. Even the slightest wrong move, would send you plummeting to those sharp stones and salty waters so far below. Could you survive that fall? Maybe, if you could avoid the rocks. Which seemed like a slim chance.

Ignoring your growing fear, he continued calmly, keeping a steady grip on his staff. A small tremble could unbalance you and make you fall. Or, he could be so cruel as to let you drop. But, you had the lamp, which might’ve been the only reason he held on. “I know who you are, criminal.”

Down below, there was no sign of the thief emerging. The only thing that came up to the surface of the waves was a purple sash from her garbs. Something about his words was enough to tell you that he didn’t mean the role you were playing, he meant you. You who were arrested and sent here as punishment, as your own personal hell, to die for your crimes. And here you were, just as those bastard judges wanted, on the very brink of death. Literally. “You know nothing about me––”

“I know everything about you. I know your crimes, your anger, your burning hatred for those who have wronged you. I know.” Gray eyes narrowed at you, but his hold was unwavering. You couldn’t save yourself, not in this position. You were at his mercy. Even when your heart felt like it was beating rapidly, and you were thinking a mile a minute of possible ways to get out of this situation only for each idea to end in failure. You heard his words he spoke bitterly, like they had a deeper meaning. But then he added, “I know you hide a knife in your shawl, a second in your pillowcase, and a third under your mattress because you never trusted me completely. It pains me to see you reduced to this.”

No, he knew nothing about you. The real you, even if he thought he did. He could never imagine what it was like, the things you had done. Even if he somehow discovered the truth, that you were not his trusted vessel but acted like them, you weren't them. “You–– You don’t know me!”

“A criminal from another world, sent into what was like a story. You thought you could trick me and everyone else. But you underestimate me. As soon as you opened your big mouth, I knew you were a fraud. What did you call me? A two-faced snake? Ironic.”

You had called him that, while playing a role to trick him this entire time. Just as the protagonist had tried, and look where she ended up because of that. Dead. Drowned by water and salt, with a body that would either become fish food or wash ashore as an unrecognizable corpse. How did he know? There was no possible way to know! You told no one! Trusted no one!

The air was a bitter cold. Moonlight shone on his face, letting you see the royal vizier’s cunning features and how he was grinning. He was grinning at your predicament, as he held your fate in his hands. Your arm was starting to feel numb from holding on for so long, but you couldn’t let go. There was no way you would let go of the lamp or of yourself, after everything and how far you got. When glory and sweet revenge on everyone was literally in the palm of your hand.

“But you leave yourself unguarded when you sleep.” That was the answer, you realized with horror. That was how he knew way more than he should! Jamil invaded your very mind, controlling it with this very cursed staff he held you from. “They wronged you, those above you. Underestimate you. We’re more alike than you would like to verbally admit.”

“Jamil, you––! Vile liar, son of a––”

“That’s sorcerer to you.” He corrected you.

That’s right–– in the story once the vizier gets a brief moment of victory, he uses his wishes to place himself atop the social hierarchy of power. First sultan, then a sorcerer, then a genie. Above a sultan: a sorcerer. But why was he skipping the sultan stage?

The vizier turned serious, stretching out his hand that did not hold the staff. He held out the palm of his thin hand, offering a twisted grin that made your stomach weave into knots. Speaking firmly, he offered a once in a lifetime deal. And it was either accept his deal, or die for the price of what was committed. “I told you, you are mine. I meant that. I plan to be something great, much greater than that simpleton. So, once I become the most powerful man in the world, you may take the title of sultan if it’s what you wish. All you have to do is hand me the lamp, my Treasured Vassal.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #kalim al asim #twst kalim #yandere kalim al asim #jamil viper #twst jamil #yandere jamil viper #Scarabia #damnation twst au

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siriusleee · 8 months

Text

shot through with gold

“I smashed the whole house to bits,” Johnny keeps going, turning to put the milk in the refrigerator. “Had to get Simon over here to help me put it back together. It was his idea by the way. To get the mug fixed. He said you’d be mad if it was gone when you came home.”

tags: coming back home, implied torture, capture, smut, riding, reader is afab, mentions of medical procedures, mentions of blood word count: 7.7k author's note: This was a commission by the best and brightest @gazs-blue-hat. If you'd like to commission a fic, visit my ko-fi for more information. Also, I refuse to disgrace the good country of Scotland by attempting to do the full Scottish accent. Readers call sign is Sparrow, but it's only used once.

The room is heavy with dust; small puffs cloud around Johnny’s boots as he pads across the plush carpet. The summer’s oppressive heat makes the walls sweat - you’d be worrying about the mold forming in the drywall if you could see it. But Johnny doesn’t think of the way his handprints smudge on the paint you spent weeks agonizing over or the way your perfume lingers in the still air even after all this time.

His singular mission - to grab a few shirts he needs and leave - is the only thought he allows himself to think about, hands combing through the dressers and eyes trained downward, away from all the pictures hanging on the wall. He avoids your side of the dresser, avoids the lace that still peaks out from your top drawer.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, Johnny ignores it as he pulls the shirts he came to look for out of the dresser drawer, tucking them beneath his arm. He follows his tracks in the dust back out, eyes cast down at the carpet. The whole trip takes less than 10 minutes; he doesn’t let himself look up until he’s slamming the passenger door of Simon’s truck shut behind him.

“Got everything?” Simon asks, shifting the truck into drive.

Johnny sits ramrod straight in the seat, eyes avoiding Simon’s as he buckles in.

“Yeah, got everything.”

Your fingers trace over the marks you’d carved into the soft stone wall. You’d tried to keep a tally mark of days, but time slipped by in odd increments within your cell. Some days you’d watch the sunrise from the cracks in the ceiling and after just a blink, the inky blackness of night would be seeping in. Sometimes the sun hung in the sky for months before finally falling to the full moon. No matter how hard you tried to decode the pattern, the moment you had it everything would reset.

The guards were in on it; they had to be. They’d bring your meals at odd times - sometimes you’d still be full from the moldy slop they shoved in between the cell bars, spilling it out onto the floor like you’re an animal in a cage, and sometimes you’d be so hungry that you could barely crawl to eat.

It was supposed to be someone else - you were pulled for guard duty after another soldier slogged off and broke his foot doing something stupid while training. You’d finally been pulled to work with Johnny, three days away from being a full transfer to the 141 when your C.O. had appeared at the door of your bunk, new orders in hand.

A simple guard duty: get the guy to where he was supposed to be going, hand him off, and fly home. Your transfer could wait an extra forty-eight hours. But your plane was shot down somewhere over the middle of nowhere - you had told your C.O. that flying that low was a risk, but the desert was empty and the plane was old. They’d been making the flight for weeks, ferrying men back and forth with no hiccups. Your flight should have been no different.

It should have been someone else.

You couldn’t remember what had hit your small passenger plane: but the ground was David, and you were Goliath. You’d hit the ground beside the pilot’s head, his mouth formed in a soundless scream, and after a quick flash of black, had woken up to a bucket of water being poured across your face.

Whatever language your captives screamed at you, you didn’t know it. And if they knew any of the ones you screamed back at them: Spanish, Arabic, German, they didn’t let you in on it. You couldn’t figure out what they wanted until they’d ripped the Union Flag from the breast of your vest, a quick picture on a Polaroid camera snapped above you before you realized what they wanted.

Blood dribbled down your chin when you laughed at them: the government didn’t even pay for soldiers who got captured at war. What would they pay for your half-broken body to get shipped back in a wooden box? A simple mistake that could be written off as a plane malfunction.

The anger had come first, feet and fists slamming into the men when they appeared at the cell doors. Nails ripped from their beds when you tried to claw at the seams in the walls. It had cost you a few teeth and a pound of flesh. And then, when you were tired of the endless beatings and anger that went nowhere, you begged them to kill you, to do something to end the torment. By the marks on the wall, it took months before you first asked to be killed, and only weeks later for that to end, each request met with silence and a sneer. Now you lay in the corner, waiting for the few moments when they’d let you out to see the sun glinting off of the mountain ranges, the clouds threatening to storm in the distance.

Those quick trips seemed to come with less frequency as time slipped by.

You trace the tattoo on your thigh; they’d cut through it once after you kicked one of them in the chest, his ribs caving beneath your feet, but even beneath the dried viscera and matted dirt that covered your skin, you could still see Johnny’s name there.

You wonder if he’s picked a gravestone for you yet.

The two of you had talked about it, once. It was the nature of your jobs - to be prepared for everything that could come your way. Your wills were done: 75% to Johnny, 15% to your sister’s kids, and the rest to a local charity. Johnny wrote in that you were to get 100% of everything he owned, and you had chided him about it.

“What about your mom? Your sisters?” You had asked across the steam from your cup of coffee. Johnny had shrugged, dropping the black pen onto the table with finality.

“Already taken care of, birdie.”

After that had come the talk of headstones and burial plots. Of missing bodies and cremation. You had told Johnny that whatever he thought you’d like, to pick out. You weren’t picky about it.

You wonder if the military let him put his last name on the stone.

A decidedly male voice shouts from around the corner, and you pull back into the stone wall. Seconds later, fetid food falls through the bars. The man shouts at you, pointing at the food on the ground. Lazily, you turn your head towards him, watching the way he sneers at you through the bars.

They must be getting angry then. No ransom came through after all these months.

You bare your teeth at him.

You’d rip his throat out if you had the strength to do so anymore.

Johnny’s fingers don’t shake like they used to when he buckles the strap of his helmet, the night vision goggles weighing him down. He’s tired - exhausted. The entire convey smells of cigarettes and sweat. Heavy men in heavy gear press around him; across from him Gaz’s eyes shine terribly bright in the darkness. They press in on Johnny, forcing him back into his seat heavily.

Price’s voice is loud in his comms, intermingling with the sounds of the Marines and the whir of the mechanics beneath his feet. Johnny can’t make out the details over the sound of the truck rumbling beneath him.

“Steady Soap?”

Gaz knows - Johnny doesn’t know how Gaz can do this kind of job with the way he fucking oozes empathy. Or sympathy. Johnny could never remember which one was which, he always had to ask you which one to use. Gaz had been the only one who’d asked him if he was alright; Simon had lingered at the edges of rooms Johnny was in to keep an eye on him, and Price tried to give him an extended leave. Johnny had refused.

But Gaz had been waiting until Johnny was sitting outside of some bar a group of Seals had taken them to - a celebration for a job well done months after you were gone, after Johnny's failed attempt to find you.

“You good?” Gaz had asked, fingers twirling a cigarette he would never light.

“O’course.”

It had made Johnny feel like shit to lie to Gaz, and the same feeling washes over him as Gaz’s eyes linger on Johnny.

The warm summer air washes over them; sweat is starting to coat his lower back, his fatigues keeping him too warm. The smell of the desert, of warmed sand keeps him grounded, reminds him of where he is - what he’s doing here.

In the glint of the moonlight, the mountaintops shine at him.

The first few missions had been difficult: he’d fought like hell to try to search for you, fuck the regulations. He’d resign if it meant finding you. The rest of the fucking government didn’t care: no one on the plane was as important as anyone else, not to the officials anyway. Johnny had done just that, his resignation had landed heavily on Price’s desk, only to land in the trashcan a moment later.

Gaz volunteered to follow Johnny, but Price had cut that off quickly. It was to be Johnny and Simon only. They had five days, a week at most before they had to be back home.

The farthest they got was the plane wreckage, a little burnt-out village miles away, and sheep that stared at them from the sides of the mountains. But he couldn’t find a trace of you or a singular person who even recognized the photo of you he kept tucked inside his gear. Even after Simon had disobeyed Price’s orders to return home now after weeks had passed. They didn’t find anything.

Johnny knew that’s why Price had volunteered the 141 for this mission - a small-time terrorist cell hiding out in a country they didn’t belong to, a small promise of the bodies of missing soldiers hidden somewhere.

It was something.

The guards are panicking; the dirt walls shake around you. You can’t guess what it could be: American pilots doing a blind bombing, Russians pretending to send help only to rain down hell on the perceived innocent. Maybe God’s here to level the land and flood it. Try again. Do something different this time.

He could start with your cell, you think, scraping at the dirt on your leg. Underneath the sun-starved skin is paler than it should be. If you ever leave, you think, the first thing you’re going to do is eat a fucking steak in the sunshine. The bones that refused to set correctly ache beneath your bruised flesh.

The sound of gunfire pierces the inescapable silence. Your captors yell, screams punctuating between the bursts of firepower. Good, maybe they’ll tear each other apart and leave you here to die in peace.

Maybe it was a poker game gone extremely wrong. Someone asked to strip when they should have been ponying up the cash.

Smoke pops in the hallway outside, you don’t run from the white creeping in on you, just pull the rags that were your shirt over your mouth to try and keep breathing. It overtakes your cell; you watch as the smoke creeps through the cracks in the ceiling.

The sounds of war flood the small cell - the taste of blood and gunpowder in the air around you. You can taste the iron when you breathe in. It coats your tongue. You run your teeth across the chipped and broken enamel, mixing the taste of other’s blood with your own.

Someone shouts so close this time you can almost make out the words - American accent thick and heavy in your ears - and it stirs something inside of you. You try to navigate the cell through the smoke, rolling painfully off of the pallets your captors had so kindly turned into a bed for you. Crawling across the excreta and mud you try to make a sound, but you haven’t spoken in months.

Your throat is raw, and the sounds that come from you are barely human. You’ll be surprised the men even hear you, let alone notice you there on the ground. You try to pull yourself up at the bars, but the fracture in your ankle that healed up wrong weeks ago keeps you on your knees.

“Hey-” you finally croak out loud enough for one of the men to cast his eyes down at you. “Please.”

He’s so familiar, the softness in his eyes tugging at something familiar inside of you, the sharpness of his shoulders calling to you. You pull yourself up, leaning heavily on the bars and the one ankle that doesn’t scream at you, hands slipping through the bars to try to reach towards him.

His gun drops, swinging loosely on its strap as he steps towards you. His fatigues are filthy, and his nose wrinkles beneath the cloth mask covering his face. You know you smell terrible, and you want to apologize for it, but you can’t make the words come. He looks so tired as he steps towards you, hands reaching out to grip the bars between the two of you.

“Sparrow?”

“Johnny?”

It takes days for you to make it home: IVs from field medics who barely know what they’re doing, anti-viral meds, shots, stitches. They don’t even let you take a real shower until you’ve landed at a base you barely recognize. It’s a painful process, a female nurse wiping at you gently, but still peeling away layers of skin with each pass of the washcloth, your sobs muffled by the shower.

Johnny waits for you on the fringes of all the people that press around you, poking you, prodding you painfully until finally, you find yourself slammed into a British hospital bed.

Johnny comes in the moment they let him, hands held behind his back in a mock parade rest. You barely recognize him, his mohawk almost completely grown out and bags under his eyes. You know you don’t look much better; you’d caught sight of yourself in a mirror before they’d forced you into bed. Ruined was the only word to describe what you saw. Too thin, too broken. Too torn apart to be stitched back together. At least not without all the types of therapy a military doctor listed out to you: hydro, occupational, physical, mental.

Neither of you know what to say, so you start with the last thing the doctor told you.

“They’re going to rebreak my ankle tomorrow,” your voice is still thin, full of isolation. You’d tested it out on everyone who’d been in to work on you, but it didn’t sound right at all. Johnny shuffles nervously where he stands, and then rushes forward to sit in the chair beside your bed. He’s moving wrong, you think, like a wind-up doll. Too slow and then all at once, too fast.

“Why?”

“I healed up wrong.”

Johnny’s hands play with the edge of the blanket that dangles off of the bed, eyes trained on the fabric. He’s not going to look at you. At the ruin you’ve become. You press yourself down harder into the thin mattress, hands tucked beneath your thighs to keep them still.

“Is it going to hurt?”

You can’t help but smile at his question, your toes twitching beneath the blanket that feels so out of place across you. How many months had they had you? A year? No one had told you yet.

“They said I’d be fucked up on medicine. But probably, yeah."

Johnny’s hands aren’t still against the blanket, instead reaching out towards you. The movement startles you, and you jerk to the opposite side, nearly pulling your IVs out. Johnny pulls his hands back, crossing them across his chest.

“When you -” his voice breaks, just a moment before he put it back together, eyes finally meeting yours, “when you come home I’ll bring the bedroom downstairs so that you don’t have to walk far.”

You have the nagging suspicion that he changed what he was going to say at the last moment.

"Are you going to sleep on the couch with me?" You try to tease, but your voice falls flat, unpracticed. But it still makes Johnny smile, sharp incisors digging into his chapped lips.

"I'll sleep wherever you tell me."

The two of you are surrounded by the sounds of the hospital: the beeps of the heart rate monitors, the sounds of the nurses' quiet conversation outside of your room. You trace your hands across the blanket, grasping Johnny’s whenever your fingers collide with each other.

For a moment, neither of you move, just languish in the feeling of each other’s skin; you’re too busy tracing Johnny’s palm to notice him pushing himself closer to you until he kisses you, softly but with a tight undercurrent of desperation, his hand tightening almost painfully on yours.

The feeling of someone touching you so gently after weeks of rage and anger nearly stops your heart. The monitor goes crazy; Johnny pulls back, just the hint of a smile on his lips.

It takes four weeks for Johnny to get the go ahead to bring you home. Each day you were in the hospital he would come for a quick chat before work, bringing you breakfast he picked up. Every day after, he would collapse in the chair beside your bed, smelling of sweat and gunpowder.

The smell made you recoil when he tried to kiss you, and he didn't try again after that, even after you tried to stutter out a why. But the day the doctor tells Johnny that you can go home, you awaken to Johnny outside of the hospital room, arms crossed as he speaks to the head doctor - Johnny looks more serious than you’ve ever seen him off the battlefield.

Everyone rotates around you as if you’re not there, packing the room up, pulling your IVs out, fingers prodding and poking you until a nurse aide wheels a wheelchair into the room for you.

”Ready?” She asks, locking the brakes. She looks at you from across the room, and you know what she wants. Starting the day after they rebroke your bones, they made you get up and start walking, and you push yourself off of the bed, walkable cast heavy against the tile floor.

Johnny’s in the room in a second, catching sight of you whenever he sees you stumbling over your cast across the room. The aide lets him push her out of the way, his hands gripping the wheelchair as you lower yourself down.

“I can walk out, you know.” You grumble at Johnny as he tosses a heavy folder into your lap.

“Hospital procedure, birdie.”

Simon’s truck is waiting for the two of you in the parking lot, Simon in the driver's seat. He throws a glance at you as Johnny helps you clamber into the backseat, crowded around by grocery bags.

“Hello, Luv.”

“Hello, Simon. Thank you for the ride.”

Simon opens his mouth to speak, black hospital mask sliding up, but he’s cut off by Johnny clambering into the passenger seat.

You watch Johnny from the backseat, foot propped up beside you. His hair has grown out too long, the Mohawk nearly disappeared and his beard has started to grow in. In all the years you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him anything other than clean-shaven; even in the field, he'll butcher himself with a knife before he lets it grow in.

He’s thinner than he should be, too. You wonder if he’d been eating like he was supposed to.

The drive home is disorientating, Simon taking turns too sharply, too quick for your still queasy stomach. By the time Johnny helps you climb down from the truck, dropping your hands quickly when both of your feet are on the ground.

The house is clean, too clean for Johnny to have been here alone. Like he can sense you'd skepticism, Johnny speaks from ahead of you.

“I’ve hired a cleaner,” Johnny says, holding the door open for you. “So don’t worry about anything.”

It’s odd to be back home; you trace your fingers across the knick-knacks you’d collected throughout the years, the furniture you’ve spent years picking out. You have memories of sitting here with Johnny, memories of Simon and Gaz laughing from the kitchen. But now all you feel is lost, a bottle floating in a foreign ocean.

You wander into the kitchen, fingers trailing against the wall - there are no dirty dishes in the sink, no food in the cabinets; Johnny wasn’t living here.

The only dish you recognize is sitting on the counter, you pick it up, feeling the unfamiliar weight in your hand.

“It’s called Kintsugi.”

The Japanese word rolls heavily off of Johnny’s tongue, your fingers pause tracing the golden lines that cut through the mug. It was your favorite, a gift from when you and Johnny had first met. The two of you met at a diner, out with mutual friends. You’d thought it was cute, the name of the diner printed across the front in vintage lettering. Johnny had swiped it for you, hiding it beneath his jacket until the two of you parted ways at your doorstep.

“What happened to it?”

“I broke it,” he admits, dropping the grocery bags onto the counter. Your fingernail can’t find any snag in the glaze, any sign that the mug has never had the golden lines cutting through it.

Johnny busies himself with unloading the bag, speaking without looking at you as he confesses.

“After you were taken, I spent weeks searching for you until Price forced me to come home. I was angry, and I smashed it.”

You can feel the frown sketched onto your face; you don’t look at Johnny as you set the mug down on the counter.

You lean against the counter and watch Johnny busy himself with the groceries.

“He was right,” you admit, feeling silly over the sadness that fills you over the broken cup, “but maybe that’s something Simon has a lot of experience with broken things ya’know.”

You and Johnny orbit each other for weeks: he’s there every day until you begin to question if he’s gotten himself fired to stay home with you. He drives you everywhere, and if he can’t, Simon waits for you just out past the front gate, no doubt on Johnny’s orders.

“I had a lot of time off,” he says one day, elbow-deep in the laundry that he dumped between the two of you, eyes cast on the television. “Never had a reason to take it before.”

Your hands smooth the wrinkles out of one of Johnny’s shirts, fingers picking at the loose string. Today had been talk therapy, recommended by the SAS doctors. They were strict about all the requirements you had to meet if you ever wanted to go back, and laying on a shrink’s couch for two hours a week was one of them.

The graying doctor had asked you if you had spoken to Johnny about the anger that still wells up in you, the dreams you have of tearing your captives to pieces with your hands, the internal self-flagellation you went through every night when you thought about the career you’d worked so hard for, and have now lost.

You had spent the rest of the day thinking about what he said, even when it meant not paying attention to the medical doctor’s order when they were cutting your cast off, but Johnny took in every word.

You almost say something then, tossing Johnny’s shirt onto his pile, but the wrong words come out.

“You need a haircut.”

“Yeah?” Johnny’s hands still around a pair of your shorts, you feel him watching you in his peripheral vision. “You want to cut it?”

Of course, you did; you spend more moments than not thinking about how his hair must feel like long if it’s still soft. But every time the two of you tried to touch each other, the other pulled away.

So when Johnny takes your hand, and pulls you up the stairs, you let him - hand heavy and warm in your own.

Johnny lowers himself onto the closed toilet seat; you feel unsteady as you approach him, clippers in hand, and you’re not sure if it’s from the closeness or the weight of your cast being removed.

“Are you sure you trust me to do this?” You ask again; since you’d come home your fingers had been a kind of clumsy they’d never been before.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Johnny keeps his eyes trained on you, fingers tapping against the tight denim stretched across his jeans.

“I can scalp you bald,” you admit, switching the clippers on, “and then you’d look like a Q-Ball for eight weeks.”

“I’ll be the best damn Q-Ball anyone’s ever seen,” Johnny says, beard twitching as he smirks at you. If he notices the way your fingers tremble when you take his jaw in your hand, he doesn’t say anything.

His eyes close at the feeling of the clippers cutting through his hair, no doubt the feeling of the weight being removed was comfortable for him.

“You didn’t do this while I was - while I was gone?”

Your therapist says you shouldn’t shy away from calling your kidnapping what it was, but you still can’t form the words in front of Johnny.

He hums at your words, never opening his eyes as he speaks.

“I don’t let anyone else touch my hair, birdie.”

“What about your beard?”

Johnny snorts, eyes meeting yours as you maneuver his head to the side.

“You don’t like it?”

You like the way he feels against your skin, you want to tell him. But you can’t make the words form, can’t spit them out. Johnny watches you chew on them for a moment before he lets out a sigh. His hair is scattered on the floor around the two of you, more than you’d thought he’d had.

You swap the guards to shorten his mohawk, pressing yourself in between Johnny’s knees so that you can reach the nape of his neck.

His hands wrap around your thighs, light and warm against the skin that peeks out beneath the shorts you hadn’t taken off since you’d left your cast removal this morning.

Your skin is on fire at his touch, you try to ignore it as you clean up his neck; Johnny buries his face in your shirt, breath warm against your stomach. His fingers trace light patterns on your thigh and it takes every ounce of willpower to keep the clippers from straying.

His fingers trace the scar that covers his name, and you jump back like you’ve been shocked. Your back hits the wall, knocking the decorative towels you’d spent days choosing to the floor. Johnny’s hands linger in the air between the two of you as you try to catch your breath.

“Sorry,” you pant out with a heavy swallow.

Johnny pushes himself up, eyes watching you like you’re a wild animal ready to run.

He reaches out and brushes some of his fallen hair from your shoulders, electrifying your skin again. His touch is hesitant as he traces up your shoulder, fingers cupping the back of your neck.

He’s fire as he presses himself against you, lips brushing over yours just quick enough to light something up inside of you before pulling away with an apology. He loosens the clippers from your hands and shoos you out with a promise he’ll clean the hair up himself.

A storm rages outside, threatening to cut the power at any moment. You watch it throw around tree limbs and leaves through the front window. Behind you, the television casts soft shadows on the walls.

“Still pouring out there?” Johnny asks from his spot on the couch. Your answer is the curtain falling back into place. You pad back to your spot beside Johnny; he holds the blanket up for you to slip underneath.

His bare leg rubs against yours, but his hands stay firmly in his lap. He hadn’t tried to touch you since that day in the bathroom - even when he dropped you off at therapy, you’d wait for him to stretch across and kiss you, but he’d just send you off with a wave.

You knew it was partially your fault: you couldn’t get the words out to explain how much you wanted him to touch you, how sorry you were for every jerk away. Every time you tried to tell him how much you wanted him, the words curled into your throat and refused to budge. You had even asked earlier for him to take a shower with you, to no avail.

The movie - some family flick Johnny picked because it didn’t have any violence, you know - cast shadows across Johnny’s face. His stubble is starting to come in again; you reach out and trace your finger across the five o’clock shadow creeping onto his jawline.

Johnny doesn’t take his eyes away from the television screen, but he leans his face into your touch. Your fingers trace upwards, lacing through the Mohawk you’d trimmed just two weeks ago. Johnny nearly purrs when you tug on his hair, pulling him down so that he’s lying across your lap.

You have to take it slow, you know or you and Johnny both might break apart. So you just settle beneath him, fingers tracing patterns onto his scalp, eyes trained on the television, but not really watching.

“I don’t think I’m going to go back,” you whisper, voice nearly drowned out by the storm outside. Johnny rolls, doing his best not to dig painfully into your thigh to look up at you.

“To work?”

You nod, still refusing to look at him.

“I talked about it with the therapist today; I just - I think it would be best if I just cashed in my retirement. I’ve got a lot saved up: hazard pay and all that. The corporal offered me a job as a trainer. So I could still be around."

Johnny’s hand reaches up to grab your wrist, forcing you to look at him. You can’t read the expression on his face, and you don’t like that. He’s always your open book. You try to keep your heart rate steady at the feeling of him tracing patterns on your wrist.

“I’m sorry, birdie.”

And you know he’s not just apologizing for your ruined career, for the nearly year you’d spent locked away in some disgusting cell, for the still broken teeth in your mouth, or the screws that hold most of you together now. He’s still apologizing for not being able to find you earlier, to be there months earlier.

“It’s not your fault Johnny - I should have told them no. I should have been smart enough to just tell my commanding that I couldn’t do it. I should have-“

Hot tears start to fall; Johnny pushes himself up, fingers brushing them away gently. When you don’t shy away from his touch, he pulls you into his lap, tucking your head beneath his chin, and pulling you so tight you think you might break beneath his touch. And you would let yourself shatter beneath him, if it meant he could put you back together, shot through with gold.

Johnny lets you cry on his shoulder until the fabric of his shirt is soaking wet; after a while, the smell of him, the softness of the way he caresses your back,and the feeling of his jean-clad thigh between your own stirs something else inside of you. You need something else, something more desperate, something to push away the feelings of failure. Of the fear that still lingers in you of heights, and darkness, and men who smell of sweat and gunpowder.

So when you kiss him, softly, Johnny doesn’t push you away like he can feel how much you need him to touch you. Even as he lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, you don’t break the kiss. It stays superficial, and soft, neither of you breaking apart or deepening it. You expect him to carry you to the spare bed he brought downstairs for you, but instead, he cradles you up the stairs, hands gripping your thighs so tight you know there will be a thumb-shaped bruise there tomorrow.

Johnny doesn’t stumble as he carries you.

In the bedroom the two of you shared before you were lost, Johnny collapses on the bed, his smell enveloping you, hands never leaving you. He buries his nose in the soft skin of your neck, breathing in the smell of you.

“Are you here with me birdie?”

Johnny’s voice is muffled on your skin, his hands pausing at the hem of your shirt.

“I’m here Johnny.”

You rest your hands on his biceps and feel the way his heart is in your own chest. His weight presses down around you, the mattress sinking down beneath the two of you. The wind rolls in through the window, gooseflesh erupting on your skin where Johnny isn’t touching.

Johnny’s hands don’t move from the hem of your shirt until you slide your own down to his wrists, a bravery you hadn’t felt in weeks taking over you.

“Please, Johnny.”

Johnny shifts, knees spreading your own apart, but he still doesn’t touch your bare skin until you tug on his wrists, trying to slide them underneath your shirt, instead, he traces your arms - the area you know he thinks is safe.

The feeling of his calloused hands on your soft skin makes you shiver; Johnny presses a kiss to your pulse point. You know he can feel the way your heartbeat picks up quickly, and he bites down on the sensitive skin lightly. You can’t help the gasp that escapes you, the way you buck your hips upward into his.

“Birdie.” It’s a warning and a promise rolled into one, and it makes you press your knees together, trying to slow yourself down.

You let your own hands start exploring Johnny. Once, you’d had his skin memorized - every scar and freckle committed to your own memory. But there are new scars there you’ve never seen before, new wrinkles at the corner of his eyes he didn’t have before.

It’s like the first time again, both of you exploring each other slowly. Johnny pauses every time you make a noise, eyes searching your face to make sure you’re alright. You push him away just long enough to pull his shirt off of him, hands instantly reaching out to pull him back down. His own hands slide your shorts down until you can kick them across the room.

Johnny kisses you, full of the same desperation he’d had that day at the hospital. Your teeth click together as the two of you suddenly move frantically, hands grasping at each other. Johnny shakes as you run your nails down his back, pushing until he realizes what you want.

Johnny rolls, hands still wrapped around your waist until you’re on top of him. The thin material of your panties is already wet; you can feel it when you grind down on him. The rough material of his blue jeans has enough friction to send lighting bolts through you.

“Is that what you want birdie?” Johnny’s voice is low and rough in his throat; his hands rest lightly on your hips as you grind down. Your hands reach back to rest on his thighs, more leverage for you to move.

You can’t answer him, already biting down on the moans that start to build in the back of your throat. Johnny’s grip tights as you speed up; you can feel his erection pressing tightly against his zipper as you grind faster.

You feel yourself start to tremble, hands moving to brace yourself against Johnny’s chest. He wraps one hand around your wrist, the other still at your waist; you can’t look away from the hungry glint in his eye.

Outside the storm lashes, the cool air rolling in across you and Johnny.

“Let it out,” he whispers, voice ragged and panting. He’s bucking his own hips in time with your grinding; he’s holding back - you know he doesn’t want to scare you, so you loosen the knot inside of you, moaning loud enough that a blush starts to creep up your chest. At the sound, Johnny bucks up harder.

You can’t help the way you come undone, nails digging into Johnny’s chest, leaving half moons on the sensitive skin. Johnny lets you ride him until the waves of your orgasm finish rolling over you, his hands not leaving you until you finally still, thighs shaking on each side of him. You can feel your drenched underwear, feel yourself soaking into his blue jeans.

Johnny is so hard beneath you, a red flush across his chest. Outside the storm rages harder, and the lights flicker momentarily. Johnny pushes himself up onto one elbow, the hand that has refused to move up your shirt sliding up just an inch. His fingers play with the edge of your underwear, the lace snagging on his callouses.

“Why don’t you want to touch me?” You can barely hear yourself over the rain lashing against the window; Johnny’s eyebrows knit together, and he pushes himself up until he’s sitting up, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep from falling backward.

“I want to touch you,” he tries to reassure you, hands tracing patterns across the back of your shirt. But you shrug his hands off, catching his wrists in your hands before he can fully withdraw away.

“You won’t touch me beneath my shirt,” you slide his hands down to the bare skin of your thighs, moving them until the hem of your shirt falls over his fingertips. “You wouldn’t take a shower with me.”

Johnny chews on his lips, they’re too chapped, you think. The silence stretches in the sound of the storm, and the flickering lights. Before Johnny can speak lightning and thunder crash outside, and the house goes dark - the sound of the electricity powering down cutting him off. Neither of you moves in the sudden blackness.

“I’m not broken, Johnny.” You don’t want to sound so pathetic, but you do.

“I know you’re not, hen.”

“Then why am I having to beg, Johnny?”

Johnny’s hand slips up so that he’s holding your hips beneath your shirt.

“I’m not going to hurt you too.”

It’s a tough confession for him to make, you know. He’d done his best not to talk about the whole ordeal, he never asked what you went through. This was his way of keeping you away from it.

You roll your hips across his again, and his breath catches in his throat.

“Please Johnny; you’re not going to hurt me.”

You don’t know if it’s the whine in your voice or the way you trace your fingers across the hard plane of his chest, or if Johnny is just as tired of holding back as you - but he rolls you over, gentle and quick until his chest his pressed against yours, his mouth finding the sensitive skin at the base of your neck.

You’re horribly out of practice, fumbling with the buttons on his jeans, getting stuck when Johnny pulls your shirt over your head, but he doesn’t let his lips leave you; your teeth clip together as Johnny deepens the kiss he refuses to let end until your gasping for breath beneath him.

It’s electric in the best and worst ways - Johnny’s calloused fingers tracing patterns on your stomach, kneading the soft flesh of your breasts, fingers teasing the edge of your underwear, pushing them further down each time.

The current running through you makes it difficult to breathe; you can’t even warn Johnny, can’t beg him to slow down what you were just begging him to speed up. But there has never been anyone who’s known you the same way Johnny has, and when his hands slow you know he can feel that it’s too much. Just for a moment.

“Still with me?”

“Still here.”

Johnny’s hands don’t speed up, but he doesn’t slow either - pressing open-mouth kisses down your neck, between your breasts, across the planes of your stomach until he finally stops at the edge of your underwear. He darts his tongue out to lick the sensitive skin peeking out above the hem, and the feeling makes you gasp out, hips pressing harder into the mattress. His fingertips brush just over the wetness you’ve soaked through and you grind your teeth together, painfully.

“Too much?”

Yes.

Too much for you at this moment; you’re not sure if your body will hold together if Johnny even tries to eat you out, tries to stretch you with his fingers, you can hardly keep together at the feeling of him touching you anywhere after so many months of nothing but dirt, and maggots, and feverish longing for-

You didn’t notice Johnny crawling back up your body until he presses a soft kiss on your temple, fingers wiping away your hair that’s plastered with sweat there.

Johnny’s whispering in your ear: how much he missed you, how he had thought about you every day, how he’d tried to scorch the earth to look for you; he pulls you until you’re back on top of him. You can feel how hard he is, how wet you are as you grind down against the hard planes of his lower stomach, searching for him.

Johnny’s hands squeeze at your hips, shifting the both of you until you feel the tip of him catch against you; a shudder rolls through you both, but Johnny doesn’t move. Every muscle in his body is pulled taunt, pulled against fucking into you at a frenetic pace. You recognize the set of his jaw, the way his hands wrap around your forearms. He’s letting you set the pace, letting you control him.

You wait for just a heartbeat before pressing down onto him; your vision whites out from the almost uncomfortable stretch of him as you sink down slowly. You can’t remember the last time the two of you were here, the last time the two of you fucked. Johnny’s nails dig into the underside of your forearm, yours into his chest until you finally reach the hilt.

You hold there for a moment, feeling the way he fills you up - so much so that you don’t think there’s room for anything else besides Johnny - there never has been. You can’t even think between the feeling of Johnny filling you up and the feeling of not trying to cum so fast. Finally, when your heartbeat slows incrementally, you rock yourself against him, slowly, using his chest as leverage.

Beneath you Johnny is coming undone; he’s biting his lip so hard you think he might draw blood, so you trace your fingertips across his bottom lip. His lips part beneath your touch, and he takes your pointer finger into his mouth, tongue swirling around it.

The feeling makes your hips move faster, stuttering against him. Johnny moans, muffled around your finger. The sound is horribly erotic in the darkness, and it spurs something inside of you to move your hips faster, rougher against Johnny. But he doesn’t move beneath you, still holding himself back. The sound of skin on skin, of how wet you are for him drown out the storm.

Johnny’s hands are everywhere: in your hair, cupping the supple flesh of your ass, pinching and rolling your nipples between his thick fingers; one hand sneaks across the flesh of your hip, dipping between the two of you to circle your clit. The feeling makes you crumple against him; Johnny takes the opportunity to roll you over, pressing you into the mattress.

Johnny presses one of your knees up, hooking it over his elbow so that he can fuck into you, still gentle even when he’s deeper than you think he’s ever been before, his other hand still circling your clit, slowly enough to keep you from falling apart, but fast enough to bring you to the edge.

His pace grows rougher; you claw at him, drawing red welts across his skin, but Johnny doesn’t slow down. You keep your eyes closed tightly, back arched to try and get him in deeper, to get more.

“Look at me.”

Johnny’s voice is rough, a gentle command you have to follow. His eyes never leave yours, even when his pace increases, the finger on your clit still rubbing tight circles until-

Until you’re breaking apart, shattering beneath him. Your orgasm makes you arch, back nearly leaving the mattress. Johnny’s hands move to cup your face, pulling himself down until he can kiss you as you ride through your orgasm, gasping in his own mouth. Your nails draw thick red welts across his back, but Johnny doesn’t stop pounding into you, your moans drowned out by the way he kisses you.

Not long after, Johnny’s pace starts to stutter, his lips never leaving yours until he plunges in deeper than he had before, and you can feel his warm release spill out inside of you.

Even when he’s completely spent, Johnny doesn’t pull out of you, instead fucking into you once, twice, three more times until you know you can’t take anymore, hands pressing on his chest to push him away.

Johnny’s fingers smooth your twitching thighs as he pulls away. In the darkness, you can just see his outline as he shifts between your legs, but he doesn’t move from there.

He caresses you until you are finally still and your panting finally slows. His fingers trace across the cracks you can still feel, stitching you back together, shot through with gold.

“Still here?”

“Still here.”

#my fics #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish #cod soap x reader #cod imagines #cod smut #soap mw2 #soap mactavish #cod x reader #johnny mactavish

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undiscovered-horizon · 5 months

Text

Rainy Season - Morpheus x Reader

[Spoilers for Brief Lives I guess?]

[MASTERLIST] | [Sandman-inspired playlist]

SUMMARY: Fed up with Dream's stubborn and at times childish attitude, you leave Dreaming. But when Morpheus's sorrow makes itself known, Matthew has to fetch you before the kingdom completely floods.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.7k

It’s a tumultuous morning in the Dreaming. Even if none of the dreams and nightmares are privy to the ongoing feud, they know something is wrong. It’s as though the air in the kingdom, the marrow of their bones, turned bitter last night. Their skin is crawling but the sun is shining as it did yesterday. They birds chirp the same song they had throughout centuries. And yet, against their better judgment, something is terribly out of place.

To be honest, you don’t even remember how all of this started but the damage is already done.

A frustrated scream ripples through your chest, "The world doesn't revolve around you!" You're fuming. There's only so much patience one person can hold and recently, Morpheus had proven himself exceptional at trying to reach its limit until he, unfortunately, succeeded today. "For someone who's supposed to know every thought ever entertained, you sure can not look past the tip of your own nose."

His eyes, cold and hurt, stare at you in utter confusion. Dark eyebrows furrow. "I do not know what you're expecting of me,” he states in an angry voice. It appears that he really does not understand the reason for your outrage. "I am not human, I am unable to look at the world as you do."

Of course he says that, you think to yourself. It seems to be his favorite line of defense. Dream of the Endless is a strange, eldritch creature. He doesn’t comprehend the world like a mortal does and, or some reason, he treats this fact of nature as an excuse not to try. At first, you thought it charming - to see the universe through the eyes of a creature you can barely begin to understand. Who wouldn’t? The strange wonder of the man in front of you made you seek his company again and again. Truthfully, there’s something poetic about it: the reason you’ve come back to him so many times might be the very reason you bid him farewell. For good.

"Good news, then: you don't need a cardiovascular system to exercise empathy.” Your sarcastic tone has an effect on Morpheus. He frowns, hurt by your words, only to grow angry that he’s so affected. Dream’s pride makes him want to not be influenced by your bitterness. Alas, he cares more than he’s willing to admit. "Not everything is about you, Morpheus, and until you realize that, I don't think we've got more to talk about. Goodbye."

Even after you shut the door behind you, the word echoes through the castle. The stone walls seem to whisper it back to Morpheus, rubbing the salt in his wound. How strange it is - to be haunted by somebody still alive. To be the king of dreams and feel hopeless. It would be funny if it didn’t make him want to be unmade.

A thunder rolls. A blue lightning splits the sky in two. Despite the lovely weather in the morning, it starts to rain in the Dreaming.

The storm doesn’t stop after a few hours nor does it cease after a few days. Black clouds cover the sky as they did four days ago. The only change is in the water level: the kingdom is flooded. When everyone thought the rain is bound to stop soon, no one minded much the rising tide. However, when the situation only worsened with no evidence that it’s going to improve in the near future, worried voices started to reach Lucienne. If the storm doesn’t cease in the next day or two, some parts of the Dreaming will share the fate of Atlantis.

If Morpheus knew he was being observed, he didn’t show it. Perhaps he doesn’t feel up for another confrontation. In any event, he remains still, standing against the balcony reiling, as his friends begin plotting:

"How is he?" Matthew whispers to Lucienne. "Has he moved from there at all? Ate something? Said anything?"

"That's three 'no's, I'm afraid,” she answers slowly. The librarian lets out a heavy sigh. "He's just dramatically standing there, wallowing in pity."

Dream really is 'just standing there’. Drenched. His hair and clothes are stuck to his pasty skin. It can’t be comfortable but it would appear that matters other than cosiness are on his mind at the moment. For the past few days, ever since you left, he hasn’t moved even a quarter of an inch. Truthfully, he looks about as alive as a marble statue, if monuments could appear excruciatingly miserable.

"Should we do something?" The raven continues. What he really wants to ask is 'What should we do?’ but Lucienne seems to catch the undertone of his words nonetheless.

"You could ask her to come back but no guarantee she'll want to,” she thinks out loud. "They've fought before but this time she looked really defeated."

Morpheus, although doesn’t need to breathe, sighs loudly. As he exhales, another lightning tears the sky apart.

"Alright, I'll try to convince her to talk to him again,” Matthew states. His worried voice makes him sound determined to have the two of you reconcile. "Hopefully, we'll be back before you need a canoe."

Lucienne doesn’t respond. As much as she doesn’t want to admit to her pessimism, she knows better than to have much hope in the matter of Dream’s love life.

Repetitive tapping on the window diverts your attention from the dishes you were washing. Seeing the black bird sitting on the outside windowsill, you quickly wipe your hands against the dishrag and jog to open the window.

"Matthew?" you ask in surprise.

He wastes no time pleading his case in a plaintive tone. "You gotta go back to him. Everything's gone to shit."

You furrow your eyebrows. Leaning against the wall, you cross your arms on your chest. "What do you mean?"

The raven hops closer to you. "It's been pouring nonstop since you left. He's just standing there, soaking wet and he won't talk to anyone."

It might sound sadistic but it’s a nice thought that he’s grieving your departure so severely. For what it’s worth, it means he’s not as blase as he likes to appear. Perhaps, Morpheus cares about you more than you’re even aware of.

"How bad is it?" you ask warily.

"How bad?!" Matthew screeches. "The House of Mysteries is so flooded, Abel is fishing."

It sounds like 'bad' is nothing more than an elegant euphemism. In his heartache, Morpheus is willing to let Dreaming decay and fall into partial ruin. If your accusation had been correct and Dream of the Endless truly is unable to care about anyone but himself, such a disaster would never have happened. A selfish ruler wouldn’t let his realm turn to rubble because of a broken heart. And if you’re more important than what he calls home, then…

"I'm assuming that's not a usual feature,” you give the raven a half-hearted response. The thoughts inside your head are in a painful turmoil, trying to lift the truth out of the indications.

"Yeah," he answers sarcastically.

Matthew glares at you in anticipation. Perplexed, you rub your arm without thinking much about it. Right, it's the mature and responsible thing to do but at the same time, why do you have to be the one to cave in every time you two fall out? If Morpheus cares for you as much as his dramatic show of pain and grief would suggest, shouldn’t it be him travelling across world and realms to reach you?

The raven cocks his head. Something about the look in his eyes changes as though his frustration has faded away or grown into desperation if not powerlessness. He’s tired and out of options.

"Alright, let's go," you say with a sigh. "But no promises. I still have pride and self-respect and he's still a stubborn..." you take a deep breath, "nevermind. Let's just go."

Miserable.

That's the only word that comes to your mind as you stare at him from afar. One would think that an entity of his sort can not be or look miserable but maybe this world is even stranger than you've thought. His clothes are drenched to the point of being see-through. Dark, once-tussled hair is now stuck to his face and neck. Dream's body looks even more stringy as his head is hanging low between his shoulders.

The rain is almost deafening. Your cautious, hesitant footsteps shouldn't be audible and yet Morpheus turns around to look at you when you come closer.

"I didn't think you'd come back," he says in a low, groggy voice. Dream's eyes, once blue and cold, are now red and unsettlingly vacant. Has he been crying? "What do you want?"

You take a deep breath. It was vain to expect him to welcome you with open arms. An eldritch being with a bruised ego and a broken heart could never make for a hospitable host. Even to those whom he misses the most.

"I still stand by what I said, it's just..." you hang your voice for a moment to find the proper words. Seeing him so broken by your fight makes some part of you want to renounce everything that lead to your argument. Anything just for him to be alright again. But the more reasonable side of you knows that such an action would only hurt both of you in the long run. "I admit, I could have said it in a more civilized way. I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that harshness."

His gaze falls and Morpheus looks away for a moment.

Whether he's doing it consciously or not, the rainstorm ceases. Black clouds slowly drift away to uncover a clear, blue sky. Somewhere in the West, if there are cardinal directions in Dreaming, the sun is beginning to set. Despite the significant improvement, the air remains cold. A harsh wind nips at your drenched form. In a vain attempt to shield yourself from the discomfort of the weather, you put your arms around your torso. Still, your body trembles.

"Perhaps I should have put more effort into understanding your concern. I'm..." he turns silent for a second. His lips are apart but no sound is coming out of his mouth. Dream's hurt gaze meets yours. "Sorry," he whispers finally. Despite his voice being hardly audible, the weight of his confession is almost deafening.

"There's one more thing, Morpheus."

Those sad blue eyes stare at you in anticipation. The misery on his face makes you think that he's expecting to have his heart broken again, instead of mended.

A couple of grey clouds reappear above your heads. Oh no.

"I'm tired of always being the one to reach out," you confess. His gaze is too intense and you quickly look away from him. There's much on his mind. "No matter who's right or wrong, it's me who bridges the gap between us. Even if that angers me, I still do it. Every time. And I don't know what that says about me."

Your body trembles again but this time it doesn't go unnoticed by Morpheus. He, quite literally, pulls a coat out of thin air. Dream's movements are almost fearful as he cautiously places the garment around your shoulders.

"Perhaps in certain aspects, you are better than me," he answers quietly while fixing the coat to fit you better.

You know you're pushing your luck when you look at him again and ask a not-so-innocent question:

"You mean a 'better person'?"

"I'm not-" He bites his tongue just in time. Morpheus is not a person. Both of you are perfectly aware of it. But it was the mention of this very fact that had brought such disastrous rain to Dreaming. "Yes. A better person."

There's not much conviction in his words but there is, however, a silent promise to find it.

______

Now that I’m in mourning, I thought it fitting to finish reading "Brief Lives" and the bittersweetness of it felt all the more pronounced. Reading it prompted me to rewatch the show and long story short I’m kind of back in my Sandman feels.

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loveissupernatural · 2 years

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**read chapter 1 here** - **read chapter 2 here** - **read chapter 3 here** - **read chapter 4 here**

Morpheus/Dream x fem!reader

In Your Dreams

Chapter 5

“Life is a sleep and love is its dream; and you have lived if you have loved.”

-Alfred de Musset

The following day felt longer than you would have liked. You were anxious for the sun to set, and with it, the answers that would quench the fire of burning curiosity in your mind. Why was the heart of The Dreaming rotting away? Why were you able to escape the borders of your dream and travel there, and why was Lucienne so obviously disturbed by it? Where was Dream? But, most importantly, why did you feel the need to be there in the first place? Why couldn’t you come to terms with this entire experience for the incredible magical adventure that it was and just let it go?

Even though you were filled with more questions than ever before, you could feel in the deepest recesses of your soul that the solutions to all of them lay in The Dreaming.

Your enthusiasm to return to the palace caused you to have trouble falling asleep for the first hour that night. The castle was your new Burgess house – mysteries hid there that tickled at your insides, that whispered to you in the darkness of the night to uncover them.

Finally, after tossing and turning, your eyes fluttered closed and stayed that way. Shifting shapes whirled behind your eyelids, flitting from corner to corner, until they gently settled into the outline of a horizon. A warm sun began to rise and filtered light onto the dark line, illuminating the scene for you. You instantly recognized the scent of poppies on the breeze.

That fragrant wind whipped through your hair lovingly, like the soft fingers of a curious child, swirling around your form. You spun with it, arms outstretched, grinning from ear to ear. How you wished with everything within your heart that this place was real, that this is where you could spend the waking hours of your life.

You opened your shining eyes to see the parting gate of horn and ivory before you. You hadn’t even needed to start the journey within the confines of your own dream this time – you were already here. Your path of glinting black and gold marble was still below your feet, humming with welcoming warmth.

You couldn’t contain your happiness when the dividing gates revealed a view to you that had shifted from the night before. The stretches of murky water were trickling into a singular crystal river, sparkling blue and immense. Where unforgiving rock and dark sand had suffocated the landscape, beautiful blades of grass and stretches of green ferns were beginning to emerge. You recognized your favorite flower, blooming white poppies, dancing in the breeze on the riverside. An enormous bridge was sliding into place over the river, cradled by gargantuan stone hands that surfaced from the crystal water.

Creatures were returning, beautiful and terrifying alike, flying through the milky blue sky and snaking through the growing grass around your feet. The air was no longer choked with an eerie silence; insects buzzed, water rushed, citizens of The Dreaming were laughing.

Life.

You followed the massive bridge of stone to the center, where the once-crumbling palace was being rebuilt in the gleam of glorious sunlight. Fallen walls and castle turrets were reassembling themselves brick by brick with meticulous accuracy, as if someone had hit rewind. Rusting spires were shedding their coat of orange muck and shining gold. Magnificent archways were mending their own cracks and rising tall, transforming from ashy grey to glimmering white.

The heart of The Dreaming was returning to its former glory. Pure joy blossomed in your chest like the rosebuds of a vine that was bending around the pillars of the bridge.

You walked into the castle entryway, still grinning like a fool, as you looked up and watched every shard of broken glass and every crushed stone float into the air and return to their homes. A beautiful stained-glass window was mending directly above your head. The colorful fragments gradually slid together to form the image of a Pegasus, and as the last piece fell into place, it sprang to life, neighing triumphantly and beating its wings.

“Not too shabby, huh?” came a proud voice from behind you.

You spun to see a tall scarecrow-like figure with the head of a pumpkin approaching you. His face was the cut of a jack-o-lantern, crooked mouth pulling up at the corner in a tilted smile. He stopped by your side and put his branch-like hands on his thin hips, gazing up appreciatively at the work of glass art. You tried not to stare too rudely at him.

You turned your head back toward the magnificent window, now casting rays of colored sunlight onto you and your Halloween-like companion.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” you replied truthfully.

He grunted in agreement, then looked down at you. His triangular eyes narrowed.

“Hey, ya know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around these parts before,” he said. “You new?”

Your lips upturned at his gutteral New York accent. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Lotsa new folks all around this joint today,” he said, shaking his large head in amusement. “Guess that’s what happens when ya hammer a few nails and splash on a fresh coat a’ paint—everyone comes back to tha neighborhood.”

“It does look pretty inviting,” you agreed, turning to face him. You stuck out your hand. “I’m Y/N.”

The pumpkin-headed man stuck out his wooden hand and shook yours firmly. “I’m Mervyn, but everybody calls me Merv.”

“Hi, Merv.”

He chuckled and crossed his arms. “Well, considerin’ you bein’ new and all, why don’t I give ya a bit of a tour? It wouldn’t be my first one today.”

“I would love that,” you beamed, resisting the urge to clasp your hands together like a schoolgirl. Merv nodded and turned, motioning with his stick-like hand.

“Well, then, c'mon.”

He walked like a puppet would without strings, you thought, as you followed behind him. You struggled to keep up with his long strides. Mervyn led you through a hallway that had one wall built while the opposite was still floating together. One piece of stone almost hit him in the head on its way back to its appointed position, and he cursed at it.

Once through the hallway, you turned into a winding staircase that glinted with intricate gold. As you followed Merv’s spindly legs up the flight, you appreciated the view to your left of an assembling tower. After a few more steps, you reached the top.

“First things first, here’s our pride and joy,” Mervyn announced grandiosely, spreading out his arms for dramatic emphasis. Your jaw dropped. “This is the library.”

The room was warm wood, cozy sunlight, and beckoning shelves that stretched on for as far as the eye could see. Books were everywhere, of every size, color, and age. You ran your finger along a nearby shelf, tickling their spines. Some looked thousands of years old, others as if they’d come off the press minutes before.

“How many books are in here?” you asked in wonder, turning in a full circle to better take in the view.

“A helluva lot,” Mervyn answered slyly. “To tell you the truth, I’m not the one you should ask. Lucienne’s the librarian in charge.”

At the sound of her name, the woman that you had met the night before emerged from behind a nearby cascade of bookshelves. Her eyes smiled at Mervyn, but then they settled onto you.

Lucienne’s face paled.

“You’ve returned,” she breathed, striding toward the two of you with a haste in her step, “and so soon.”

“Oh, you’ve met before?” Mervyn asked, eyes shifting between the librarian and yourself.

“We have,” you told him, trying to make sure your grin didn’t turn into a grimace.

“Just last night, in fact,” Lucienne added. Her perceptive gaze wandered over your nervous form.

“Last night?” Merv repeated incredulously. He motioned over his shoulder. “But the boss hadn’t even started rebuilding yet! How’d she—?”

“A question we all would like to know,” Lucienne answered, fixing you with a penetrating stare over the top of her round glasses. She clasped her hands behind her back expectantly.

“Hey, I’d like to know too,” you said defensively. You crossed your arms, but then dropped them to your sides, not wanting to come off as defiant. “I’ve already told you everything that I know.”

“Lucienne, who is this?” Mervyn asked curiously, pointing a thumb at you.

The librarian sighed heavily but her eyes softened. Her tone was gentle, appreciative. “This, Mervyn, is the young lady that released Lord Morpheus from his prison.”

“No kiddin’?! That was you?!” he questioned unabashedly, shock evident in his wide eye sockets.

You shrugged, not a fan of the intense attention. “Well, yeah… but it’s really not that big of a deal…”

“Not that big of a deal?” Mervyn repeated, voice dripping in astonishment. “Are you kiddin’ me? This place would still be fallin’ apart if it wasn’t for you!”

“That’s why everything looked the way that it did the last time I came?” you asked Lucienne. “Because Dream wasn’t here?”

She nodded somberly. “He was captured for nearly a century and was unable to return. Everything was dissipating, disappearing… it cannot exist without him. He is The Dreaming.”

“But it’s been over a week since I helped him escape,” you said, confused. “Where has he been all of that time?”

“Lord Morpheus was traveling the realms on a quest to reobtain his tools.”

Something hopeful fluttered in your chest. Those nights where you’d been calling out to him and he hadn’t shown himself… it wasn’t because he was ignoring you, it was because he wasn’t even there in the first place.

“Look, uh… I hate to interrupt this conversation,” Merv cut in, scratching the back of his pumpkin head uncomfortably, “but… shouldn’t we tell the boss that she’s here?”

Joy sparked in your chest at his words.

Lucienne hesitated. “There’s still so many questions that remain unanswered. We don’t know how or why she is able to leave her dreams, let alone create a path from their border and through the waters to the palace.”

Mervyn didn’t have eyebrows, but if he did, you were sure he would be raising them in surprise.

“I didn’t have to use the path this time,” you told her, biting your lip. “I just kind of started at the gate.”

“You materialized here, in the heart of The Dreaming?” she clarified, voice filled with bewilderment and cut with that undertone of concern again.

“That ain't normal,” Mervyn shook his head.

“It appears that each time you fall asleep, you are somehow able bypass steps that you’ve previously taken,” she said thoughtfully, almost to herself. “You’re no longer appearing within the boundaries of your own dreams.”

An excited smile pulled at your lips. “Cool.”

“No, no, not ‘cool’,” Lucienne admonished, turning from you and Mervyn to start rifling through a stack of books resting on a nearby table. “This behavior is quite abnormal, even for a lucid dreamer such as yourself.”

“Lucid dreamer, ‘ay?” Merv inquired, crossing his reedy arms over his chest and leaning back against the shelf behind him. “Not too many a’ you guys left no more.”

“Really?”

“They’ve become exceedingly rare,” Lucienne confirmed, finally picking out a book from the pile. “Consistently lucid dreamers existed more commonly thousands of years ago. Now, well…” her eyes roamed over your confused face “…you’re the first I’ve seen in, at least, a millennium.”

“You always been able to do that?” Mervyn asked you. “Change stuff around?”

“Since I can remember,” you shrugged, pulling out a chair at the ornate table in front of you and sitting. “I’d sleep the day away just to keep dreaming.”

“But roaming through the dreamscape, you said last night that you had only just started?” the librarian asked, peering over the edge of the thick book in her hands. She joined you at the table.

Something caught your eye. The book that Lucienne had plucked from the bunch was bound in black with two golden words emblazoned on the cover: your first and last name.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what’s that?” you questioned enthusiastically, scooting your chair closer to her. “My name’s on there!”

A proud smile creeped onto the head librarian’s face. “This library contains every story ever written and unwritten, finished or unfinished, everything that has been and will never be.” She tapped the hard cover of your book with a manicured nail. “And this is yours.”

“Wow,” you sighed, resting your chin on your palm. Lucienne’s smile grew at your awestruck expression. “So, what all is in there about me?”

“Everything,” she answered simply.

You gulped. “Like, everything everything?”

She laughed. It was a harmonious sound.

“Relax, even your most embarrassing of moments pale in comparison to many of the things I read every day,” she assured you, eyes twinkling with amusement. She became serious again. “I thought it advantageous to find your book after your unexpected visit last night. I had to be sure that you weren’t a threat to The Dreaming.”

Your smile fell. “I’m – I’m not. I don’t want to be a threat to anybody.”

Lucienne sighed, expression trickling with pity.

“I know those aren’t your intentions. But the fact remains that your recent abilities are those that no mortal should possess.”

“Don’t worry, kid,” Merv said, standing from his perch against the bookcase to lean against your table instead. He grinned crookedly at you. “We’ll get this figured out. If anyone can sniff out what’s goin’ on here, it’s Lucienne.”

You let out a shaky breath, nodding. The thought of being some kind of danger to this beautiful place rattled you. All you had wanted was to find Morpheus, to make sure everything turned out okay after you released him. After all, being imprisoned against your will for a hundred years had to be traumatic for anyone, right? Even the King of Dreams?

You had more selfish reasons, too, but those would stay private.

Suddenly, a voice called out.

It echoed into the large room, gentle but authoritative, soft but commanding respect. With a wave of warmth washing over your skin, you knew that you would recognize that beautiful sound anywhere.

“Lucienne,” his voice called, “I believe it is time we review the findings from the census.”

All three of you froze in place.

The King of Dreams emerged from the nearest aisle, graceful stride filled with purpose. He donned all black, a sweeping floor length coat flowing behind him as he walked, regal. His alabaster skin almost seemed to glow against his dark attire. His hair was as black as his clothing, still so gloriously messy and wild.

He was in his element, thriving and flourishing in a way that radiated from his very being. This was his domain.

Morpheus’s icy blue eyes moved from Lucienne to Mervyn. Then, they locked onto you.

Your breath hitched as you stood, chair screeching back noisily. That feeling, that delicious humming in your bones, it was different here, more alive. It was starlight sparking in your spine. He stood at least ten feet away, impossibly still, but you could feel his presence as strongly as you would if he were inches from you. Time stood still.

A myriad of emotions flickered through his fathomless eyes at the sight of you, none of which you could place, but whatever they were made the air in the library thick. Your eyes drank in his face and his roamed yours, penetrating but swirling with something soft.

Mervyn cleared his throat uncomfortably. It just then occurred to you that you had no idea how long the two of you had been standing like that, staring at each other.

The sound seemed to bring Dream back to himself.

“Lucienne. Mervyn. Leave us,” he commanded quietly, but he didn’t look at them. His intense gaze never once broke from yours.

Their replies came quickly and in hushed tones, almost as if embarrassed.

“Of course, sir.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

They scurried away with heads down. As they reached the exit to the library, you could hear Mervyn mutter, “Well, talk about some tension...”

Morpheus blinked at the comment, but you didn’t miss the almost-imperceptible smirk that tugged at one corner of his lips. He was still staring at you.

With a smile that revealed every whisper of your heart, you broke the silence.

“Hi.”

Dream took a slow step toward you, measured. Then another. The curtain of dark lashes framing his endless eyes fluttered as he took you in, gaze roaming to your feet and back up again.

“Hello.” His voice was velvet.

You swallowed, begging the blush that you could feel creeping up your neck to go away. Couldn’t you have at least one interaction with him without your body betraying you? You felt like a fucking teenager.

“You, um, never answered my question,” you said, taking a step toward him as well. One of his dark brows rose. “You put me to sleep first. Rude, by the way.”

His smirk wasn’t nearly as well-hidden now.

“My deepest apologies. And what question would that be?”

You took another step closer, still not breaking eye contact. You clasped the back of a chair with one hand to ground yourself.

“You’re… you are alright, then?” you asked quietly. For the smallest of moments, his eyes betrayed everything. He was touched by your concern.

“You have journeyed through The Dreaming, to the heart of my realm, simply to ask after my well-being?”

His voice held an undercurrent of emotion, but he attempted to hide it with the slightest lilt of tease.

A playful glint sparkled in your eye. “Well, I did play spy for over a month just to get into that basement. What’s a desert and an ocean or two?”

The mischievous gleam in his eyes was shuttered by the weight of your words. It seemed that once Morpheus got past the initial surprise of seeing you there, the same realization dawned on him that concerned Lucienne.

“You traveled through the outer lands of The Dreaming,” he stated, brows furrowed in unease. “You left the confines of your dream and found yourself here?”

The general trepidation from everyone surrounding your ability to leave your dream world disturbed you. You saw it as a gift, but it seemed to be one that you were not meant to have. You let out a sigh.

“I created a path,” you told him. “It took me through the desert and through an ocean… and then I ended up on that dock out there.” You tilted your chin toward the windows. “The path ended at the gates, and when I touched them, they opened. Then I came here.”

Morpheus was close now, taking in every word you that escaped your lips with rapt attention. His powerful stare was not angry, but perplexed. His eyes were swimming with anxious confusion.

“How is this possible?” he whispered to himself. His pale hand rose, ever so slowly, to ghost the line of your jaw. The touch was barely there, so very brief, but it left tingling chills in its wake. He examined your every feature, searching for the answer. “For you are not a vortex.”

For a moment, you’d forgotten how to speak, mind still reeling from the fact that he had just touched you, and that it felt so indescribable. His fingers had barely brushed an inch of skin, but that starlight sparkling in your spine had overtaken every nerve ending.

“Vortex?” you asked when you found your voice. Your eyebrows came together. “What’s a vortex?”

To your dismay, Dream stepped away from you. He turned toward the table where you were previously sitting with Lucienne and Mervyn, delicate fingers flipping through the many volumes that were stacked over its surface. His hands settled on a red hardback, lifting it so that you could read the gold lettering on the cover.

“Rose Walker,” he replied, face impassive.

At your obvious confusion, Dream stepped back and motioned with a graceful hand toward the archway where Lucienne and Mervyn had disappeared moments before.

“Where are we going?” you asked, walking in the direction he indicated.

Morpheus was tall at your side, right hand ghosting the small of your back, featherlight. The stars in your backbone twinkled at the touch.

His voice was euphonious when he bent to your ear.

“Follow me.”

**read chapter 6 here

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mrs-kodzuken · 4 months

Text

K.K.T.K on my wrist ♡

Pairing: Kōtarō Bokuto x Keiji Akaashi x fem!reader x Tetsurō Kuroo x Kenma Kozume

WC: 1.9k

Genre: soulmate au, fluff, slice of life

CW: fem!reader, four soulmates, poly relationship, fluff, very soft and sweet

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

When I was a little girl, I thought about how a prince would show up outside my bedroom window. He'd take me away to his castle and marry me, treating me with kindness.

Then we'd live happily ever after, just like in the movies.

However, the hardships that came with being a princess made me think that I could handle them. As it turns out, that's not how life is at all.

Not at all.

Plenty of hardships are thrown at you left and right. and it's all about how well you deal with it.

As I got older, my fantasies became more realistic. I wanted to live a small, easy life with the person I so dearly loved.

A small child or kitten running around, giving us entertainment.

Living out our lives to the fullest and being content with simplicity. We didn't need anything more or anything less.

That's how I've always imagined it.

As it turns out, life does throw things at you, but this one was one of the best hardships I'll ever came to love.

And it all begins at the young age of sixteen. A fresh high school student, worried about what people thought about them.

Their hair, clothes, grades, and sometimes even a boyfriend or girlfriend.

However, most of those thoughts got quickly brushed away. On a person's sixteenth birthday, initials will appear on their dominant wrist.

The absolute heart racing feeling full of wonder of who your special significance other could be.

Maybe it was someone who lives halfway across the world. Maybe someone who goes to the same school as you. Maybe someone you grew up with.

Or maybe someone you just happen to know from the internet.

Whatever it may be, they will be bound to meet. Some people say it's fate. Some say even destiny.

However, I just thought it was a clear misconception for me.

I had my dreams significantly crushed by four initials on my wrist. Oh, how I used to despise them—the hate that fueled through me when I looked at my wrist.

Looking back, it was harsh and childish. Life is unexpected; things happen. However, this one was one that's stuck in my favorites, even if it was the opposite of everything I always wanted.

I wouldn't trade it for the world.

The bedroom window was open a bit as the rain fell from the sky. Small devices lit up here and there around the room.

It was an easy night for all of us. Even Kōtarō was quiet, which sparked an interest in me. I was keeping myself busy by reading a book I had been wanting to catch up on.

While also laying on Keiji, who had been next to me reading some other kind of book.

Our beloved Kenma was in the next room over, streaming. The door was slightly ajar, leaving space for the blue rays of light to show on the wall.

I could hear small splashes of water coming from the bathroom. A small, unnoticeable smile gracing my strawberry-colored lips.

No matter how many times I knew water calmed that beautiful boy down, I couldn't get over it.

I had run the bath myself, even adding a few bathroom toys and bubbles, despite it being the late hours of the night. And despite that he was a grown man, we don't in this house.

If I had listened hard enough, I could hear Tetsu downstairs. The soft noise of most likely midnight snacks being made.

It seemed as if we were all content in the house we called home. A shiver ran down my back as I felt the soft breeze come from the window.

The skies were pitch black; if it were a normal night, I'd be on the roof with Tetsu and Keiji. We'd point out the constellations and watch the stars.

It was one of my favorite things to do with them.

If it were later in the afternoon and the sun was slightly straying from the clouds and the rain was soft, Kōtarō would be dancing in the rain with me.

We'd sing our hearts out, then get scolded by our lovely boyfriend, Keiji, who quite possibly seemed like the only sane one in the house.

Besides Kenma half of the time.

The days that it was sunny, and I wished silently that it would rain. Kenma would softly take my hand and lead me to the kitchen.

Even though we both shared the hatred of sunny days, we'd bake something.

Whether it be healthy or not, burnt or just right, muffins or cupcakes. So, our house constantly smells like a bakery. When we wouldn't feel up to baking, a movie was our next best thing.

On hard days when I felt like I really needed something to just get my mind off for a little while, Kuroo was my go-to person.

We'd run to the park and back, putting the stress into exercising. Sometimes, just sitting down with him on a park bench and watching everyone pass by was enough.

However, Keiji was by far the one who comforted me in a strange but loving way. He's the only one I'd talk to. I'd spill all my thoughts to, read a book with, cry to, and observe with.

Being very compatible with each and every one of them made life exciting and, oddly, calming.

"Are you cold? We can shut the window if you'd like." Keiji turned his head toward me, pausing his reading.

"I'll put on a hoodie," I said, shaking my head and loving the smell of rain. However, he knew that that would be my answer.

I'd always wrap up in multiple clothing layers instead of shutting the window.

It was a habit.

I crawled away from him as I watched Keiji place my bookmark in the place I was reading.

Slipping on my pink slippers, I walked out of the room, heading towards the clothing room.

Who knew that living with four other people would bless you with an enormously large house? However, the income we all made could quite possibly also be a reason.

As I walked past Kenma's gaming room, I peered in. My eyes were watching him a bit, I could tell even from when he was turned around that his eyes were glued to the screen.

Knowing Kenma, I knew he wasn't wearing his glasses that protected his eyes. He needed them now more than ever, since it's the late hours of the night.

Backing out, I quickly but quietly moved downstairs. His glasses were on the living room coffee table, if I remembered correctly.

When I was on the first floor, I moved to the living room, where his glasses were. Picking them up, I felt the coldness from how long they've been left alone.

The kitchen light on, curiosity peering through me. I peeked in at the sight of Tetsu sitting on the counter, scrolling on his phone.

He was most likely trying to figure out what we'd be feeling up for to eat after rummaging through our cabinets. God, he could be doing nothing and still look so handsome.

I smiled a little and headed back upstairs. Opening Kenma's door more, I could hear soft grunting from him.

Probably because of a level he was having trouble with.

Setting the glasses close to his keyboard, I leaned down and gave him a soft kiss on the temple. He nodded, his cheekbones glowing with a rouge pink shade.

That small peck meant, 'Please don't forget to wear them.' I could always express myself with small things without actually saying them to Kenma and Keiji.

Usually, I'd have to express my thoughts in a verbal way when it came down to Kō and Tetsu. However, I knew not everyone would be an introvert or just a mind reader.

When I left the room, leaving it cracked like before, I saw his game pause and him slip on the clear glasses.

I made my way back to the room, forgetting about the hoodie I needed to get. When I entered, I saw Kōtarō curled up against Keiji.

His hair was slightly dripping wet, making me cringe a bit.

I spotted his towel, which he had brought back with him instead of hanging up in the bathroom. I softly grabbed it and made my way to him.

He perked up; his yellow eyes seemed to shine a bit brighter in the dark.

"The water will make the bed wet, hon" I softly said, lightly ruffling his hair with the towel.

His arms wrapped around my waist as I continued to get the water out. Wetness and comfortable covers do not mix in my book or even on my book.

I could hear him sigh happily as I played with his hair, trying to get out all the water.

Glancing over to Keiji, his glasses were off, and our books had been set elsewhere. It's movie time.

Kenma would come from his gaming in around fifteen to twenty minutes from now. We'd all cuddle on the bed and watch a cartoon movie.

I walked to the bathroom, setting Kōtarō's towel on his hook. In a house of five people, organization was the best key.

After I cut the lights off, I walked back to see a movie picked up and Kuroo coming upstairs with our midnight snacks.

When I made sure everyone was comfortable in bed, I went to get Kenma. I could basically feel the exhaustion radiating off him. Knowing that he wouldn't get off the game unless someone actually got him.

As I got closer, I gently put my arms around his back. I did it every single time I wanted him to get off the game. I could tell he was fighting himself, wanting to go another round but agreeing.

Soon his system was off and his left hand locked in my right one, walking into our bedroom. We climbed into bed; the rotation was different this weekend.

Each day or week, we'd switch the rotation of who gets to spoon who. It wasn't my idea since I couldn't care less if I was spooning or getting spooned.

However, being the only girl it was kinda nice with everyone being bigger than me, it was kind of hot some nights too.

This time around, Tetsu was spooning me, and I happened to be spooning Kōtarō. After we finished the snacks, I couldn't resist the sleep, which called my name.

Since there were five of us, we couldn't possibly fit in a bed. So we decided to just get one of the biggest; even if we did spoon, I'm sure at least one of us would end up kicking another off the bed.

This has always been how our stay-up nights have been and I wouldn't change it for the world.

When I was a little girl, I thought about how a prince would show up outside my bedroom window. He'd take me away to his castle and marry me.

Well, now that I'm older, it's safe to say that I've got four princes who I was fated with. They agreed to live together with me, and the need to marry wasn't in our minds.

We all knew the reassurance of each other never leaving the other. But if one of us did happen to want to marry? I guess we could.

But this is the end of our weekend night and there was nothing out there that would make me give it up.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

a/n: this is from my book “Haikyuu x Reader One Shots” on Wattpad. I hope you enjoyed and let me know if you have any requests!

the header is made by me, please like/reblog if used <3

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letters-unsending · 6 months

Text

No. 45

////

Hero meets Villain in a dream.

////

“How’d you get in here?”

“Through the door?” Hero gestured behind him and then paused. A corridor stretched out past his fingers, meandering into darkness.

“You’re in my mind.” Villain waved down at Hero’s feet. “Treading your dirty footprints all over my thoughts.”

“In your mind? Certainly not.” Hero looked around. The hall had widened into a room with slate-gray walls and oval windows that seemed to slip downward every time he blinked. One window was on the floor. The glass encased a squirming, oily blackness.

“You need to get out.” As Villain stomped over the floor-window, the tiles shuddered, spilling into mounds of white sand. The roof yawned open to a soft, purple twilight. “I was trying to spell you out of my head and I’ve made a mess of everything. You’re sleeping right now, aren’t you? Your soul has a habit of wandering.”

“I do remember going to bed before this.” Hero glanced down. His feet were bare and the wind slipped past his ankles and the wide hem of his pajama pants. Frantically, he reached for his face. Chilled metal met his fingers—his mask was still on.

“Your soul will hide what wants to be hidden. You don’t have to worry about that.” Villain groaned and stomped again, but the scene remained the same. The white sand dissolved into a silvery sea. Though a breezed curled across the beach, the water was still, an infinite mirror reflecting the bruise-blue horizon, and Hero considered it, wondering what would happen if he disturbed its surface. “You’ll go once you wake up anyways.”

“I’ve been here before, haven’t I?” He stepped forward. The sand was too soft and whispered against his heel like silk.

“You shouldn’t remember that.” Villain whirled around.

“I don’t,” Hero murmured, walking toward the water, “it’s just a feeling, you know.”

Villain sighed and followed him. Together, they marched, but the sea never grew closer. “You tried this the last time as well,” Villain explained, “and you never make it far.”

“So, I’ve been in your mind before.” Hero turned, following the shoreline instead. Waves crashed and gulls called faintly, though nothing moved, and the sky was bare. “Why haven’t you attacked me? I’m sure you can expel me from your mind. You feel powerful.”

“The soul will not do what it does not wish to.”

“You want me here?”

“The company is nice. I haven’t seen anybody in a while.” The sand grew sharp underfoot, furling into blades of grass, and pines sprouted up between thick, gauzes of mist. Fog hung on the air and perspired over Hero’s skin.

“You being here, it shouldn’t be possible.” Villain gestured toward the haze and the barest silhouettes of mountains beyond. “Of course, there is always the chance that you could be a figment of my mind, but I have little skill with conjuring sentient things. I can only hope that it’s you and that I’m not alone.”

“You’re trapped.”

“Astute observation.” Rain fell softly as Villain stopped, canting his head toward the sky. “It usually takes you far longer to realize that.”

“How many times have I been here?” Hero stared past Villain, at the pines, whose limbs ruffled like great, dark feathers. From their gnarled roots, the trees twisted upwards. Their crowns pierced the fog.

“You forget.” Villain held his face with his hands. The trees braided, expanded, and domed over where they stood, till everything was emerald and reeked of mulched earth and spruce. “It doesn’t matter. Everything I tell you, you always forget, but you always come back. You never remember me and I’m tired of meeting you, for the first time, every time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You wouldn’t be, if you remembered me.” The green turned black, into roiling nothingness. “We knew each other in the waking world, but it seems you’ve forgotten me there as well.”

Hero strode through the abyss and wrenched Villain’s hands from his face. He had a nose, cheeks, lips, jaw; he had everything that should compose a face and yet Hero couldn’t arrange it, couldn’t piece it together. His eyes were the only thing that didn’t swim and when Hero looked into them, he tumbled forward, onto the cold tile of the grey room.

He staggered to his feet. The windows were gone, but a door replaced them. It was simple, white, and had a shining brass handle, but Hero never reached for it.

Turning back, he called out a name.

“[Villain]?”

#writeblr #villain #writing prompt #hero #prompt #villain prompt #writing #hero prompt #hero x villain #drabble #im sorry if this is too trippy #and hard to keep track of

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automaticpizzahologram · 1 year

Text

I'm not German or speak German so sorry if I translate it wrong just blame Google translate

Both bill and the reader are 16

" Hallo i-ich bin y/n" ( hello I'm y/n).

I say, well try to say. I'm trying to learn German by myself just for something to do. I don't think I will ever need it but it's gonna be awesome to say I can speak more than one language and that's German, plus German people have amazing accents that make them sound fantastic.

I sit on the swings staring down and the miniature sized book in my hands . Even though I'm swinging slightly the swing still screeches . It's not the best park, it has a broken roundabout that barely spins, the slide gives kids burns no matter what you wear. The over flowing bin thats full of beer bottles and other stuff I probably don't want to know about.

Everything in the park has worn out, dull paint on it. It looks like no one has been in for years and that's kinda true ever since the new park was added all the younger kids go there, it's in the nicer part of town as well.

It seems as though only drug addictics, drunkes and some teens go to this park now which is normally at night so sometimes I get this place all to myself.

My eyes quickly skim the page.

"alright so they pronounce their 'w' 's as v' s. So wine would be vine?" I look up to the clear blue sky and sigh. Closing the book I put it on the floor. I pick up my phone from the ground and skip my music till I find a more upbeat song, I place my phone back on to the floor then I start to swing getting higher and higher.

I sit swinging for about 45 minutes being in my own little world while listening to music watching the world go by. I slowly slow down draging my feet on the gravel and pull myself to a stop. I slip off my headphones and place them around my neck. Jumping of of the swing I bend down and pick up my book, phone and my bottle of water, I place my phone into my Jeans pocket. I start to head out of the park when I drop my waterbottle . I reach down stretching my arm out ready to grab the bottle when another hand beats me to it. I look up at the person ready to say thank you and I'm met with a really pretty, tall, skinny boy with longish black hair.

" Thanks, you didn't have to do that but I appreciate it"

"Don't worry, it was no problem. I'm Bill" the German accent catching my attention. Bill holds my bottle out and I reach to get it.

" Thanks" I say again "I'm y/n" grabbing the waterbottle.

Bill steps to the side slightly and that's when I notice another boy with dreadlocks.

"This is my brother Tom."

" it's nice to meet you but I probably should be going. Have a nice day" I say and continue to walk out of the park and along the path heading home. I turn to look back at the park and catch bill still looking at me, he doesn't turn away quickly as I thought he would, he just continues to look. I turn back around and continue my way home.

~~~~~~~°°~~~~~~~°°~~~~~~~°°~~~~~~

I kick my shoes of at the door and set down my book and waterbottle on the bench. I look at my waterbottle thinking back to the boy in the park and his brother, they looked about my age.

I open the snack cupboard and take out a pack of sour patch kids I grab my book and water and head up to my room.

Closing the door I chuck the sour patch kids on my bed as well as my waterbottle .

My room isn't very big. It has light gray walls with windows on both the front and the back of my room. My beds near the front of the room, my conserlation bedding make my room look more neater for some odd reason. I have about fifty thousand plants dotted around in different coloured plant pots. My room doesn't really have a theme it's just random.

For a small room I have a lot of stuff and I don't even need it. I don't use the things so there's no point in having them but it's the fact that most of the stuff is gifts and things that I might in the future, who knows.

I walk over to my bed and get on. lying on my stomach I reach to my right and put my book on my book shelf that has far to many books for it, and if I'm being honest I have 4 books on the go that need finishing.

I open the bag of sour patch and start scrolling on Instagram.

After about 15 minutes I get bored. I chuck my phone to the side and get up from my bed streching as I do so.

I hear the door open and close from my mum coming in from work.

"I'M BACK " she shouts. My mums pretty chill, just don't get on her bad side.

"OK" I shout back

"is your sister In?"

"no, she's staying at jasmine's tonight"

" should we order in tonight then"

I run out of my room and down the stairs into the sitting room. Not only is my room small every rooms small. My mum's sitting on the sofa scrolling through what I'm guessing is a takeaway menu.

"how does Chinese sound?" mum says looking up from the menu on her phone.

"yeah that sounds great"

We normally order in if maddison is out because she doesn't like eating fatty foods, she says its going to ruin her skin and figure . I mean when I was 14 i had okay skin a few spots every now and then but I didn't stop eating stuff because of it. The acne has gone now thankfully, and I'm happy about how I look because I relised that unless I get plastic surgery, which is hella expensive, I can't change the way I look.

About 12 minutes later mom gets a phone call.

I don't pay attention until I hear my name being mentioned, I turn my head towards mum now interested in the conversation that mums having.

"No, I'm sure she'll be fine with going, one sec, I'll tell her"

"y/n, sweetheart, maddison wants to go to this concert thing with jasmine in 2 or 3 weeks, apparently they have vip tickets or what ever you call them. And they want you to go are you okay with that" she says looking over to me

"yeah, sure, I don't mind" mum turns back to facing forward again.

" your sister says yes she'll go with you"

"Okay, bye love you" mum hangs up the phone and turns back towards me.

" Are you sure you're okay with going?"

"yeah I need to get out anyway, did she say who we're going to see"

"no I don't think so, only that they have back stage passes, apparently jasmine's parents bought them for her and accidently bought 3 instead of two without knowing. You know how rich people are"

Hi everyone thanks so much for reading.

I have no clue what happens at a concert cause I have never been to one never mind back stage so please bare with me. I'll try and update as much as I can.

#bill kaulitz x reader #tokio hotel #tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz #fem reader

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mysticmunson · 11 months

Text

more than just a short time; s.h. x reader

summary: an unexpected gift for your fiancé, steve, seemingly slips right through your fingertips. with the help of your friends, you try to cope with what was just a short time.

warnings: this blurb is about miscarriage, mentions of blood and nausea, but the description is not thorough. my blog is 18+

author's note: hi loves. this is a very delicate topic to handle, however i wanted to create something that could provide comfort for the millions of afab people who have gone through similar. please feel free to message any thoughts, feedback, or anecdotes in my inbox. xoxo, elora

4:30 pm.

The days were numbered as you awaited Steve’s birthday party, spending hours planning the secret celebration, calling in the younger friends home from college for the weekend.

The gift was the real surprise, something only Robin knew as she helped you think of ideas on how to let Steve know his dream would be coming true; He was going to be a dad.

A baby would send most 25-year-old men into trepidation, but it was the complete opposite for your fiancé. In his later teen years, he realized how much he enjoyed being around kids and it only solidified when he met you.

Everything was falling into place as you solidified everyone’s attendance, anxiously anticipating the excitement of your found family.

4:35 pm.

Steve had a late shift the day before the party, giving you time for last-minute preparations, giddy as the decorations were secretly put on the table or stowed away in the hallway closet.

Drinking more water than ever, you raced to your bathroom, finishing quickly until your heart stopped. With hitched breath, you looked at the blue walls, not into the white bowl that now contained something red.

Beneath your sink in a grocery bag was a set of pregnancy tests, the first two had been used just a week and a half ago, with an extra one done at your doctor's appointment last week. Steve had been out of town, on a retreat for the nurses in training as he had just finished his certifications.

Unwrapping the stick, you utilized it before leaving it on the countertop. With a practically invisible bump, you placed your hand on it, praying that the heartbeat you had just heard would be one you’d hear until your own stopped.

With an eye on the clock, you waited for two minutes, ones that felt far longer than 120 seconds. The smaller arm on the clock ticked in succession, taunting you as you looked ahead at the wall, not daring to see your own reflection.

4:37 pm.

Shaking hands grasped the white test as you turned it to see one pink line without a hint of a second. Instinctively, you went to your phone, dialed the black numbers, and asked Robin to come over to help set up.

Already expecting the phone call, she headed over, but was greeted by a troubling aura, a somber feeling that contradicted your smile. She asked if everything was okay, you assured her you were.

The preparation included cutting up fruit, taking out the trash, calling the boys to make sure they remembered to come, and hanging up banners. With his late shift and your house layout, Steve would go straight to bed and not enter the living room or backyard.

It wasn’t until 9:13 pm.

You had taken Robin to the mall, guiding her to the jewelers that made a fancy silver watch. One that Steve had had his eye on for months, refusing to get it as preparations for your wedding impended. Once he jokingly said one day he’d adopt his baby, pointing to the shiny metal.

With confusion, Robin held the bag as you drove home, quieter than you were on the way there. The road was illuminated by the imminent nightfall, a display of yellow, blue, and orange painting the sky.

“I don’t think you needed to spend all this money,” Robin chuckled, “you’re giving Steve a baby. He has plenty.”

With just a shrug, you pulled into your driveway, hustling inside and taking the luxurious bag. Gently, you placed it amongst the mismatched printed bags from coworkers or friends who couldn’t attend.

Sitting before the TV, you and Robin shared a leftover pizza that had a slight freezer burn when you felt a jab on your thigh. The negative test was forced inside, yanking it out before holding it in front of your friend.

“I threw the box in the trash bag that you took out.” You admitted, staring at the flashing screen without processing any of its content.

“Oh, babe, I’m so sorry.”

The pending tears finally streamed down your face, a choked sob coming out as Robin pulled you to her chest as you curled forward.

It was as if it wasn’t real until her apology, that maybe if you just held out, the heartbeat would reappear in time. But as Robin held you and apologized, it was real.

She ended up staying the night, holding you on the couch until about half an hour before Steve was due home. Helping you into fresh clothes, Robin got you into bed before heading to the guest room at the end of the hall. The room was practically hers as she kept spare clothes, toothbrushes, and other necessities there.

The beep from Steve’s car was muffled as your lip quivered, turning onto your front and facing your head away from the left side of the bed. The bedroom door creaked open, listening to his feet pad against the wooden floors, slipping into the attached bathroom.

His shower bought you a few more minutes of opened eyes, but these flew faster than the ones at 4:37 pm. His gentle humming would’ve been missed if you had actually been asleep as it stopped as soon as the door opened.

The boxspring winced as Steve climbed under the covers, his body close to yours, his nose running against the shell of your ear before kissing the skin beneath it. Swallowing the influx of emotions, you held the hand that he placed over your abdomen.

A stream of light made your eyes flutter open, noticing the clock and how little time you had. Maneuvering away from Steve’s grasp, you kissed his head as he squeaked in his sleep, settling on his side.

Your preselected outfit was hung on the left side of the bedroom closet, a pretty sundress that was white with pink and orange flowers. In record time, you applied makeup in your bathroom before making your way down the stairs.

Robin had woken minutes later, already dressed in pants, suspenders, and a button-up. She gave a gentle smile, grabbing an apple from the bowl of fruit in your dining room as she observed your silent decorating.

“How are you feeling?” She tentatively spoke, wiping the juice from her chin, tossing the core into the trash bin a few feet away.

All of Steve’s life, his parents put him on the back burner. His dad took work trips on his birthday almost every year and his mother routinely forgot. It got to a point where he just threw a party as an excuse to drink, not really knowing most of the people in attendance.

This became one of your biggest goals, making Steve feel special. Whether it was a small achievement or a big one, you wanted to take any chance to lift him up as the overly confident persona was one built on unsolid ground.

“I’m fine,” You sighed, sticking the clear tape holding the birthday sign above the hearth, “but today’s about Steve. His birthday was a few days ago, but he had to work, so to me, this is his day.”

Robin nodded, aware of Steve’s turbulent upbringing, but also not able to forget hearing your cries the night before. She would hold you for as long as you needed, but it didn’t make it easier knowing it was not only hurting you, but that Steve didn’t know.

“You’re such a good partner,” Robin said in sincerity, “I just want you to let me know if you need help today, okay?”

Agreeing, you turned to her, walking over to hug her close to your chest. Robin wasn’t the biggest on physical affection, but she didn’t let go until you did, rubbing your back.

Thankfully, Steve could sleep through a lot, only trotting downstairs with half an hour to spare. He could do a spontaneous party, but you didn’t feel a need to cage him in the bedroom till everyone arrived.

Strategically, you left a note informing him of going out to lunch, just to make sure he was presentable. He came down in a polo and jeans, socks on without the shoes that were at the front door.

He lit up when he noticed Dustin first, who had been away at school for months, capturing him in a tight hug.

“Hey! How’s it going, bud?” Steve excitedly asked, squeezing him before releasing.

As he looked at the living room, he spotted the rest of the kids, Eddie, Nancy, Robin, Jonathan, and Argyle. His look of shock made the room erupt with laughter as you took photos from the side. With most of his friends moving away, it was always nice to be reunited, but even better when he was the reason.

Lucas excitedly updated him on his college’s basketball team, mentioning he’d definitely give him tickets to come to see a game when they play nearby. Max was working as an artist, designing skateboards after meeting the son of an executive at one of the biggest board companies.

Despite there being a time when Steve was head over heels for Nancy, he had moved on, then she and Jonathan broke up. After a year or so of being single, she ran into Eddie at a bar who had grown to be a bit more muscular with a few more tattoos, hair a tad shorter, pulled into a low bun as he played guitar.

Their circles never overlapped in school, but that night, they clicked more than either expected. A weekly night out for drinks turned into dates in the early evening, going slow as they both needed to heal from past scorches. One night while watching a low-budget thriller, Nancy looked over at him, “We’re dating, I hope you know that.”

Fast forward four years, she was now heavily pregnant with a simple ring, but they weren’t engaged. They both had an indifference to the law-abiding aspects, but Eddie bought it one night after men kept flirting with her. Her pregnancy glow suited her well, looking incredible in overalls and a flowy blouse.

Steve laughed as he hugged Nancy, opting for a side hug as it would be feasibly impossible for a frontal one. The boys weren’t always friends, but now Steve could call Eddie a close friend, which is why they embraced tightly.

The afternoon went by smoothly, all of them ecstatic to update one another on their endeavors as adults. Despite El having the most obscure upbringing, her stories were thrilled by the mundane. The first time Max took her to get frozen yogurt and she put in an abnormal amount of toppings.

Will had been excited to see you and Robin, eagerly telling you both about his new art school in New York. The look of joy in his eyes was one that you hadn’t seen since you met him, a look you now wanted to never see again, hoping his eyes will always hold promise.

Your fiancé’s laughter rang through the room like bells, boisterous as they began eating the snacks placed out for them. Due to so much time apart, you kept ‘activities’ to a minimum, just food and cake, setting out a card game or two for good measure.

The afternoon was flying by as they played cassettes off the large silver boom box Eddie brought, arguing over which bands were better than the other. It almost seems like the events of yesterday had dissolved from your consciousness, talking with Nancy about her career.

Deep into the topic of journalism, you glanced at the clock above the oven, lit up red. Her voice muffled along with the other sounds when you noticed.

4:37 pm.

Bile rose in your throat as hands punched at your gut, mumbling that you’d be right back before scurrying to the bedroom.

Fortunately, only Robin spotted you as she had been keeping an extra eye on you anyways. She had been getting a drink away from the group before following you, her skin falling slightly pale.

Expecting you to be on the bed, she shut the door as she saw you sitting on the floor with your back against your dresser. Your sobs were lodging in your throat as you tried to suppress them, coughing away some of the clawing emotions under the loud music.

“Hey, hey,” Robin rushed over, kneeling, “sit on the bed, the floor isn’t comfortable.”

Her sentence was abrupt as she initially was going to assure it would be okay, but she knew that wasn’t what you wanted to hear. No amount of vocal reassurance would undo what happened 24 hours ago.

Grabbing your hand, she pulled you onto your shaking feet, walking you to the edge of your large bed. Steve hadn’t made it when he woke up, though he was usually good about it. The fluffy blanket tickled beneath your nails, but brought little satisfaction.

A soft knock on the door startled you both, looking over in fear until Nancy walked through. Waddling over, she sat on the opposite side of you, rubbing your back.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked, love seeping through her voice. You hadn’t cried many times in front of either of them, usually only during sad movies, but this sudden outburst had layers she wasn’t aware of.

“The clock was the same time yesterday I realized I lost…” You choked out, scratching your neck, “I was going to tell Steve I was pregnant today. I’m sorry I ran away-”

Hushing you, she continued the stroking of your back, “You have no reason to apologize, I’m sorry.”

While the apologies were meant well, they only made everything feel more real. The acknowledgment that someone knew.

Nodding, you waited for your voice to return to its cords, Robin grabbing some toilet paper when you began sniffling. Dabbing the extra sheets under your eyes, you were grateful for waterproof mascara on days like these.

“I don’t know if I should tell him. I don’t want to ruin his week,” You sighed, staring down at the dirty laundry hamper, “he wants this so bad, what’s the point in telling him.”

Thinking through her response, Nancy recalled the Steve she had known for over a decade, the one from grade school who had a kind smile and an infectious laugh.

“Steve is someone who loves things with every part of himself. He loves you so much, I don’t think he’d be able to forgive himself if you tried to battle this on your own.” She whispered, pulling you in to rest on her shoulder, “It’s hard, but you can give him some of that pain because one day it’ll still be there, but it won’t be as heavy.”

The weight of the scenario settled on your lap, relinquishing its claws pressure, but not moving. Her words provided comfort, but the loneliness still drooped down your shoulders.

“Nance, can I ask, have you ever…” You trailed off, afraid the question would be inappropriate. However, the brown-haired girl knew you were searching for your lifebuoy, a point of conviction that she wasn’t stranded.

Robin had slipped her hand in yours, rubbing small circles against your knuckle. The anxious tap of your foot began as you worried the question may be taken poorly.

“I haven’t, but my mom did in between Mike and Holly.” She confided, only having mentioned this to Barb and Eddie, “So many people go through it, it doesn’t make it easier, but it’s good to know you have people who understand.”

Your heart sank for Mrs. Wheeler, but a strange form of consolation wrapped around you that a woman you knew for years had experienced something similar. It made you wonder how many had endured it, but never spoke about it.

Thanking them for their comfort, the three of you returned to a hectic house, Eddie crushing a beer can between his palm and his forehead. His girlfriend rolled her eyes, rubbing her belly subconsciously, “Whatever, he needs this out of his system before next month.”

Laughing, you nodded, feeling warm that the man in front of you had grown so much in these years. Even glancing down at the ones you remember being small now surpassed you in height.

Seeing Steve’s smile was enough to push you through the rest of the party, even more so when he ecstatically opened your gift.

“Babe.” Stunned, Steve lifted the box from the dazzling tissue paper, “You didn’t, no way!”

Giggling, you watched as the boys and Max excitedly looked at him put on the lavish accessory. He looked over at you, his eyes making your heart skip a beat, falling deeper in love with him each time.

Rushing over, he restricted you in a hug, giving you a messy kiss on the cheek. He mumbled against the shell of your ear, “I love you so much, thank you.”

Your hands covered little of the expanse of his back, but you did your best to encapsulate him. He found your squirm humorous after he sneaked an ass grab, mumbling his full name, glancing to see everyone distracted.

The rest of the night flew by, singing to him before cake, and saying goodbye to everyone after cleaning up. It was late by the time the front door shut a final time, Steve suggesting a joint shower to ‘save water’, which you declined by saying you would after him.

His pout almost won you over, but you insisted on packaging up the leftovers into the fridge until he got into bed. Though the clock now showed it was the next day, you didn’t have the heart to do it as he rested his eyes, saying he’d stay awake until you finished.

The promise was not kept as he softly snored, shifting slightly when you slipped in beside him. Typically the small spoon, you weren’t used to coddling him, but you tucked his head to your chest and stroked his hair.

Both of you needed the sleep as you woke up around 12 pm, tangled between one another's limbs, content in the controllable mess you created. The thought of telling him crept into your brain, but you secured the weight on your chest, unable to bare beginning his day like this.

Always the health nut, he went for a jog despite the warm afternoon, putting on small shorts, and a gym shirt. Whistling at him while getting dressed in casual clothes, you smacked his bottom on your way out, making him gasp.

The expected kiss on the forehead occurred right before he walked out the door, leaving you with a plate of leftovers and the loud television. The usual strength of your legs was replaced with jello, unable to put the dishes in the sink or stand to shut the window.

Steve returned sweaty nearly an hour later, taunting you with a hug as you cringed, swatting him away until he headed to the shower. You admired men’s short shower period as he was back, clean, within ten minutes. He made a quick sandwich, looking over at the screen you had been watching.

“Shit, I need to put that in the attic.” He recalled, groaning at the cardboard boxes residing in the corner that collected minimal dust.

“Okay, honey, do you want help?” You offered, turning around to face him as he walked over. He smelled like ocean water, his hair dripping onto his shoulders as he wore a dark green shirt. The small amount of water made the material appear almost black.

He scoffed, shooing his hand, “No need, I’ve got this, my lady.” Earning an eye roll, his jokes always holding a certain amount of fondness when directed at you.

The small project became more time-consuming as he situated the other boxes, occasionally yelling about the poor planning on the builder's part. His tangents made you chuckle as most were fairly nonsensical, but when you knew him, they made complete sense.

He had just finished when you glanced over in the direction of the hall, foolishly letting the clock catch your eye once more. It almost seemed like a cruel joke, the three numbers taunting you at every chance.

4:37 pm.

Tears filled your eyes as he entered, making you turn away, but he knew better.

“Honey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” He cooed, sitting beside you, trying to alter some of the hair away from your face.

The gentle gesture only made you sob, his heart racing with panic. He handled you to sit in his lap, rocking you from side to side, hushing your cries. The consultation had the opposite effect as you feared the claws of two days drew blood.

“Steve, I’m sorry.” You muttered, his already damp shirt becoming wetter with tears.

His history with relationships wasn't the most pleasant, so the words leaving your lips made his world collapse. He became sick with the idea that you walk away from him and never turn back around.

“Talk to me. What’s wrong?” He urged, hoping he could do something to ease your suffering, even at his expense. You could tell him anything and he’d find it within his heart to be compassionate, an easy feat due to his vast adoration for you.

Swallowing your pride, you looked at the chain around his neck until he tilted your head to face him. Not even knowing what you would say, his eyes watered, feeling too kin to you to experience this unphased.

“You were supposed to get a different gift yesterday, Steve,” Your lip wobbled, “I found out I was pregnant last week. But the day before yesterday at 4:37 pm, I found out I- I’m so sorry, Steve”

The wail that came unfettered from your tightened chest made his stomach drop, holding you to his chest as your words sank within him.

“My girl, it’s okay to cry, it’s okay.” He soothed, not wanting to beg you not to in fear you’d hold it in, “It’s not your fault, baby. I’m so sorry you had to hold it in for so long.”

As the pain resonated, the weight relinquished its hold, now much looser and lighter. The uncharted waters you felt trapped within were not as scary as you thought, knowing the person you loved more than anything was close by with a lifevest.

His hand stroked your hair lovingly, nose nestled on your neck as he began to silently cry. He wished he hadn’t, he rarely does, but this was something he did want.

“Why are you apologizing?” You stuttered, sniffling, “I ruined your birthday! I wanted to wait, but I couldn’t fucking do it, I wasn’t strong enough for you.”

The anger at yourself had popped through, Steve was quick to shut it down as he knew you would try and blame yourself. A few more tears left his eyes at the realization of what had happened, but more came as he realized you held it in for him and that you were scared he’d be mad.

“No,” He pulled you from his embrace to cup your cheeks, swiping at your wet cheeks, “Don’t say that. This is not your fault, it just happens, okay? I had an amazing birthday, but please come to me. I can’t stand the thought you were hurting this whole time- You are so strong, one of the strongest people I know.”

His face reddens, not with anger, but with emotions as he struggles to think of how to help you and himself. You recognize his distress, mimicking his hold by cupping his cheeks as well.

“Please don’t blame yourself,” He pleads, barely speaking above a whisper, “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much.” You reply, tucking hair behind his ear, pressing your salt-ridden lips to his.

There was nothing nefarious about the exchange, the pain you shared was uniting, a feeling piercing your skin and bones. As your lips would part for breath, there was extra time between for a choppy cry, not one of tears, but of deep-rooted expressions.

Even as Steve stood with you in his arms, an action that would typically have you weak in the knees, there was not an ounce of sexual drive. Settling you onto the bed, he crawled in beside you, a mutual collision of limbs similar to the ones you slept in.

“It’ll happen, sweetheart,” He sighs with closed eyes, forehead against yours, “you know random kids flock to me anyways, we’ll keep one.”

His lame humor scored him a soft laugh, his own personal lottery, as he opened to see slight happiness on your face.

Lacing your fingers together, he kissed your knuckle, holding it there longer than typical. The words to fix the situation did not exist, nor was an action applicable now. All there was to do was look in the eyes of the other and trust that one day, it might just happen. But not now at 4:37 pm.

title derived from bigger than the whole sky by taylor swift

thank you to the ever so lovely @andvys and @lilacletter who i adore and read this for me. love u!

#elora writes #steve harrington #stranger things #steven harrington #steve harrington moodboard #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington thoughts #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #eddie munson #older!steve #older!eddie #older!steve x reader #steve harrington angst #tw miscarriage

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lei-tired · 1 year

Text

**The calm after the storm** -GN!Reader x sad tired Leon

Aww my poor baby needs some love and comfort :(((

**Warnings**

Mentions of pills, axes, blood, wounds, etc. Please be cautious when reading dear! 🥺

He was standing in his empty apartment. Cuts, bruises, and injuries litter his body. The soft rising and falling of his chest as he takes a deep breath, trying to cool himself down from the heat of the burning pain. The burning, searing, flaming pain of each injury.

His blue eyes flicker down to his hands. The same hands that held the guns, the same hands that were covered in blood. He lets out a groan and puts his hands back at his sides. Memories of everything that happened flashed through his mind.

Every person, every yell, every scream. All of the blood and the horrible smell of death that surrounded that horrific town.

He could still practically smell it on him. The nasty..horrific scent of blood and sorrow. How his eyes watered with tears from the memories. The horrible trauma was still fresh and new in his mind. He remembered the animalistic groans and yells from the villagers. He jumped in shock when a thunderous cry filled the night sky.

Lightning followed shortly after, adorning his room. It was still the same way he had left it before he left for that horrific mission. Rain softly patterned against his window as he looked around his now-dark room. His bed in the middle pressed firmly against the wall. Grey sheets sheathed his bed, slight ruffles in them from the nights of his turning and tossing in his bed. The soft black and grey comforter was neatly laid out on his bed, a corner open so he could have easier access to his bed.

His eyes moved to his pillows. A grey color covers them as well. There were two larger ones and a smaller, more narrow one for him to hug. The headboard of his bead was a black smokey color. It was padded as well. The foot of his bed had a black smokey board. His eyes moved to his nightstand. There was a lamp there with a black cover. A few empty pill bottles littered the top. A brand new bottle of pills sat there, unopened and untampered.

The rain pattering steadily against his window continued to serve as a sort of white noise. A round of thunder came again before the familiar white flash illuminated his room once more. His eyes traveled to the floors of his room. They were a black wooden floor. The black was soft and smokey so you could walk easily and not get tripped out and it served as an aesthetically pleasing sight.

His eyes moved to the small circular gray carpet that lay on his floor. A few stray pieces of clothing he dropped while grabbing his gear for the mission. He quietly walked over to them, the sound of his shoes gently hitting the wooden floors softly echoing through his room and then disappearing. He bent down and gently picked up the clothing. He observed them gently to see what they were. In his hands was a soft dark navy blue T-shirt. He gently tossed it into his clothing hamper. He picked up the other articles of clothing that included a pair of black jeans, a pair of socks, and one pair of boxers.

As he stood back up fully he was met with his black closet. There were silver knobs on them. His eyes traveled over the pictures of people he met in the agency. His eyes traveled over to his mirror. His eyes widened slightly for a moment as he saw his reflection. He walked to the mirror that was on his desk.

He looked into the reflection, his tired blue eyes met with the sight of his tired, beaten up, and weary form. His arms were scabbed over with blood from several scratches from fences, plants, trees, and walls that he accidentally scratched himself on.

His wrists were bruised. He was slightly confused about why before he remembered the room he was in with Luis. A soft smile feigned over his lips as he remembered Luis. Although..soon enough his smile turned into a frown as he remembered Luis' death.

A shaky sigh left his lips. It was soft and quiet as it left him. He let his eyes continue to wander over his disheveled figure. His hair was soft but slightly plagued by blood in some spots. The blood was dry and a darker color. His hair had little strays from him moving around and fighting so much.

His eyes traveled to his face. There was a cut on his cheek and a bruise forming on his cheek. There were dark eyebags under his eyes. His pupils were dilated from the darkness of his room. A cut was on his top lip as well. His eyes wandered down to his neck which was slowly also starting to bruise. He could make out a handprint that was starting to form.

His eyes moved to his shoulders which had slightly healed cuts from axes. He had bruises that littered his forearms. His shirt was slightly ripped and snagged in some places. His eyes wandered down to his legs. His pants covered every injury that he could feel but not see. He knew they were there without even seeing them.

His eyes looked back at his mirror. More photos of people from the agency were on the sides of the mirror. His eyes glanced over to a few. There were four. Different pictures of Krauser and him. One picture was in the training fields. Krauser had a smirk on his face. Leon was looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. He remembered that day...

He remembered that Krauser wanted to show him a new move. A new defensive move nonetheless. Leon ended up falling on the ground not some mud and Krauser had laughed at him.

The second photo...Krauser was holding the camera. Leon was in the bathroom, scrubbing off some marker doodles the others had drawn on him after he fell asleep. Krauser had a smile on his face and he was holding back a teasing laugh.

The third photo was of Kraused and Leon. Krauser was sharpening his knife and Leon was watching him out of pure boredom.

The fourth photo was of Leon and Krauser standing next to each other. They were in uniform. Krauser had an arm around Leon and rubbed his knuckle on his head. Leon was Laughing and trying to get his hand off of him.

Leon felt a weird feeling of conflict in his stomach. He remembered how he killed Krauser...how Krauser killed Luis. He remembered everything. He turned his head away. He looked back at his room.

His eyes looked around before he saw his bathroom door. He thought for a moment. A shower seemed...nice. He walked over and opened the door quietly. His bruised hand gently touched the light switch. The bathroom's lights turned on. His eyes squinted from the bright light and he blinked a few times before he got used to it.

He took his shoes off carefully and gently placed them down. His feet hurt because of jumping from high heights, walking, running, jumping, and having to hold his and Ashley's body weight sometimes. He let his hands gently grab the bottom of his shirt and pull it up. A shooting wave of pain shot through hir lower back and shoulders.

He let out a groan and stopped for a second. He took a deep breath before he managed to get his shirt off. He gently placed it on his marbled sink counter. He slid off his pants and his buckle. A feeling of relief washed through him as the pressure from his waistband and buckle finally released.

He looked at his body in the mirror. Even more cuts, stabs, and wounds were visible. He grimaced and turned his face away. He laid a soft white towel out on the rack. He had one of those glass showers with the doors.

His hand reached for the door handle and he turned the shower on. He put it to the hottest temperature and closed the door, waiting for it to heat up. While he was waiting he took off his socks. And right before he got in he slid his boxers off. They fell to the floor with a soft noise and he stepped out of them.

He opened the glass door and stepped in. He let out a sigh and a happy hum from the relief of the warm water. "mm.." He closed his eyes softly for a moment, allowing his ears to do the only work. He could hear the water bouncing off of his sore body and hitting the glass or the marble floor of his shower. He could hear his soft noises of relief softly echo and reverberate against the glass and walls of his shower.

He stretched and he could hear a few pops and cracks and he felt relief. He let out a soft sigh and grabbed a bottle of his shampoo. The shampoo was healing and restoring. It had a soft, sweet scent of honey and fresh air. It was a soft but noticeable scent.

He squeezed the bottle gently and closed it afterward. He put the bottle back on its rack before he gently scrubbed the shampoo into the roots of his hair. The soft smell of fresh air and honey mixed with the smell of the hot water almost immediately. The suds and bubbles formed in his hair as his hands gently massaged his scalp.

He let it sit for a moment or two before he washed it out gently. He tilted his head back to avoid getting any soapy water in his eyes. Though...after what he has seen, that may not have been the worst idea.

He grabbed his conditioner and put it in his hair as well, but he let it sit in his hair. While he let it sit he grabbed a loofa and he got some of his soft-smelling Dove body wash. The scent was sweet and soft but not perfumy.

He put some water on the loofa and let the soap foam up before he gently washed his body. He got his arms, legs, feet, and his inner thighs. He got his back and his shoulders as well. He gently washed all of that off and then washed a few other places. After he finished all of that he gently scrubbed his face to get all of the dirt and grime off of him. He finally felt clean after the sweat that had dried on his skin washed off. He cleaned the loofa and then washed the conditioner out of his hair.

He continued to let the water console his aching and pain-filled body as a bit of relief washed over him. He carefully got out of the shower after turning it off. The glass was clouded and so was the mirror. He grabbed the towel and dried his hair and then his body. He wrapped the towel around his waist and he grabbed his hair dryer and brush.

He spent 5 minutes drying his hair and brushing it. His hair was free from dirt, grime, sweat, and blood. He ran his fingers through his soft and dry hair. He picked up his clothes and put them in his dirty clothes on his way out of the bathroom, deciding to just leave his shoes in there.

He walked to the black closet and his hands gently opened the doors. He grabbed a soft black hoodie and he grabbed new socks, boxers, and some shorts. He put on the hoodie and slid the boxers up his injured legs and up to his waist. He pulled on his shorts before he walked to his bed and slid on his socks.

He was sitting on his bed, now letting everything that happened seem like a memory, a distant but also new memory. He started to get lost in the memory of everything that happened. He felt his chest tighten up and his breath left him as quickly as it came. Tears blurred his vision and he choked a few times on his tears and coughs as he tried to breathe.

Suddenly his phone vibrates. He jumped, feeling nervous and paranoid. He wiped his eyes slightly and reached a very shaky hand to his phone. He looked at the screen and a bit of relief washed through his system. You had texted him.

He put his passcode in and looked at the text message. It was simple but cute to him, but also very needed.

You: Hi Leon, I heard you got back from your mission! Saving the president's daughter huh? Now that is pretty cool. I know you may be busy signing autographs or some idol stuff like that but maybe I could come over and you could tell me about it?

His eyes glistened over. He needed someone right now...

His fingers gently typed on his phone's keyboard and he replied

Leon: Yeah, no you can come over!

He saw your little emoticon he had set as your contact profile photo type.

You: Ok! I'll be right over.

He smiled and turned off his phone. He put it on his nightstand and he laid back on his bed. He could feel the migraine setting in and he let out a groan. He grabbed his comforter and pulled it over him and he rested his head on his pillow. He fell asleep.

Soon enough he heard the front door to his apartment open and he smiled sleepily. He heard a coat being unzipped and placed up and then he heard the sound of shoes hitting the floor. Soft sounds of little steps were heard coming to his bedroom door.

Then you opened the door. You weren't wearing your shoes and you were in your socks. He watched as you walked over to him and looked at the injuries on his face.

He saw the worry in your eyes and he frowned slightly. He didn't want you upset or sad.

He sat up on his bed and opened the blanket. He saw your eyes travel down his body and towards his injuries. He saw your face contort into more worry. He saw you walk into his bathroom and grab the first aid supplies.

You walked over to the bed and sat down on it. You started to put disinfectant on all of his cuts. He let out gasps and groans from the pain as he squeezed his eyes shut. you grabbed bandaids and put them on the smaller injuries before grabbing bandages and wrapping them around his bigger injuries.

Toward the end of it, you were holding his injured hands in your own and bandaging them softly and carefully. His tired and sad blue eyes watched your hands move carefully to not hurt him. You gently finished bandaging his hand and you threw the paper stuff away before putting the first aid away.

This had become a routine. After every mission, you would come over and heal him slowly. Sometimes on simple missions, he would purposefully get hurt just so you would come over and bandage him and stay with him. He enjoyed your company, he enjoyed you being there with him.

You came back into the room and Leon looked at you with a soft, sleepy smile. "Thanks..you help me you know..? Every time you help me I always feel a bit safer and...I can't thank you enough"

His voice was soft and raspy as he spoke softly. He looked up at you and he moved over in his bed. He patted the spot next to him with an uncharacteristically sheepish smile.

You laughed slightly and a warm smile spread on your face as you sat next to him on the bed. He put the blanket over you. Usually, he was the big spoon but after missions, you always held him.

He needed reassurance and love. He needed the feeling of being wanted and cared for. He hated having to always be strong and he hated always making decisions. Lord knows he made enough already during his mission. He just needed someone to hold him...and listen to him..and let him cry.

You opened your arms and he put his head onto your chest. He could feel your hands gently scratching his scalp softly. He could feel your other hand gently massaging the sore muscles on his back and his stiff neck. He let out a small sigh.

He was too tired to cry now. He just wanted to rest and relax..and that is exactly what you let him do.

You were usually his rock after the missions. You were the reason he fought to come home alive. You were his reason for everything.

And these moments solidified those thoughts, and that made them stronger every time.

His love for you was true...and he loved you a lot. That is one thing he knew he could count on. The simplicity of your love...your care...your everything.

His eyes softly closed as he could hear you softly humming. He always enjoyed your humming when he was tired and fragile. He could practically feel your concern. You were holding him like he was as fragile as a flower...as if one movement could break him.

He could feel your warmth and love with every tender movement your hand made as they massaged his back. He could feel the kindness and care in every gentle, loving scratch that blessed his clean and soft scalp.

He could hear the sounds of the rain still pattering against his window like earlier and he had a soft hazy smile form on his tired, injured face as he slowly but peacefully fell into a trance.

His arms were gently placed around your waist. His breaths were soft against you. His chest was pressed against your side.

He could feel you press a soft kiss on his head. He could feel your head laying on his. The weight really grounded him and made sure he knew you were there and that he wasn't in Spain...and that he wasn't alone.

He felt the fatigue from the mission slowly catch up to him again. He could feel his legs relaxing first. Slowly but surely his body relaxed into his bed. The soft pattering of rain against the window, the wind gently blowing, the soft rumbling of thunder...and then the soft sounds of your sleepy hums or the sounds of your soft breathing...

Comfort filled him as he finally felt peace..as he finally felt comfort..and he let sleep carefully overtake him as his body, and mind went to rest...forgetting about his trauma, his stress, and his pain.

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. You get some rest now lovely, you need and deserve it🥰

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dudduk4992 · 1 year

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A beached surfer, part 1

Caleb sighed, looking out onto the beach. It was a perfect day, with not a cloud in the sky, the brilliant yellow sand was teeming with people, talking, sunbaking, playing volleyball, building sandcastles, and splashing in the water. Everywhere he looked, he saw people enjoying the sun.

The hotel next door teamed with tourists, just like it seemed to do every summer when Caleb’s dad sent him here to work at his uncle’s restaurant, “The Seaside Crab” where Caleb worked during his summers instead of enjoying it like everyone else. It always seemed worse to think about, but when he got there it wasn’t so bad, especially since his uncle actually paid him properly now, and with all the tourism they were reeling in, Caleb could only imagine what his bank account would be looking like. Caleb sighed again,

"Caleb! Stop mucking about and clear some tables!" Caleb heard his big sailor-looking uncle yell from within the confines of the kitchen at the front of the restaurant. Caleb gulped and quickly zoomed around the restaurant, clearing tables one at a time.

As Caleb cleaned up another table, stacking the dishes and wiping at the stains on the table, he resumed his daydreaming position at the large wooden bar, adjacent to a long, tall wall lined with glass windows. As he stared even longer, his eyes stayed in the same position, looking out the window despite hearing the front of the cafe's door jingle.

A shadow shunted his daydreaming; he noticed a tall, blonde, wide figure standing at the bar in his peripheral vision. It took Caleb a moment or two to realise that the stranger was waiting for him. "Could I get an iced tea, two lemons please?" Caleb heard the hunky surfer say in his deep voice. It was none other than the legendary Kanen Ariki. A local legend around Marina Beach. He was the only surfer to catch some huge waves, not to mention his insane popularity. When he wasn’t surfing or partying, he worked as a lifeguard at the beach.

Kanen was Polynesian and only 21, two years older than Caleb- and was fully ripped. Big, buff and covered head to toe in muscle, he had a massive chest with huge, meaty pecs and pink cherry-sized nipples, his thighs and calves enormous, and his abs well defined. His face was wide and handsome with a strong jawline, his eyes bright brown with a cut through his left eyebrow. He had various rings in both ears, as well as a double piercing through his right eyebrow and belly button.

His hair was cut in short curtains and dyed blonde while the roots remained black. The hunk also had some impressive Polynesian tattoos; several bands around his right arm, wrist and leg, as well as some triangles, reaching up to the bottom of his belly button. He wore a blue faded singlet, black board shorts and no shoes.

"I- uh, ohhhh..." Caleb Stuttered, gazing in awe at the surfer, he completely forgot what he was doing as he watched Kanen take a table number and sit down.... right next to where Caleb was cleaning. Was this really happening!? Caleb couldn't believe it!

"Hey man, not to rush you, but my stomach’s telling me it’s time to eat," Kanen said with a laugh, noticing that Caleb was stuck daydreaming for almost ten minutes.

"Oh! sorry!" Caleb yelped. "What can I get you today? we have some specials on, if you’re interested, I can show you what they are..." Caleb trailed off, gazing at the blond hunk's breathtaking abs.

"Uh yeah, I'll just get a club sandwich, extra meat, extra cheese, and double side pickle, please. And two iced teas while you're at it" Kanen says with a wink, his voice filled with that deep swagger many surfers carried.

“Right... right, is there anything else?” Caleb murmured.

“Nope! You’re good to go…” Kanen squinted at Caleb’s name tag. “Caleb.” Kanen looked up with a grin. “Nice to meet you, Caleb.” It took Caleb everything he had not to melt at the surfer hunk’s words.

“That… that should be ready soon sir.” Caleb piped, turning and hurrying over to the counter. As he did, he quickly scribbled the order on a piece of paper. However, what Caleb didn’t realize was that he had scribbled Kanen's order underneath a previous order that had come and gone, a family meal in fact. Caleb blindly handed his uncle the order without noticing and went back to clearing tables and taking more orders, sneaking glancing at Kanen when he could. Ten minutes passed as Caleb continued to work, occasionally glancing up at Kanen while he did.

Caleb eventually began to zone back into his work, prioritizing his tasks, rather than gazing at Kanen. Caleb was in the middle of clearing a recently emptied table when he heard someone approach him from behind. He turned around and found himself staring at Kanen, who stood there with a smile on his face.

"Hey there again." Kanen greeted him. "Sorry to bother you, Caleb- but I was just wondering if you knew when my food would be ready? It’s been nearly fifteen minutes." Kanen said with an innocent smile.

Caleb felt his eyes widen. He hadn't realized how much time had passed since he took Kanen's order. "Oh- uh, lemme go check for you." Caleb said quickly as he rushed off to the counter, where his uncle was busy cooking.

"Hey, Uncle Finn!" Caleb gasped. "A customer asked when his food would be out, he's been waiting for fifteen minutes."

"Well, I sure as hell won't be able to figure out his meal if you don't tell me what it is!" Uncle Finn grunted back as he chopped the head off a fish.

"Uhh... '1 club sandwich, double pickle and extra everything' plus two ice teas... For Kanen Ariki." Caleb said aloud, feeling a little embarrassed by the situation.

Uncle Finn glanced across the orders above his head and frowned. "Son, I dunno what you did wrong but I don't have that order here." He muttered. "I DO have an order for one Kanen Ariki, and it does have that sandwich and those ice teas, but there's more than what you said."

Before Caleb could say a word, his uncle placed a full tray on the bench, and it was indeed not what Kanen had ordered; 2 extra large burgers and sides of chips, a large panini, a regular garden salad, A T-bone steak, 2 plates of fish and chips, A regular lasagna, a basket of garlic bread- and of course, the two ice teas and the club sandwich to top it all off.

"Oh Caleb..." Uncle Finn leaned on the counter and covered his eyes. "How did you mess this up." he looked up with a tired smile. "You truly are one of a kind, lad."

Caleb felt himself grow pale as he realized he had messed up.

"I- I'm so sorry..." Caleb murmured, and the boy felt his face go from pale to beet red.

Uncle Finn chuckled and placed a hand over his shoulder. "Don't worry about it kid. I know you'll do better next time, you always do. Just apologize and tell the guy there was a mixup and give him the things he ordered- bring the rest back to me so I can bin it."

Caleb nodded silently and took the tray of food, turning on one heel and quickly made his way across the restaurant. As he approached Kanen's table, he found Kanen smiling at him, but his smile quickly turned to confusion as Caleb set the tray down on the table.

"Hey bro... I didn't order all of this?" he said, confused.

"No you didn't." Caleb confirmed, avoiding eye contact. "I- uh… there was a mixup in the kitchen... and your order got put down with a previous order- but here."

Caleb picked up the plate with the gigantic club sandwich on top. Uncle Finn had used an entire loaf of bread, sliced through the half, and put all of the fixings inside to create the biggest sandwich both Caleb and Kanen had ever seen in their lives.

"W-woah dude... I said club sandwich, not a surfboard panini!" Kanen practically yelped, grinning from ear to ear. "Guess I'm getting my money's worth!" The tanned surfer laughed, a hand resting on his exposed belly. "Seriously dude... thanks for this... you're awesome!" He said. "But I wanted to ask, what's gonna happen to all of this?"

"Uh, I'll probably have to dump it." Caleb replied. "I can't give it to other customers who ordered the same thing. Health code, you know?"

Kanen looked down at the food with a frown. "You can't throw this all away. There's enough food here for a whole family..." he said, gesturing with his hands at the large amount of food in front of him.

"I know." Caleb felt awful, but he really didn't know what else could be done.

"Here, just leave it with me and I'll eat as much of it as I can." Kanen replied with a shrug.

Caleb blinked. "What?"

"It's either that or the garbage disposal, and I hate it when good food is wasted." Kanen grinned. "So yeah, leave it with me."

"Uh... okay, are you sure?" Caleb murmured, placing it all on the table, including the drinks, before picking the empty tray up.

"Yeah man, no worries, I'll see how much I can polish off. Thanks again!" Kanen smiled.

Caleb nodded and left it at that and hurried back to his uncle to give him the tray. When he got to the counter, Uncle Finn was watching Kanen closely. "So he decided to keep all that food huh? Better than chucking it in the bin I say." Uncle Finn said with a chuckle. "He's got one big ass feed ahead of him!"

"Uhh yeah..." Caleb murmured, still blushing as he glanced back to the surfer boy and his massive meal.

***

Kanen wasn't sure if he would even be able to eat this much food. Here, he had arrived for a simple sandwich, and now he had a family-sized feast on top of that. Kanen worked on his original order first, drilling through the club sandwich at a steady pace. The mix of meat, cheese, pickle and lettuce made an explosion of flavour in his mouth as the young stud savoured every bite of the huge sandwich. He ate slowly, enjoying each and every morsel. As he neared the end of his sandwich, Kanen noted that he felt full, his stomach holding its regular curve after a simple meal like this- but his meal was far from over.

"Wow, that was amazing..." Kanen murmured to himself as he took a long sip from his first iced tea, before sighing and wiping his mouth with a napkin. He already felt kinda stuffed though, he thought looking down at his bulging gut.

But there was no time to waste, the food was there, and it needed to be eaten. After he finished the sandwich, Kanen dug into his burger with gusto. The paddy was juicy and fresh, stuck to a slice of melted cheese and accompanied by fresh crisp lettuce, tangy sauce, onions, bacon and tomato. It tasted incredible as he ate it, savouring every bite. With one burger done, the second followed in no time at all. With both now in his steadily growing belly, the young stud took a moment to finish the rest of his first iced tea, sucking down the sweet peach juice like water after a run.

"*BUARRP!*" Kanen belched and blushed as two customers close by glanced at him, Kanen ran a hand over his developing stomach under his singlet, before working on his two sides of chips, each slice of fried potato cooked to perfection as he drowned them in tomato sauce and tore into them ravenously.

The young surfer felt like he could take on the world, his gut was slowly expanding and so full of good food that it felt like he had swallowed a small soccer ball. He had never eaten this much in one sitting before, but he had to admit that he felt great. His muscles were well-fed, and his mind was clear, he felt good, and he was ready to tackle anything that came his way.

With that thought in mind, Kanen worked on his last side of chips and began eating slowly as he watched the people around him. After a few minutes, Kanen moved on his panini. The crust was crisp and the fillings were warm and delicious. The beef was tender and the cheese gooey, the flavors mixing together perfectly. Even though he already felt overly stuffed, Kanen devoured the panini in only a few bites, pausing to take sips from his second iced tea until both the tea and panini were gone.

Kanen burped again, this time not feeling as embarrassed, largely because of how stuffed the surfer stud felt. His slightly bloated muscle gut had expanded substantially, stretching his singlet even further than before as his underbelly dug into the hem of his boardshorts. Kanen knew he wasn't going to be able to fit into his pants for a while.

Now Kanen sat there, stuffed to bursting, yet content. He stared at the remains of his meal; the salad, Steak, double order of fish and chips, basket of garlic bread, and large lasagna, and wondered if he should just leave it there. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. If he did, then he would feel guilty for wasting such a large amount of food, and besides- something about this whole situation he had ended up in felt... good?

In a way eating all this food made Kanen feel amazing. The very idea of pushing the limits of his stomach, even though he was stuffed to the brim made Kanen's body tingle, and the thought of how big his gut would become made him more excited. Kanen took a deep breath and made his decision, he was going to finish every last piece of this food, and then he was going to enjoy a good long rest.

Eager now, Kanen filled a glass of water and downed it in one gulp before he started with the garden salad and garlic bread; The salad was light and refreshing, while the Garlic bread was hot and gooey and crispy. By the time he was done, the surfer was sweating and moaning, his belly was distended so much that it now jutted off of his body a good few inches. He could feel it stretching his singlet further, his gut pushing against the fabric as it grew. it had even begun to slide up due to the great volume of his gut, revealing a slither of his hairless belly.

Steadily running out of steam, Kanen turned his attention to the large steak. Kanen cut the steak into bite sized pieces and began going to work; the meat was tender and juicy, he found after the first mouthful, the juices running down his chin and dropping onto the singlet straining itself around his enormous gut. The steak was served with a side of fries and salad, both of which the hunk was able to finish off with relative ease. Kanen pulled at his boardshorts, which were unbelievably tight now. Kanen burped again, feeling up his tank of a belly, enjoying the fullness and tightness it caused.

He had no doubt that many of the customers in the restaurant were staring at him, especially the ones who had been here since the start and had seen how much food he had consumed. After finishing off the Steak, Kanen felt his gut throbbing now, his abs and stomach muscles burning tight as his belly begged him to stop eating, and that only made him want to eat more.

Kanen realized that if he was gonna get through the remains of the food, he was gonna need more drinks. By some streak of luck, the waiter boy Caleb passed by to clear a table, although Kanen could see that Caleb was also using this opportunity to stare at the surfer's impressive belly.

"Hey... *URP* Caleb?" Kanen spoke up with a long breath.

Caleb turned right around to face him, his cheeks flushed red. Caleb couldn’t belive how huge he had grown!

"Y-Yeah?" Caleb asked nervously, his eyes darting between Kanen's bulging gut and the huge amount of food that was still piled on the table.

"Do you *HIC* think you could grab me two more of those *BUUARP* iced teas?" Kanen asked, resting his hands on his belly.

"Uh... yeah of course," Caleb replied, his voice shaking as he quickly walked over to the kitchen, returning five minutes later with two bottles of iced tea.

"Thanks," Kanen replied with a shy smile.

"No problem... just let me know if you need anything else," Caleb said, his face growing redder by the second. "I- need to go clear more tables." Caleb rushed off and Kanen couldn't help but laugh to himself. The poor guy looked so flustered, but he didn't blame him. Kanen could only imagine what a sight his gut must be for everyone else.

The fish and chips were by far the hardest to eat, although the battered Cod and chips were crunchy and tasty, they were both dry, and Kanen found himself gulping down a whole iced tea between the two servings. As he polished off the seafood, Kanen felt his belly grow tighter and tighter, it was beginning to push against his waistband as his gut now took up a good portion of his lap. It seemed like he might have to pull down his board shorts if it continued to get any larger.

Kanen had to stop himself from laughing as he marveled at how big his stomach had gotten, he had never been this big before. "Holy shit..." Kanen muttered, looking down at his stomach, which groaned and growled as it struggled to digest the mass amount of food inside. After another glass of water to wash down his throat, the young surfer made his way to his final course, the lasagna.

As he cut into the lasagna, he was surprised to find that it was still warm; the cheese, mince, sauce and pasta sheets melting as he placed the first forkful into his mouth. Kanen had to stifle back a moan as he ate, the taste was incredible. Even though he felt on the brink of bursting point, Kanen devoured the dish with relish, watching his obscenely huge muscle gut creep forward a bit with each delicious, gooey mouthful.

Part of Kanen knew he had eaten past his limit, and yet somehow he was still pushing on, the engorged stud stuffing himself with every ounce of willpower he had. It felt like an eternity before the plate was empty, his gut bloated and stretched beyond its limits, the weight of his belly pressing on his thighs as he sat there. When he was done, Kanen felt like a new man. His belly was stretched to its maximum capacity, obscenely huge and distended, making him look 9 months pregnant. But Kanen was happy with the blissful fullness that came with eating so much food. The weight of everything he had eaten, the pressure in his gut, the strain of his abs and the heat of digestion made him feel so tired.

"Ahhhhhhh!" Kanen moaned loudly as he threw back his head and let loose another deep, manly belch, the sound echoing throughout the restaurant. He closed his eyes, trying to hold in the next one but failing miserably. "Bwuaaarrrp!" Another loud belch escaped the surfer's lips as he looked at the large stack of empty plates in front of him. Something about it made Kanen feel proud, like he was some sort of gluttonous beast who was being rewarded for his excesses.

And so, Kanen struggled to stand up from his seat, his belly was so heavy and his abs stretched to the absolute limit, his legs felt like jelly as it took the stud a moment to adjust to his newfound weight. His singlet had ridden up so much that it only encompassed half of his overgorged belly. Kanen felt all eyes on him as he swaggered over to the counter slowly, holding his gut in both hands like a newborn as he tried not to burp loudly again.

Up at the counter, Kanen found Caleb waiting; a look of complete awe on his face as he gazed upon the young surfer's huge stomach.

"I believe I... *HIC* have a *BUUARRPP* meal to pay for..." Kanen chuckled, patting his belly proudly.

"Oh my God," Caleb gasped. "I can't believe you ate all that." Caleb began to grin from ear to ear. "That was incredible man... I've never seen someone pack away that much food!"

"Thank you *BWARP* Caleb..." Kanen laughed slowly. "I think I've *HIC* had my fill..." Kanen chuckled, his stomach wobbling slightly as he let out another burp, handing the young waiter his credit card, but Caleb shook his head.

"It’s on the house man." Caleb smiled. "You earned it."

***

Kanen lay sprawled out on the hood of his car as he watched the late afternoon sun dwindle on the horizon, the sky turning orange as the evening approached. The young stud had one arm behind his head, and the other wrapped around his gargantuan gut, releasing satisfied burps as he sighed contently. He felt so full... so fucking full... but so good too. The tightness, the weight, the size of his belly all felt incredible.

Kanen let out a long sigh as he brought his hand from his swollen belly down to hard manhood, stroking himself idly as he basked in the glow of his accomplishment. This had been quite possibly the most fun he'd ever had in his life. Eating so much food had left him completely exhausted and drained, his muscles ached and his mind was fuzzy from all the food he had forced into his system, but despite all that, Kanen wanted to see what other places did with order mix-ups.

This summer was going to be fun with people like Caleb around.

#bigbelly burping eating gay men overeating stuffing bellystuffing malestuffing stuffingfetish bigbellyfetish

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blanketorghost · 6 months

Text

When In Dreams I Go To You

Azul Ashengrotto x Yuu Fujisaki (OC)

Word count: 2,624

Author's note: uuh yeah this lacks a lot of context that comes from other fics but I really wanted to publish this very specific part of their story. A year and a half after the main storyline. Azul is 19 and in his senior internships and Yuu is 20 and back on Earth.

Summary: After months of work and research, Yuu, Ortho and Idia made a reliable duplicate portal. Initally designed to let Grim travel between worlds, Azul catches word of it first. And having regretted the sour note they left their relationship on, Azul strongarms himself into the operation and surprises Yuu on Earth. Right as he was about to make the first step into moving on from his ex boyfriend.

This scene is the 3rd ish part of this earth centric arc.

"What were you even planning to do once Idia-san manages to create a way for you to travel back? Would you just... pop in for a visit?"

Yuu merely shrugs and turns around, walking to the pantry and taking out a small glass jar with more leaves. "Maybe. I was hoping I'd be able to before you graduate."

"... and?" Azul's breath catches in his throat, eyes scanning each and every one of Yuu's movements as he filled the kettle with water again and put it on the stove to boil, this time filled with a different blend of tea inside.

"... I don't know. Maybe I could've caught a glimpse of you when the seniors were back."

"Is looking at me from afar enough for you?"

"I like to lie to myself and pretend it is."

Azul worries his lip as he looks down at his own tea, which had become lukewarm long ago. His reflection merely stares back, eyebrows furrowed, and eyes glazed over as he mulled over his next words. "Did you ever think about me?"

An uncomfortable, faint echo reverberates through the room, only now making Azul notice how sparcely decorated it is.

As if taken from a minimalist magazine, Yuu's apartment looked... cold. Not lived in. There wasn't even a hint of the warmth that his old bedroom in Ramshackle had, one which was full of little trinkets and gifts he's collected.

Yuu lingers at the edge of the marble counter, staring at the kettle with such intensity one might think that'd be enough to make it break. "... Is the sky blue?" He utters out, his voice bouncing off the walls, giving even more weight to his words.

"Is water wet?" The kettle boils, and the shrill sound of its whistle makes Azul flinch before Yuu turns the stove off.

He takes his time to pour a fresh cup of tea and takes another cookie, carefully placing both on a saucer. Yuu slowly balances the small plate with both hands as he walks back to the coffee table and places it in front of Azul, then takes the old cup of already-cold tea from his hands.

"Does Yuu Fujisaki think of Azul Ashengrotto?"

He whispers softly as their eyes meet, and Yuu's hand grazes Azul's fingers when he gently tugs the cup away. He silently walks back to the kitchen and pours the contents down the drain. He turns on the faucet and lets the sound of flowing water take over as he gently scrubs the dishes, creating a generous layer of foam build up before rinsing.

Azul's breath wavers as he shakily takes the new tea placed in front of him. He feels his own strength somehow leave him, as if the contents of the cup had just suddenly transformed to lead and his arms had had all their bones removed.

"I think this blend might suit you better. It's less strong than the matcha I mull. More similar to the black tea you have at the lounge." Yuu says as he washes the last dish left and starts wiping everything dry. "It goes well with the cookies."

Azul simply nods and takes a sip of the piping hot beverage. He was right, like always. The tea was rich and just slightly bitter, perfectly balancing out the sweetness of the cookie. It was slightly smoky and earthy, warm and comforting. Just enough for Azul to try and speak again.

"Why did you not call?"

Maybe that wasn't a good idea.

Yuu moves on with his task, wiping stubornly at a mug. Then takes a pair of chopsticks and does the same with each.

"Would you have picked up?" Finally, Yuu answers. His posture slumps, and he places a plate on the dishrack. "Would you..." his voice breaks, and he has to cover his mouth with one hand as his shoulders tremble.

The room is filled with heavy silence as Azul waits for Yuu to say something. Anything. Should he come there and comfort him instead? Would Yuu even accept that after all the pain he's caused him?

He was never good with these kinds of situations. Yuu was the one who did the reassuring, the one who made him cups of fresh tea when he was upset and wiped frustrating tears away in the worse days. Yuu was the one who cared for everyone else.

"Why did you come?" Yuu hugs himself tight, the slightest hint of his deltoids showing through his woolen vest from the sheer strength of his grip.

Azul, in response, takes a sharp breath. He wanted to say it was obvious. That the reason he threw himself into that portal was to take Yuu back with him now that he was more successful, now that he could provide and give him everything he wanted.

But could he really do that?

Could he really, when Yuu's face was basically in every billboard, in every magazine from this world? How could he compete when Yuu had already reached the top and he was just starting out?

His voice catches in his throat when he tries to speak. Truly, it was foolish to think he could satisfy Yuu. Deep down, he already knew this. Yet, he still needed to say it. He couldn't just stand by and let Yuu suffer alone, thinking he didn't want him back. Because Sevens, he wanted him.

He needed to let him know that his abscence haunted him constantly. That every little thing, every detail, and subtle touch he added to his contracts were a testament to Yuu's impact in his life. He could see him everywhere. In the honey in his tea, in the carefully laid out blankets in his hotel rooms, or in the shaky lines of a bad drawing.

He hated to admit that the warmth Yuu gave him when they were friends, when they were lovers, was one he couldn't replicate. No amount of searching, no amount of money could buy what Yuu made him feel. What Yuu specifically made him feel.

Azul worries his bottom lip until he feels that still foreign, metallic taste of blood in his mouth. Words were his trade. They were the glue that held his contracts together. Yet, there he was, unable to string a sentence that could possibly encapsule Yuu's importance to him. His knuckles turn white as he grips the teacup tightly against his chest, and, as a small mercy to the delicate porcelain, he digs his hand onto his coat pocket, hitting something hard.

...

His hand curls around the flat slate, slowly taking it out. He caresses the wood's surface, the small etches hand carved onto it, and the slightly faded off paint from constant use. The ribbon at the top had also slightly frayed at the edges, something he had to fix himself by burning them slightly a few months back. He turns the slab around and looks at the handpainted message on the back, which sparkled with his own signature golden ink. Yet, the writing wasn't his. The gentle strokes of a foreign language were there, still legible thanks to that translator amulet he'd invested on a while ago.

Azul didn't even need that, though. He thought. He could've recited those phrases by memory with how often he'd read them.

"....U... Unlike the waves..." He starts, his voice shaky and slow. He'd never dared to recite this out loud in the months before, but now, it felt, more than ever, that those words were calling to him. "... that come up to the shore of Suminoe..." Azul gulps, his mouth gone dry. Still, he pushes on. Only a line left. "In the gathered night..."

"... When in dreams I go to you, You hide from people's eyes."

Yuu's voice takes him by surprise as he recites the rest, his tone just as weak.

Azul had always wondered what the rest of that poem said, what made Yuu want to write those specific words into his 18th birthday gift. And what were those last lines that completed it. Now, he didn't know if he regretted or delighted in hearing them. He can no longer count the nights he'd spent awake thinking about them. Were they merely something beautiful to adorn the bookmark at his insistence, or were there something more?

Even in the brief period in which they dated, Yuu refused to complete the poem for him, giving him promises of getting him the full anthology for him to read and enjoy. But he couldn't have enjoyed it.

Even when, a mere week after their break up, Yuu sent over the carefully wrapped book, Azul couldn't get himself to open it and find the end for himself. Not when all he could think about was Yuu's sweet voice reciting those first verses to him.

Now, he had his answer. An answer that squeezed his heart and made him want to scream and cry into the void. Yet also made him want to run into Yuu's arms and drown in his embrace, lay there and feel his scent again, his soft hands holding his back, and listen to his heartbeat, no matter how changed he was now.

"Why did you come here?"

Azul was so dazed he didn't notice that Yuu had kneeled right in front of him, arms crossed in that familiar defensive way. He couldn't dare look at his eyes, no matter how much he missed that mauve hue. He didn't deserve it.

Yet, his eyes moved by themselves, tracing the imaginary lines from his collar to his neck, his jaw to his moles, his lips to his nose, and his cheeks to his eyes and brows, which were furrowed into a tight grimace despite that beautiful shine his irises gave off. He was still perfect after all this time.

"Yuu...." He whispers, tears welling up in his eyes. "Isn't it obvious?" Was he really going to force him to say it out loud? How much he missed him, how much he needed him. Weren't the words they exchanged when they were together enough?

"I don't want to get my hopes up again." Yuu says softly as he tightens his arms around himself in that heartbreaking way he does when he's upset.

Right.

Azul was the one to break things off. He was the one to leave Ramshackle early after the farewell party, and he was the one who rejected Yuu's last attempt to reconcile before he left. But could he not cut him some slack, too?

They knew this was going to happen eventually. And Yuu deserved to go back home without any responsibilities to burden him back in Twisted Wonderland.

He had to do it for his own good. He had to.

He had to.

At least, that's what he told himself. That's the only thing that gave him a morsel of comfort after months of grief and pain.

Then why, especially now, did it feel like it was a horrible mistake?

"I miss you." Azul finally admits out loud, feeling like he's swallowed shards of glass that tore out his vocal chords. The truth was bitter and sticky and so sharply painful he felt as if his whole neck was being torn out. As if two fires had ignited in his lungs, making it impossible to breathe.

"I miss you too." Yuu whispers back, his expression getting softer. A small mercy for Azul's shattered hearts.

"I came here for you." If he was going to be honest, Azul may as well get everything out now that he had Yuu here. He didn't know when would be the next time they'd be allowed a moment like this. "I needed to see you again. I wanted to make things right between us."

"Why?" Yuu asks again and makes a face. Was he really going to force him to say it? Obviously, it was because he loved him. Obviously, it was because he wanted him back. So why did he need Azul to say it out loud?

Azul gulps and musters the courage to look at Yuu's eyes again. He simply couldn't say no to that pleading look, to those puppy dog eyes, and that kicked dog expression. Did he need it that much? Did his gaze really betray the amount of trust Yuu had on his words?

Fine. Then so be it.

He'd write him an entire book if he needed to.

"Because I love you." Azul struggles to get the words out, his tongue suddenly deciding to rebel against him. Yet, he continues on. "I still love you. And I'm sorry."

"I love you too." Yuu's hand reaches out to caress Azul's cheek. And, at that moment, he thinks the dam's about to break. Sevens know he can already feel the cracks forming. "And I'm sorry, too."

"Why? I broke up with you."

"I know, but I didn't make the break up easy either. I'm sorry." Yuu strokes his cheek with his thumb and places his other hand above Azul's, the one that held onto the bookmark. "I kept on sending you gifts but didn't have the courage to even write to you." He bites his cheek before continuing, "I was too scared you'd throw any letters away."

"I would - I would never do that -" Now it's Azul turn to frown as his tone turns more indignant. He wouldn't have read them, probably, just like how he'd never unwrapped any present Yuu sent. But he still kept everything. A part of him was scared. Scared of the feelings they might reignite. But he would never throw away something as precious as Yuu's gifts were.

"I was still scared." Yuu smiles a little. "Can you blame me?"

"No, I cannot." Azul snorts in response, a bit of the tension breaking. Somehow, Yuu always knew how to make difficult conversations easy. "But I still wouldn't have thrown them away."

"Good to know." Yuu squeezes his hand. Once again, it demonstrated just how easily it was for him to make Azul's heart melt.

They stay there, looking at each other for what feels like an eternity. Finally having enough time to examine those little things that had changed in just one year of being apart. The new earrings, the longer hair, the slightly matured features, and slightly more pronounced eye bags. He looked so... uncanny. Not exactly the same Yuu he met, but not exactly a foreign look either. Like an odd middle ground he couldn't pinpoint. Would his hugs still feel familiar? Would his skin feel the same? Would he carry the same scent? The answer should've been obvious, but Azul couldn't help but wonder.

Were his kisses still the same?

He lingers on Yuu's face, letting go of the bookmark and cupping his cheek. The way Yuu leans to his touch is so familiar. A habit formed after hundreds of times. His other hand soon follows the first, framing his face with his fingers. Just like before.

It's always been easy to pull him close. Yuu always allowed Azul to do so. The lack of resistance took a weight off of Azul's shoulders. He didn't need to fight for Yuu's affection. He gave it away so freely all the time. It sometimes made Azul jealous. But in times like this, that kind of trust was all he needed. All he needed to know was that he was doing the right thing when he pressed his lips to Yuu's, and Yuu so easily kissed back.

It was awkward to have Yuu kneeling on the ground, though. He would've much rather had him sitting on the couch beside him. But beggars can't be choosers, and right now, all Azul begged for was for the Yuu he knew and loved to take him back in his arms again.

#twisted wonderland #yuu fujisaki #azul ashengrotto #twst oc #twst yuu #twst azul #azuyuu #yuuazu #ghost drabbles #writing stuff

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virulentvanity · 2 years

Text

Hello, Doll

Yandere Eddie Munson *** [Stranger Things] *** [WARNING: Obsession, Stalking, Elements of horror] *** We do not condone the behavior displayed in this story. These situations are fun in fantasy, but not in real life. Let’s confine this sort of thing to fiction.

Something was wrong. The knowledge sat in your stomach, where you swallowed it down. It had been there for weeks, since he first approached you. He had leaned against the locker beside yours, with the light illuminating his hair and shining against the pins on his jacket. “Hello, Doll.” He had said, with his lips pulled back in a smile. You hadn’t known how to respond, but it didn’t matter. Eddie left- and it didn’t stop there. For weeks after you found letters in your lockers, written on soft parchment paper and red ink. You found wild flowers by your doorstep, pulled from your neighbors lawns and wrapped tightly together. You could feel his eyes on your back during class, and see his gaze follow when you moved. You could feel his presence behind you in the school halls, and even when you walked home! Eddie didn’t speak to you after your first encounter, aside from his declarations and promises scrawled messily in the letters. You didn’t understand it. What were his intentions? What had possessed him to do this all of a sudden? You knew Eddie wasn’t a satan worshipper, or a cult leader, or evil like most people insisted. But what you did know, is this was not normal.

* * *

The sky had darkened into a deep blue, and the trees outside your window kept knocking on the wall. Your bedroom light painted everything pale yellow. You couldn’t shake the feeling of dread. It had crept up on you the moment your parents left the driveway, planted itself in your gut like something foreign and unwelcome. (Something’s wrong.) You slowly stood up and let out a breath. You ran your hands through your hair and shot a glance at your bedroom door. You were alone. You had begged your parents to stay, but their plans were made months ago. They left in a hurry, assuring you everything would be fine. This did nothing to ease the panic in your chest. You weren't sure where it had come from, it was simply there with your pumping heart and trembling hands. It was there in the ways your eyes watered. In the quietness of your voice. A deep apprehension had settled around you like a coat, crept up your spine like rot growing on basement walls. You had spent hours trying to reason with yourself. There’s no one here. My parents locked the door when they left. Eddie's behavior has just made me paranoid! But when that didn’t calm you down you found yourself standing in front of the door, with your palm on the handle. “I’ll make sure the door is locked,” you whispered. You thought it would put your mind at ease- see the turned lock, see the closed window. See that you were alone, and you were safe, and nothing was wrong. You hated how dark the rest of your house was. The only light was what drifted in through the windows, dull and blue. Every room was filled with that thick, heavy blackness, the kind that covers everything in front of it. The shadows shifted and mended themselves together into imaginary monsters, and minute by minute you were beginning to regret this. Your eyes scanned every doorway, every window, every object on the shelves. Nothing was out of place. There weren't even markings in the dust. When you reached the living room, you realized where your fear had come from. You couldn’t see anyone, not in the darkness. But you didn’t have to. You knew who it was the moment he spoke.

“Hello,” He was here. “Doll.”

You couldn’t move. You watched the boy seep from the shadows of the room, watched him come into the light and closer still, but never did you move. Your entire body felt numb. It was like a dream. “Ed . . . Eddie . . ?” You couldn't make yourself speak after that. Your mouth was too dry. Your head was racing but the words wouldn’t come.

“I . . I didn’t mean to . . to come here. I just-“ His words trailed off. Eddie let out a quiet chuckle. ”I just wanted to see you.” His eyes held a glassy sweetness. Every word he said was slow, quiet, like he was talking to a scared animal. He was getting closer with every step. “I know i’m scaring you, and I’m . . I’m sorry.” He took in a deep, anxious breath. You couldn’t move. ”I just had to see you.” He stopped when he was right in front of you. He carefully lifted a hand and cupped your cheek. His fingers were cold. When he finally touched you, something must have clicked. You flinched away. It was a harsh, sharp movement that made Eddie tilt his head. He looked surprised. Confused, almost. “Hey . . ” You looked over Eddie’s shoulder. Dark blue light shone through the windows by the front door, and you suddenly realized your parents had never locked it. “. . (Y/N) . . ”

“Wh-Why are you doing this?!” You sputtered out. Eddie slowly lifted his head and met your eyes. He was still looking at you with that softness, that devotion. “I fell in love with you a year ago.” He let out a breath and his smile grew. “You don’t remember, do you?” You stayed silent for a moment. The entire house was silent. The crickets wouldn’t chirp. The dogs wouldn’t bark. The trees outside kept scratching the walls, like an animal who wanted in. You slowly shook your head. Eddie took in another breath. “That’s okay.” He let out a quiet laugh. “I don't even remember who it was. One of those assholes on the basketball team. He had thrown my figurines in the trash, and you yelled at him. You were like two feet shorter than him, but your voice was so loud it didn't even matter! It was such a small thing, but I . . I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” His face fell. “I never had the courage to talk to you. I’ve mentioned it in my letters, but . . I know you stopped reading them.”

You turned to run for the door but Eddie was faster. He grabbed your hand and pulled you backwards into his chest, his other arm snaking around your shoulders. Your chest was tight and your eyes stung. You swore you were going to cry, but instead of tears you only let out quiet whimpers. “Hey, hey, hey, just calm down,” He murmured. He was still looking at you the same. His gaze was glistening with softness, adoration. Worry. He buried his face into your neck, and pressed a warm kiss against your skin. You stood there in disbelief. This wasn't a new obsession- it had been there for over a year! It had been growing like the weeds in your neighbors yard! It had soaked in like red ink! It had been festering there like fucking decay! This was it. This was the fear pouring in your gut, this was the knowledge left to rot in your stomach!

This was it!

”Get away from me!”

You smashed your head against his nose. Eddie screamed. His hands left your body to cover his face and you fell to the ground, listening as curses and pained gasps left his mouth. “God damnit (Y/N)!” Blood was beginning to stream between his fingers, staining his shirt and smearing over his chin. His nose had begun to swell, and every time he touched it there was a nauseating crunching sound. His hands were trembling- With what? Was it pain? Anger? Anxiety? His curls obscured most of his features, but you could see his eyes were narrowed and watering. “Fuck, just wait a second (Y/N)!” Your head was throbbing, aching, and a thick dizziness had washed over you. You were desperately trying to stand up again, but panic made your actions sloppy. Every movement was stumbling, clumsy, and every breath you inhaled pulled at your sternum. “I- I’m not mad!” The dizziness was awful. Your thoughts were clouded, your head was foggy, and all you could think about was how you were going to get out! There were only a few more feet between you and the front door, but the distance seemed impossibly far. You were running as fast as your numb feet could carry you, with Eddie right behind you. His blood was still dripping from his face and onto the floor. He was frantically reaching for your waist, your shoulders your hair!

“I promise I’m not mad!”

You shrunk away from his lovelorn grasp and sprinted out the door as fast as you could. The cold night air hit you, and the final relief came in waves. You fell into the grass, your chest heaving and your legs aching. Your eyes were locked on the front door, which still sat wide open. You were waiting for anything. Sounds, movements. You kept expecting him to come out after you, to pull you out of the street and into his arms. But nothing happened. There was no way to know how long you lay there. Till the dogs started to bark again. Till the sky turned orange. Till your parents pulled back into the driveway. None of it mattered though. Eddie was gone. he slipped out the back door like nothing more than a shadow, a stray cat.

You weren’t safe.

The flowers would still be gifted, the letters would still appear. Eddie was still in love with you. This wasn’t over.

Note: I’m a bit rusty, it’s been a bit since i’ve written a fic so I hope this turned out okay 🖤

#stranger things #eddie munson #Eddie muson x reader #yandere #x reader #thriller #yandere stranger things

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gumnut-logic · 5 months

Text

“It’s the last house at the end of the street, Virgil.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Five.” It was said without the usual spark. The grey of the destroyed landscape sucked everything from everything. A pall of smoke and haze, black remnants of lives, homes and the tragedy of the night before.

International Rescue had been called to a massive bushfire in the Yarra Ranges in Victoria, Australia. The CFA had had it under control the previous day, John keeping an eye on it anyway, but an unexpected change in wind direction in the evening had it jumping firebreaks and tearing through an unprotected valley and directly through a township.

With the vast tall forests of mountain ash, eucalypts full of volatile oil just waiting to burst into flame, combined with the hot and blustery northerly, not even IR could stop the firestorm from taking lives and property.

Thunderbird Two had her fire suppression equipment, but the massive plane was a speck against the wall of flame.

There were forces of nature that just couldn’t be stopped.

The Tracys dodged and nabbed trapped people. Thunderbird Two deployed a huge water cannon, sourcing water from the local reservoir, as the CFA water bombed around them, desperate to protect what lives they could. But nothing was stopping the fire.

It tore through the town leaving agony in its wake.

Dawn was grey and dismal, but it brought rain. The sky rumbled, threatening to spark more fires in the ranges, but the deluge came and dampened the remaining flame enough to once again get the front under control.

But it was too late for the town.

It was gone.

Virgil walked the length of the street, his exo-suit rubbing on aching shoulders. Burnt out cars and collapsed homes lined the road from one end to the other. The skeletons of black trees marched off into the distance behind it all.

Haze hovered above ash-clogged puddles in the pavement.

It wasn’t what Christmas morning was supposed to be.

The last house at the end of the street had fully collapsed in on itself. A burnt-out car sat in the driveway, its trunk lid and one of its doors open.

Virgil closed his eyes for a moment, knowing what that likely meant.

He steeled himself and walked past the remains he knew he was going to find in the car.

Nothing could be done.

Nothing.

He focussed on the whine of his suit as his boots stepped in wet ash and strode across the front yard to the remains of the house. He had to clear his throat to speak to John. “Tell me where, Thunderbird Five.”

“Possibly in the basement? The lifesign is below ground level.”

The house had been old, the wooden floorboards disintegrating in the heat. Virgil leapt through the remains of a wall, landing on rubble in what had likely been a wine cellar. The heat had been so intense, that glass bottles had become slag.

Glass crunched under his boots. “Right or left?”

“Eastern side, southern corner.”

There was a mass of rubble collapsed against the only standing wall of the building.

“This is International Rescue. Can anyone hear me?”

He turned up the pickups on his exterior mikes.

Nothing. It was probably a blip. How the hell could anything survive this holocaust?

His shoulders dropped.

But then...something? A whimper?

Maybe?

Virgil began digging.

It took him a good fifteen minutes of solid work to move enough burnt masonry to reach a hole in the wall at the very base of the structure. And in what appeared to be the bottom of a dumb waiter he found the lifesign.

The little puppy whimpered at him, trembling with fear.

Aw, hell.

“John, lifesign is a dog.”

“One moment, Thunderbird Two.” The puppy stared, the green, yellow and blue of Virgil’s suit reflected in its brown eyes. “There is no dog registered at that address. Deliver to the local authorities. You are needed to airlift some survivors to Melbourne. Report to Scott on the other side of town.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Five.”

Virgil slid his arms out from the suit and bent aching knees. “Hey, little one, do you want to come with me?”

The puppy shivered and looked him up and down, hesitating.

“I’m with International Rescue, we’re here to help.” He took a step closer. “It’s okay, I promise.”

Maybe it was something in his voice, his stance, or simply because the puppy had no choice, but as Virgil reached into the box it was sitting in, the puppy made no protest as he picked it up.

A quick examination for injury revealed her to be a girl. She shuddered up against Virgil’s chest. “Don’t worry, it’s all over, you’re safe.”

Sliding one arm back into his suit, he started making his way out of the ruined building, turning his back on the tiny hole that had somehow saved the little dog’s life.

-o-o-o-

Perhaps it was because she sat so quietly with him. Perhaps because it was Christmas Day. Most likely it was because Virgil had reached his limit of pain.

When he found the RSPCA tent, specially set up for lost pets, he gently handed over the little puppy. She let out a whimper and began crying.

No barking, just this godawful crying that tore at his heart.

“You will be fine here, little one.” The attendant was one of those kindly older ladies and she hugged the gangly bundle of fluff to her chest as Virgil turned to leave, Scott in his ear.

But the puppy let out such a scream of anguish, Virgil turned around without thinking. She was struggling in the volunteer’s arms and before either of them could react, she managed to wriggle free and dash over to him, her little body trembling on his left boot.

He reached down and gathered her into his arms. “You can’t come with me. I can’t-“ But she was rubbing her head up under his chin, little sounds in her throat.

And he couldn’t.

Just couldn’t.

His eyes met the eyes of the lady volunteer and she smiled. “We will keep her details if you would like to take her with you. If anyone contacts us, we can let you know.” And the volunteer was just as hopeful as the puppy in his arms. After all, there was no life at the RSPCA unless a home was found.

He looked down at her little brown eyes again.

No, he couldn’t.

Damnit, Scott was going to kill him.

Maybe for just a few days?

The excuse provided a simple solution, so he took it.

Without a word, he handed his IR contact details to the volunteer, and, puppy in hand, turned his back to the tent and strode towards the big green hulk parked in the distant haze.

“Well, little one, you have definitely made an interesting choice. Let me introduce you to my big green partner.”

-o-o-o-

It was well past Christmas lunch, or rather the lack of it, before IR was given the all clear to return to base. During the entire time, the little puppy sat beside Virgil’s pilot chair, apparently unfazed by the deep bass rumble of Thunderbird Two.

When he picked up both Gordon and Alan the dynamic changed just a little.

Gordon dragged himself onto the flight deck first, a groan in every step. “Christmas just gets more exciting every year.” It was true. Nine out of ten Christmas Days were side-swiped by a disaster, to the point that the Tracy Christmas tradition was a modular and movable celebration nowadays. No guarantees and no defined day. It happened around December twenty-fifth, there about, when they could, between call outs.

Suddenly the little puppy was in his lap.

“What is that?”

Virgil looked up. His brother was covered in soot and looked as tired as Virgil felt. “This is Bo.” And he had no idea where the name came from, it just seemed right and the moment clicked.

“Bo?”

“Yeah.” Newly christened Bo peered up at Gordon around Virgil’s arm. “She survived the fire.” A swallow. “Her family didn’t.”

“Oh.”

Alan, as always, had more energy than any of them, and showed it as he waltzed into the cabin. “So why aren’t we moving?”

Bo let off a sharp bark.

Everyone jumped.

“What the hell, Virgil?”

Bo was literally glaring at Alan.

“Hey, Bo, calm down, that’s just Alan. He’s annoying, but tolerable.” The little puppy looked up at him, her gorgeous brown eyes just melting him inside. He was so gone.

“Hey!” That from Alan.

“Scott’s going to kill you.” That from Gordon, who was approaching slowly.

“Yeah, I know.” It was a sigh.

Gordon crouched down beside Virgil’s chair. “Hey, little one, what gave you the idea to attach yourself to this big oaf?” Pulling off one of his gloves, the aquanaut reached out and offered the puppy his hand. She eyed him warily before tentatively sniffing at his fingers.

She sneezed.

Alan snorted.

Bo blinked and stared at Gordon for a moment. The aquanaut kept still and eventually she sniffed at him again, before nuzzling at his hand. He blatantly took that as permission and gently rubbed behind her ear. “You are a cute little thing, aren’t you.”

She licked his wrist.

“Oh, I can see why our heavy lifter fell for you. You’ve got it all in those brown eyes of yours, haven’t you.” Gordon shrugged. “Though I will admit they are the best colour for manipulation.”

“And he speaks from experience.” To Virgil’s surprise, Gordon actually jumped. “Did you forget I was here? Not absorbed by those brown eyes are we?” He couldn’t help but smile at his brother. At least one was as besotted as he had to admit he was.

Yes, Scott was definitely going to kill him.

“Shut up, Virgil.”

Bo backed off, once again hiding behind Virgil’s baldric.

“Hey, Gordon, watch the tone.”

“Sorry, Bo.”

“Are we actually going home at some point? I have a date with my bed.”

Gordon stood up, pulling out the co-pilot’s seat. “No rush, Allie, she’ll wait for you.”

“Augh.”

“Sit down, Alan, I’m just finishing pre-flight.” Tired and cranky could easily become nasty if not attended to.

Bo curled up, nestled against his harness, as Alan grumpily pulled out his seat.

“Virgil, where the hell are you?”

Speaking of tired and cranky... “Launching now, Thunderbird One.” As if prompted, he received clearance from Australian Air Control.

TB2 rumbled beneath as he activated VTOL, ash and dust swirling up around them. As soon as he had enough height, he engaged her rear thrusters and tore off over the Alps, across the coast and out into the Tasman.

“ETA fifteen minutes.” At least they weren’t too far from home.

Bo fell asleep in his lap.

-o-o-o-

Virgil was on the verge of joining Bo in slumber as Thunderbird Two spun slowly in her hanger, eventually coming to a final stop.

So tired.

Beside him, Alan poked Gordon awake. “Ugh, what? Oh.” You could almost hear his brain booting.

Virgil worked around Bo as he did his post-flight checks, his brothers, well, mostly Gordon, groaning as they got to their feet and waddled towards the hatch. “C’mon, Virg, Alan’s pining for his bed.”

“You two go ahead. I just need to finish post-flight.” He didn’t turn around, but he could feel Gordon’s eyes on him.

“Sure, whatever.” And he heard the hatch lower to the hangar floor.

His brothers gone, Virgil let himself relax back against his chair, his shoulders sagging. He let out a long breath. “So, Bo, how are we going to do this?”

The puppy woke as if on command and turned to stare up at him. Gently her tail began to wag.

Virgil let a tired smile cross his face.

Encouraged, Bo jumped up and put her two front paws on his chest, reaching up, trying to lick his face despite not quite being tall enough.

The smile became a grin.

“Okay, okay.” He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up as he pushed his seat backwards and stood. Immediately he was bathed in puppy drool. He couldn’t help but laugh. He surfaced above her licking and cradled her in his arms. “We need to get you some food.” His stomach rumbled ominously. “We need to get me some food.”

And a shower. A shower definitely wouldn’t hurt.

If he could hold off the sleep.

If he didn’t call it a stagger, it wasn’t a stagger, but he had obviously been sitting in his seat for far too long ferrying all those survivors to Melbourne on repeated trips. It was his turn to groan as both his back and legs complained loudly at the sudden demands for movement.

Bo started chewing on his glove.

Somehow he made it back to his rooms without encountering anyone. Shutting the door, he let Bo loose on the floor and began stripping off his uniform, hitting the buttons on his preprogrammed shower cubicle. Moments later he walked under the spray and let it wash the day from his skin.

God, that felt good.

As his muscles relaxed under the heat, sleep became more and more attractive, and by the time he stumbled out of the water, all thoughts of food had vanished.

He took the three steps across his room from the ensuite and threw himself facedown on the bed, still partly wet, still naked.

He was asleep within moments.

-o-o-o-

He was being kissed.

Her lips were warm, her tongue wet, her whiskers soft against his stubble...

Uh?

She licked his eye.

Wha-?

Virgil, always slow to respond upon waking, opened said eye only to get an eyeful of slobber. A soft paw thwapped him on the cheek. Huh? he blinked attempting to clear his eyesight, a hand coming up to defend himself.

Fortunately, his brain came online and memory kicked in. “B-Bo?”

A tongue wrapped around his nose and left it wet.

Ugh.

He wiped his face with his hand, stretching backwards on his pillow, desperate to get out of reach.

The puppy landed on his chest, her paws kneading his chest hair, her little claws completing his wake-up process rather abruptly.

Oh god.

“Bo, down, honey, down.”

He was completely ignored.

Sitting up, he attempted to grab her in his arms, but missed. The little puppy landed on things that puppies had no right to land on. Or stomp on for that matter.

He winced.

“Ooh, okay, come here.” He lifted her off his lap, holding her close, her tail pummelling his belly. “I’m awake, okay.” Again he found himself pinned by her brown eyes. “Aww, c’mon with the cute, Bo, you’re going to melt my brain.”

“Assuming you have a brain to melt.” And Scott was standing in his doorway.

Virgil glared up at him. “Don’t you knock?”

“I did. Grandma sent me to tell you that Christmas dinner is ready.”

Virgil frowned at his brother over the top of Bo’s ears, ignoring the glare the blue eyes were directing at the puppy in his arms. “I thought we’d do Christmas tomorrow.”

“We don’t know what is going to happen tomorrow. Grandma thought it would be best to sneak it in tonight, since it is Christmas Day, after all.” Scott’s lips thinned. “Where did you get that from?”

“She’s a rescue.”

“Usually we leave our rescues on the continent we find them.”

“She had no one.”

“Unfortunately, that is nothing new.” And one of his hands had moved to his hip.

Virgil sighed. “Scott, it’s fine, it’s only for a few days.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

Virgil held back his retort. He knew to pick his fights and now was not the time. “Her name is Bo.”

Scott looked at him and then at Bo. “Hurry up, your dinner is getting cold.” The ghost of a smirk. “And don’t forget to wear clothes.”

“Funny, funny, ha, ha.” But his brother had left.

Virgil let his shoulders drop. “Sorry, Bo, I think you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

Bo just licked him some more.

It wasn’t until he went looking for his boots that he discovered the wonderful deposits Bo had left for him on the floor.

Ugh.

And apparently one of his favourite boots had served as a meal also.

He closed his eyes and sighed again.

Half dressed, he cleaned up the mess, and five minutes later he waltzed downstairs, Bo in his arms and barefoot. Time to face the inevitable music.

-o-o-o-

A Tracy Christmas used to be snow, roast turkey, stockings by the fire, the occasional Christmas carol and family.

Since starting International Rescue it had changed.

Firstly, they were in the tropics. The only fires available in those temperatures were ones that required firefighting equipment. Having grown up with snow, it was still extremely weird. But it had its advantages. For one you could go outside in the minimum of clothing, something Gordon took advantage of every day of the year. There were no snowball fights, but these were fast replaced with water fights. There was no ice skating, but there was water skiing if anyone could get up the energy to get the boat out. And surfing, let’s not forget Scott’s attempts at that. Virgil would admit that he didn’t mind a little surfboard action himself. He wouldn’t say he was very good at it, but at least Gordon had never had to save him like he had Scott.

There were still Christmas trees and tinsel and stockings that no-one ever considered wearing hung from the nearest mantelpiece-looking piece of furniture.

There was still turkey and roast potatoes and all the yummy food crucial for a good Christmas meal, but it was often cooked outside in barbecue ovens and seafood and cold food had been added to the menu. In fact, the traditional dinner had become more of a banquet by the pool.

As Virgil walked out onto the patio, he couldn’t help but smile at the Christmas tree that had obviously been hurriedly moved out here from the comms room. It sat a little lopsided and the star on top was having a few issues with gravity. That was new, as was the liberal tinsel and Christmas lights strung from palm tree to palm tree, across the pool and back several times.

“Fifty bucks says Gordon tries to water volleyball the tinsel at least once.”

Virgil smirked as he stepped up beside his next youngest brother. “Not touching that one. I value my money.”

John was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt and had a beer in his hand. Bo was immediately interested in this new person. She strained towards John, her nose literally twitching towards the hand holding the beer.

His brother must have caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and instinctively took a step away.

“Oh, sorry, John, this is Bo.” Bo was climbing over his arm, desperate to get closer to the astronaut. Virgil held her tight, worried she would fall.

“Uh, hello.” John turned towards them, frowning. “Since when do you own a dog?”

“Since this morning.”

“Does Scott know?” They both instinctively looked over at their eldest brother who was hovering over one of the barbecues energetically discussing something with Grandma - probably how not to burn the food.

“He does.”

“And you still have it?”

“Her.”

“Yes.”

“Good luck with that one.” John drank his beer.

“She had no one else.”

John arched an eyebrow at him and then frowned. “Oh, Virgil.” His shoulders slumped.

“I am an adult now, John. It won’t be like last time.”

“God, I hope not.”

Virgil stared at his brother, only to see the genuine concern in his green eyes. A sigh. “It won’t happen again.”

John reached out and gently touched his shoulder. “No, it won’t, because you will remember that you have four brothers who are all here for you, won’t you.” God, that green gaze was penetrating.

“It will be fine.”

Bo yipped at John, her tail beating Virgil’s chest.

The astronaut smiled and offered the little dog his hand. She sniffed and licked him almost immediately.

“I think you have been approved.”

John smiled and Virgil couldn’t help but do the same.

“Virgil!” And Grandma was arrowing in on his position.

“Incoming.” John was smirking.

“Hey, Grandma.”

But his grandmother only had eyes for Bo. “Who is this?”

Virgil smiled again. “This is Bo. Bo, this is Grandma.”

Bo whacked him with her tail and literally leapt from his arms into his grandmother’s.

“Woah.” Suddenly with arms full of wriggling puppy enthusiastically licking her face, his grandmother was laughing. “Oh dear, you are a cutie. Let me have a look at you.” And she held Bo out at arms length, her eyes critical. “A little hard to tell at her age, but my bet says she’s of boxer stock, around three months old. Such a beautiful brindle and that face.” Virgil couldn’t help but agree. Bo looked like she had dipped her face in a pot of ink, her brown eyes surrounded by gorgeous black coat that quickly bled to brindle down her back with a spot of white on her front. “Where did you find her?”

Virgil looked at his feet, remembered why they were bare, and looked back up at his grandmother. “This morning’s rescue. She lost everything.”

Grandma turned her attention back to Bo. “Oh, honey. You survived the fire?” Bo licked her nose. “Well, you are safe here.” Grandma curled her arms around the puppy and scratched her ears. “Has Virgil fed you anything yet?” She glanced at him and he shrugged. He got frowned at for his trouble. Grandma turned away, walking towards the barbecues with Bo in her arms. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Well, that didn’t take long, did it?” John was still smirking at him.

A series of barks and a yelp from Grandma, and suddenly Bo was dashing amongst legs in his direction. “Woah.” He crouched down and caught her as she leapt for him. She wriggled and licked, her little body trembling under his hands. “Hey, hey, honey, it’s okay, you’re safe.” She snuggled up under his chin. He couldn’t help but return the hug.

Grandma approached, worry on her face. “I’m sorry, Virgil, I didn’t realise.”

“It’s okay.” He reached an arm around his grandmother, bringing her into the hug. “She’s just had a scary day.” He pulled both of them close.

Scott was glaring at him from a distance.

John smiled at them and drank his beer.

Bo started chewing on his collar.

-o-o-o-

As the evening progressed, Bo slowly let herself part from Virgil as each of the members of his family, bar Alan and Scott, came to say hello or fed her from the table. There was one interesting moment when the little puppy encountered Sherbert for the first time.

Bo yipped.

Sherbert yapped.

And as the entire party fell silent, the two dogs stared each other down.

Virgil was poised for a rescue and Penelope was not far behind him, but a moment later Bo licked Sherbert across the nose, Sherbert gently butted the little puppy with his head, and from that point onwards they were best of friends, Sherbert quite proudly showing his new friend around.

But never out of sight of Virgil.

Bo and Parker had a staring moment not long after, but Sherbert barrelled on in and head butted the driver, snapping him out of it. It wasn’t long before the little puppy had him rubbing her ears as well.

Kayo stood her distance, assessing Bo as much as the puppy was assessing her. A calm arched eyebrow slowly rose as Bo tilted her head up at the security specialist. She pressed her lips together and faced Virgil. “There will be training.”

Virgil blinked and his sister turned and stalked off. Bo eyed her the entire time, only finally distracted by a yelp from Alan as Gordon threw him in the pool.

The engineer was left wondering if he should be worried or not.

The meal was delicious, of course. Scott had managed to keep Grandma away from the barbecues and MAX had been on task for a good part of the day. There was the mandatory turkey, and this year a couple of large snapper had been baked to perfection, along with some crayfish, oysters, salads and roast vegetables. This was followed by pie, oh, so much pie, Christmas cookies, and Christmas pudding with custard and the option of ice cream.

Virgil, as usual, made sure he took advantage of all the options. Consequently, post-banquet found him sprawled on a pool lounger staring up at the stars amongst the tinsel overhead. Bo, who had also eaten probably more than she should have, was curled up between his feet.

The soft sounds of quiet carols and muted conversation wafting across the water lulled him gently to sleep.

-o-o-o-

Scott felt like Scrooge. He was tired, worried and even a little angry. He was not enjoying himself, no matter how hard he tried. Grandma had cornered him at least twice, her hand on his shoulder trying to soothe his ire.

The annoying thing was that he wasn’t even sure what he was angry about. The rescue hadn’t been the best, but they had done what they could and some lives had been saved that otherwise wouldn’t have. The team had performed well, no one had been injured, they were all back home safe and sound.

And there was food, family and Christmas. There wasn’t really much more he could ask for.

His eyes settled on Virgil, asleep on one of the loungers, oblivious to the tinsel being draped across his hair by Gordon behind him.

Scott sighed.

But then a little head bobbed up between his brother’s bare feet and Bo barked at Gordon quite firmly.

Virgil was obviously far too out of it to wake, but Gordon looked appropriately abashed at the challenge.

Scott found himself smiling.

Realised he was smiling, dumped the smile and frowned.

Gordon scampered off leaving a sleeping Virgil in a crown of silver tinsel.

The little dog leapt off the lounger and chased after the aquanaut.

Okay, he had to admit the dog was adorable. He could see what had captured his brother’s eye, and Scott certainly had no objection to adding to their family.

But Virgil...when Virgil loved, he loved with his whole heart, and last time he had lost a pet, it had been bad, so bad.

They had lost so much in their lives already, why volunteer to lose more?

He sighed. It was stupid to think that way, but part of him could remember that devastated teenager, the depression and the mess that followed. Virgil had been as broken as the rest of them when their mother died, but when his dog died two years later, his reaction had been so self-destructive he had needed counselling and a therapist. Scott didn’t know if the two incidents were related or if it was how his brother connected to pets, or whatever. He only knew he never wanted to see his brother go through that again.

Their father was missing, and here was Virgil with a pet once again.

Sure, he was an adult now, and had tackled so much loss since, but...

Another sigh.

A yip and he looked down to see said dog staring up at him with a mouth full of tinsel, tail wagging.

“Gordon!”

“Yesssss, masster?” His brother sidled up with a bow.

Scott rolled his eyes. “Did you want to face your brother having to tell him that his new puppy died choking on tinsel?”

“Oh, shit.”

“Exactly.”

The aquanaut scooped up the little dog and with gentle words extricated the tinsel from her mouth.

A moment later Gordon held her up to his cheek and Scott had the experience of two sets of brown eyes staring at him adoration.

“Oh, for the love of-“

“A puppy?” Gordon grinned at him. “She is a rather cute, isn’t she?”

“Leave it, Gordon.”

His brother frowned. “What’s chewing on your underwear?”

“Gordon-“

“Hey, it was a legit question, bro. You’re a grumpy ass on Christmas Day. Where’s the merry? We have food and there will be presents. And there is a puppy. You couldn’t ask for more cuteness.” Gordon held up Bo who attempted to lick Scott’s nose.

“Gordon-‘

“Nope, so not going down with you, bro. We’ve earned some happy. We’re all here, in one piece, it’s lovely weather. Cheer up, for goodness sake.” Despite himself, Gordon frowned. “Here have some puppy love.” And suddenly Scott found himself with his arms full of wriggling Bo. Gordon turned and walked off, eventually calling out to Alan, no doubt looking for mischief.

Bo tilted her head to one side and stared up at him.

Aw, hell, weaponised cuteness.

She jumped up and licked his nose.

Scott sighed.

Voice low. “You know, you better look after my brother. He’s a good man and he does a lot of good things.” A swallow. “He’s a little prone to heroics. Perhaps we can team up in that department and help keep his butt alive.”

Her tongue lolled out one side of her mouth and she grinned.

“Maybe try that on the Hood and solve all our problems.”

He gave in and drew her close to his chest, rubbing under her chin.

“I really hope we don’t regret this.”

-o-o-o-

“PRESENTS!”

Alan’s voice cut through his slumber and shook him awake. Wha-?

“Time to wake up, sleepy head.” Scott’s voice.

A sharp little bark.

Bo.

He flung his eyes open, and immediately squinted at the fairy lights floating in the light breeze far above. A blink and to his left a shadow formed into his eldest brother. His blue eyes were smiling as he sat on the next lounge over, holding Bo, scratching her gently. She was obviously enjoying it.

Virgil frowned. “I thought you were pissed at me.”

“I was.” His brother shrugged. “I got over it.” Bo was licking Scott’s fingers.

Wow, the ability to tame the savage big brother. The little girl must be heaven-sent.

There was a whir of wheels and MAX tore out onto the patio decked out in tinsel and lugging brightly coloured presents. MiniMAX darted in behind him carrying a smaller present which was deposited carefully on the table before he disappeared inside only to return with another.

“You okay?”

“Huh?” Virgil peered up at his brother before stretching the length of the lounger. Several joints cracked and the ache across his shoulders from the morning vaguely made its presence known. A yawn. “I’m fine. Just tired. This morning sucked.”

Tinsel slid down his face. He sighed and threw it off. Gordon was getting repetitive.

Scott dipped his head, attempting to hide a smile, and looked down at Bo. “True.” He scratched her under her chin one more time before offering her to him. “Here.”

Bo didn’t bother to wait for him to sit up, she bounded out of Scott’s arms and onto Virgil’s belly. “Oof.” She then danced up and down on it.

Scott grinned at him. “She’s not going to be little when she grows up.”

“Augh, she’s not little now.” He managed to capture her enough so he could sit up, but she struggled free excitedly and dashed from his arms, jumping on the lounger, just as MiniMAX buzzed over with a small present.

Bo barked at him and MiniMAX dodged to deposit the present in Virgil’s lap. He caught it, but with his hands now occupied, he wasn’t fast enough to grab Bo before she let off another bark, jumped excitedly and latched her teeth onto the little robot.

The result was immediate.

MiniMAX shrieked, several of his legs caught in the puppy’s mouth, and with a whir of rotor blades, took off madly across the patio.

With Bo hanging on.

“Bo!” Virgil dropped the present and made a grab for the pair, but missed.

Every eye turned to see what the commotion was about. Virgil stumbled over the lounger and kicked it out of the way. He was vaguely aware of Scott doing something similar. “Brains!”

MiniMAX was obviously panicking. The little robot darted about trying to shake off his assailant. Bo was whining in her throat.

Virgil dashed after them.

Despite the puppy’s weight, MiniMAX still managed a great deal of height, Brains’ ‘build ‘em tough’ policy obviously carrying through to his robots. Despite having the strength to carry the puppy, the off-balance mass hampered MiniMAX’s navigation and they were wobbling all over the place.

All Virgil could see was a tragedy in the making. The pool, the concrete, anything horribly solid. He ran beneath them, desperately attempting to reach the now whining puppy. Family members and furniture were dodged and shoved out of the way as he clambered after them.

A chair ended up in the pool. Gordon squawked and almost joined it. Virgil leapt off an empty lounge, made a grab for them, missed and ended up in the Christmas tree.

Fake pine needles jabbed him in the face as he went down in a pile of tinsel and Christmas baubles. He swore, his clothing caught, his hair caught, and his everything tangled in tinsel, but he made it to his feet just in time to see Bo let go.

“No!”

Oblivious to everything other than the puppy falling, Virgil finally got traction under his bare feet, took a running leap and grabbed Bo from the air. He instinctively wrapped himself around her, rolling in midair, tinsel and baubles flung in all directions.

As he plummeted into the pool.

The splash took his senses, muffling exclamations, and repeated shouts of his name. There was dark blue, and wet, and, for a moment, blessed silence.

Then logic reasserted itself and he kicked for the surface.

Sound, light and cool air on his skin. He blinked water out of his eyes as he lifted Bo up so she could breathe, his legs kicking to keep them afloat.

She whined at him as if to tell him off, sneezed, and began enthusiastically licking the saltwater off his face.

He couldn’t help but grin, and he knew he wasn’t the only one as laughter drifted across the water.

“You trashed the tree, Virg.”

“I don’t think he cares, Gordon.” He looked up to see Grandma smiling at him.

And no, he didn’t. As Scott poked him with a pole to help drag him to the edge and Bo decided his ear might do for her next meal, he suddenly felt joy. It could simply have been relief, but he was going to tack it up as Christmas joy and enjoy it while he could.

-o-o-o-

“Only you, Virgil.”

“It wasn’t intentional.”

“I have no doubt of that, it never is.”

“Aw, c’mon, Scott.”

“If it was intentional then I would have to accuse you of doing it deliberately just to get out of helping with the Christmas dishes.”

“We have a dishwasher.” Bo let off a bark as MiniMAX flew past dragging a bag full of recyclable cups, plates and cutlery, giving Virgil and his dog an extremely wide berth. “And there are hardly any dishes.”

“You are still getting out of clean up.”

“C’mon, Scott, you know me better than that. Ow!”

“Sit still. I’ve almost got all of it.”

Virgil leant back against the lounge, Bo curled up in his lap. “I’m not particularly happy about this either you know.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“I know that, Ow!”

“Well, if you would watch where you were going, you wouldn’t have collided with the Christmas tree. And what’s with the bare feet anyway?”

“Bo ate one of my boots.”

Scott snorted and pulled out yet another tiny piece of glass Christmas bauble from the bottom of Virgil’s left foot. “She hasn’t been here twenty-four hours yet and she has already caused havoc.”

“She’s a puppy.”

“I noticed.” Scott sighed, peering through his magnifying visor at his brother’s foot. “I think that’s all of it. Please don’t do that again. You’ll be limping for a week.”

“I’m not planning on it.”

As Scott wrapped his foot in gauze, he eyed the puppy on Virgil’s lap. “And you, young lady, I thought we had a deal.”

To Virgil’s surprise, Bo’s head bobbed up and she looked distinctly guilty.

Scott arched an eyebrow. “Hmm, don’t let it happen again.”

Bo yapped at him.

Virgil stared at both of them. “What?”

“None of your business, you just lay back and look after yourself.” And Scott was smirking.

Ooookaay.

He relaxed back against the lounge and stared up at the fairy lights above.

Bo stomped up the length of him and licked his eyeball.

He coughed up a laugh and grabbed an armful of wriggly puppy.

“I think that was a Merry Christmas, Virg.” Scott held his injured foot and grinned. “Merry Christmas.”

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #scott tracy #john tracy #gordon tracy #christmas #nuttyfic reblog #bushfire warning for the first part #but mostly fluff

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oblonger · 1 month

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Chapter 9 of TPiaG: Body Swap AU

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@sincerely-sofie pretend this chapter is me as the little British boy from that one movie. Asking for more Dusknoir-Ark interactions

Darkrai has a nightmare

Darkrai was stuck in a dark closet.

The only light inside was a pink flame, coming from a tail.

Darkrai looked down at his arm.

It was his.

He was back in his body.

He looked at Twig.

She has staring at the closet door. Her eyes wide. She was shaking with fear and cold. She clung to him like a child.

Darkrai moved his arm and wrapped his claw around her neck.

Her breath became faster. Her eyes didn't move.

He tightened his grip.

...

Why is he hesitating?

This is his enemy. He wants nothing more than to do this.

That fear in her eyes...

He hated her.

But why did he hate that look more?

Her tail flame snapped and crackled as it turned into a dark purple color. Her expression didn't change at all.

Darkrai pierced his claw through her neck and slashed outward.

No blood.

In fact, as soon as the deed was done, she was gone.

The tail flame remained. Suspended in the air as the colors shifted from purple to bright green and pink.

What was happening?

Darkrai pushed on the door. He pushed on the wall and ceiling and floor.

He was trapped.

The flame was slowly going out. The green being swallowed by the pink.

Darkrai tried to grab the flame in his hands.

It disappeared

He was stuck in a pitch black room, no bigger than a coffin.

This is his coffin.

Darkrai clawed the wall where he knew where the door was, he had four claws instead of three.

The walls felt like the were getting tighter.

He heard footsteps approaching the door.

He stopped trying to get out.

His heart was stuck in his throat.

A step from outside.

A loud heartbeat. Loud enough for him to hear inside and out.

Another step.

His heart loudly beat like a drum. Drowned out by the sudden sound of rain beginning from outside.

A step.

They were right outside the door.

Darkrai tried to turn, the room was too small. Too tight.

His heart pounded deafeningly loud.

The door was torn off. The cloudless night sky raining a torrential downpour. Lightning stood suspended across the sky as he stared at his savior. Their faces barely illuminated by his pink tail flame.

It was Grovyle.

And it was Twig.

And Dusknoir, and Celebi, and Kip, and Dialga, and Sableye.

And Cresselia.

And him.

Their faces and bodies overlapping and moving through each other like reflections in rippling water. Their eyes were all in the same place. Staring into his soul as he tried to back away from them.

The entity slowly moved all of it's arms and slowly wrapped it's claws and hands and fingers around his neck.

Darkrai was frozen in terror. He couldn't do anything but watch as this thing slowly started to drain the life out of his body.

The coffin fell backwards onto the ground. Slowly being lowered further into the dirt as all the raindrops seemingly turned from it's path to fall through the monster and onto him.

Darkrai couldn't breathe.

trying to felt like his lungs had been filled with sand.

Darkrai clawed at the thing's arms. His hands passed through like it was air.

He attempted to spit fire at it, the meager flames disappeared before it even got halfway to this beast.

He kicked at it.

He swung his small tail flame at it.

He tried to scream.

The entity's other bodies slowly started fading. The only one left was Twig in his body.

Everything else was fading.

An abyss slowly encroached on him.

The dirt from above had moved over the entrance to the hole.

He was trapped.

The only light being the speedily decreasing pink flame on his tail.

He's going to die.

She's going to kill him.

He didn't want to die.

He felt her claws pierce through his skin.

He tried to breathe. His lungs filled with blood and dirt.

The flame went out.

Twig's icy blue eyes were the only thing he could see.

'I DONT WANT TO DIE!'

'STOP!!'

'PLEASE!!!'

**********

Darkrai shot awake, gasping for air. covered in sweat that made his body shake with a freezing cold.

Darkrai flipped around to be on his belly and pushed himself off the ground. Holding himself up with his arms, while on his knees.

He clenched his own throat with a hand. His stomach turned repeatedly.

The room was dark, the curtains closed shut to keep the little light from the late day sun from leaking in.

Darkrai suppressed his urge to vomit. His body disobeyed and tried.

Several minutes passed as Darkrai tried to get his body under control.

... As he tried to get Twig's body under control.

It finally figured out that he didn't have anything to expell and he fell on his back. Breathing heavily like he'd just finished a taxing fight.

Tears and sweat ran down the side of his head as he lay there. Shivering.

He moved to his side and curled up, hugging his blanket.

His heart beat rapidly and his head pounded in pain. His eyes wide, as a thought looped in his mind.

I did that to those citizens in Treasure Town.

He'd known how he'd hurt them. He experienced a nightmare so, so long ago.

But now that he was mortal...

Darkrai tried to swallow the spit in his mouth. The thoughts dispelled as he tried, his mouth and throat were painfully dry.

He pushed away those thoughts. He didn't regret what he did. They deserved to have it happen to them. He was in the right.

Darkrai pushed himself off the ground and exited his room, shivering as he walked to the kitchen to get some water. From the entrance he could see Dusknoir sitting on the couch with some book in his hands. He was squinting at him.

"...Ah." Dusknoir said once he registered who he was looking at, turning his head back to look at his book.

Darkrai narrowed his eyes at him, even if he knew he couldn't see it. Darkrai grabbed a cup, cursing at how he needed a stepstool to reach the cupboard containing the blasted things.

Once darkrai had filled it, he drank slowly. The water stinging against the dry flesh in a way that was painful, yet quite satisfying at once.

A sharp pain shot through Darkrai's stomach as it complained at the lack of solid food within.

Darkrai opened the pantry door and stared within for several moments... Before finally closing it again.

He was hungry. He wanted to eat. But all motivation to take something left the moment he looked within. He didn't know why.

He will just deal with the pain.

Darkrai slowly walked out the kitchen and past the closet that he had just dreamed of.

The shelves had been fixed, but the hinges, or rather, the chunk of the missing wall where the hinges used to be, had yet to be replaced.

Darkrai hopped up on the couch, opposite side of where Dusknoir was sitting. He curled into himself, hoping the tail would at least get him a little warmer.

The two sat in silence.

Darkrai didnt know what his thoughts were of when Dusknoir spoke. His voice flat.

"You're cold."

Darkrai grit his chattering teeth.

"How perseptive of you." He growled.

A quiet tension filled the room.

"I would have thought that a fire type would be able to control their tempature." Dusknoir coldly remarked.

Darkrai shivered. "I needn't remind you that this isn't my body."

Dusknoir gave a small sigh. "No reminding is needed. Hearing your voice come from her body is enough."

Several more silent moments passed.

A breeze rolled in from the cloth hung over the empty doorframe, leading to the outside.

Darkrai curled tighter and shivered even more. His eyes involuntarily shut tight.

It felt like his heart was pumping ice water through his veins. The flame on his tail warmed some of his skin and nothing deeper.

Darkrai wished his heart would simply freeze already, so he would not have to deal with this waking nightmare again.

Darkrai's head snapped upwards when he felt a blanket being placed on him.

Darkrai sat there, stunned. He watched Dusknoir as he sat back down on the couch and opened the book back up. Gingerly and slowly rubbing his index finger across the page.

Darkrai felt heat rising in his chest.

...

He tore the blanket off of him and threw it on the floor. Darkrai stood up and walked towards Dusknoir on the couch, who stared at him with confusion and concern. He held his face close enough so that he knew the blind, old fool could see him well enough.

"I did not request your pity." Darkrai growled. His voice seething with hate.

"Do not ever forget that the instant I return to my body, I will kill all of you."

Small streams of smoke poured out of the sides of his mouth.

"Do you understand?" Darkrai muttered.

A moment passed as Darkrai glared into Dusknoir's eye. His expression one of sadness.

Then the top of his eye lowered into anger.

Dusknoir moved his hand closest to Darkrai and held it just below his head.

Dusknoir's finger shot upward, and struck his chin. Darkrai stumbled backwards and fell to where he'd started. A pain shooting through his body as this simple flick felt like taking a punch.

Darkrai opened his eyes and looked up to see Dusknoir staring down at him.

Has he-.

Has he always been this massive?

Why did Darkrai feel so scared right now?

He could tear this mortal apart! He was subservient to him for years! He-

...

"Do not make the mistake of forgetting your place again legend." Dusknoir hissed. It felt like the light in the room was draining away. Absorbed into Dusknoir's bright yellow features. Dusknoir rose from his seat and moved closer, towering over Darkrai.

"I am not showing kindness to you out of pity." Dusknoir moved a massive hand and planted it atop of Darkrai's body. It covered everything besides the lower half of his tail and his head.

"I am showing you kindness out of mercy."

Darkrai's breathing became shallow as Dusknoir slowly tightened his grip around his body.

Darkrai's heart felt like it might explode as Dusknoir slowly lifted him off the couch holding him just barely above it, enough to know that there was nowhere he could run.

"Do not ever forget that."

A moment passed, then Dusknoir's hand unfurled around Darkrai and he fell the few inches back onto the couch. Staring at the giant as he slowly collected the book and silently glided back to the room he was staying in. Gently shutting the door behind him.

Darkrai stared at the door for several moments. He couldn't tell if his body was shaking more from the cold or from fear.

Darkrai slowly slid off the couch and collected the blanket. He slowly walked back to his room, keeping his eyes locked to Dusknoir's door.

Once he turned the corner, he slowly walked backwards down the hallway until he could see his door from the side of his vision. He slowly, and as silently as he could, opened the door.

Once stepping inside, Darkrai closed the door as quickly as he could while trying to be as quiet as possible. He locked the door and quickly backed up from it, tripping on his own blanket he already had.

Darkrai slowly wrapped the blanket around himself, keeping his eyes on the door.

He knew the lock was insufficient.

If Dusknoir wanted to kill him, which he clearly does, he can at any moment.

Darkrai would have stayed there for as long as possible, were it not for his body dragging him into a dreamless sleep.

~~~

Darkrai shot awake. The morning sun lighting up his room through the curtains. Relieved that Dusknoir hadn't crushed his skull while he slept.

The relief soon left him as he remembered that he didnt need to be asleep for that.

Darkrai's stomach growled in painful protest at his lack of eating something ladt night.

Darkrai gripped it while trying to wait for it to finish its angry attack on him.

That's when he looked up.

A plate full of food. A stir fry of sort. Steam slowly rose off of it. It filled the room with an equal parts savory and sweet aroma consisting of cooked Rawst berries sticking out from a mound of greens, a Chery-Pecha sauce that he was fond of drizzled over top. The whole thing topped with nuts.

Darkrai's eyes watered as fast as his mouth. He curled up and cried, muffled by the blanket.

'I am showing you kindness out of Mercy.'

Why?

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watcher-with-burned-wings · 7 months

Text

Bad Thoughts Give Me Bad Dreams

(Dragon Scott au with flower ranchers)

Many years ago, dragons, humans, and hybrids lived in peace. The humans had land and farms, and the dragons had mountains and skies. The hybrids were free to pass through either domain. That was until dragons discovered magic. When the humans found out, they got increasingly jealous. Soon the humans convinced the hybrids that the dragons were too powerful. The hybrids and humans attacked the unsuspecting dragons, wiping out many of them. The remaining dragons refused to fight and turned to hide. The dragons disappeared without a trace. No one knew where they fled as they did not return to the mountains. Even after all these years, many humans were still set on hunting them down.

Somewhere in the sea on the coast, is a cave. Deep within this underwater cave, leads to a hidden civilization. Once a lush cave had grown into a sanctuary for the remaining of the fallen race. The walls shifted from stone alto diorite to calcite. Glow from berries glimmered in the amethyst clusters dotted around the cave. Vines hung from ledge to ledge, from stalactite to stalagmites, and decorated nests. Moss and azaleas were used as bedding and padding, magic growing the azaleas into trees. Using the same magic, crops were grown. Fresh spring water flowed down one side of the cave. Dragons walked around and glided through the air as they chatted and lived peacefully. A market was in the middle of the refuge. Many sold fish, or the more darning ones sold game from the surface.

A pair of dragons watched the bustle of their kind from a small ledge. On the ledge was their nest. Two eggs were resting in the center. A crack appeared on the shell of the larger egg. Both parents turned eagerly and watched as two tiny legs pushed out of the shell, cracking the egg fully. A purple-haired hatching sat in the middle of the eggshell, its black wings were visibly strong, and its horns shone proudly. The parents only admired their hatchling momentarily before the other egg cracked.

Unlike the first hatchling, a small hole was formed, and a small face poked out. The hatchling pushed hard against the shell and popped his head out as the top of the egg cracked. A startled squeak came as he rolled out of the egg. This hatching had cyan hair, small horns, and weak wings, but his claw-like hands were webbed with a fin-like tail. The parents were ecstatic that they had a sky-borne and a sea-borne hatchling. They dubbed them Xornoth and Scott.

As the years passed, the siblings soon grew from hatchlings to fledglings. Xornoth was the first to learn how to fly. Scott struggled to fly due to his features but could glide for long periods. When it came to learning how to swim, Scott flew through the depths, while Xornoth struggled to stay afloat. The cyan-fledging soon learned he had gills on the side of his neck, allowing him to breathe underwater.

While being different, both brothers were extremely close. They played, fought, and shared everything. But one thing they both loved was the days of homecoming. Every six months, they would race to the cave Gate and wait for the exploration team to return. The Gate was the water passage that led to the cavern. It was protected by a strong magic to only allow dragons through. When the older dragon appeared from the water, everyone cheered as they brought new technologies or food for the colony. Scott would watch with stars in his eyes as he admired the team. He made himself a promise they when he was old enough, he would be on that team.

===========

A purple and black blur shot through the cavern air space, a blue flash following beneath. Wedded claws gripped at store roofs, springing across gaps and streets. A fin-like tail flashed behind as he glided from roof to roof. Calling out apologizes as he dodges around clotheslines or startled elders. His sibling’s laughs echo above him as they grips their stomach at their brother’s dilemma. A smirk graces his face as they slam back first into a stalactite. They fell onto a nearby roof.

“You deserved that!” Scott snickered as he stepped around Xornoth’s fallen form. They groaned in response to Scott’s jab. Scott fondly rolled his eyes. “Come on, we’re going to be late for homecoming.” Grabbing his sibling’s arm, he pulled them up. They wobbled before shaking themselves off.

Scott leaped off the building with a laugh as he heard an agitated ‘Hey!’ come from his nestmate. He descended into the middle of the street and took off running towards the Gate. Dragon folks of all ages started to converge on the plaza. Scott slipped into the front of the crowd, tail swaying eagerly as he watched the Gate. Xornoth dropped beside him and pushed his shoulder.

“Jerk! I could have missed it,” They complained, crossing their arms over their chest. “And here you would have been.”

“Oh shush! You were fine.” He responded as he rubbed his shoulder with a cheeky grin. “I’ve seen you take worse falls than that. You’re just being dramatic.” Xornoth pouted at him before a gurgling caught both of their attention.

The water in the Gate began to swirl in a vortex and changed in color as the magic reacted. From the vortex, a sea-borne dragon shot up into the air, followed by two sky-borne dragons and then a nature-born dragon. The group landed in front of the crowd of dragons, their arms full of supplies and new shiny objects. But something was off.

A solemn air surrounded the group of newly returned dragons. A wave of confused whispers and murmurs passed through the crowd. Everyone watched the pool, waiting for the other two members to appear. Like everyone else, Scott and Xornoth were concerned by the absence of two of their kind. The sea-borne stepped up with a solemn air to him, hushing every dragon in the process.

“To my dismay, I must inform you Tilly and Dan have sadly perished during our adventure.” The leader informed. A stunned shock settled on the shoulders of the community. “They sacrificed themselves to allow the rest of us to escape from the humans. So let us not waste their sacrifice and forever remember them and celebrate the supplies they allowed us to forge.” The leader tried to lighten the mood.

The crowd agreed, dispersing around the market. A band had begun to play songs of remembrance to grieve their loss, then switched to a more upbeat one. Couples dance in the square, while game stalls begin to shout for players. Soon laughter lifted the solemn mood. Scott watched from a shadowed corner, sitting on a barrel, Xornoth finding him after spending some time enjoying the festivities.

Approaching cautiously, Xornoth asked, “Scott? What are you doing here? You should be out there, having fun.” They sat down on a crate next to him.

“Just thinking.” He replied, watching a bat fly around. Xornoth gave an unimpressed look.

“Scott.”

He didn’t answer for a moment, fidgeting with his tail. His sibling rested a hand on his shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. “I promise, you can tell me anything.”

Scott looked at them finally, taking a deep breath. “I am thinking of joining the group to the outside world.” He admitted, not looking them in the eyes. “I know how dangerous it is, but I want to do something good for the colony.” He closes his eyes, expecting a backlash. Instead, he got a gentle hug.

“I know,” Xornoth whispered. “I will never stop you from pursuing your dream. Just come back to me safe, that's all I ask.” Scott hugged him back tightly, burying his face into his sibling's shoulder.

“I will promise.”

Xornoth cradled his younger brother close to his chest. “You better or I’m hunting you down myself and turning you into a rug.” Scott laughed wetly as he pulled away. Xornoth grinned and grabbed his hand. “Now let’s go play some games, I’m going to beat you so bad!”

Scott smiled as he walked with them, “No you’re not, I’ll win easily.”

===============

It was the third anniversary of the passing of two of the members of the adventure group. It was also the day when Scott joined the team. All the group was reluctant to let the fledging join their ranks but agreed. The first year was spent learning and observing, and Joel made sure of that. Joel was the leader of the group and a sea-borne like Scott. He was a natural-born leader as he gave instructions flawlessly and proficiently. Scott learned many skills from him. Hunting, fighting, and stealing are the main ones.

His partner was Lizzie, one of the two sky-borne dragons. She oversaw planning missions and was a rather good fighter. Many of the plans the group chose were approved by Lizzie. When not prepping for a mission, she was rather protective of their newest member. She would cook great meals and sing songs when they were resting. Scott enjoyed her company late at night when she would point out constellations. Her scales were a shimmering sea green.

Next, Grian. He was the other sky-borne dragon of the group. He was a master of disguise and deception. He loves causing confusion and distraction to humans as much as possible. The red-scaled dragon loved any explosive he could get his hands on. Anything shimmery or a button to be pressed, he pushes or takes. When not on a mission, he plays pranks on them. No matter what, Grian is there to make Scott smile. Learning how to set traps had to be Scott’s favorite memory with him.

Last, but not least, was Scar. The nature-borne dragon was Grian’s significant other. While clumsy, he was a master at magic. All dragons knew of some magic, but Scar could outdo them any day. His skill with a bow was incredible and well-practiced. Scar had taught him how to use magic and recite important spells as well as potion making. Scott’s favorite memory is when he accidentally turned the emerald, green dragon into a vivid lavender purple. Everyone had a great laugh.

The second year he mostly allowed Scott to branch out. Engaging the skills, he had studied into practice. The fledging of seventeen rotations soon expanded his reach. He battled in missions with Joel, stole alongside Grian, cast and prepped spells with Scar, and cooked with Lizzie. Scott couldn’t have been happier.

By the spring of the third season, Scott had nearly surpassed all his teachers. He won a duel against Joel. He created a spell all on his own. He even picked up strategizing from Lizzie, helping her to come up with backup plans and escape routes. Everyone was proud of him. Xornoth and their parents were over the moon every time he came home with stories to tell when he visited.

Homecoming had just wrapped up. The team, minus Scott, was planning where they would go next. Scott walked beside Xornoth, who had grown as well. They were the captain of the guardian force. He was proud of his sibling for making such momentous progress. The two were making idly chit-chat as they headed towards the building where they were residing for the night before heading out the next morning.

Xornoth spoke up suddenly, “Scott… maybe you should hang back this time.”

“What?”

“Just for this year, you know mom is sick so I was just thinking you should be here in case something happens.” They explained, his gaze turned away.

“Xornoth, she has a cold,” Scott deadpanned. “She’s already nearly fully recovered. If something bothers you, just let me know. Don’t dance around it.” He stated bluntly, stopping in his tracks to look at his sibling.

Laughing, “You know me too well. Okay, I guess…” They relent. “I just… have been having horrible dreams about you. In the nightmares, you would be locked in a cage, humans surrounding you. They just seemed so real…” They grabbed his hands, staring him dead in the eyes. “I don’t want to lose you, Scott.”

He pulled his sibling close and engulfed them in a hug. “I vow that I will return to you no matter what. I’ll be careful, I swear.” He pulled away. “Besides, if I’m gone, who’s going to be your annoying little brother?” He gave in a cheeky grin.

Despite looking reassured, Xornoth still seemed troubled. Sighing, Scott compromised, “How about every few weeks I send a letter through flame mail? Will that help?”

“Yeah, just to hear from you.” They agreed.

“Great, now I need to head to the grand hall to meet and plan with the others.” Scott hugged his older sibling once more before letting go.

“Stay safe,” Xornoth called as he walked off. Scott rolled his eyes and called back, “Okay mother hen!” Xornoth squawked in outrage as Scott ran off laughing.

Slipping inside the grand hall, Scott found his companions discussing a map.

“But Lizzie, we can’t go back to Crystal Cliffs, we were just there,” Joel explained. “It would be best if we went to the Southlands.” Lizzie shook her head.

“It’s too far of a journey this time of year. The tides aren’t in our favor.” She pointed to another place; a city built at the mouth of a river. “Midnight Valley is relatively close.”

Grian piped up. “Oh, heck no! We nearly got caught because of that bottlenecked trap!” Using feather-light steps, Scott crept over and gazed at the map. Lizzie huffed in frustration. “Then where do you suggest we head too?”

Grian studied the map and then pointed to a small group of islands. “What about the Coral Isles? They have good resources.”

Scar frowns. “Don’t they have a pufferfish infestation they are taking care of?”

“Ah, I forgot that part…” He slumped in his seat.

“What if we were to head to Ranch Town?” Scott suggested, alarming everyone.

Scar clutched his chest and panted, “Don’t do that! You nearly gave me a stroke!” Scott had the decency to look ashamed. “Sorry Scar.”

Joel looked at the map, considering Scott’s suggestion. “Why would you say that place?” Scott looked up at him and then at the map. “Well, if we were to travel there, we could camp on the small uninhabited shores near the bottom of the edge of civilization without having to cast huge spells. And Joel and I will always have seawater.” Lizzie nodded slowly.

“I see your point, there are plenty of escape routes if we choose to swim upstream.” She traces the river divides, then taps the docks. “They also have the largest world trade port, allowing us to steal some rare necessities.” Joel nodded.

“I agree. We haven’t been there for ages. Looks like we’re heading to Ranch Town.” The leader declared, “We leave in the morning, so prepare accordingly. Ranch Town is a week’s worth of travel.”

Everything was settled, so the adventurers headed off to bed, unknowing of the strife ahead.

==============

Weaving through the crowds, Joel and Scott dashed through the dock. Shouts followed them as knights gave chase. Tucked in Scott’s claws was an book, he had stolen from a royal merchant ship. Twin cloaks flailed behind them as they fled the scene. The chase had been going on for around a good twenty minutes by now.

Scott was starting to tire as Joel gave a nod, signaling to split up.

Scott turned down a small side street, trying to lose the guards. As he ran, he wondered how this had happened. It was supposed to be a simple operation. Get in and out. But everything went wrong right away. The ship that was supposed to be there was a simple merchant ship, not a royal one. Then the guards swamped the boat. Everyone scattered, guards tailing them. This brings us to where he is currently.

Four guards sprinted after him. He glanced at the book and wondered why they wanted it so obsessively. Shotting out of the alley, he ran into the road, sliding under a cart that nearly trapped him. He snickered as he heard a few cusses, dashing swiftly around a corner, only to nearly run into a horse.

He stumbles into the dirt on his butt. He looked up to yell, only to pale, seeing the head of the royal guard. The head of the royal guard was the prince’s fiancé, Tango. He was a hot head blaze hybrid, fiercely protective of the kingdom. Nearly no one had escaped him before, minus his group. But he was about to clean his record. Scott tried to scramble away, but his boots couldn’t get a grip on the sediment.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Tango hopped down and placed his knee into Scott’s spine, nearly on his hidden wings. The book, long forgotten, fell into the dirt as Scott struggled against Tango, trying to escape. Tango manages to wrangle him into chains as the other knights rounded the corner. Falling limp, Scott realized he was outmatched and outnumbered.

He yelped as his hood was grabbed and he tossed over the horse's back. Tango patted him down, confiscating his small, enchanted dagger and a few regenerating potions. Then the royal knight reached for his cloak clasp. Scott stiffened in fear as he was powerless to prevent the inevitable. He curled slightly as his wings and dragon heritage were revealed. Tango seemed to short-circuit for a moment before recovering, placing the cloak down he turned to his men.

In a commanding voice, “Find the other thieves I need to bring this one to the castle.” Tango orders. “Do not kill. Especially if they are anything like him.” The knights saluted before spreading out to search for his friends.

Scott’s stomach dropped when he heard castle. He couldn’t be serious. But as Tango saddled up, and pushed his horse into a trot, he knew he was in big trouble.

==============

Scott cursed as he was thrown roughly into the cell. He hisses at the guard as the wooden door slams and locks, causing the tower to rumble around him. He glares as he brushes himself off, checking himself over. The cyan-scale Dragonborn had been stripped of nearly everything he owned, left with only the clothes on his back. Sadly, his cloak was confiscated, leaving him only in his trousers.

Glancing around, Scott grimaced.

The cell was circular with a barred lancet window situated above his head, allowing fresh air and sea breeze to filter in. Moonlight cased long shadows but provided enough light to see. The tropical summer humidity caused the cobbled stone to gleam with condensation, making the cell damp. A small wooden bench hung, posing as a poor substitute for a bed, under the window. A tiny wooden bucket filled with murky questionable water was placed beside it—the whole cell smelt of mildew.

Trudging over to the bench, Scott sat down heavily. He closed his eyes as he rested his head against the wall, feeling so stupid about getting caught. Opening his eyes, he stared up at the cone-like ceiling with despair. He should have listened to Xornoth. He could have spent six months with him. It wouldn’t have killed him to spend time with his family. Now he might not ever see them again.

Ignoring the burning in his eyes, Scott looked at his hands. He looked at his scaly hands and sharp nails. He cupped them together and mumbled under his breath a spell. A ball of light formed and drifted from his hands. A sudden thought came to him, causing him to spring up for the worn old bench. The light drifted above his head as he approached the door.

He nearly laughed at his idiocy. He crouched down and pressed a hand to the cell door. He smirked as he pronounced the lock-pick spell. A click echoed around the small room as the door unlocked. Relief washes over Scott as he pulls open the cell door. He stepped out of the cell, and a narrow staircase leading downward met him. Eager to leave, the dragon leaped down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Scott couldn’t help but feel victorious as he dashed down the stairs.

However, the feeling didn’t last long.

Halfway down the stairs, Scott turns one of the many curves of the staircase. He was in such a rush, that he didn’t realize until it was too late, hitting the prince directly in the chest. They both tumbled, pushing the second person, Tango, down the stairs as well. The trio rolled down in a jumble of limbs and curses. Finally, they stopped near the bottom of the stairs, very bruised and sore.

Scott groaned as he pulled himself out of the pile, groaning as he held his chin where he hit it. He rubbed it, checking for blood, which thankfully there didn’t seem to be. Another groan caught his attention, and he turned to see Tango rubbing his head a bit. The prince just lay on the stairs, looking dazed. He and Tango locked eyes.

Scott bolted. He heard a curse before another pair of footsteps followed him.

Scrambling down the rest of the stairs, Scott practically fell out of the stairway, Tango hot on his heels. Picking a direction, he fled. Much to his dismay, he met two guards right away. Tango called from behind him, causing the knights to notice him. He dodged out of their reach, before continuing down the hallway.

He turned another corner, only to run into a dead end. Come on, Scott thought. I can’t catch a break. He spun around to meet his pursuers, pressing himself back into the wall of the hallway, wings twitching. Tango stepped in front of the two other guards.

“No one needs to get hurt. The prince and I only wanted to ask you some questions and offer you a deal.” He had his hands in a passive position in front of him.

Getting defensive, Scott snarled, “Let me go. Like I would ever help you.” He barred his teeth, at the blaze hybrid. Tango's face fell in a scowl.

“You were caught stealing. Normally, thieves would be sent to work in the mines for a few years. But you’re a special case.” Tango explained.

“And why’s that?” He snapped, his tail whipping aggressively. Footsteps came from behind the group. The guards moved, revealing a disheveled looking prince. A low growl rumbled from Scott’s throat.

“Because we need your magic knowledge.” The prince stated as he fixed his crown. Scott’s eyes scanned him as he towered over him. The canary hybrid stood nearly head over him. Golden feathers ruffled on his head wings. He had sandy blond hair with muddy tried brown eyes. He was clearly near Scott’s age but his eyes mirrored an elders.

“Why?” The dragon asked suspiciously.

“Please. Humans have begun to invade our land. Many hybrids are dying, like many of your kind did.” To Scott’s surprise, the prince knelt and bowed to him. “Please. We’re desperate. I sincerely apologies for the treatment you had this far. I promise, as Jimmy Solitary, so to be king of Ranch Town, that you and your kind will have protection here for as long as I live.” Jimmy had his forehead practically touching the floor. All the knights copied his movements.

To say Scott was lost was an understatement. First, they imprisoned him, then they asked him for help. He shook his head a bit, feeling overwhelmed. “How do I know this isn’t a sick trick?” Scott deflected.

“Please, if it was trick, do you think we would be bowing and not just torturing you?” Tango said with a bit of an eye roll, but something felt off as Jimmy shot him a glare. Scott gulped at that. It was a good point.

“Fine,” Scott admitted, “But what would you need me to do?” Scott questioned.

Relieved, Jimmy stood up from the floor. “If possible, we need more of those potions you had on you. Plus, if you could perhaps make our weapons enchanted as well.” Jimmy thought for a moment. “We’ll provide everything you need to create them as well.”

Scott couldn’t believe he was hearing. It was like something from a dream. Those simple everyday things dragons could do, but the problem was supplies to create them. So having access to everything was a blessing. Biting his lip, his ear fins flicking with thought.

Scott sighed, “My group and I will help you out as a trial run, until we can trust you.” He spoke. “But know, we will never show you where we hide.” He promised.

“Deal!” Jimmy exclaimed excitedly as he took Scott’s claw and shook it. “Thank you, thank you so much.” Scott awkwardly patted his shoulder, feeling as though he made a deal with the devil.

“Yeah, well as long as we remain behind the scenes, I don’t mind helping.” He added on. “And free meals and comfortable rooms.”

Jimmy laughed, his personality doing a one-eighty. “Of course! In the morning, you can go out to find your friends. But please, allow me to show you to your proper room.” Jimmy grabbed his hand and guided him down a corridor. A staircase later and another hallway later, they reached a door.

Tango opened it, revealing a small bedroom. To be honest, it wasn’t much bigger than the cell had been, but it was furnished with a bed and a dresser. A rug covered the stone floor, but there was no window, only touches for light. Scott reluctantly stepped through the doorway.

“Oh, by the way. Tomorrow we will also discuss your punishment, after all, you still stole royal property.” Jimmy added slyly. “Don’t worry about it too much, Cutie. We can add it into the contract that we’ll create we all your friends are here.” Jimmy gave a Cheshire grin. “Sleep well, little dragon.”

With that the door was slammed closed and locked. Scott could hear something being put in front of the push door, locking him in with no way out. Standing in the dark of the room with only torchlight as company, Scott had a feeling he had just sold his soul.

Scott crawled into the bed and cried himself to sleep that night.

=============

It was four years later; Scott found himself sitting on the arm of King Jimmy’s throne, dressed in the finest clothes, sitting beside the king himself. The war had finally ended. With the dragons’ help enslavement, the hybrids were able to conquer over the humans, restoring balance. During the war, many dragons had moved from the cave to Ranch Town, having decided to be forced to help. After dragons were able to begin normal lives in Ranch Town and live happily above ground, free to fly or swim wherever they please. But as per the agreement, Scott must serve an extra two years for his crime.

Jimmy and Tango had married before the war was announced, officially making Jimmy king. Scott was worked to the bone through the first year in captivity. Many potions and weapons nonstop, his hands would blister from how much nether wart he had to touch. His scales would be dry and flaky by the end of the day due to the heat of the brewing stands. Tango had taken notice one day and had him moved.

From then on, he was Jimmy’s personal servant and guard, much to his friends’ protests. Scott simply told them not to worry and continued with his job. Jimmy soon took a liking to Scott, becoming friendly with him rather quickly while Tango was on the front lines. When Tango was sent back due to an injury, he also had taken to a liking to Scott, but much more slowly. Scott, oblivious to royals’ affection, was focused on protecting everyone he endangered. Even when the war ended, Tango and Jimmy agreed that Scott was theirs.

The royals decided to host a ball celebrating the victory, which is where they are now.

Jimmy leaned over and murmured into Scott’s ear, “Come on Scott, don’t look so glum. I know you want to go be with your family and sibling but we’re your family now as well.” A shiver when down his spin at the hot breath on his ear.

A choked off squeak escaped the cyan dragon as Tango petted his wing. “Yeah, we could have lock you in your room for the night, but we graciously allowed you to be here with us.” Tango gave him a small kiss on the forehead. “So don’t be so ungrateful.” Tango chastised lightly.

Scott early on had learned how to get under their skins. “Yes sirs.” He replied sadly. Both frowned instantly. Neither of them wanted to cause their little dragon to be mad or upset. But they both agreed that sometimes it was needed. But this wasn’t one of those times.

Jimmy tried to recover, “Maybe later you can hang out with Xornoth, they are staying the weekend. But we haven’t seen much of you all week.” He whined, holding Scott’s hand.

“Yeah, and I was only teasing about you room.” Tango added. “We just missed you, cutie.”

Scott smirked internally, having admittedly, started to gain feels of his own towards his to captors. He nodded a bit on the outside, “Okay…” He yawns as he rubs his eyes, having decorated and planned most of the ball himself.

Both Jimmy and Tango melted. Pulling the sleepy dragon into his lap, Jimmy rested him against his chest. Said dragon barely noticed, having done this millions of times, snuggled into Jimmy’s chest. He closed his eyes, falling asleep to the lull of the conversation in the ballroom.

“Sleep well, little dragon.” Both whispered with soft possessive eyes.

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