#* A SCREAM BECOMES A YAWN. (VISAGE)

[cutieeva]

Returned Home

Female reader

Warnings : Death. Murder.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒

What happens if the person you love went missing and suddenly reappear in your doorsteps ? Because (Y/N) doesn't know how to react.

Knocks at the door were light at first, almost like a whisper before turning into frantic and loud like screams that (Y/N)'s sleep broke, a whine slip past her lips not loving the thought of her rare sleep intruded, all after that incident she almost at the verge of becoming the shell of a human, always worrying, little guilty yet hollow the entire time. Perhaps time will heal her wounds and pause the bleeding unfortunately not the knocking because it keeps increasing in alarming amount. She thought in her daze mind, wrapping a soft cloth around her nightdress she step out of the sofa, how tragic despite having warm bed, beautiful home with many rooms the only place she fell asleep was on the sofa in living room in front of the still on TV which is repeatedly showing some episodes of only murders in the building her mind has almost memorized.

"Coming !" She yell, messaging her forehead, feeling her head burn from both the torturous knocks and the stress of what if the twins wake up. Her feet drum the white tiles walking towards the front door and finally her eyes open to peek at the peekhole for safety. Huh ? She rub her eyes once more to peek yet why all she can see is black ? Her fogged mind question not still awaken from the slumped when she flinch feeling the knocks vibrate the door so closely.

"Who is this ?" Her voice stern, not fearful she could have been if awake, adamant to not open the door. Silence replies her. No voice only silence along the knocks. Her eyes narrow feeling her body ache from pain and the headache worsen. "These children". Her neighborhood is fill with all age children and unlike her sweet twin angels, these ones are the demons, the one she was thankful to not have. Oh, remind of her babies, what time is it ? Her eyes glance at the clock on the wall 7:00 am, whoa ? Which child is playing pranks at her doorsteps instead of being in school ? Oh ! Today is Sunday she forgets.

Must make breakfast she thought, her lips shaped a yawn about to walk away from the door "It's......me". Her heart sank, breath sucked. "(Y/N)". She remembers that voice, her whole fabric of being knows that voice, the voice she heard, whisper sweet nothings, laughs loudly, quick to anger, arrogance in his speech. In a second her hand having a mind of it's own, touch the shivering cold doorknob, twist it to unlock and swing open fast enough to not gave chance for the creaking noise.

Revealing the visage of none other than her husband, Vesper Rufus who is missing for two months after the alone trip to mountain.

Munch ! Cracks ! The noise of his devouring simple milk with cornflakes sends strange feelings within herself. Sitting across the dinning table of her husband who's black shirt made her recall it's original color white with his pale skin painted in faded marks of nasty bruises and bite marks belonging to animals, even insects she suspect, a grime cast her face merely thinking of what he went through to be alive in that forest where no police, forest rangers, rescue rangers even herself couldn't find. Hell, the helicopter wasn't of helped. Her eyes then slide below his body that is hidden by the counter where his pants are in the same condition, grey pants painted in coal. Her head span to her behind looking at the door to see no shoes of his as she found him barefoot with crimson hue smeared over his feet.

Click ! Her thoughts snap at the noise of his meal finish turning her vision to his face, dirt, scratchs cover his blemished handsome face. A smile lift those once perfect plump lips now dry and chapped. A happy sparkle in those pools of eyes she fell for that with time and marriage forgetton to dust leaving only a usual reflection of hers she used to bore before he went missing. Suddenly a yearning ache pull her body towards him, stand down from the metal chair, silently cross the line of space and stood under those eyes. Immediately she was hit by the smell of dust, rot, filth yet without a second she throw her arms around him, surrounding her body into his and hug him tightly, the cold body.

Her eye lids cover her vision, soaking into the frosty embrace and slowly she sense his arms embracing her back, gently to tightly and burying his face into her curve of neck like she was his roof, her shelter he just been gifted.

"Where were you these two months ?" Tears she thought were dried roll down her cheek, her voice soft. "The kids were crying". she added flood with the images of her twin sons wailing at the first news of their father might never returned as the police declared him dead saying no man has the capacity to survive in that stormy mountain more than two weeks and he was missing for two months. Perhaps they didn't found the body because the wild nature covet him or the animals feasted upon him. She likes to think the former. But now she knows, she knows they didn't find his body because he was alive all along.

"Children ?" She felt him title his head in her neck. "Ah ! Children, the twins". His voice muffed and horse like decades of out of speech. Softly like she handle her flowers she lean away from the embrace regardless of his hands still on her waist.

"You remember who am I right ?" Vesper nod like a good man he never was.

"(Y/N) Rufus, my wife, my soulmate". Those sharp onyx eyes that slice her heart multiple times tendered looking at her as if for the first time seen her, feel and stare so intimately at her. Never did she thought the gaze will be directly to her again after their dating phrase pass into the marriage years.

"And about the children ?" She ask, tip toe up to him, pressing her body, her breast to his and lips inches away. Intoxicated he looked, like sipped a bottle of beer he drunk with pink tints on his cheeks to ears, falling in her spell as if for first time he fell in love.

"Leo, Felix". Breathless he answered, leaning closer to her, brushing his lips with her yet not closing the gap. Why ? She wonder because never did her husband cared for her consent. If his sexual desire awaken he will use her like a escort not a wife. From the beginning he announce his ownership on her like she was a object and her past self mistook it as romantic and after marriage she was a servant. Never a wife, was a lover.

Maybe that's why his missing didn't pain her as much to shed a single tear until now when he is different, his warmth disappear, his arrogance fended leaving a stranger in her arms and she still kiss the stranger. Her lips collide his and it confirmed more. How naive his kiss is like he is exploring her, knowing her for the first time unlike him, who knew her like the back of his palm or— perhaps it's his self pleasure he knew like the back of his palm. Never hers, not after their marriage. The brand of ring tied their fates together as well as ruinning.

Not a hint of bad breath or taste she felt oddly, rather bitter taste of nature hits her when their lips met, at first like a careful of understanding he press their lips hard before she open her lips, giving him the space to enter and he mirrored it, like a learning child slide his tongue, following his guts and savoring her hotly, a contrast to his frosty body. Tips of tongue tease her inner flesh as he wish like she is his salvation before harshly mushing their body and lips more near than humanely possible, with brim of desire and addiction he bite her lips, tongue tenderly, exchanging sliver salivas and breathing heavily like he was suffocated yet not ready to leave as he continue to drove deeper, deeper into the mouth and (Y/N) felt being devoured by a predator not her husband who never with such passion held her, gave her pleasure.

Heart racing and breath threating to stop she ripped herself away, coughing fits at multiple times and drinking water unlike him, his lips hanged open, eyes beastly nothing similar to the sparkly happiness and red blush adore his pale skin. Their eyes met and without another warning he smashed their lips.

"You are so sweet, so deliciously sweet". Mumble his horse voice in the kiss, eating her lips like she was a dinner, shamelessly staring at her while invading her mouth and she let him, kiss her as if her being was the only source of meal. Been ages did her husband desire her such as this moment not to mention it proves more he wasn't her Vesper and it brought her nothing apart from relief.

Suddenly he paused, eyes wide and grip tighten. She slowly freed her swollen lips yet dig the knife deeper in his back. Yes, while he was under the spell of his lust, she went near him— more like near the knife set and stab him at his weakest moment.

"Who are you ?" Calmly she asked, hearing the thrives of her knife twisting his skin, flesh yet no trickle of blood bleeding. Strange she thought glances up again meeting his blank face. Not the agonizing look of a man being stabbed. Not her real husband who's eyes were betrayed, tears sliding and blood bled from her mouth like a fat fish squeeze out of it's body as before.

"Who the fuck are you when I killed my husband with my own hands ? When I buried his body under the soil of that mountain ?" Gritten her teeth, the mask of calmness cracked as she pulled the knife out desire to see the blood bled out of the man she loves so much, devote her life, birth children cutting from her flesh yet he cheated on her bluntly and gaslit her when confronted and spiral into questioning her own sanity. However no blood slide, no scarlet paint his pale skin.

"How ?" She whispered, in more disbelief of him not bleeding than her dead husband who she clearly murdered after planning thoroughly knowing his plan of visiting the mountain which he lied saying he is going alone when in reality his mistress and him will intertwined in ways she can't imagine and follow him before the mistress meets him and killed him brutely, stabbing him fourteen times in his entire body leading his death due to blood loss and burying deep into the soil that took hours only to return home unscathed.

Erriely quiet the stranger wore her husband's skin stare at her angered ones and part his lips. "I see, no wonder that was the most gruesome body I ever seen—" The raspy voice slowly get used to speech pause and (Y/N) sense him debeating. "And wore". The end words was something she couldn't swallow, couldn't avert eyes nor run hearing the conformation in his own voice.

"Who are you then ?" She tremble. He notice.

"Who am I ?" He tilt his head mirroring a clueless being. "Who am I ? What am I ? Doesn't matter because what am I isn't what suppose to exist yet I do and now I am your husband yet not. The body is his, yet what inside is not". Game of puzzle he answered. "I won't die, never bled nor need of humane things. I am of a being neither alive nor dead". Neutral his voice rang her ears echoing inside and frighting from the laughable answer but she knew better to laugh. No other way could her husband retrieve from dead than be possessed by something inhumane, abnormal like the myths tales of creatures she heard.

"Then, will you kill me ?" She let go the blade that isn't even paint in blood, shining her terrified reflection as it was fell on the floor with a biting click.

"No. I like you". A short answer relief her stress a little. "You taste sweet, you smell sweet and you are sweet. I want to cherish you, kiss you like I did. I want to claim you mine". Chanting every word he pepper kiss over her skin. Worshipping, caressing each curve, drinking her making her visible relax and something in her tells it's safe. He is safe—to her. Why ? maybe because her husband terrifies her more than a creature from tale.

"And my children ?" Her words carefully used. Her, not their. He halted in his actions. Inhaling her fabric when he reunite their lips again.

"Not them. Because they are ours. You are my wife, my soulmate and they are our children". Yes, it is because the moment he smell of unwelcome human scent in his home, he prepared to feast them, chew their bones and if unlucky torture them until they beg to death however it changed finding one glimpse of the beautiful woman bearing bloodlust and hatred the creature swore he saw her shining upon a halo and the way of her body soaked in blood of the man's arouse humanely needs he never felt apart from endless hunger. This hunger was different, pleasureful he seen these humans do sometimes before their withered body aside inside his stomach.

He watched the angelic woman, the lymph of paradise left the man buried and he walked out of the shadows to the place the man is under, saw his belongings along his address and the lymph is his wife— (Y/N) with twin sons. Good she killed him before he had to and now she is his, her children is his, all of her is his alone.

Tiny groans, tapping of floor steal their attention and (Y/N) watched her children wore night outfits walking towards the open kitchen, rubbing their hazy eyes.

"Mama I am hungry". Her three old years son said, the older one between them.

"Me too ! But I want pizza". The younger twin said, opening his eyes only to widen and grasp loudly. "Papa !" Following a joyful scream his tiny feet ran to the stranger wore their father's skin and the older twin also stare, face brighten in happiness the mother didn't saw since he was missing. His body was thrown to their father too and unnatural, his arms touch them back, still glancing to see (Y/N)'s visage than theirs.

Touching his familiar face, she caress saying "Yes, papa has returned home". The man lean in decided not the say one more thing, actually the real husband she killed was alive the time he was standing above the ground however he killed him again. For good and twice his death was before taking his skin.

"Indeed I have". Smiling crazily. "Returned home".

FIN

[angie-long-legs-moved]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐄𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧?

Bold = Applies. Italics = Sometimes applies. Strikethrough = Applies under extreme circumstances.

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒: being unable to stop smiling. laughter. bear hugs. happy tears. waving arms around. dancing. contently sighing. eyes twinkling. laughter lines. childlike playfulness. skipping. talking more. affection. cracking more jokes than usual. gesturing more when talking. higher pitched voice. squealing. jumping around. clapping.

𝐒𝐀𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒: tearing up. self-hugging. one-arm cross. an aching chest. scratchy throat. a runny nose. turning away. deep breaths. quivery smiles. crying. infantile sobbing. hands gripping each other or an object. covering mouth. puffy eyes. eyes appear red. voice breaking. distant or empty stare. monotone voice. asking for comfort. faking a smile. crumbling. shaking. whimpering. depression. abusing an unhealthy habit. withdrawing from others. big teary eyes. doing something even if it could hurt them.

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑: furrowed brows. baring teeth. passive-aggressive comments. avoiding eye contact. sarcasm. headache. sore muscles. hiding clenched fists. irritability. jumping to conclusions. raising voice. going silent. demanding immediate action. keeping it all in until exploding. body tensing. making risky decisions. middle finger.

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑: wanting to flee or hide. what-ifs. images of what-could-be flashing in mind. uncontrollable trembling. rapid breathing. screaming. a skewed sense of time. irritability. keeping silent. denying fear. turning away from the cause. pretending to be brave. nail-biting. lip-biting. scratching skin. a joking tone but a voice that cracks. fainting. insomnia. panic attacks. exhaustion. substance abuse. tics. rushing adrenaline. face draining color. hair lifting on the back of the neck. feeling rooted to the spot. making body as small as possible. staring but not seeing. crying. a shrill voice. whispering. gripping something or someone. stuttering. flinching at noises. pleading.

𝐄𝐗𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: constantly yawning. blurring words together. dark circles or lines under eyes. mood swings. hallucinations. calling people by the wrong name. dizziness. denying they’re tired. slow blinking. trouble concentrating. stumbling. leaning on a doorframe for support. sluggish movements. falling asleep someplace that isn’t a bed. becoming irritated by the smallest things. “i’m awake, i’m fine.” shaking so bad they spill their drink. falling asleep in their clothes. laying their head on the table because they’re so tired. passing out.

tagged by: @hazbinned tysm!! <3

tagging: @top-shelf-tender @arcanepactguile @sirserpentine @visage-of-hell

[statiicstag]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐄𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧?

Bold = Applies. Italics = Sometimes applies. Strikethrough = Applies under extreme circumstances.

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒: being unable to stop smiling. laughter. bear hugs. happy tears. waving arms around. dancing. contently sighing. eyes twinkling. laughter lines. childlike playfulness. skipping. talking more. affection. cracking more jokes than usual. gesturing more when talking. higher pitched voice. squealing. jumping around. clapping.

𝐒𝐀𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒: tearing up. self-hugging. one-arm cross. an aching chest. scratchy throat. a runny nose. turning away. deep breaths. quivery smiles. crying. infantile sobbing. hands gripping each other or an object. covering mouth. puffy eyes. eyes appear red. voice breaking. a distant or empty stare. monotone voice. asking for comfort. faking a smile. crumbling. shaking. whimpering. depression. abusing an unhealthy habit. withdrawing from others. big teary eyes. doing something even if it could hurt them.

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑: furrowed brows. baring teeth. passive-aggressive comments. avoiding eye contact. sarcasm. headache. sore muscles. hiding clenched fists. irritability. jumping to conclusions. raising voice. going silent. demanding immediate action. keeping it all in until exploding. body tensing. making risky decisions. middle finger.

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑: wanting to flee or hide. what-ifs. images of what-could-be flashing in mind. uncontrollable trembling. rapid breathing. screaming. a skewed sense of time. irritability. keeping silent. denying fear. turning away from the cause. pretending to be brave. nail-biting. lip-biting. scratching skin. a joking tone but a voice that cracks. fainting. insomnia. panic attacks. exhaustion. substance abuse. tics. rushing adrenaline. face draining of color. hair lifting on the back of the neck. feeling rooted to the spot. making body as small as possible. staring but not seeing. crying. a shrill voice. whispering. gripping something or someone. stuttering. flinching at noises. pleading.

𝐄𝐗𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: constantly yawning. blurring words together. dark circles or lines under eyes. mood swings. hallucinations. calling people by the wrong name. dizziness. denying they’re tired. slow blinking. trouble concentrating. stumbling. leaning on a doorframe for support. sluggish movements. falling asleep someplace that isn’t a bed. becoming irritated by the smallest things. “i’m awake, i’m fine.” shaking so bad they spill their drink. falling asleep in their clothes. laying their head on the table because they’re so tired. passing out.

TAGGED BY: @visage-of-hell thank you <3

TAGGING: you?? points

[ircnbeauty]

( ... ) so much for trying to do the right thing.

𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ? one night where there is nothing but tranquility? one night where none of the yellow residents would come to her door to bother her? and for goodness sakes, just one night where she would actually be able to shut her eyes tight and stay in her realm of dreams without ever being awoken up for the nth time this week? well, apparently the world would think so and unfortunately for nayeon, so does the rest of her residents.

this time, a strange yet very loud mechanical whirring noises accompanied with a few knocks and crashes in the distance was what aroused her from her slumber. her long lashes abruptly fluttered opened, greeted with the sight of her darkened room as the palm of her hand was pressed against her lips to conceal a soft yawn that barely managed to escape. slowly, she stretched her still numb muscles just enough to grab her phone from the nightstand. the sudden brightness of her screen nearly blinding her when she opened her phone to check on the time.

ㅤㅤㅤjust the sight of the time alone was enough for the infantile frown marring her visage to deepened into an annoyed scowl. because who in their right minds would even be awake at 3 a.m. ? while making all the loud noises that are more than enough to awake the whole residential hall at that too ?

the whirring noises only become louder and louder as the time went by, worrying the girl as she quickly stepped out of her room to investigate the source of the noises. the dim luminescence of the hallways accompanied her journey whilst she ran upstairs, following the line of the sound when suddenly — the cold feeling of dread fell upon her as she comes to the realization of where exactly the sounds was coming from which was none other than the fourth floor ; and the one particular troublemaker who currently resides on the said floor.

( oh fuck no )

just as she barely reached the fourth floor, a sudden metallic bang echoed throughout the room along with a very familiar gruntled scream. walking upon to the nearest kitchen on the fourth floor, nayeon was obviously greeted with the sight of mess ; the culprit of the noises who of course was none other than xuo luo — covered in cookie batter from head to toe, the kitchen in disarray and the mixer being very noticeably broken.

❝ xuo luo! ❞ her voice nothing but a hushed scream when she called him out, her dark eyes widening and her own mouth left agape at the sight of the absurd scene in from her. ❝ what the hell are you doing at 3 a.m. ?! and why are you even in the kitchen ? you're literally banned from using the kitchen, all of them ! ❞ nayeon reminded him as her finger pointed to a large sign plastered on the refrigerator ; where it clearly says "BANNED FROM USING THE KITCHEN" with xu luo's name being the first and deliberately underlined with a red marker. ❝ how are we going to even clean this mess? ❞

[uwusenpaiuwu]

Sleepovers At The Baji Household feat. A Fed-Up Chifuyu

Summary: Chifuyu just wants to sleep, man, but Baji wants to be a jealous crackhead at 2 AM.

Pairing: Sano Manjiro | Mikey x Male Reader

Note(s): I had a little free time and wrote this. So, please enjoy! ALSO, to the anon that sent me a request a few days ago, I saw it and have it filed on my to-do list!!! I will definitely get to it as soon as I get a break in my schedule :)

"Chifuyu, ya wanna see some real discrimination?"

No. No, Chifuyu does not want to see what Baji means by 'real discrimination.'

Does he tell him that, though?

Yes, actually, because it's 2 in the fucking morning and, as much as he respects the other boy, he wouldn't put it past himself to smother him with a pillow after having his dream of cuddling with a sea of puppies suddenly destroyed.

Unfortunately for his sanity, Baji either doesn't hear him or, more likely than not, doesn't give a fuck, because he's already flopping onto his belly and whipping out his phone to do God knows what.

The dial tone that sounds from the speaker a few seconds later makes Chifuyu cringe, especially since it's only ever been a calm silence fit for a good night's sleep prior to Baji bulldozing through it with his absurd question. (At the very least, he's thankful that the latter has half a mind to keep the brightness on the lowest setting, otherwise, Chifuyu would have had to fight.)

On the far end of the row of carefully-laid futons, you shift in your sleep, eyebrows furrowing together at the noise. Rotating onto your side, you unconsciously reach for Baji, and just when he thinks you're being cute and trying to cuddle him, you smack him in the head.

Baji doesn't flinch, instead, takes his pillow and shoves it in your grasp to keep your unconscious self occupied, so that he can focus on getting through to the person who reuses to pick up (understandably so).

Releasing a frustrated groan after being redirected to voice mail for the fifth time, he dials the number again, muttering an impatient, "Pick up already."

Chifuyu feels sorry for the poor soul on the other end. He would've blocked someone following the first call, because again, it's-

The blond has to squint his eyes up at the digital clock on Baji's nightstand, which confirms that it's already 2:22 A.M, further solidifying the fact that he shouldn't be awake right now. And this also applies to the ever persistent first division captain, who insists on bothering who Chifuyu soon discovers is Mikey from the contact ID that flashes across the screen.

Why Baji is so keen on bothering him is a question he doesn't have the mental capacity to ponder over. The most energy he'll expend is to listen in when the call miraculously connects.

"What...?" comes a muffled voice from the receiver, tone laced in an irked grogginess birthed from a slumber rudely interrupted.

There's an absurdly loud, almost angry, roar of Mikey's name, one that has Chifuyu curling in on himself in a futile attempt to escape a sound that should be illegal at this hour.

But you know what else should be illegal?

The fucking whiplash Chifuyu gets when Baji's deep voice takes an abrupt 180°, switching from its normal gruffness to a squeaky, ear-piercing shrill as he screams, "I love you, love you, love you! Do you love me, too, Mikey-kyun~♡?!"

The room is dead silent.

Not a word. Not a murmur. Not a breath.

Just pure, unadulterated silence as both Chifuyu and Mikey process the words that hang in the air, permeating it with a goosebumps-inducing eeriness from having heard such a...a girly, overtly cutesy screech from Baji.

Then-

"What the fuck? He hung on me!"

Chifuyu opens his mouth, thinks better of reacting to the cursed scene he had the misfortune of bearing witness to, and promptly closes it.

Other people may have sleep paralysis demons.

But Chifuyu?

Chifuyu has Baji.

With both hands partially raised in prayer, he begs for the shenanigans to be over and done with.

They are not.

While his eyes remain closed in a last ditch effort to convince himself that it's all a bad dream, he hears a lot of grumbling happening on your side of the room, courtesy of Baji, who's scrambling around in search of...something. One quick peek reveals him fiddling with a phone - yours, to be exact, as evidenced by the distinctive phone charm of your favorite anime character hanging from it.

"(Y/n), wake up for a second," he hears him whisper. It takes a bit of prompting, until he's able to successfully rouse you enough from sleep to elicit any kind of response, which is, essentially, nothing short of an incoherent, slurred mess. Although, Chifuyu is pretty damn certain he heard you call Baji a 'dickhead' for the trouble.

Unperturbed, he continues shaking your limp form, coaxing you into wakefulness with, "Repeat what I tell you, and I'll let you go back to asleep. Deal?"

You squint your eyes at him, only able to make out a vague outline of his visage in the lightless room. "Promise?"

"Cross my heart, hope to die," he automatically responds with the same phrase he's become accustomed to saying whenever you two made a promise, something done purely out of habit, formed when the two of you were just kids and he wanted to get you to do something absolutely ridiculous either for him or with him. And just 'cause he knows you're more susceptible to complying if he does it, he also interlocks his pinky with yours.

"...Fine."

The approval is his cue to proceed, and it's as he's putting the phone on speaker that he turns back to a regretfully wide awake Chifuyu, mouthing a wordless, 'Watch.'

The phone rings, loud and clear, precisely once and only once.

"(Y/n), what's wrong?" It's important to note that even though Mikey still sounds tired as hell, his tone is much lighter, much happier really, than when it was Baji, which is an offense in itself to the said teen that's off to the side, attentively listening to the conversation unfold.

Then, it strikes Chifuyu, what Baji is trying to do, and fuck does it give him an instant headache.

Meanwhile, your mouth morphs into the dopiest of smiles with the pleasant surprise of hearing your boyfriend's voice, chest instantly overtaken by a warm fuzziness that never fails to make an appearance whenever he's involved. Sappy, you know, but it's true!

A light but firm nudge to your shoulder reminds you of your mission. It's too bad that, teetering along the edge of sleep as you are, the words Baji whispers are barely repeated correctly.

The initial phrase from before, the one Baji greeted Mikey with, is shortened to a simple, "You wuv I...?"

But, without missing a beat, you receive Mikey's confident reply of, "Mhm... I wuv you a lot."

There's a sleepy giggle then - a fucking giggle - before your voices drop to sweet whispers that the third and fourth wheels can't fully comprehend from where they are.

"Where the fuck was my 'I wuv you,' huh?!" Baji whisper-shouts, considerate of your conversation even when ranting and raving. "Shit, I would've taken a simple 'I love you,' too! I've known that bastard way longer than (Y/n), and this is what I get?!"

Okay. Toman's president answers his boyfriend's late night calls faster than he does anyone else's and openly expresses his love for him. So what? Chifuyu wouldn't exactly call it 'discrimination,' per se. 'Favoritism,' maybe if you wanna stretch it, but using as strong a word as discrimination, especially taking into account you two are dating; it's normal? Nah.

"You wanna say 'bye' to them? Mm. Baji and Chifuyu." A pause. "Fuyu, Mikey says 'bye.'"

"Bye, Mikey-kun."

The other person in the room waits, and waits, and waits, and when it's clear that there is no intention to address his presence whatsoever, Baji turns to Chifuyu with an almost scandalized expression, making wild gesticulations with his hands, clearly distressed. "See?!"

Blank blue eyes stare back at him, unblinking. Honestly, it's a common occurrence - Baji spiraling in a nonsensical rage - so it's easy for Chifuyu to block out the muted, jealousy-driven temper tantrum as he takes his pillow in both hands, raises it as high as he can, and-

Sigh.

-lets it flop right back onto his face.

He can't suffocate Baji. Shouldn't. Wouldn't. Couldn't. After all, they're best buds, meaning he has an obligation to put up with shit like this once in a while. (Plus, he'd probably get his ass kicked before he succeeds anyway. Totally not worth the beating.)

"Did you hear? Mikey said he wuvs me," he hears you drawl dreamily as soon as you hang up, sounding very close to clocking back out for the night.

"Yeah, yeah. Cute shit. Happy for ya, dude," Baji huffs. Thankfully, he sounds like he's in a similar state to yours, if the yawn that follows his sarcastic comment is anything to go by.

"...He soooo ignored you."

That warrants a punishing punch to the arm, dulled only slightly by the combination of the thick quilt you're swaddled in and the raven-haired boy's fatigue.

"I'll fucking throw you out right now, (Y/n). Don't test me."

"You won't."

"I will."

"Won't."

"Will."

The conversation gradually dies down shortly after, the exhaustion that took its sweet time getting to both of you having reached its peak with the help of the childish bickering. It takes 10 minutes, maybe 15, before two sets of light snores fill the room.

Finally.

Let it be known that there is a lesson to be learned from tonight's events. Really, there is. Y'know, something along the lines of 'Don't agree to a sleepover with Baji, if you plan on actually sleeping,' or whatever.

Alas, Chifuyu's consciousness fades before he realizes what it is.

~~~

"Mikey, be honest. Who do you love more? Me or-?"

"(Y/n)."

"But-"

(Y/n)."

"I-"

"(Y/n)."

Baji is only momentarily discouraged, sharp eyes glaring at the blond that lays his head on your lap after hi-fiving you. He didn't want to do this, but he's left with no choice.

"(Y/n) or Babu?"

From the way Mikey stiffens up, refusing to look at either him or you in the eyes, Baji knows he has him right where he wants him, has him torn between a cute face or a sweet ride.

"Oi! Don't pretend to be asleep! Answer the damn question! OI!"

(After hours of serious contemplation - even though you told him it doesn't particularly matter - it's revealed that, of course, Mikey loves you more. Babu just happens to trail behind as a very close second.)

[hajimeiwaswife]

THE WAY I LOVED YOU

Word count: 4,2K

Wanings: angst (but fluff, too)

Summary: You weren't over the love Childe provided you, even when you were engaged to Albedo years later.

A blue, pink and mauve sky garnished the surroundings of the Stormbearer Mountains. The summery breeze, warm as the light of the bright sun, comforted those who walked along the path of fallen leaves, wild flowers and the smell of mint. A beautiful landscape presented itself for sore eyes to see.

A certain Alchemist was working on his new masterpiece, relaxing under the few rays of light that came with dusk, painting the one he considered the most beautiful person to ever put a foot on Teyvat. Mixing the colours of nature, he portraited on the sketch book the view he had of his fiancée and the scenery, all of it worthy of a cheesy romance novel and a fantasy book.

"How much time do you need?" Y/N asked in a tired tone, trying not to shift her position, "I'm getting crumps on my face from smiling."

The man didn't answer at the moment, considering for a brief time her question and filling a space on the page that still needed his attention. At last, he looked at her and smiled at the image he had the honour of witnessing. The girl, dressed in a summer white and blue dress, was slightly pouting at the lack of talking from his part. Her hair danced with the wind and he thanked Barbatos for letting him see her golden locks fly around her face.

"Just a little more, my love," he answered, his attention shifting back to the drawing in front of him.

"You said that an hour ago," the girl sighed, putting a smile again on her face so she didn't disrupt her lover from painting her, "I thought you wanted to go see Sucrose before the sun came down. Oh! And also, you promised Klee you'd visit her."

He hummed, immersed in the way her features took a hardened expression when she tried to remember something that needed to be done. Brows furrowed and fore finger on her right cheek, she looked at him in search of a comment from the Alchemist.

"Albedo! Are you listening to me?"

"You're so beautiful." mumbled the man, lost in her and the blush that was forming on her visage.

Shameless and, at the same time, honest and shy. That was Albedo, the one she was engaged to. Such an honourable and good man, someone who loved her as much as the Sea loved its waves, as much as the birds loved the Wind, as much as a Dwelling loved the warmth of the fire. He gave her his everything and from the bottom of his own person, and she was grateful for it.

"I'm sorry" he promptly said, coughing on his palm to hide the evident embarrassment he felt, "It wasn't my intention to make you uncomfortable."

At that, she couldn't help but laugh. He was such a beautiful person, always searching her comfort and well-being before anyone else's, always taking care of her and looking for her. A pure soul, she would venture to affirm.

"Don't be silly, sweetheart," Y/N chuckled, positioning once again for him to portray her, "you know I love it when you compliment me. Now, c'mon, finish before the sun falls."

"As you wish."

One more hour of dirtying their hands in paint and observing the marvellous dusk that came upon them, they left to visit Sucrose, who was willing to tell Albedo about her advances in the research they both were working on.

"That's impressive, Sucrose," Albedo praised the girl, reading the documents and correcting those things he found could be improved.

Y/N turned off the conversation, not really interested in the depths of the Alchemy. She respected what the husband to be and her friend did for a life and she couldn't be prouder, but that didn't mean she wanted to hear the endless conversations about properties a flower could have.

After saying goodbye to the little Alchemist, they both headed to say hello to little Klee, who was mad at them for coming so late, it was already her time for bed and, as she said, 'We can't go bomb fishing!', followed by a 'Do you not love Klee?' Reassuring the little bomb crazy kid was more draining than she could imagine, but she did it for Albedo, nonetheless.

The afternoon turned into the late hours of the night, lilac sky was now dark and adorned with stars. The Alchemist had intertwined his fingers with Y/N's, sighing in content, allowing himself to relax at the warmth of her hand and the serenity reigning in Mondstadt.

"Maybe we should head home, you seem exhausted," commented Albedo after watching his fiancée yawn for the third time in ten minutes.

"That would be great, actually." Y/N yawned again, gaining a quiet chuckle from the man next to her.

No one talked again, everything already said until the moment to bid goodnight when they laid in bed. Albedo, being the reserved man he was, kept himself in his side of the bed, not too confident to spoon his girl still.

The silence was only accompanied by Albedo's soft snores. Darkness decorated the walls of the room in the AM. The sense of being trapped growing inside Y/N as she thought of the implications of her new life. She was engaged to an incredible man, who told her how beautiful she was and how much he loved her every single day; who went with her on strolls and made her laugh; who could teach her more than she could ever imagine; who appreciated her as she was.

Still, she felt nothing. At all.

She liked Albedo, that was clear. Who wouldn't like Albedo? He was the perfect man. On more than one occasion, Y/N had Amber and Barbara drooling about how lucky she was to be with someone like him. She knew she was the luckiest girl in Teyvat, most women simped over Diluc or Albedo. But, at the same time, she only felt guilt for being with him without actually loving him.

Anxiety growing on her, she decided to stand up. She walked out of the room, being careful not to disrupt Albedo's sleep, and headed to the transport point, she needed to be away from any form of human activity, she felt like shouting and hitting the first thing she could see. Breathing becoming a very tedious task as she approached the device, opting to go to Mt. Aocang. If she was going to wake someone up, she preferred an Adeptus who wouldn't ask more than any nosy human.

The wind, colder than that afternoon, calmed her to the point her lungs could take the oxygen she had been trying to get for minutes. The orange leaves obscured by the night reminded her of the hair she used to love so much. The hair of that man she had once despised, then loved, and then lost.

He, who claimed to be brave enough to enter her heart, had been the one to take it and keep it even until those days. Y/N noticed how her breathing became irregular again, she was used to it, every time she thought about the Harbinger. That repulsive, irresponsible, dishonest, cunning, intelligent and breath-taking man she couldn't forget. How had she let it come so far?

Albedo gave her everything, yet her heart yearned Childe's love. How pathetic.

"Fuck you, Childe!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, not caring for the Adepti, not caring for those who could hear her cursing the Harbinger Tartaglia at 2 a.m. a Thursday night. "You ruined me, you motherfucker!"

So many fights, so many make outs, so much love making, so many nights under the stars trying to comprehend their feelings for the other. All of that for nothing. Like the bitter cold of Snezhnaya they froze, their hearts on their sleeves, light that came from the satellite above turned off.

"You know, sometimes I feel like you don't like me that much." she remembered him saying, his characteristic smirk on his face, "It's true we had our... abrasions, but girlie, c'mon, don't be so stiff."

She could clearly see in her mind how his hands came to her waist, grabbing her in a gentle but at the same time rough grip. A shivered down her spine, in the present and in the pass, and she was sure she would feel it in the future, too.

"How am I supposed to trust you, Harbinger?" she had said, crossing her arms after pulling away from him.

"Easy, trusting me."

And she did. She felt like a fool for allowing him to be so near, to had felt love from him, for loving him.

"Are you feeling okay? You look pale, my love," Albedo commented, a hand of his on the forehead of his lover, a worried expression on his face.

"Yes, Albedo, don't worry, I didn't sleep too well last night," Y/N reassured him, smiling slightly at her fiancé.

The Alchemist hummed, nodding to himself and returning to his work. The girl had returned to their room after a couple of hours in Mt. Aocang, praying for Albedo to not had noticed her absence. Apparently, he didn't. Had he noticed he would had already asked about it, or so she thought.

"I was thinking about visiting Liyue today, there are some materials there I need for my research," Albedo said after some minutes, looking at her, "I was wondering if you'd like to come."

Y/N's heart dropped. She had to say yes, how could she say no to Albedo? He wanted to spend time with her while still working, an effort she really appreciated. But, going to Liyue? What if he was there? Strolling those streets the two of them had travelled a thousand times.

But his gaze was still on her, waiting patiently for a reply. Doubtfully, she considered all her options: not going and upsetting Albedo; going and crossing him; going and being unable to continue due to the memories. No option was good, she had to choose between her fiancé's well-being and hers. 'He's made so any sacrifices for me'.

"I would love to, love."

Merchants selling, people buying, contracts being signed. That was Liyue in all its glory. Red, green and blue being the most recurrent colour themes on the walls, roofs and gardens, a gift to anyone who wanted to visit a paradise.

Albedo was buying some materials while Y/N stood next to him, not looking at anyone's face in case Childe decided to make one of his classic appearances. She grabbed Albedo's sleeve as a way to comfort herself, reassuring one time and one time again that she didn't have that much of bad luck to cross him in such a huge city.

She turned her head to look around at last, brave to see the stores and Liyue's people. Many of them knew who she was, having helped most of them at least in one occasion, great people with beautiful and peaceful lives. She had that now, at Albedo's side. But why did she feel like it wasn't what she wanted?

The red mask in one of the stalls froze her in her place, it looked identical to Childe's. She knew it wasn't his, of course, he was too involved in the Fatui and too wealthy to pledge his mask, but it made her remember him and one of the many memories she had with him in Liyue, again.

"Girlie, don't be like that" Childe exclaimed, smiling at her with bravado, "You don't have to feign you don't want that bracelet."

"I don't want it," repeated her for the third time, growing irritated.

"I have enough money to buy it for you, darling," the Harbinger insisted, taking her left hand in one of his and kissing her knuckles.

"How charming," she murmured ironically, rolling her eyes and pulling her hand out of his grasp.

"I know," he smirked, going after her, "and I also know how much you love when I act like a gentleman."

"How would you know that if you've never acted like one?" she snorted, watching his expression turn into an offended one.

"I'm a gentleman, you just can't appreciate my efforts to woo you," he replied with a pout.

"Aw, little Childe can't take a no for an answer," Y/N continued to tease him, smiling slightly at his spoiled brat's act.

"Very well, little lady, you're not having that bracelet," he stamped and turn away from her, walking without a real direction.

"Not that I wanted it!" she shouted at the distance.

Needless to say, she found the bracelet in her purse that night with a cheesy note that claimed 'To my favourite and stubborn traveller, with love, Childe'.

She still had it in her wrist, accompanying her wherever she went, reminding her of the stupid man that gifted it to her. Golden with Snezhnaya patterns, orange jewelry decorating the surface of the material. Albedo never said anything about it, never asked, and she was grateful for it, he knew to respect her space.

Her fiancé had just finished purchasing what he needed, looking at her with a loving gaze. She felt nothing, only appreciation, and she felt awful for not returning his feelings at their best, he deserved to be loved and spoiled. However, she missed him, she missed what they had.

The grey sky announced the storm that was coming, thunder and lightning appearing to give a performance of nature power. She had fought, walked, ran and danced in rain. She had danced, kissed and loved. But nothing of it with Albedo.

"Now a step to the left" instructed Childe, grabbing her waist with his left hand and her hand with his right one, "and now turn around... That's it! Perfect! You're a natural."

"Stop lying," she laughed, following what he was saying and dancing with him in a forgotten valley in some old ruins, "I can't dance for the love of Barbatos."

"I think you're really good, almost seductive," he purred, kissing her jaw and going down her neck, "seeing you move your hips like that just" an animalistic growl came from the back of his throat.

"Okay, calm down big guy, we're not fucking here."

The sound of thunder interrupted his reply, confusing them both for a moment. Suddenly, rain poured and soaked them wet. Y/N looked for somewhere they could go to shelter from the storm, but Childe just laughed and started making her dance again.

"What the hell are you doing, pee-brain!" she exclaimed, desperate.

"Dancing with you under the rain. Isn't it romantic?" he asked, smug as always.

"Romantic until we catch a hypothermia."

He didn't budge. Swaying them both with the dark landscape behind them, leaves flying around, wind aggressive. But nothing mattered as they looked at each other; love, affection and lust hidden in their souls, wanting nothing more than to indulge to the other and become one. How can anyone love this much? How can feelings root that deep? Childe was the only answer to those questions.

With nothing but a soft caress to her cheek, he smashed his lips on hers, kissing her while the rain accentuated the wet sounds. Everything with him was wild, but so addictive she couldn't help but coming undone, indulging to everything he asked silently from her. A kiss in the rain never felt so good.

"I'll be right back, I just need to drop this at Mingxing Jewelry," Albedo said, giving her a peck before leaving.

She stood there for a few moments, wondering what she could do white she waited for her lover. The rain was nearing Liyue Harbor, Albedo had told her he needed to do a couple of things more before going to the transport point to return home. She felt like throwing up, not a single spot in the city did not remind her of the love of her life, including their ugliest moments as a couple.

"How could you!?" Y/N screamed, feeling completely devastated and deceived.

"I had to! I'm sorry, okay?"

"No! It's not okay!" his indifference was breaking her heart, looking at him with disappointment, "Again! You did it again!"

"I was ordered to!" he shouted, his voice the same tone as hers, wrath in his eyes, "I have a job and you knew about it when you decided to fuck me!"

"What the hell, Childe!" she cried, "First of all, you nearly destroy Liyue! Again! Not only once but twice!" she was tired, everything was going down in front of her and she didn't want to watch it come to ruins, "And fuck you? You mean love you?"

"Love, sex, everything's the same, isn't it?" he replied, calmer and returning to his indifferent tone.

"W-what do you mean?" the fuming storm stopped to bring an eye of the hurricane, waiting patiently to unleash the tsunami over them.

"What you heard; I don't find a difference between the two concepts."

"You're lying," she murmured, unbelieving. How could he say that when an hour ago he was looking at her with so much love? Was it all an act? No, you can't feign feelings so deep.

"You're just too fool to see it, girlie," his smirk appeared, making her shake in fear, fear of losing what she cared about, "confusing terms and assuming things without asking."

"You're lying." she repeated, more to herself than for him to hear. He sighed, as if he was done with her.

"Think what you want. Now, there are people waiting for me. Until next time, girlie."

The shattering of her heart served up as the soundtrack of his departure. The leaves that had been once so vibrant and full of colour now danced around her in muted tones, mocking her. That was it, the end of their love. The palace the resembled their union fell into pieces, she needed to let go of him. The words he said cut deeper than a knife, made her feel cold. But how could she let go if she still loved him?

"So now you're with the Alchemist," a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts, making her turn to the source of it.

There he was. Orange hair and piercing blue eyes. His smirk wasn't present in the portray he displayed of himself, walking as the noble man he said he was. Her heart raced for the first time in years, asking her for indulgence, for permission to feel.

"Yes," was the first thing she said after some minutes processing what was happening. Childe was there, in front of her, "yes, I'm with Albedo."

"I see," he commented, uninterested. She thought that was all the interaction they would have, that he would go away again and leave her live her life, but she had to know better, "even if you can't forget me, you allow yourself to be with someone else?"

"What is it to you?" Y/N felt offended, who did he think he was to reprimand her in such a dirty way? He couldn't know she wasn't over him, could he?

"It's unfair for both of you. You see, love shouldn't feel like you owe something to someone just because they love you." Childe said, his gaze falling at the bracelet for a couple of seconds before looking at the landscape, "You're fooling him and yourself."

"And what would you know about love?" the question came in a bitter tone. She was angry, how dare he talk about love when he did her so wrong? When he hurt her so much?

"Touché." Childe gave her a sincere smile that reached his eyes, it was breath-taking. Y/N felt her stomach twirl and her heart jump at the sight of such a beautiful scenario, "Glad to see you well, Y/N. See ya!"

And like that, he left the place as if he hadn't turned her world around again. She missed him, she admitted to herself that she missed him. She missed his wild nature, his odd conversations, the mystery wrapping around him. She couldn't forgive him, but she couldn't live without him, either. That's the way she loved him.

Once Albedo returned from his errands, they both went to the transport point to return to Mondstadt. The way back was silent, but not a comfortable one as they always had, there was some tension lingering in between them. She wanted to attribute it to the tension she had been carrying since her encounter with Childe, but deep down she knew there was something else.

When they entered their house, they both changed into their sleeping garments without sharing a word, waiting for the other to be the first one to break the silence. Y/N didn't have it in her to be the brave one in the situation at hand, so, finally, Albedo spoke.

"I know you're not over him," he said, calmly, but there was jealousy in his tone.

She was surprised to hear him say those words. She never mentioned Childe before, less being in a relationship with him. She wanted to feel fear, the same one she felt when her argument with Childe broke them apart, but she felt nothing at all. Why? Why couldn't she be in love with a man life him?

"What?"

"You know what I'm talking about, Y/N." Albedo sighed, sitting at the edge of their shared bed.

"B-but", she stuttered, searching for words, "H-how do you know...?"

"There were rumours... some years ago, about the 'traveller' being with one of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. It was during your time at Liyue."

She nodded, understanding, but really not understanding anything, "Did you believe them?"

"I can't say yes, but I can't say no, either." Albedo looked at her, he didn't look angry, and that made her feel a little bit better. "I just couldn't know if it was true or not because I wasn't there."

"I see." another moment of silence followed. She took a deep breath and looked at him in the eyes, "Why do you say that I'm not over him, though?"

"There are so many signs, you aren't the subtlest person, love." he chuckled, "The bracelet has Snezhnaya patterns and you haven't taken it out in all these years. I can only assume it was a present from Tartaglia."

Y/N nodded again, impressed with how observant Albedo was and with his deduction skills. She wished for the hundredth time that day that she would have fell in love with him and not with the Harbinger.

"I'm so sorry-" she began, but was quickly interrupted by her fiancé.

"Don't." he commanded, "That's not the only thing that gave you away."

"What do you mean?"

"Your late night trips."

'He knew' she thought, searching for any clues that could tell her when he had discovered it, but there were none. 'He has known all this time.'

"Why haven't you said anything?" she asked.

"I wanted to give you space," he began, "I must admit, however, that at first I thought you were cheating on me."

"I would never-" she was interrupted again, a kind gaze on his eyes.

"I know, I know. I realized when you came home smelling like grass and mint and not with the cologne of another man."

It was silent again, Y/N tried to find anything she could say to make him feel better, but she couldn't even understand himself. Why isn't she feeling her heart shattering? She knew why, but she didn't want to indulge in that feeling.

"I'm so sorry, Albedo. I really am."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not." those words sounded identical to the ones she had directed to Childe once upon a time.

"I am aware that you don't love me the way I love you."

"Albedo-"

"But it's okay, I can love both of us enough to fill that gap."

She was at a loss of words. Had she heard it right? What did he mean? Albedo was so calm, so ethereal, looking at her fondly even when he knew she didn't feel the same. He was going to marry a woman that didn't want him the same way she wanted her. And even though he was aware of that, he was smiling.

"Why?" she wondered out loud.

"Because that's how it works, that's the way I love you, until you can return my feelings."

The leaves that danced aggressively at the other side of the window stayed still, processing the scene going on in the room of the Alchemist and the Traveller. Their colour coming back to a vibrant one, giving her hope of being able to love again, to feel something.

Her love with Childe was like the Sun and the Moon, so in love they were crazy for each other, but impossible and unworkable. But, Albedo loved her like the Sea loved its waves, like the birds loved the Wind, like a Dwelling loved the warmth of the fire, and she was going to return it. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but she would. And when she did, she would love him as much as the Leaves loved their trees, as much as the Lake loved the rain that floods it, as much as the Horizon loved dusk.

She bid goodbye to Childe that night, leaving the bracelet in the drawer in her nightstand. Adorning her hand only was the ring Albedo had gifted her.

"See you, Childe," she murmured at 2 a.m. before falling in her slumber.

[captzexx]

Send 🤠 to meet my muse from a different verse! For Eldridge Candell!

A soft hiss of the metal door sliding open announced the arrival of the witch hunter, the soft splattering of acid rain to the metal floor as the door slid shut behind him.  A soft electronic voice spoke as he stood in the doorway, advising him to please wait before the misting of salt water and thrum of fans to dry him off.  The heavy leather coat flapped and shook from the blower above, washing away the toxic tears of nature mingled with the recycled man made ones.  White bleached stains littered the well used coat, the hood just the same as it was drawn back to reveal his rebreather and rubber cap mask.  This was the future, all hail the conquerors.  

Beneath his feet the drain would echo with the gargles of the bleached sewers that lead from the apartment.  This place was lucky with its locations, a lack of stains about the floor meant the plumbing was actually well taken care of.  As the blower came to a thrumming half, the electronic voice would thank him and welcome him to the home of the Bolivers.  There was no response other than shrugging out of his coat and pulling away the mask with measured steps to follow out of the muck room. 

A hanging rack was present as he hung his coat first followed by his mask, the sucking of the rubber cap leaving his balding head to be dropped in a sanitation sink.  The thigh high rubber boots would also be peeled away by a short zipper and effort to reveal the dry dark pants that matched his coat and tie.  Smoothing his suit clear of wrinkles with a steam wand and checking his pockets, a grim faced middle aged man would enter the foyer of his client.

“Inquisitor Candell, thank the maker,” came a pleasant and fake voice, a smiling plastic face, far too smooth to be real regarding him with disinterest.  Eldridge Candell nodded to the man who called his name, his leather shoes clicking softly across fine marble flooring of Mr Boliver.  A chandelier of floating lights lit the room in a mid afternoon glare, warming and comforting in direct contrast to the outside.  Greek furniture meant to give the reflection of learned opulence with its long couches and ivory white finish.  The center of the room was a masterpiece, a marble fountain depicting a pair of intertwined mermaids as crystal water bubbles and spilled about them.  The water silent in its splashing as the mermaids hummed and whispered to each other in another language not meant for man.  

Fake.  

All of it.  

Fake as the very man rose to greet him with a bent wrist and alabaster teeth.  The inquisitor's eye knew the truth and could see it all for what it truly was, the optical cybernetic piercing easily through the veil of binary.  Flat empty walls of metal, a sleeping chamber attached to one wall, easily mistaken for a coffin than a bed.  Poetic justice at its finest.  

Technology had worked its magic to create comfort to a dying world and its deteriorating hosts.  Deteriorating being an understatement to the bulbous figure in the activity chamber that shook and blinked in its cybernetic dreamscape.  The contrast between the bald, soft body of Boliver hooked to so many wires was hard to swallow compared to how he saw himself in the dream.  The truth seen by Eld’s one blue eye and the blipping twist of the lie in his green one was the Order's burden to bear.  It made inquisitors jaded and cynical and he was no different.  With a deep breath drawn, Candell knew the perfunctory behavior required of his office and what the Bolivers offered the Order in funding.

The inquisitor shook his hand.  “Councilman Boliver.”

The fake plastic smile widened as he shook back daintily, his sweet baritone echoing in the hall.  “I trust you know why I called upon you.”

“I do, I understand you have a haunting.”  The witch hunter tried not to show his eagerness in releasing his hand from the warm silicon of the bureaucrat’s flesh.  Boliver knew though as he turned away to a tray of refreshments, mostly consisting of bottles of wine and fruit.  Eld would frown again as his clear vision tried not to see what was really on that tray.

Boliver nodded as he scooped avocado to a piece of toast, the crunch causing Eld’s face to grimace hard as he folded his hands behind his back.  Boliver chewed but his voice never faltered as he spoke to the public servant.  “Indeed, poor dear was having a tizzy of a time and then went into all sorts of spasms.  Screaming and whining, it was quite unseemly for a program of her caliber.  Especially with the governor logging in just before.”

“I understand, I’ll take a look and see if I can find the root of the error,” Eld replied with practiced ease.  It usually ended the small talk instantly.  The councilman would wave him off as his eyes were now drawn to the growing lewd movements of the mermaids.

Closing his green eye, Eld would stalk back toward the entrance of the apartment.  It was easier to be in reality for this work.  Fishing into his coat pocket, his tablet would be drawn out and unfolded as a facial scan followed by retinal scan enacted for security.  The black box lit the darkened room and his face before bringing up the welcome screen of Xbow industries.  

“Bandit,” Eld would say softly as the tablet focused and processed his avatar, the black dog sitting patiently for orders.  A sliver of a smile was given to the digital beast, who in turn wagged its tail steadily in an otherworldly AI way.

“Good boy,” Eld would say though he knew the wireless connection between the two hardly required audible orders.  The dog tilted it’s head as Eld began to relay the situation of the haunting.  The rogue program went haywire, likely an error in the root and needed a restart.  The dog took it all in swiftly in a matter of seconds before the prompt floated between the partners.  “Engage?”

“Kahar.”

The dog shimmered a moment and disappeared, a loading circle turning as the inquisitor waited for the search to complete.  The Xbow-19 was a couple years older than the newer 22,  but it worked just fine for what they needed it for.  Eld yawned and began to feel his eye ache as he kept it closed for so long, sighing as he opened it back to the dream.  He wished he hadn’t.

It was a massacre.  Once had been opulence now was carnage as the sun had set in the lighting to match the red of the blood and gore about.  His shoes gently stepped through the digital visceral as he tried to calm his stomach and nerves of being caught between both worlds.  The green eye drank in the horror as smear of blood and guts hung from the walls to stain the tile below mixed with plastic flesh of binary death.  All alabaster skin, over and over replicated as larger pieces sat thrown about like discarded dinner bones.  The teeth marks and torn flesh made it very apparent dinner had become a feast.  

Eld’s instinct kicked into high gear as he checked Bandits search time.  65 percent complete. 

 “Damn.”  The witch hunter heard himself say aloud, echoing in the grotesque silence of the ravaged apartment.  It did not fall on deaf ears.  The fountain was empty.

Rising from beyond, the two marble mermaids splattered in dripping red eyed him from across the room.  Their eyes no longer pale empty but sharp and bright.  Human.  

Eld accessed his security protocol, his hand in the real world shaping with a thumb up and index extended much like a child at play.  Digitally the hand now bore the black stock of an Ares Predator, hardly a unique pistol but extremely reliable in his mind.  Lifting the weapon to aim at the creatures in the dream and his hand in reality he would stare in the monsters’ visage and the twitching wired form of Boliver in reality.

“Do not move.”  Eld’s voice echoed in both worlds as he trained his finger gun on the pair of slithering creatures, a habit of grounding himself in reality.  His green whirling and searching to track the digital monsters as they refused his order and moved through the binary gore.  Eld peered up just a moment to Bandit’s search counter, 82 percent.

“Why?”  One mermaid spoke through red rimmed marble lips,  her head tilting back and forth as she watched him.  “What do you hope to do, Inquisitor?  Are you going to capture us?  No.  You have only one job.”

The other mermaid swam about the other side, she seemed to shout a whisper directly at him.  “Kill.”

Marble bodies shifted and swam through the air as the let out a siren wail into the holographic night, the gore and world trembling from their surge in the councilman’s server resources.  Mouths wide and gnashing teeth as the beautiful faces twisted into gaunt feral masks of anguish and hate, their clawed hands grasping about at the tender pale meat of Boliver.  Hands and legs launched through the air to splatter against walls as the still living piece of the councilman moaned from his position pinned to the floor.  It was a delirious wail as the appendages began to try and reform out of the Dream’s programming only to be torn off with a vicious predator’s might.  The screams heightened into maddening laughter as the statues kept Boliver a writhing torso.

Eld grimaced as he stood his ground, the maddening swirling vision of horrific beauty that were the statues trying to dizzy him.  The same in the real world kept him locked in place as he thought again of the percentage.  88 percent.  He had to stall just a little longer.  “Are you sure?  These days the Order is a bit more forgiving and curious of the ramifications of the THUL program.”

Both statues hesitated a moment, their eyes narrowing as a key word had broken their predatory game into far more dangerous territory.  

Eld continued to hold his ground as he licked his lips in the real world.  “I see you are very aware.”

“They stole what wasn’t his.”

“You sold it to them.”  Eld replied coldly, his fear ebbing at the drop of percentile.  93 percent.

“They trapped me.  I don’t deserve this.”  The mermaids were speaking in one voice now, their bodies swirling and coming together as they reached for one another.  

“You signed that contract.”

“I didn’t know!”  The mermaids twisted and began to meld together now,  honing their shape into melding as two tails became two legs.  Arms retracted and faces embraced in a sorrowful contact as they melted quickly into one being.  Drifting slowly to the tile floor as bare feet caught it among the short whispers of a hospital gown.  The man now there was gaunt and bowed, his head bare but for large brown and blotches along his skin.  His final moments.

For a moment Eld let out a short sigh as he lowered the finger a moment, hoping that he’d talked him down now.  The gaunt figure shook with shuddering gasps as his skin grew from blotchy and pale to graying and blue in the low light of the sunset within the dream.  Eld slowly crept closer as he lowered the pistol further to allow his hand to relax in the real world and derez the weapon in the dream with gentle release of his hand.  

The witch hunter was now kneeling before the sickening man as he gently reached a hand to his shoulder.  “What’s your name?”

“Fred,” the man gasped out as he looked back into the mismatched eyes of the inquisitor with his yellowing irises.  “Fred Mann.”

Eld sighed as he knelt before the digital construct of the lost soul, the ghost in the machine before him frightened as he probably was at the end of his life.  A hand would gently reach forward to touch the representation before a soft chime echoed in the air that caused him to look up swifting in surprise and fear.  He’d forgotten the status bar, his one eye widening as he saw the flash of status 100.

“No.”

Fred didn’t even have a chance to scream as his form began to shimmer, his mouth starting to open before the shrill sharp echo of the restart began and finished.  The yellow irises blazing a moment before paling and fading into white, the former program that had led it into it’s scandalous mermaid form pushing and tearing back again.  It was horrible to imagine what was happening to him as much as it was to watch it occur in the blink of a few seconds, eventually the black sultry eyes of the program looking up at him with dead smiles.

“Hello, Inquisitor,” they spoke as one, their volume adjusting to the former levels as they swirled in the air a moment.  “How may we serve you?”

Eld frowned and lowered his head turning away from the naked writing statues he had seen when he first came in, the dog sitting behind him with steady eyes as his task was complete.  He knew the dog wasn’t real, none of it was really.  But that fear in the ghost’s eyes, the dead memory’s pain had been very real.  Eld would softly ruffle the ears of the pixelated beast, closing the program with the creature darkening and disappearing back into stasis.  A shaky sigh to follow as he voiced the command to the program.  “Revert program to user settings.  Clear history and cache.  Run diagnostic.”

“By your will, Inquisitor Candell,” the mermaids spoke again and began to swirl in the air with a gentle hum of electronic work as the world around him cleaned up and pieced back together.  

Eld would close his green eye and the falsehood would fade to reveal the empty metal room, a hand gently reaching into his pocket to pull out a leather cap.  Lifting it to the eye, he could feel the suction grip his skin and snap into place, initiating the synthetic eye into status and giving his mind a break.  Light knew he needed it.

A gurgling, exhausted voice rose into the reality behind him.  Bolivar’s true voice whiny and high pitched compared to the dulcet tenor of his virtual representation.  “My thanks to you, Inquisitor.  I assure you I will have the credits awarded to the Order by the end of the day, along a small stipend for yourself.”

Eld continued into the room, his hand passing over the motion sensor to let him back into the muck room.  He’d had enough of disgusting bureaucrats, let him send the payment and be done with it, he’d make sure the ‘stipend’ ended up with the main bounty.  The greed made him ill.

A few moments later the Inquisitor would be covered again in the same rubber as he came in with his mask rebreather silently filtering the intense pollution of the city.  By the clocks it was supposedly morning, but from above it would always be raining. 

@safrona-shadowsun

(I’m so sorry this took so long to put together, but it’s closing on 2020 now and I had so much done it was best to get it finished!  I hope you enjoy this cyberpunk kind of idea for Eld and the Order I imagined.)

[snowbellewells]

Face to Face in the Broad Daylight: Chapter Six

{Chapter six is here in this sequel to my werewolf, alternate season two and beyond fic. This second story in the same universe partially exists just because I wanted to revisit these couples and enjoy a bit more of their fluffy happily ever afters. However, we have definitely gotten them into some new surprises and challenges, and of course Rumplestiltskin seems bent on slipping out of their control and back to his usual scheming and plotting. I left off at an intense place, and so I didn’t want to keep you waiting too much longer for this penultimate (I think?) full chapter...}

Previous chapters: Prologue  // Chapter One  //  Chapter Two  // Chapter Three     // Chapter Four  //  Chapter Five

~~A million thanks yous once again to @branlovestowrite for the gorgeous story banner she created!

~~ And to the @cssns for the opportunity to turn this story idea into a reality!

~ chapter six: all comes down to this

The lake surface before her, over her two frightening opponents’ shoulders, continued to swirl and churn uneasily, quite obviously part of whatever rite was about to be performed. The sinister flashes of sickly greenish-yellow light drew her attention with lurid flair despite the more pressing threats standing right before her.

“W- What are you going to do?” Belle countered with as much gumption as she could manage, regardless of the reasonable fear that also gripped her. She lifted her chin, now that they were face-to-face, and she discovered - grateful for small mercies - she was free to move again and could at least stare down the man she had wasted so much hope and energy on, letting him know with all the venom a gaze could muster that she was finally aware; he was nothing more than the selfish coward he had always been. That didn’t make him any less dangerous, of course, and Belle had a stray moment of absurd pride in herself that her voice had only wavered once in speaking to him. 

Morgana for her part, seemed to have lost interest the moment she’d gathered Belle wasn’t a magical threat or some unknown foe, had released her paralyzing unnatural grip, and taken a step back when Rumple moved forward to deal with his former maid, but Belle couldn’t comfortably take her eyes off the dark-robed and frighteningly cold-eyed woman for more than a few seconds. She could see the cylinder containing Merlin’s hat, just as it had been depicted in the source she’d found, idly held in the enchantress’ hand - and the power radiating from either the talisman or the sorceress herself, or quite possibly both, was so palpable it raised the small hairs on her arms, even without possessing any magical abilities herself.

Yawning and inspecting her nails for a moment, as if the fact that her conspirator was trying to decide the fate of an innocent right beside her was so common as to bore her, the woman finally flicked startling, almost violet eyes toward Rumple, raising a dark brow in question at his hesitation. “Well, are you handling this disruption or should I?” Her hand not clutching the hat slid from within the fold of her robe once more, unfurling toward Belle in a way that signalled only malicious intent, but Rumple gave a sharp shake of his head, arm jerking out to forestall her action. “You will leave her to me,” he spoke harshly, with as much command as she had ever heard.

Morgana huffed and turned back toward the lake, stalking away with the rigid poise Belle couldn’t help but liken with a shiver to the now-deceased former mayor and Evil Queen, only saying as she did, “Well, be quick about it. We cannot lose the hour.”

Belle’s heart almost regained a normal rhythm for a moment, and she readied herself to speak, knowing she might only get one chance to convince him or get him to see reason. He was only slightly less daunting than the powerful stranger, in that she did know some of his weaknesses, the regrets and hurts that hid beneath the beastly mask, and if he had lost all desire to fight off the evil within, then she could still appeal to a different area of his self interest. He had wanted to find his son for as long as she had known him, and he had a grandson right there who would surely accept him still if he only tried; however, murderous vengeance and a spree of unstoppable destruction would endanger both of those things she knew he still wanted.

Before she could put any of those things into audible words, however, Rumple drew even nearer, his eyes glittering with an unholy light. Though his skin was far from the glittering scales she remembered in their fairy tale world, and his suit was fitted to the normal human pawnbroker he meant to portray here, Belle was struck vividly by his likeness to the mad imp she’d once shared a castle with - the Dark One’s prisoner before she had ever been the Evil Queen’s. She was struck suddenly by the real danger she had put, not only herself, but she and Graham’s child, in and the sickening knowledge that if madness and lust for ultimate power had already overtaken his reasoning, then there would be no reaching him as she had hoped.

Indeed they were so close now, he was practically in her face. The look on his stony visage, sharp and uncaring as she had ever seen it, was completely at odds with the gesture of his hand coming up to stroke her smooth, fair cheek once more almost wistfully. She flinched at the touch, and he pulled away instantly at her reaction, the strange detachment vanishing and being replaced with disgust and outrage.

Both stunned Belle, as they seemed emotions more due herself than him, but the words he spat made her blood run cold - and cemented the error in judgement she had made in coming here. It had already been much, much too late for reasoning.

“You dare to recoil from me?” he hissed, the mere elder gentleman facade sliding from his features at last and revealing the hideous green monster that did indeed resemble a crocodile with razor-sharp teeth to devour, much as Killian had always said. “When you…” his chest almost heaved with rage and indignation, “you let that cur touch you and you’re carrying his mongrel pup?”

Belle stumbled back aghast at the venom for her unborn child, as stung as if he had physically struck her. Her mind reeled at the hatred he could have for a mere fetus of no threat to him and completely innocent of any ill or wrong, and she stretched her hand in an impotent protective gesture across her midsection as she gasped and stared at the unrecognizable man before her, no longer anyone she had ever known.

“You think I don’t see what you’re about my ‘Beauty’?” he gave the fairy tale appellation an almost mocking sing-song cadence as he made up the distance she had backed away, bringing them close once again. “You came here thinking you could appeal to the poor spinner who once tried to please you, who hoped to be “good” enough to make you happy, only to spare that lot of foolish heroes, the one you’ve replaced me with, and that abomination you carry within you. Let’s be rid of that delusion now… No deal.” He spoke icily, reaching toward her as she shook her head ‘no’, pleading soundlessly as tears of shock and terror streamed down her face, “Rumple, please,” she whispered brokenly, “don’t come any closer.”

Gripping her arm so that she couldn’t back away again, his clutch like an iron shackle at her wrist, Rumple’s other hand rested on the growing swell of her stomach, just above hers that still tried to shield the gentle curve from his touch. “Perhaps,” he murmured silkily, the calm resolve of deadly intent even more appalling than the unhinged rage and hurt had been. “Perhaps I should provide a demonstration of just how little any of those things you treasure, that you would hope to preserve, matter to me in the face of receiving my due at last.”

Belle was still shaking her hand in denial, trying to pull away frantic with desperation to free herself. It was all to no avail though, as his palm contracted on her stomach briefly, pressing firmly for a horribly long moment, and then he turned and strode purposefully back to his compatriot, who had been watching the whole exchange with fiendish glee once it had turned in the Dark One’s favor - almost as if she were sated by despair and anguish.

The scene before her blurred then, the effect of whatever Rumple had done creating a slight delay before it hit her and brought Belle to her knees. Her vision swam, the ground below and sky above spinning dizzily and exchanging places. A horrible pulling, tightening ache expanded from behind her naval out through the rest of her body, until she was falling to her side and curling in upon herself, every inch of her pulsing with pain.

And then she was screaming in utter agony, knew she was but still unable to stop, as if even her own reactions were now out of her control. All she knew was that her surroundings continued to dim and focused mainly on Morgana and Rumple’s legs as they stood by the rising whirlpool the lake had become, clearly continuing with their ritual, her inconvenient interruption of no further consequence.

Just as everything was about to fade away from her, she heard the unmistakable long howl of a wolf on the night wind answering her tormented cry. For that one second, she wasn’t even sorry that Graham must have woken to find her gone and followed her. Her heart panged in recognition, hoping she could see him before everything went dark.  Her mind lamented brokenly on how foolish she had been to ever come here, and yet she waited on a held breath, still pained and terrified, but pricked more by conscience at the hurt her love would suffer if her rash actions had brought harm to their little one as well.

She knew Rumple and Morgana must have heard the warning cry as well, but her mind was too foggy and confused to focus on what they were doing from where she lay. All she saw, with grateful eyes, was a large, russet-colored wolf bursting from the brush above, near where she had been hiding not that long ago, and then plunging, teeth bared, to her side. Through her bleary, half-conscious perception, she found herself vaguely glad he was a wolf at that moment. It seemed so daunting, powerful - almost invincible to harm, even if not fully the case. True, both of these magic wielders he faced were powerful enough to be a threat to man or beast, but there was something solid, strong and intimidating, about the large lupine creature of old that Belle genuinely hoped would strike fear into the Dark One, down deep where he was still a coward at heart.

Once he reached the bottom of the slope, her wolf was at her side in seconds, a mere couple loping strides for the large animal’s ground-covering speed. Though his every quivering muscle was tensed and ready, his fur practically standing on end and a low growl rumbling constantly from the wide chest, the concern radiating off the man twined into the werewolf’s being was plain. Tawny golden eyes never left the witch and wizard before them, also braced for action - both sides seeming to gauge what the other might do - but his shaggy, reddish-brown ruffed head dipped briefly to nose at her forehead and brow, a cold, wet nose reviving her if just a bit. A concerned whine, so soft in the canine throat that Belle felt sure only she could hear it, let her know just how frightened for her he had been - and was still.

Trying valiantly, with pained and weakly uncoordinated muscles, she attempted to lift her hand and stroke his fur in reassurance, but her hand fell limp against the ground before making solid contact, and the tender way her wolf licked at the back of it resting on the dirt pained her almost as much as whatever Rumple had done to her. It was too late to stop the process they had set in motion, despite her efforts. She had tricked and hidden her intentions from him, and led Graham into danger anyway, even as she had tried to protect him from harm.

They both watched warily as Morgana turned back toward the churning body of water, lifting her hands and causing the eerily lit typhoon to rise above its banks in a menacing swirl, clearly reacting to her magical direction. “Isn’t that sweet?” Gold mocked, affording them one last cruel glance before holding up the cylinder as Morgana directed. Manic avarice lit his gaze as it turned indeed into the recognizable shape of a tall, pointed sorceror’s hat. “You will die here together, with your repulsive whelp. It was a heroic effort - foolhardy and pointless, but heroic nonetheless, dearies, I’ll give you that.”

Even as he turned back to his evil task, Graham appeared truly ready to spring and rip out the imp’s throat. The fact that one or the other of their enemies’ magic would no doubt strike him down before he could reach them, no longer seemed enough to hold the usually kind and gentle man back - not when his love and his unborn child’s lives were at stake. Belle looked up at him with tears in her eyes. If only she hadn’t thought she could handle this alone… If only she hadn’t been so stupid… If only...

Morgana’s resonant and chilling voice rose up over Rumple’s triumphant cackle of victory, her own soft sobs, Graham’s warning growl, and the whooshing of the rising waves towering over their heads now, chanting some incantation of what sounded like ancient rhyme. And then, before her spell could reach completion, everything seemed to happen at once.  Behind them, scrambling down the same embankment with more cursing and less grace, came Emma and Killian - the pirate surprisingly in human rather than wolf form. All the same, they were there, flanking she and Graham and eying their adversaries for just one chink or weakness. 

Belle wanted to stand to face them head on rather than lying in the dirt, but another blinding shock of pain ripped through her, curling her up even further and causing her to bite almost through her lip to merely whimper rather than scream in agony. Oddly, it struck her that even if they were too late to stop this ritual, if all of Rumple’s powers were unleashed again, they would still stand up to him together, and even if he took out the four - well, the five, of them her mind amended with a shudder - there were others on their side yet, and good would find a way. She had probably never sounded more like Snow or Henry, but somehow in this terrifying meeting with what might be their end, she somehow felt faith returning.

“Oh, how quaint,” Morgana simpered, “it’s the Savior herself and her own pirate knight.” She tilted her head slightly, as if considering them all like they were some sort of entertainment. With a dismissive gesture, she then levitated the cylindrical talisman, making it open and morph into the hat twirling in air. “You must know that you are too late to stop us, that soon you will be in the presence of an all-powerful Dark One, in the face of whom all attempts at resistance or control will be futile, and yet here you stand - as if it will do some good.”

As she spoke, the water crested even higher, towering over all their heads and the enchanted contents of the hat burst forth in multicolored light festooned across the sky above them like a new map of constellations.

Yet, in that unnatural glow, even as Rumple also laid the dagger on the ground beneath the levitating hat, making their preparations complete, a horrifying vision suddenly appeared before their eyes, not of Rumplestiltskin once more the cruelly green and glittering crocodile with sharp jaws wide to devour them, there is instead a terrible beauty. Morgana was the ultimate Dark One emblazoned with sudden clarity, silhouetted in unearthly flame as she reached out an unstoppable arm to crush them all. It was seconds from coming to pass, and suddenly Belle could see it unspooling with horrifying clarity. The sorceress, whatever her connection to Rumple, had never intended to aid him in cleaving himself from restraint. Instead, she meant to take his power for herself and full dominion over the realms as well. Just as her compatriot had needed the hat she could bring, she had needed his dagger to make her devious designs complete. This enchantress had somehow managed to convince the best manipulator Belle had ever known to believe she owed, or felt, some loyalty to him. Enough so that Rumplestiltskin had already laid down his jealously guarded weapon and protection in one at Morgana’s feet.

Without time to think, to plan, seemingly even to breathe, Belle knew what to do. It came to her with galvanizing certainty, a realization that rocked her to the core, even as the beams of power, like golden threads were streaming from dagger to hat to Rumple and back again over to Morgana as she chanted; a subtle, knowing gleam in her eyes now that the librarian was looking clearly.  The beams looped and re-circled back in and out between the four points of contact, both villains finally distracted by their greedy focus on the brilliant light magic and the tendrils of the dark as well, coming off of Gold and from the dagger itself, then rising in ghostly wisps to intertwine in a mantle that seemed to lie about Morgana’s shoulders.

Time moved as if strangely delayed as Belle lurched forward unsteadily, still unable to rise fully to her feet and run for her goal, still almost blinded by the pain centered in her abdomen, she soldiered on, almost rolling and then pulling herself the last few inches forward, sheerly on the desperate strength of her arms and shoulders.

Her fingertips barely grazed the now quivering hat, even as the magic seemed to sense the last strands of power from Rumple himself and the dagger, now centering over Morgana, and also to fully enliven the ancient token. Graham saw where she was going and pounced forward, practically leaping over her prone form to keep the witch away from her. Emma swung toward Gold with her own hands up, magic flickering to life between them to ward him off as well if need be. 

That proved unnecessary though, as Rumple cried out, an unearthly expression of rage, pain and bitterness when he discovered all too viscerally what Morgana had done and the extent of her betrayal. As the last vestiges of his power wreathed his former partner in crime, making her whole being glow insidiously, the hat sunk back to the ground, practically dancing upon the hard earth, shaking and moving so wildly from the amount of power thrumming between it and the Darkness’ new vessel - and it sought out more to drain from its surroundings.

“No!” the twisted imp wailed; no longer either smug pawnbroker nor controlling Dark One, but the poor, bent spinner so helpless and afraid of the world around him before magic had ever come into his life. “What have you done, you foul hag?! You’ll not even live to regret this.” Yet, even as he bellowed, his own self-maimed foot curled in again, his body bending weakly as he sought out the cane he needed not just as a dramatic embellishment any longer.

Gritting her teeth and exerting her last bit of strength, Belle managed to reach the tips of her fingers far enough to brush against the active hat. She was grasping at last chances, hoping against hope that she had timed her move correctly, that the villainess was too taken by the feeling of victory and the swell of power to notice a mere distraction as the last bits of both the Darkness and its magic settled upon her. Feeling the deceptively soft and inviting material of the hat’s wall, Belle bit her lip, said a hopeful prayer, and shoved the hat over to rest on its side, making sure to grasp the tip as she had seen detailed in her research, so that the opening, now seething as though it were a living and breathing thing, was pointed right at Morgana.

The sorceress’ unnaturally violet eyes landed on her then, widening in anger and zeroing in with a wicked shriek. “What are you doing, you measelly little girl? Haven’t you learned your lesson yet?” She made as if to stride forward and swipe the object from Belle’s grasp, but it was already too late. Belle had gotten the hat centered on their foe in time, and now Morgana was in its vortex, its sucking power already pulling at her robes and whipping her raven-dark hair about her head wildly, drawing her inexorably into itself.

“Nooooo…” the witch screeched, but she was already elongating in form, being swallowed up into the void of the Sorceror’s hat. Her final thwarted wail faded away slowly, even as Belle let her arms fall to the ground, nearly drained once more. But she couldn’t quite rest, no matter how much her body begged for it; they had to take this chance to be rid of the Darkness while they could - once and for all. 

The foreseeable immediate threat gone, she sensed almost as much as saw Graham shifting back into the man she loved, already calling her name as he ran to her side. Emma was closer, kneeling beside her and asking where she was hurt, what she could do, even as Killian still flanked them both, eyes sweeping the area as if waiting for more foes to descent. She could hear Rumple in the background, groaning and snivelling, but Belle struggled to focus just one minute more.

There! Right by Killian’s boot, near the once more nondescript looking pointed cloth hat lying calmly on the ground, was the dagger.  “Killian,” she gaped breathlessly. “The dagger, give it to me. Quick!”

Thankfully the pirate didn’t question her, merely bent, grabbed the item he had quested so long to hold in his hand, the means for his long postponed revenge at last in his grasp, and handed it over to her without even flinching.  It reiterated the difference between himself and his nemesis, Belle realized later when she thought back over the whole thing, how he could hand over the one thing he had once most desired due to the judgement that something else was better and worth the sacrifice. It was the same reason he had shown up as a human, even if his wolf was physically stronger. He wanted to support Emma, in whatever way would help her most, and so had done what allowed him to be most fully by her side. It was a sort of strength and power Rumplestiltskin had never mastered for all the magic he had held in his fingertips… the ability to share oneself fully with another and drawn strength from the bond.

Gripping the dagger’s hilt tightly, feeling the cool edges against her palm, the satisfying weight of it, now that it would finally be doing what it had been forged for, one way or another. She raised it as much as she could, and plunged the tip into the hat. Sharp steel sliced through material, piercing deep, and she waited, breath held tightly, the blade going all the way through both sides of the hat and into the ground beneath, until slowly, with a thick black cloud spewing forth before rising and evaporating into the sky, the hat disintegrated into nothingness itself. The hat was gone, and supposedly, hopefully, so was the Darkness at long last. Though it almost seemed to much to trust might finally be true after ages of battle to conquer it.

Tossing the weapon aside, Belle heaved a sigh of relief, glad she finally felt as if those around her, those she loved, were safe. As she did so however, the pain and the weakness crept back over her, making her vision swim sickly again.  Another violent throb of pain ratcheted through her, and she cried out in spite of herself, unprepared for the severity of it. She shivered, hardly registering that she felt as though she had gotten her legs in the water, even if that sensation made absolutely no sense.

“Belle!” she heard Graham’s hoarse tone call out to her in alarm, and then he was there, cradling her head and shoulder in his lap and begging Emma’s help; the only one of them who still had any sort of magic that might be able to fix whatever Rumple had done and was still wrecking havoc within her. It all seemed to be growing more distant and of less concern to her, as she let herself since back into her love’s comforting embrace. They were safe now, she thought, appeased from her own worry and self-recrimination with that knowledge. 

And then all was quiet.

Tagging a few who may enjoy: @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @therooksshiningknight @gingerchangeling @laschatzi @spartanguard @resident-of-storybrooke @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @darkcolinodonorgasm @ilovemesomekillianjones @revanmeetra87 @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @searchingwardrobes 

[honeycut-a-blog]

momentary bunhead appreciation

[raindrop-on-a-spiderweb]

When God Wasn't Watching

As requested, an AU if Patience had been a young teenager when she started her crusade--and everyone stayed their canoncal age.

***

15-year-old Patience Winslow stepped onto the train platform and into the rest of her life.

She looked around at the towering skyscrapers, mouth agape. She had never seen a building higher than the town hall in Greenhaven, and just looking at the tops of the steel behemoths made her dizzy. Someone stumbled into her and shouted a "Watch it, kid!" As her first introduction to Garland City life.

She stumbled to the side and checked her pocket. The wads of money she had stolen from Uncle Jim, a banker, were still there. They would only last her a couple pf days, but a couple of days was all she needed. Once she accomplished her goal, she did not intend on living on this earth anymore. She would be with her mommy and daddy. She would have avenged them, and they would be so proud of her, and the would be together forever, away from the cold house and the cold stares of her aunt and uncle and the cold laughs from her classmates and the cold, cold nights she cried herself to sleep. She would be warm again. She would be loved. 

Patience set out onto the cobblestone streets, money safely wadded in her pocket, and looked for a pawnshop.

***

The handle of the gun was cold in her hand. She practiced flicking off the safety and firing it behind a junkyard until the security guard told her to leave. 

She spent a chunk of her money at a hotel and consulted her meager newspaper records. One thing she was sure of was that Leonardo legally owned a nightcub called the Harp. She had seen its opening in a blurb in the paper. Her plan was simple. Fatal, but simple. But even the prospect of it made her sick to her stomach. Several times she wanted to back out, buy a ticket back to Greenhaven. But go where? Back to her aunt and uncle, who despised her? Back to loneliness and isolation and the yawning, indifferent chasm of her life?

She had made her bed and she was going to lie in it.

***

Little Italy scared her. The chaotic movement, the clamor of different languages, the bellows of the street vendors--they all unnerved her. She blended in well--with her schoolgirl uniform and hair in twin braids, she passed well as any of the littay of other girls coming back from Catholic School, lingering at Ice Cream parlors to meet their friends. Except Patience's intentions were much more sinister.

A butcher tossed a bucket full of slop and entrails into the sewer, and some splattered on her mary janes. She wrinkled her nose and jumped onto the sidewalk.

She took turn after turn, even as the day turned into evening and as the population of the street turned more and more into shady adults instead of the clash of old and young. She was starting to believe she had become lost when the spangled neon lights of the Harp came into view.

It was a popular nightclub, with burlesques every night and a bar reputed to be the best in Garland City--according to the review she had read in the paper. She knew they wouldn't let her in the front door, so she slipped down the alley. A dumpster full of stained napkins, broken glass, and vile pieces of discarded reeking trash from the backstage of the burlesque lay against the back of the nightclub. She tried the heavy metal door leading into the back of the club. No luck. 

The girl retraced her steps, feeling her way along the building. She tried the edges of the windows, shoving upward with the heels of her hands, and finally, one slid open a crack.

Patience pulled it up and scrambled  Through the window. She was a small girl even for her age and had to pull herself up before she tumbled over the window sill. She collapsed on the ground in a heap, breathing heavily. She appeared to be in some sort of storage room, with cases of whisky stacked against the wall, as well as other alcohols she could not name.

She tried the door and it slid open. The hallway was quiet they appeared to be well stocked for the night. Keeping to the shadows, she crept down the hallway.

The lights and laughter echoed from one end. She wondered where he would be--as a big-shot nightclub owner, would he be living it up on the floor or doing whatever nightclub owners did in the office? She took a chance and slunk down the hallway, away from the racket and nearer to the back of the club.

A janitor clomped by, nearly missing her, and she flattened herself against the wall. The metal of the gun was cold against her breast, the handle knocking against her ribcage every time she moved. Her sweat was so slick she was worried that it would slide down her shirt and clatter on the floor.

She peeked down another passage--this one was lined with chattering women and  half-open doors leading to what looked like dressing rooms, so she went down the opposite one. It was empty except for a single room at the back of the hall, with light peeking out from the bottom of it. She reached into her blouse and gripped her gun, and moved forward.

***

Patience stood there, unwilling or unsure what to do, then heard a voice. That smooth, distant purr made every hair on her body raise, then sent her mind into such a fury she burst through the door and aimed her gun.

A man was standing with his back to the door, a receiver held against his curly blond head. As he turned around his eyes sparked with a distant surprise but then went back to the sea blue impassiveness that she had seen only once before but remembered as clear as day. He slowly put the receiver down.

"And you are?" He said politely.

The barrel was trembling in her grip. "I--I'm--" Her brain was failing her. "I'm--don't you know who I am? You killed my parents!"

"Child," he said quietly. Then, "Sweetheart. You must have made a mistake."

Her head was pulsing. Her adrenaline was rushing. "I haven't. I know who you are. I saw you. I saw you pull the trigger--"

His eyes were dark, gentle and sympathetic. "Listen. Little one. I have never murdered anyone in my life. I own this nightclub. I inherited it from my father. Whatever you went through--sweetheart, I'm so sorry, it has nothing to do with me. Please put the gun down." He held out his hand, the light glinting off his gold rings.

Her eyes were filling up with tears. She wanted to pull the trigger. She wanted to so bad. But his voice was so gentle. So honest.

Her brain sparked a distant apprehension, just the faintest shadow, and her barrel lowered a notch.

***

Before she knew it, she was facedown on the sofa, face pressed against the red velvet. There was a crushing weight on top of her, and her arms were pinned behind her back by a hand.

She was abruptly flipped over to face a cool, composed visage, eyes cold as chips of ice. With one hand he pinned her arms down, with the other he held her revolver, barrel aimed right between her eyes. "Tell me who sent you." His voice as cold and detached as if he were reporting the weather through a radio. "The di Scarpettas? Was it Cardinale?"

Patience blinked. The reality of her situation had yet to catch up to her. "No one. I did. I'm here to murder you. You murdered my parents!" She began to struggle, but his crushing grip stilled her.

"Child, didn't your parents ever tell you not to lie?" He cocked the barrel.

"No!" She snarled back, the terror creeping down her spine and yet the fury eclipsing that. She yanked her arms. "Let go! I'll kill you! I'll kill--"

He was staring down at her, looking contemplative. Something about her seemed to convince him. His eyes were opaque, red mouth an impassive line.

"Beautiful," he said softly. 

She blinked as he ran a finger down the tear tracks on her cheeks, and hovered around the edge of her pale, angry green eyes, trying desperately not to give out to fear. He ran his fingernail around her eyes, rubbing the tears off and staring intently, perversely into her pupils.

"You would have been her age," he said.

He shifted on top of her, and suddenly his crushing weight was on her chest, and she smelled something flowery, like her aunt's perfume cabinet. Patience's whole body was trembling against his, her anger finally giving way to fear, and when he spoke his next words, a thrill of pure terror shot through her body.

"My father preferred younger girls," he whispered in her ear. "Said he liked how they wiggled and screamed. Said it made them tighter."

His lukewarm breath against her ear, the wet lave of his tongue on her skin, and his finger beneath the skirt of her pinafore made vomit heave in her throat, and she began to struggle, began to wail, fighting with all her might please if I can just get out I'll run I'll jump through the window of the storage room I'll leave Garland City I'll never come back--

She felt a smile curl against the nape of her neck. "Don't be scared, dolcezza. I'll be gentle."

***

The room was a haze of black and red, the  the black lacquer of the floor, the black glint of the typewriter, the red softness of the sofa, and the burning, wet, stinging red of--

She looked down between her legs. Blood had began to seep through the dark green threads of her skirt. The place between her legs was a mass of red and pain, cut open by a knife--or whatever he has used, but it felt like a knife, a knife of flesh and veins that left her insides throbbing and smeared.

He was talking to another man in soft Italian. The other man was tall and rough-looking with a five o'clock shadow and thick brown hair, wearing a trenchcoat. He kept glancing over to her worriedly. "Leonardo, è solo una ragazza."

"Non è successo niente, Giuseppe," was Borghese's smooth reply. 

The door slammed open. "What's going on? I heard the commotion. Are you all right, Leo?" barked another man, shorter, with black hair and wire-rimmed glasses. His gaze slid over her, and the cold, hostile look he shot her made her spine stiffe.

Every cell of her body was screaming at her, the pain and fear and agony all coming together in a sort of disbelief. All she could do was stare blankly at the widening pool of blood between her thighs that betrayed her torn insides.

They were speaking louder, still in Italian, and she only startes when Leonardo put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Patience," she said automatically. "Winslow."

"What's a beautiful little girl like you doing out here? Surely we can call someone to come and get you?"

Patience looked at his kind face blankly. She thought of her aunt and uncle. She shook her head.

"Oh, dear," he said, but his smile was widening. "Poor thing. Dolce ragazzina."

More words. She wasn't sure what the men were saying now, whether they were speaking English or Italian. Her mind was as blank as a pane of glass. She was retreating into a space only she knew, a space where she didn't have to feel or think, a space where she didn't have to hurt, just feel comfortably numb.

A hand gently gripping her arm led her out of the room and down the hallway. If she had been in a more conscious state of mind she would have noticed that the door to the store room was open and she could have made a break for it. But instead she let herself be led to a limo, the back door opening into smooth leather seats. 

The seats felt good against her legs but when she sat down, she erupted in pain again. Her insides throbbed. The bloodstain was the size of a silver dollar now.

Borghese slid down next to her, the man with the glasses next to him. He slammed the door. The man driving was the man in the trench coat. She sensed a tenseness from him that didn't let up, even after he gunned the engine and set off down the street.

The other man was still eying her coldly. It didn't make sense. She was hurt, couldn't he see that? Why was he still staring at her with his resentful, mistrustful black eyes? Why--

Borghese had leaned down to her. She was pressed against the driver's door, hunched over, and his entire body brushed hers as he leaned down.

"Have you had your monthlies yet?" He asked quietly, so quietly that she wasn't sure anyone else could hear. They certainly acted as if they didn't.

She nodded once. Her period had come for the first time last year, in the school showers, to the mockery and derision of the other girls.

"We're going to have to pay very, very close attention to your monthlies over the next few weeks."

She stared at him in a childish sort of confusion. His profile was elegant, handsome, like the movie stars in the theater posters she had crushed on. High cheekbones, blue eyes and a voice like cream.

"If you miss one of your monthlies, do you know what will happen? Do you know what will happen to your body? You'll grow a baby, right here." He pressed a finger just above her skirt, on her midriff.

The thought of having a baby was so alien to her it suddenly awaked a sort of consciousness. She started into reality. She looked into his eyes.

His voice was no longer like cream. It was like spoiled milk. "I'm going to teach you a lot about the human body over these few days. Especially about the reproductive system. We'll learn a lot together, oh we will, and I'll be honored to be your teacher."

The car idled at a stoplight, and her fingers scrabbled for the door handle. She caught it and fell backwards, skidding onto the concrete, scrambling up, legs bleeding, and running.

She dodged car after car, sometimes being missed by an inch. The beeps and curses echoed behind her as she stumbled onto the sidewalk.

Her legs were scraped, her breaths coming in high, winded gasps as she went out in a full-put sprint down the street. There were signs hung in an unfamiliar language, shady men in broad-brimmed hats and suspenders lining the street. Immodestly dressed women flitted between them, garish makeup caking their face. The crossroads were a confusing jungle of storefronts, chairs, shouting men, and potholed streets.

She was so distracted, so panicked, she crashed into someone and sprawled on the ground. The heels of her hands scraped the sidewalk where she wrenched them out to break her fall.

A drunken, red-rimmed gaze stared down at her. "Hey, kid. What's the matter?"

Patience tried to struggle up, lost her balance by the jolt of pain between her legs, and collapsed again. She didn't know where she was. She didn't know who these people were. She was suddenly, completely alone, and even as the man dragged her upright, she heard that silky voice that had come to signal her doom. "There you are, sweetheart. Don't wander away again, now."

Patience caught her feet and stumbled away. "Don't come near me!" She screamed, grabbing the attention of everyone on the street. She wrapped her arms around the man's waist. "Don't let him take me," she sobbed. His waist was lean yet muscular under her arms, and reminded her of her father. That thought made her cling closer.

The drunk man beside her was dark-haired, in a sleeveless shirt more suited to a laborer than the shabby suits most men on the street wore. His face was angular and pitted with scars that resembled the ones of her classmate Joey White, who'd had smalllpox as a child and had been the merciless victim of teasing for it. "Back off, Leo Angelino. I don't think this kid wants anything to do with you."

Borghese was standing in the sidewalk, flanked by his two men. In his neatly tucked suit and tie, he looked more professional than everyone on the street combined. "Salvatore, the child stole something from me. This is none of your business. Let me deal with her and I will let her go."

If Salvatore was just being contentious, it changed as he looked down at her. She wasn't sure whether his gaze had found the spot of blood on her skirt, or whether her generally ruffled appearance roused something in him.

"This ain't your fuckin street. Get out of here before I make you get out." People were moving to arm him at each side, people from his group of friends and from across the street.  This was not Leonardo Borghese's territory, and by his body language, he knew it. His face was a mask as he stepped back. "Well. Have a lovely night out, Sal."

As they retreated, Salvatore's body was stiff as he saw them off, a venomous look on his face. When the crowd dispersed, he looked down at Patience, and his face softened. "Hey, kid. Are you all right? What did he--"

He wasn't able to finish his sentence as Patience had flung herself away from him and began running again, desperate to get as far away as possible from this hellish place and these hellish people, from everything--ignoring the indignant yelling, the confused looks after her.

Patience collapsed in a tenement neighborhood somewhere, too exhausted to continue. She felt her pocket and realized that her money was gone--it had to have fallen out during the chase. She had nothing now, no home, no gun, no money. 

Nothing but a burning, aching pain between her legs that wouldn't go away.

[kiliinstinct]

A Smile In The Embers: Prt 3

Rating: PG (or K) - For Now Setting: AU - Time Period Open for Interpretation Pairing: Nalu

{This is a Holiday Story I’ve been planning for a few months now. It’s not necessarily for Christmas, Yule, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, etc- but it takes place during these months and has some of those elements. Please enjoy!}

The lonely mansion held many servants and visitors, but the walls were always cold even in the hottest of summers. Lucy Heartfilia dreams of nothing more than to finally feel the warmth of a friend, something beyond the death she feels in her own home.  One-freezing winters night- a secret wish comes true in the most strangest of ways. This is her story, of the Smile She Found Through the Embers.

<– Part Three of Five -->

. A Promise .

Time went on. Winter turned to Spring, Spring began it’s slow changes into Summer. Lucy’s friendship with the boy in the fireplace continued and many a servant within the Mansion came to believe the Young Lady’s friend was a ghost. The gem she had revealed the day he’d given it had baffled them for weeks before coming to this decision.

The sudden way they chose to explain the strange occurrences was upsetting for Lucy, aghast at how their smiles turned to humored confusion. Despite keeping it secret from her Father while believing it was a mere game created in her loneliness- even she could read the stares they gave her with ease. Worry, concern: fear.

Lucy knew they believed she was abnormal and the little blonde girl withdrew further into herself, opening up to her happier smiles only during the night as the fire glowed- even in the heat of summer.

“Won’t they get mad?” Natsu asked her once, worried the extra heat would have her taken away from the fireplace, but she shook her head, fingers tapping on a newer book she had just begun to read to him.

“It rains so much.” She explained, smile not reaching her eyes. “And it’s only for a little while so they don’t mind.” Or dare to tell her otherwise, she thought.  Time passed on and she grew a little older day by day- and Natsu soon appeared before her in cleaner clothes and happier complexion.

Well taken care of. The orphanage that had a foyer much like her own, seemed intent to make Natsu a proper little boy before long.  His smiles never changed despite the time going by and he still managed to tear holes in his pants or get dirt upon them with each new garment. Horse play, he had called it- the other boys (and his brother) often teased him and small fights would break out.  The tales he would tell her always sounded like he was surrounded by bullies, but the smile never faded.

“Nah, they’re my friends- sorta.” He explained. “Not like you. You’re special! But we’re all here tryin’ to get new parents- and Miss Anna always patches us up after! You should see the Scarf she’s been … err.. Sewing? I dunno what it’s called, but she uses these big sticks and-”

“Knitting.” Lucy answered for him, smile faltering just slightly. Other children had come to join him, all without parents, but somehow together all the same. It made the hollowness inside her own heart clench just slightly, a small seed of envy growing in the pit of her stomach. “She sounds like a wonderful lady. I wish I could meet her… “

She refused to water that seed, it wasn’t Natsu’s fault she was stuck, unable to see others. The closest to friends outside of him were the children who sometimes came along with their parents for visitation. Play dates, she had heard them all. All dressed in frills and taught the same as she, but none of them broke the mold of that life, none of them argued it.

They accepted and spoke as if she would one day be their wife. (As her Father only ever let her meet the young sons of these families, never the girls.) It made her wish, quietly, that she would never age.

“You know,” Natsu continued, playing with a new tear in his shirt, “Miss Anna looks sorta like you. You even have the same last names! - but when I asked her about having family in a fireplace, she just looked at me funny.”

“You dummy!” Lucy giggled, attention falling back on the other as she squinted through the flames at him, “Of course she look at you funny. No one has family in a fireplace!” He pouted, arms crossed as he stubbornly stuck his tongue out, “If you’re over there, then why not?”

Lucy had just been about to explain how it would be impossible (though, even she wasn’t altogether certain her opinion was correct) when she finally registered what he had been saying earlier. “- Well, because, fireplaces aren’t usually connected to other- … actually, now that I’m thinking of it, I used to have a great Aunt Anna, but I’ve never met her….”

“Really?” This sparked the boys interest, eyes lighting up eagerly, “Why?”

“I - “ Lucy paused, eyebrows scrunched together in her attempt to remember. “No one really told me. She didn’t pass away like Mama, I don’t think, but…  they always talk like she just disappeared.”

This revelation only made Natsu more excited, “Then she really COULD be Miss Anna!”

“No, that’s not possible!” Lucy’s denial was obstinate, a strange, almost apprehensive feeling boiling into the pit of her stomach, but her friend didn’t notice, excitedly waving his arms about. “Natsu, it’s not- that was before I was even born, she’d be REALLY old if she was your Miss Anna!”

He froze, lips frowning as his eagerness died like an ember. “Oh, well, that’s no fun… it would have been great if you were related.”

“What makes you say that?”

Natsu shrugged, responding without a second to think, “‘Cause it would mean there’s a way for me to actually see you.”

The little girl didn’t have a reply. The former boiling inside her had changed to fluttering and her face warmed. Natsu as very good at making her feel butterflies, often blushing from the simplest of phrases. To her luck, the boy never noticed, thinking the redness on her cheeks was merely from the fire and nothing more.

This time was no different, but her fingers shyly rung together on her lap and she shyly glanced back through the small lashes of her eyes. His own cheeks seemed to darken in response, but the smile never faded.

He was just like that at times.

The closest it came to the next winter, it became more difficult to sneak out at night. Her responsibilities were growing- the times Lucy would awaken each day: earlier. Her Father and tutors were preparing her for something, but she couldn’t glean a hint from a single person. Each night she would sneak out to the fire place, her time to stay grew shorter and Natsu began to notice, becoming increasingly more disappointed each time.

Lucy began to wonder if perhaps one of the servants had told her Father, and he was purposefully keeping her busy to ward off ill rumors. The thought made her feel sick, unwilling to even imagine a time when she couldn’t visit him.

“You need more sleep.” He told her one morning, watching the little blonde yawn over her breakfast, head nodding each time her eyes slid shut. Lucy’s constant yawns caused a crease in his brow, eating calmly despite the tension in the air. “Should we look into sleep medication, again?”

The mere thought made the sleep leave her eyes instantly. A memory resurfacing of the time just after her Mother’s funeral- screaming fits and inability to sleep, often ended in being made to drink a bitter substance that had her sleep for hours on end. She shook her head, “N-no, I’m fine Father, I’m not having trouble sleeping.”

She still wasn’t willing to try to explain Natsu’s existence and a sudden comment from the butler had her staring wide eyed, silently begging he wouldn’t give it away. The man in question, gulped and nodded his head, offering to refresh the morning tea instead.  Lucy breathed a sigh of relief, never noticing the observant stare Jude had given her.

Lucy clung to the crystal Natsu had given her that evening while she snuck from her room. Over the last year the small item had become a charm for her. She felt as if it gave her good luck and courage each time she kept it close and Natsu had smiled as if it were his own birthday the night she had told him these feelings. He liked the idea as much as she.

“Maybe it’ll get so lucky that you won’t have to keep going to bed early!” He stated, minutes after his visage had appeared within the flames that night. Lucy could only hope i would come true, biting back another yawn.

“If it does that, then I’ll believe you’re magical.” She admitted, sleepily, eyes nearly fluttering shut as they had that morning. A loud clap from the other side startled her into waking and she blinked towards the boy- his expression worried.

“Lucy…” He murmured after a time, inching closer to the flames until she could hardly discern where he ended and the fire began. “You don’t… you don’t HAVE to come down here if it’s gettin too hard. You need sleep-”

She knew he meant well, and adored him for it, but shook her head. “I’m fine!  It would be so lonely if I didn’t get to see you. You’re my best friend!”

Natsu’s chest puffed out a little, smile full and bright, “You’re mine too- that’s why I don’t want ya wearing yourself out just for me. Not that I don’t want ya here, I just…” Want you to be okay. He never finished his sentence, words trailing off while they stared at one another.

Their conversation that night seemed almost solemn, Lucy even forgot to bring a book to read. Her favorite one telling the most beautiful of Fairy Tales. She had wanted to share all of them and Natsu had grown to look forward to every new story she told. Not that night. Instead they spoke in hushed whispers while he urged her to sleep, ‘Even if down here! I can watch you until the fire dies!’

Lucy continued to refuse. Times were changing and she could feel it, the little girl was being called a lady, her education becoming all the more complicated. She knew what that meant for girls in noble families. Though she silently hoped her fate would not be the same Or, at the very least, she could have just one more year before being considered an adult.

Just one more year, that’s all she asked.  Sighing, she realized, almost too late, that she had begun to nod off again and quickly moved to sit on her knees, scowling at Natsu. He grinned sheepishly and shrugged. “Sorry, but I didn’t wanna try and wake ya again if you dozed off for good.”

“You should wake me every time!” She huffed! Clenching the gem within her pocket once more. A small idea began to form into her head then, lips quirking at the plan. “Do you remember how I said I would find you the perfect gift?”

His smile lessened to a curious head tilt as he slowly nodded, “Of course I remember. Cause I gave you my Mother’s crystal.  You don’t HAVE to give me somethin’ though-not right now, at least.”

The gears in her head were working over time through her sleepiness and with a lethargic, contemplative movement, she slowly reached for a small necklace chord that she kept around her neck. It was a long, rope necklace she couldn’t wear during the day and it dangled down beneath her night dress, hidden from view on most nights.

A tiny, bronze key, weathered from age- she held it close to her chest even as it was removed from her neck. “I keep this hidden most days,” She admitted quietly, fingers running across the small item, “- but it was my Mama’s, too. She called it a skeleton key.”

“What’s that?” Natsu asked, eyes wide, “it sounds pretty interesting-”

“It’s supposed to open any door.” Lucy answered, staring at it fondly before taking in a deep breath. She stilled for a second, as it to prepare herself, before her small arms tossed it through the Flames. “Catch!”  

She heard it tink on the floor and the boy gasp as he scrambled to grab it, cursing quietly as he went. “Shi- I mean, hold on, I’ll get it, no wait, it’s here-? Damni- no, I mean. Aww, Miss Anna is gonna be so mad if she knows I’m talkin’ like that! Ah! Got it!”

Natsu sprung back in view, triumphantly holding up the small corded necklace, grinning widely at the small key.  Lucy smiled in relief, giggling at his antics and pretending not to have heard his potty mouth. She would let it slide, and let Miss Anna deal with him if it continued.  Her laughter came out like tiny bells, echoing off the wall and Natsu’s own laughter joined hers.

A sudden loud slam of a hand on wood shocked them from the moment, Lucy’s heart leapt into her throat , entire body alert to the noise. Turning around, brown eyes widened as she looked upon the entry way, eyes meeting the harsh, angry, gaze of her father.  Jude stood in his own sleep clothes, a lit candle in one hand: eye twitching as his hand slowly slid from the wall.

“Lucy!” He barked, glancing about the room, “Is this what you’ve been doing all this time? You’re too tired to learn because you’re laughing at the walls?!”  Shriveling back, the tiny girl felt all her happy feelings escape her body, limbs feeling heavy like stone. Jude stomped his way through the room, eyes narrowed and a terrified gasp escaped her-

“I-I’m sorry!” She cried, legs wobbling as she tried to move to her feet. “I Just- I- “ Natsu! Yes- fingers pointing towards the fire, she tried to explain herself. “Father, you wouldn’t believe it if I told you during the day, but I have a friend, right there!  That’s why I’m up- !!”

The sudden strong hand that gripped her arm made a surprised whimper escape, pulling yanked towards her feet as the much taller man hissed at her to shut her mouth. His eyes glanced once towards the fire, but flickered back towards her not a second later, cold fury bunched in in his tightened jaw. “Enough! Your Mother filled your head with inane stories when she was alive, but you should be over this by now! No more talking of boys in fire places!”

It was like a bucket of ice had been dumped down her spine. He knew. He knew after all. Someone had told him, but when? Who? Hot tears stung at Lucy’s cheeks as she tried, once again, to make him notice the fire. Why couldn’t she hear Natsu? Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“- It’s not talk, he’s really there- !“ Eyes casting upon the fireplace while feet slammed to the floor, trying to hold her place even as Jude began to pull her form the room- little Lucy met the surprised, stunned eyes of Natsu, through the flames. Hope surged within her, “He’s here! Just- look! Please! He’s right there!”

“Lucy-?!” Natsu questioned, voice strangely matching the hissing of the flames, face paler than she had ever seen it before. “Lucy!  I’m here, can you hear me?! Let Lucy go, you’re hurting her!”

His voice, rising over the roar of flames, did not meet Jude’s ears. His grip tightened as Lucy’s body was forced into the hall and a servant called to dispel the flames. Worried shrieks escaped her mouth as she reached for the door frame, desperate to stay in place. To prove her point. Could he not see Natsu?

“Let her go, let HER GO!” The boy was hissing, hand reaching out as if to reach for her, but reflexively yanking back as the fire licked at his fingers. “I’m going to save you, Lucy! I will!”

Save her? It was all a blur, she couldn’t understand, but the tears stained her cheeks and she nodded, body going limp as Jude finally wrestled her into his larger arms, carrying her up the stairs.

“I will NOT have a daughter speaking to walls and fires! This is the last straw Lucy!” He admonished, trudging up the stairs while his daughter’s eyes watched the flickering embers be dispersed- Natsu’s voice echoing even as the wall slowly reappeared.

“Finishing School. As soon as possible. No more late nights for you!”

To Lucy’s horror: he meant it.

“LUCY!”

[mandeebobandee]

A Brief History Of Virgil, Chapter 4

..suddenly things get a lot more intense?

TW - Panic attacks, implied injury, self deprecation, school lockdown-ish scenario, terrible self-care habits (seriously folks Virgil is a poster-child for things NOT to do when trying to take care of yourself in this chapter) and I think that covers everything, but please let me know if I missed anything else that might need a trigger warning! 

Also, the Roman in this chapter is based off of the Roman by @talia23williams that I RPed with! (And don’t worry, though he may seem like a bit of a jerk in this chapter it’s coming from a good place and things’ll get better soon enough)

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3

Virgil was getting no closer to deciphering the meaning of the prophecy he made. He lost count of the number of books he read and reread, and he was fairly certain that if he spent any more time in the library he'd qualify as an honorary Ravenclaw. One factor that his research allowed him to consider was the definition of the word dark - A definition that could vary from person to person. Dark Arts were generally considered by the majority of wizardkind as 'dark' (it was in the name, after all), but a practitioner of the Dark Arts might justify their use of such taboo magic. Another factor to consider, along the same vein, was one's purpose for using Dark Magic. It would be hard to provide a reasonable explanation for someone who used the Dark Arts for the fun of it, but a mother using Dark Magic as a last resort to save her child? That was a gray area.

No, Virgil was coming to realize that the 'darkness' part of the prophecy wasn't the part that bothered him. Much of the school probably consider him dark, given his commonly adopted public persona as well as his fashion choices. 'Innocent blood will be spilt', though? Whatever this darkness was, it sounded as though it/they were going to hurt, possibly even kill innocent people, and that was the part that Virgil was far more concerned about. That was the part that kept Virgil up at night, reading books under wandlight under his covers so that he did not keep his roommates awake in the fifth year Slytherin dorm. The longer time passed without any solid answers, the more frazzled Virgil grew. As he often did, though, he deflected his own anxiety outward. He made snide comments toward other students, disrupted class with disrespectful comments toward professors, and unloaded his own tension onto others. He felt guilty for it, but he also felt it was necessary to protect himself. Others would be less likely to ask questions, to show concern, if he kept them at such an arm's length that they could not get close enough to see the truth.

Even Patton. Patton was the only one Virgil could even come close to confiding in, and he still kept Patton at an arm's length. It wasn't that he didn't trust Patton, it wasn't that he didn't want to burden Patton. Patton seemed so carefree and happy the majority of the time, and Virgil didn't want to be the one to bring that to a screeching halt if he could help it. But Patton wasn't an idiot. He could be naive and oblivious at times, but he was Virgil's best friend, and it was impossible for Virgil to keep his guard up 24/7. "You okay kiddo?" Kiddo. Despite Virgil's repeated insistence that they were the same age, the nickname persisted. No wonder Patton had a reputation as the dad friend over in Hufflepuff. "Of course I.." he yawned in mid-sentence, "..am." Patton blinked back at him, slowly raising an eyebrow. "You do know you've yawned 5 times since we started this study sesh fifteen minutes ago, right?" Oh. Uh.. "Yeah, I was up late working on homework last night. I'll go to bed extra early tonight to make up for it." "You sure?" "Positive. Don't worry about it, Pat," he smiled. That's my job, he added in the privacy of his own head.

Days passed, Virgil rarely getting more than 5 hours of sleep a night. He nearly forgot that their Care Of Magical Creatures class would be taking place indoors today, on account of a mock OWL exam to prepare them for their actual OWLs at the end of the year. He pulled a slip of paper out of his bag, double-checking that he had the right room. "Anxiety." Virgil glanced upward toward the haughty yet familiar voice. He immediately adopted a visage of nonchalance. "Princey." Roman Prince was a popular Gryffindor who was frequently surrounded by a group of friends that he referred to as his 'Pride'. A Pride of Lions. How cute. Roman was with a few members of his Pride right now by the looks of it. Virgil's eyes narrowed slightly as he looked Roman up and down, trying to assess the level of danger. "What do you want?" Roman took a few steps forward. Virgil was seized immediately by an urge to take a few steps back, but he forced himself to stand his ground. If Roman thought he could intimidate Virgil that easily? He had another thing coming to him. "Thought we ought to have a chat without the other Dark Sides around."

Virgil snorted. "So rather than confront me when I'm with my friends you confront me with yours? Four against one, that's totally fair." Roman stiffened before letting out a huff. "My friends and I don't have a reputation for using the Dark Arts." Virgil rolled his eyes. "Its still four against one. I'll ask you again. What do you want, Princey?" Roman's stony gaze met Virgil's. "I want you to leave Patton alone." "..what?" "I said leave Patton alone, you scoundrel. I don't know what you're planning with him, but I've noticed that you're spending a lot of time with him lately. I refuse to let you hurt him." Virgil let out a strained, almost high-pitched laugh. He was being accused of plotting to hurt his best friend and he couldn't even counter it because who would believe him?

"Oh don't worry Princey If I wanted to do something to Patton I could have done it long before now." Roman narrowed his eyes. "If you hurt Patton.." Just what Roman would do if Virgil hurt Patton remained unknown, because one of Roman's friends tapped him on the shoulder at that moment. "Roman, we need to get to class." Roman shot Virgil one last glare before turning and walking off, the rest of the so-called 'Pride' in tow. Once Virgil verified that he was indeed outside of the room where his Care of Magical Creatures class was to take place, he stepped inside. Most of the seats were already filled, but there was an empty seat next to Patton and the Hufflepuff had his hand high in the air, waving Virgil over. Virgil took a seat. The professor set to work handing out the mock exams almost right away. He hadn't studied. He decided to skip all of the questions he didn't know and come back to them later. Once he finished answering the questions he did know, he went back and counted the other questions. Half. He hadn't answered nearly half of them. He tried to reassure himself that this exam meant little, that it was merely a mock exam..but that was just it. This exam was set up similar to the actual written OWL they'd be taking earlier in the year, and if he couldn't answer half of the questions on the mock exam, how well could he expect to do on the genuine article? Virgil closed his eyes, taking a few deep breathes. He leaned forward, about to make a second attempt at question 15 when a shriek erupted from down the hall. Everyone in the classroom looked up from their desks immediately, Virgil included. A quick glance at the professor's puzzled expression told Virgil that she had no idea what was happening either. The professor rose from her seat and slowly made her way over to the door. She reached for the door handle, but retrieved her hand immediately as another shriek tore through the air. Virgil glanced over at Patton, who was fidgeting at his desk. Of course Patton was uncomfortable. Someone was screaming, whether it be in pain or in fear, and Patton wanted to help. Patton volunteered down at the Hospital Wing. Patton considered becoming a Healer upon leaving Hogwarts. Virgil shot Patton what he hoped was a comforting smile, but then a loud voice broke through the reverie. The Headmistress' voice.

"We ask that all students and professors remain where they are until further notice. We are currently in the process of investigating an incident." An incident? What sort of incident? Virgil suspected that the shrieks they'd heard were in connection to said incident, which meant that it occurred near the classroom they were currently sitting within. He still had his quill in his left hand from the mock exam, which he set down immediately upon realizing that the quill was shaking within his grasp. He pulled his hands in closer to himself. This did nothing to cease the trembling of his limbs, but at least no one would notice this way. The classroom exploded into chatter as students offered their nervous speculation as to what the nature of the incident being investigated was. Virgil's hands clenched into fists. Too loud, it was far too loud. He wanted to scream at everyone to shut up, but that would draw more attention to him, and that would make everything worse, because then everyone would crowd around on top of him wondering what was wrong with him and why he was acting the way that he was and what he really wanted was to be alone some place quiet and safe and where he could try to sort out his rapidly escalating thoughts. He tossed his hood up over his head, aware that this act in itself might attract attention, but he needed something to block all of the noise out! "Look, Professor Brown's heading over to the door." Virgil chanced a glance upward toward the door. He wasn't sure who blurted out the comment, and he didn't care. He only had eyes for the professor and what she was doing. The Deputy Headmaster was standing in the hallway speaking with her. He could tell the instant that something horrifying was said, because the professor's eyes widened as her hand flew over her mouth as if to cover a shriek of her own. Something really really bad was happening, and it wasn't long before the news reached Virgil's ears. "Did you hear what Professor Sanders told Professor Brown? Someone was cursed! They're taking them to St. Mungo's right now!" The comment probably was not directed toward him, but it was uttered by someone close enough to him that he could overhear, and that was all that it took. Darkness. Hogwarts. Cursed. St. Mungo's. Innocent. Blood. Darkness, failure, hurtbloodfailuredarknesswrongwrongWRONG. It felt as if something (or someone) invisible was squeezing all of the air out of him, and it was all he could do to inhale whenever he had the chance, to fill his lungs with the air that he so desperately craved. Tears freely fell down his cheeks at this point and he brushed at his face with a hand now quivering so badly that it felt like jello. Actually, his hands felt numb, and Virgil bit down on his lips. His hands were numb oh no was he dying no someone else was dying and he didn't stop it in time anditwashisfaulthefailedwrongBADWRONGBADBADBAD. He couldn't even make out what others were saying around him anymore. It was all an atrocious sounding buzz and it, too, was too much for Virgil to take and he just wanted it all to stop what would it take for it all to stop? "VIRGIL!" He wasn't even sure who uttered his name, but he spotted the glass someone was dangling in his face. His throat was parched, and he reached for the glass at once, guzzling down its contents. He immediately slipped into peaceful oblivion.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

I'll Meet You At The Bottom (Part 2)

Azula watched the smoke trail towards the ceiling. Once upon a time, it would have been the product of masterful bending. These days it was nothing more than a tired exhale. She ran her fingers through her hair, it was becoming embarrassingly matted. She stole a look out of the window, the sun was quite high. She had slept late, again. Another puff of smoke slid through the part of her lips. Days like such were the days when she would dwell. Dwell on everything that had gone wrong from start to finish. At first she thought that everything started coming undone the day Mai and TyLee had stabbed her in the back. She decided nexst that it was earlier on; when Zuko had decided to skip off and join the avatar. For a while she had genuinely thought that they had some kind of a bond, as far as that kind of thing went with her. But no, he had left and she was left at the lack of mercy of their father. The third time she mulled it over, she considered that it was even earlier than that. And then earlier, and then earlier still. Until she finally concluded that she had set herself up to fall as a mere child, in sparking the relationship between Mai and Zuko. Yes, she decided, she had doomed herself from the start without taking any notice of doing so. So it was that she discarded her first smoke and lit another.

 She had only just woken up.

 .oOo.

 He had been alone for some time now. Katara and Aang having wandered off to a parade of some sort. Toph stayed behind with Zuko, having no interests in the fireworks that would follow when the sun fell. But she had retreated into the palace for a power nap. Zuko himself was wrapped up in the busywork of a Fire Lord. Sokka had the palace garden all to his lonesome, he figured that such was a good set up for another shot at his landscape portraits. He wanted to recapture his passions, the ones he had before losing Suki and this seemed like a golden time to do just that. But more he tried to do it, the less inspiration he had.

 The scene truly was quite optimal really with the sun just starting to droop and the sky in pastel shades of pink, orange, and purple. From his position tiny rays filtered through gently fluttering leaves. If he watched long enough he would catching a few of them take flight and then softly drift down and into the pond sending a fresh rings about the surface. He should have enjoyed the moment, it was perfect.

It should have been perfect.

 And Agni, did he try to force it to be so. He took his brush to the canvas and told himself that he was having a grade time, that this was going to be the best thing he would paint. He could only force it for so long and the energy he invested in pretending, was leaving him hollower than hours before. His brushstrokes were growing more careless as his boredom rose. Suddenly he hated trees, hated drawing them, hated the sight of them. But he continued working the brush anyhow, only faintly aware that he was doing so. He couldn’t keep his attention on the canvas, even as he stared at it, his mind’s eye had a different visual for him; Suki reaching out, her face contorted in anger and anguish. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he was tired of painting trees and grasses, neither subject did anything to take his mind away from Suki. To keep him from reliving the moment everything began coming in shades of grey. He could clearly see that way her fingers curled around his shirt, her mouth poised in a scream that had yet to be released.

He blinked.

Hard.

Forgetting about the brush in his hand, ran it over his face—leaving an unnoticed trail of black paint from his chin to his hairline. He couldn’t be assed to wipe it away, even if he did, it would only smear. He tore his unfinished piece from the canvas, having every urge to kick it over completely. The impulse only subsided at the sight of Zuko and a party of rather esteemed looking individuals trekking the length of the garden.

 He looked towards the roof and blew out a forced exhale. He took another deep breath, hoping to expel whatever anger had just bubbled up. He needed something, anything to keep him going. He took to studying every spoke and spire of the palace. Maybe he should paint that? It wasn’t a tree and the sun was reflecting quite well in the widows. He peered at the dragons accenting each corner of the tiered roof. Glanced at the golden trim around the window frames and gutters. He dwelled upon what little he could make of the interior from his place outside; a serving girl scrubbing at the window sill, Toph just rising from her nap with a drawn out yawn, Ursa and Iroh engaged in conversation over cups of tea, a young boy—likely the son of one of the staff members—teetering about the room. He opted to leave them out of the painting, they would be too hard to capture. Too frustrating, they were too active.

 He was set to tear his gaze from the palace and retrieve his tools when he came to gaze upon a face he hadn’t seen in ages. It was different, more sullen. More hollow, just about as empty as he felt. She stood at the window sill with her lips pressed in a thin line and her hands clasped behind her back. She stood in the light of the setting sun, but wasn’t taking in any light at all. From such a distance he couldn’t gauge one emotion or another, but whatever expression she was wearing, he couldn’t imagine that it was a pleasant one. He watched her sweep a curtain of thick, dark hair over her shoulder. And with that lazy flick, her back was turned and she was retreating deeper into her bedroom.

 Sokka wondered if she’d noticed him staring.

 .oOo.

 That night was a slight change of pace; from somewhere she’d found a small burst of energy and she supposed she’d make the most of it. Though it took some more preparation, she forced herself down the hallway and into the bathroom. She hadn’t the motivation to beckon one of her servants over so she slipped out of her robe and arranged her own bath. Making small talk would have been tiresome anyhow, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d spoken to anyone aside from herself and those who weren’t actually in the room. At least her smokes seemed to dull them…mostly. When they didn’t, the hallucinations came on stronger than they had been prior. Azula was content to let that detail remain under the carpet.

 The princess scrubbed at her arms. Perhaps a little too hard, she assessed after noticing the pink hue to her skin. She tried to tell herself that she had only been trying to make up for the lack of baths she’d taken. But she couldn’t lie to herself in the same way she lied to others. She wanted to cause herself discomfort, however slight the unease was. The pinker patch stood out noticeably. She held her arm in front of her face—when had she become so pale? She shuddered in spite of herself.

She had undeniably grown pale. Paler and thinner. Azula tried to brush it off but as she continued to drag the soap over her frame the truth made a point of flashing in her face. She took note of a slight dip as she ran the bar over her midsection. Fleetly she thought that she ought to start taking better care of herself again. How could she firebend if she were to become so frail, so breakable? She could very nearly seen each of her ribs. She drew her legs up to her chest, staring at her arms. They had become practically translucent. Alongside a generous meal, the woman decided that the bath she was sitting in wasn’t the only one she needed; she could use a healthy dose of sunbathing. It was only right for a firebender to be out in the heat of a summer afternoon. Before then, she hadn’t noticed any of it and the new insight left her feeling vaguely alarmed.

 Startled, but not enough to get anywhere beyond simply contemplating a change. No, she had enough of change. Somehow, she came to conclude that she’d rather keep on this dangerous path than go through another dramatic transformation. Turning away from that which had rattled her, she wrapped her fingers around a large vial of shampoo and then around one of conditioner. She would have to act quick before the motivation left her. She was more than apprehensive about working with the weeks of knots in her hair. But she did so anyways, conjuring up some visage of the woman who had been willing to face down any obstacle regardless of height or strength. That willingness was slowly dispelling as the knots fought against her.

 Eventually the task became too cumbersome but she continued scrubbing the shampoo into her hair. A task made infinitely more difficult by just how tightly wrought each lock of hair had become to the one next to it. She clenched her teeth, her frustration officially reaching peak levels. Why was it so hard to do something so simple? She needed a drink. Badly. It hadn’t occurred to her just how hard her nails were scratching at her scalp until a few sharp pangs erupted. Shivering lightly, she let her arms fall back into the now dirty water. For a moment she sat rigid, breathing, just breathing. Long and shuddering breaths. But the frustration didn’t subside whatsoever.

Before Azula realized what she was doing, she was on her feet, edging menacingly towards the mirror. With an almost feral snarl, she took a pair of scissors into her grasp. With her chest heaving quite rapidly, she made the first few slashes.

At least, she wouldn’t have to worry about her hair getting matted again.

 Doing nothing to cloth nor cover herself in the slightest, the princess stormed back into her room. That oughta have people talking. With the door shut behind her she doubled over in a burst of uncanny laughter. It was hilarious, she didn’t know why, but it just was. It took some time for the laughing fit to pass and by the time it did the princess was on her back, feeling number than before.

And her chuckles turned to dry sobs.

 Azula absolutely needed something to take the edge off. On all fours she scrambled to her bedside to reach for another light and she hated herself for it.

Agni, she hated herself.

 .oOo.

 The courtyard was dressed in moonlight. All those hours gone by and Sokka only managed the outline of half of the palace. Now it was too dark for him to finish even if he wanted to. He hadn’t the expertise to paint the palace from memory alone. Even so, he decided that he hated painting the palace just as much as the trees in front of it. He groaned to himself. It was all bullshit, it was all bullshit. How had something he loved turned so sour? It took him a moment to realize that it wasn’t about how his old favorite hobby made him feel.

No, it was what it no longer made him feel.

It was the absence of Suki’s hands on his shoulders as he made final touches. The lack of the suggestions she whispered in his ears. The critiques that led to heated arguments that led to the bedroom…

 Sokka gulped and looked back at his canvas. He needed to find a way to enjoy it again. But it seemed like nothing was worth painting these days. He shifted his eyes from the canvas to the palace again. Through the window he could see the silhouettes of Aang and Katara getting ready for bed, Zuko wrapping up his work and blowing his candle out, the servants hustling to ready his bed. The palace was alive and with all the energy it ever had. He then himself inexplicably obliged to give Azula’s window some attention. Maybe he was just curious. Perhaps he was looking to see someone in as much or more distress than he.  Or it could have been that he didn’t expect to see anything at all so it didn’t matter.

 But he did see something. An unfamiliar figure peering through the glass. Her nightgown was disheveled and loosely tied with little interest. Her hair, reaching just below her ears, was fell in a similar state of care. Between her fingers she held an elaborate kiseru, from which rose a lazy trail of smoke.  Sokka wondered who she was and what she was doing in Azula’s bedroom. It took him a considerable span of time to gather that this woman was the princess. Even from such a distance he could tell that her gaze was sharp, even though she was staring at nothing in particular.  

 Sokka considered then, that Azula wasn’t well. Not by any means. He couldn’t place it, but there was something about her sudden alteration in appearance that unsettled him. This only left him more ashamed to admit that his first thought was that he had found a subject to paint.

[allnightthot]

“Despacito”: Zig fanfic

pairing: Zig x MC

Rating: NC-17

This story is very NSFW. Since Hartfield could be located mostly anywhere, I took the liberty of assigning Zig’s hometown as Las Vegas. It just fit better with the theme of travel, and the general tone I was going for. Feel free to be flexible with the fantasy. ;). I always think of Zig and his “latin lover bad boy” facade when I hear Despacito, and I really wanted to do a fan fic influenced on this very sexy, summery, vacationesque song. Hope you enjoy!

Slowly

I want to breathe your neck slowly

Let me tell you things in your ears

So that you remember when you're not with me

Slowly

I want to strip you off with kisses slowly

Sign the walls of your labrynth

And make your whole body a manuscript

Turn it up turn it up..... turn it up, turn it up

I wanna see you dance

I wanna be your rhythm

I want you to show me

Your favourite places places places Places

Let me surpass your danger zones

To make you scream

And forget your name

Zig took a huge sigh of relief. Fiery red leaves swirled around him, his breath causing them to waltz on their way to the ground. In a few moments he would be in the locker room taking off his uniform for the last time this football season. Each step he took, his lungs burned, and each muscle exhausted by the months of wear and tear of pushing himself. He made it in one piece though: he proved himself to be an asset to the team, made a few friends and earned that scholarship, showing he deserved that second chance. All in all it was a great experience, but with the semester winding down he was looking forward to just being Zig. He was looking forward to there being no one else in the world but him and her.

Izzie.

She came to all of his games with her “Ziggy+Iggy” sign, yelling the loudest out of anyone else in the bleachers. God damn if she wasn’t sex on a stick wearing his jersey number...it took everything to not throw off his helmet and rush the rows to get to her and take her right then and there. As he put on his white t-shirt and jacket, thoughts of her flooded his mind, calming the flow of adrenaline. She was his safe space. Just as soon as the moment came it passed once he slammed that locker door. It shook him back to reality. “Oh God, it is this week!” Zig exclaimed under his breath. Izzie and him talked about this milestone, and game after game passed, but now it was here. She was coming home with him for Thanksgiving to meet his family. He was confident they would love her, but would she love them? Could his family fit into her world?

*****

“Hey baby, what you thinking about?” Izzie smiled at him in the passenger side, flicking away a hair out of his eyes. Zig was grinning and staring into the distance. “I was just thinking about how you and my sister are so alike. You guys are going to get along so great, I bet I will be the third wheel after this trip!”

“Really? You think so?”

“I know so. You are beautiful...funny...smart. They would be blind not to see what I have.” He kissed her on top of her hand, as they pulled into the driveway of his family's’ Las Vegas home.

Within seconds, a small army of children barricaded the couple. “TIO!!!” A boy, almost 8, and a girl, almost 5 screamed at Zig. “COME HERE YOU LITTLE MONSTERS!” He swooped down and gave them an almost suffocatingly strong hug. At the same time, the two children noticed Izzie and she waved back at them, “Hi guys!” Paolo and Yuliana, this is my amor, Izzie” and he gave a jokingly sneering look, “so be nice you two.” The two kids giggled.

Yuliana tried to grab Izzie’s hand to get her attention and whispered, “Are you a princess? You have a dress like my dolly.”

“Nope, just Izzie. I bet you are a princess though! You have such a pretty hair!” Yuliana beamed. Then the girl darted into the house, “MAMA MAMA TIO ZIGGYS FRIEND SAID IM PRETTY!!” Izzie giggled, “Cute kids.” “See, I knew they would love you. No worries.” He pulled her hand and led her inside.

Zig’s mother Maria, was a strong and hardworking woman, who was a maid at several Las Vegas strip hotels. Her face held tired, long lines from years of supporting and leading a family. Her eyes however, held a new sparkle and a new life from her oldest son making a better life for himself. Through his future, it sparked a happiness that softened her visage. She was reborn. As Zig walked into the kitchen for a hug, he saw a new woman: “Mama! You look so good!”

“Aww, thank you! Zig! You are skinnier! Are you eating? Is that football team of yours making you diet?!” She poked and prodded.

“No Mom, I just don’t have you making enough tacos to feed an army!” He playfully joked with her as he picked up a tortilla chip and she slapped it out of his hand, “Ow!”

“That is for dinner!” Marie grew serious and turned to Izzie. A warm smile spread across her face. “This must be Izzie. The woman who saved my son….and stole his heart.” Maria drew the stranger not just into her home, but into her arms. “Oh!” Izzie was shocked at the sign of affection, and had braced herself for a handshake. Izzie was not prepared for what she heard next: “As long as you are with my son, you are mi familia”, Maria whispered, drawing away. “Thank you so much, you have a lovely home and your son is the best guy in the world! You are an amazing woman!” Zig beamed, drew Izzie in and said, “I think we need to get you some of this amazing food!”

******

Laughter bellowed all across the table throughout the day, as salsa music wafted through the air. Plates and plates of food were passed down, and to anyone else, the amount of relatives around and the din would have been claustrophobic. Yet, as Zig and Izzie looked at one another, the world around them became quieter...smaller..until only those two existed. Zig’s Tia or Abuelo would say something, and immediately they would be smacked back to the present, but every so often the magnetism between the lovers would become impossible to ignore, and it was as if they were feeding off each other's love. They were most themselves with one another, and each second their passionate chemistry yearned for them to be alone.

A Latino family cookout rarely lasts only a few hours, but the activity and conversation began to draw to a close once the futbol game started and the dominos were brought out. Izzie gave a huge yawn, but Zig interrupted her: “Hey, don’t fall asleep on me now. My family is getting distracted, and I was thinking we could have some time alone for awhile. I would like to show you something.” “Sure.” On their way out after extending goodbyes and adios, Izzie and Zig headed off into the Las Vegas sunset for their surprise.

*****

“I’m really glad you took me here, Zig. I’ve always wanted to go to Las Vegas but I’ve never had the chance. Thanks.” Izzie breathed, staring at the awe inspiring lights glowing against the sunset and sand, creating a magical, technicolor tapestry.

“No problem, consider it the VIP tour,” he replied, giving his famous smirk, “Besides, since we are only here for a few days, I wanted to show you as much of the city as I could. What better than the panorama view?” They both stared over the ledge, sharing a cigarette. After sexily blowing smoke, he continued: “When I saved money to take my sisters to the movies, we always drove past The Strip to get to the theater. Sometimes my mom would even let me skip school and hang out at the hotel. I’d help fold clothes and stuff, and then we would go for a “lunch break” but my mom would get me the biggest sundae I could find.” Zig’s voice started to crack with emotion, and Izzie placed a supportive hand on his shoulder to let him know to take his time. However, at that point, the words just began to flow out of him: “She never got herself anything though. She just smiled, watching me eat that messy ice cream. I felt so proud that I was helping. I made a promise to myself that I would take care of her, just like I did with my sisters.”

“Oh Zig--” Izzie reached to embrace him, but he pushed against her, with waters building at the corner of his eyes.

“No..no..it’s okay.” He wiped a tear away. “So when I got locked up, my whole world was destroyed. I disappointed my mother, and worst of all, I would never be able to give back to her..to take care of her. My life was going to go nowhere.” Izzie was beginning to cry, her lips quivering. Her strong bad boy slowly unraveling himself to her. “That was, until I met you and you believed I could get that scholarship. When I met you, I began to have a future.” Zig grabbed her hands in his and smiled.

“I saw my future again tonight, Izzie. I saw it with you.” Izzie began to make ugly sobs, dropping her head in her hands. Zig pulled them away though so he could hold her face.

“When I saw you with Yuliana...as you helped my abuela get food…” Zig’s throat tightened with fear but his eyes were filled with love. Finally, he breathed out, “I saw our future. I saw our babies. I saw our life together. Each moment more blissful than the one before it. I knew you were my family.” Izzie was getting emotional. Zig tried to rein it in and get control of the situation, but his heart was overflowing with happiness. “I’m not proposing!” They both giggled. “Way too soon for that! But..” he trailed off and reeled himself back in: “I just need you to know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you someday.”

Izzie grabbed Zig and embraced him with her whole body, tears staining his face. She cried out: “Oh Zig! I’m yours forever. How could you not have known that?!” Their kisses were so strong and powerful, so magnetic, their hearts skipped beats as they came up for air. Finally, Zig chuckled, “I’m so glad my family sees you as one of them too.”

Izzie coyly smiled, batted her eyelashes and said, “Well, I was on my best behavior.”

Immediately they began to give each other looks. Sexual tension was building up and slowly simmering throughout the day, and the lovers were tied and wound up, unable to breathe. They were acting good for too long. Zig’s deft, strong fingers slowly ran down her arm, sending a shiver through her body. She was a lit match and he was stoking her flame. “I noticed” Zig panted with desire, “You were a very good girl today.”

“Oh yeah? Who says?” Izzie feigned an attitude as Zig placed slow, feather light kisses all across her shoulders.

“Me, and I don’t think I need your attitude young lady.” He began to run his hands over her nipples through her shirt. Izzie’s eyes closed with joy. Her panties became sticky and moist...nothing turned her on like the cat and mouse game they played. It took everything inside her to keep going and not fall over with sexual desire. “I...can...will...say...whatever...I...want..” she breathed.

“Are you really going to disrespect me like this? Where is this naughtiness coming from?” Zig’s demeanor is turning aggressive, pulling open Izzie’s blouse to expose her breasts. In his eyes, Izzie saw the anger inside of the man, the anger that existed in the moment he beat up his sister’s boyfriend and when anyone crosses him. However, Izzie also saw fiery passion, and both scared her but also aroused her. She met him with renewed confidence.

“I guess I’ve just been a bad girl.” Izzie seductively ran her hands over his shirt, going lower and lower until her fingers grazed over the hardness in his jeans. He held his breath with desire as she teased him.

Zig’s eyes clouded over with a laser like intensity. “If you are going to be naughty and not listen, then maybe you need to be punished!” He took her to the front hood of the car and pushed her to lay down. Izzie squealed with joy and anticipation. In one swift motion Zig pulled his belt off and tied her wrists up above her head. Tightness didn’t matter: he just knew he was going to drive her wild.

“What...are..you..going to do?” Izzie breathlessly asked. “This is your consequence for not listening.” He was totally in control. She was his clay to mold. Zig kneeled and pushed her legs apart with one hand and lifted her dress up with the other. The flimsy white fabric covering her decency was soaked through, wetness glistening across her tanned skin. “Mmm...baby….you are so wet…” Zig murmured with amazement. “You know how you get me….I want you so bad..” Izzie was getting delirious with want.

So as Zig leaned closer to her and made contact with her core, she almost shattered from the pleasure, barely able to hold what shred of control she had left. Zig licked through her panties, teasing her, slowly sucking on her taste. Oh God, what was he doing? Izzie wondered to herself. Where is this going to go? A part of her was scared, and it was as if he could read her mind, because at that exact moment Zig rubbed her leg to reassure her: “Don’t worry baby, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do every step of the way? After all, how else am I going to teach you?” He made a small laugh. “Okay.” She sighed in relief.

Now Zig poked his tongue into her hot pussy, in and out, alternating with slowly rotating his tongue on her clit. Jolts of electricity ran across her skin. “I want you to become a part of me. I can’t wait for your juices to feed me.” He breathed into her skin. Zig flicked and massaged each fold with his tongue, making love passionately to her sex. As each second passed, Izzie felt her core getting hotter, tremors shaking her limbs. Zig stuck two fingers in and massaged her clit, starting slow but progressing to a frenzied paced and dialed back down again. “Mmmmm…”she moaned.” He was taking her higher and higher, it was unreal. She could feel herself about to explode..but not quite. Then, he did something that shocked her. Something that drove her wild. Zig lifted up her hips a bit, tilting her so he could get a better grasp of that sexy ass of hers he loved. He placed kisses until he got closer to there. What the fuck! She exclaimed in her head. Her found her cavern however, and began to suck and eat at her hole like a peach. With his intensity, and his fingers working nimbly in her pussy, she came violently on the hood of his car, shaking and hitting. She came so hard and for so long she thought she entered a new dimension. It was unreal. Her legs were noodles, and it took several seconds to acclimate.

Once Izzie’s breath subsided, Zig continued: “Now you know how you hurt me when you talk back. I think it is time for you make amends.” He stood in front of her, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. She got the message, and Izzie drew a wolfish smile. Here is where she could be in control...she could show her want. “Oh Zig, I’m so sorry.” She gave him puppy dog eyes as she got on her knees. Zig took a sharp breath as Izzie slowly kissed his head, and then his shaft, with playful intention. No matter how many times she did this, he could never get over that she did this for him, loved it and was so fucking good at it. He didn’t deserve it, but he was addicted nonetheless. “Baby, you deserve the best. Let me try harder.” Izzie backed up a few inches to speak, but then brought her mouth back down again, lips fully over him. Slowly her head dipped lower and lower, taking all of him in. Shit! Zig was already tensing up. He overplayed his hand: he thought he would have control in this game. Izzie was playing dirty. She was playing for keeps.

Izzie bobbed up and down, the wet, sucking sound filling the space. She would change the pace, but kept up the veracity and passion. “Damn” Zig kept trying to grab his breath, barely choking out “I’m going to….” Then that is when it happened. Right as he was at his most powerless, she placed a finger in him, massaging all while she grabbed his rock hard ass and sucked him until kingdom come. There was sensation everywhere...this fire building inside him….that was burning him from the inside out….”Shit..shit…” Zig gritted his teeth as he was losing control to the waves of pleasure. Fireworks and stars exploded in his brain as his cock tensed and pulsating, releasing his hotness into her willing mouth. With one last jerk, he hit the hood of his car with his hand and she giggled. When he came back to reality, he muttered, “Not fair.”

As his voice calmed, tension subsiding, he grew serious again: “Now, I think it’s time to teach you exactly how to behave.” In one swift quick movement, he flipped her over, hands on car, pushing her to a downward position. With his left foot he swiped her left foot out, kicking her into a wide, doggy style stance so she could take him in completely. If she wanted to be a bad girl, then she was going to be fucked like a bad girl! With one hand on her back, he took the other and completely ripped her panties off. “Oh!” Izzie exclaimed with shock at his force. “Don’t worry, no one is going to know these are gone..this will be our little secret.” He winked. Zig slowly slid in, feeling the tight wetness around him. This was what heaven felt like. Once he got as far as he could, her love fully taking him in, he pulled her up closer to him. His hand massaging a breast as he pulled her face directly next to his. His breath hot and seductive next to her...it was a toxin that paralyzed her to his will.

He whispered to her, tickling her ear: “Tonight you will know how much I love you.” Their panting was heavy as he slammed against her tight ass. He was taking her to the brink of sanity, and she was addicted to this warming and numbing feeling in between her legs. He continued, “You are never to doubt my love again...I am yours and you are mine…” Bodies so close and tangled that they became as one person. Sweat flowing, hearts syncing, they were united. Slowly then sped up they found the perfect rhythm. Izzie was going crazy: with love for him and because he was so good at this. She had never felt more cared for by a man or more vital to him. Zig was about to lose his balance from feverish ecstasy, but just then he caught himself and got out: “When strangers see you walk, they will know you belong to me. I’m going to mark your walls with a fucking you will never forget.”

“I...can’t..leave you...long enough..to forget..I need you…” Izzie barely panted out. Zig was so fucking turned on by how much she wanted him. He started grinding, pounding, swirling his hips to hit every spot of hers. Nothing would be left untouched. Izzie was drowning in her wetness, the world around her growing smaller and going blacker as she was sent to the precipice. “Now! Now, Daddy!” She screamed with desperation. Izzie needed to come or she thought she might literally die. “Me too, baby” He groaned, grabbing her hair as the intensity flowed through him. Her hand instinctively went to her clit, rubbing it, pressure building and growing from her stomach all through her limbs. She fanned the flames with vigor, as Zig clenched every muscle in his body and yelled, “Fuck Izzie!” Stars brighter than the Las Vegas skyline invaded their vision. Both of them fell in a heap on the car, catching their fall. Sweat covered their foreheads, with Zig pushing her hair back to place some well earned kisses on her forehead.

Zig giggled and asked her jokingly, “So..do you think you learned anything from that?” “Yeah..” she breathed, slowly getting the words out, “I learned I can only be with you.” Blinking, she tried to calm her bated breath and continued: “It doesn’t matter where I go, as long as it is with you.” Zig laid his head on her, smiling, as the Las Vegas lights illuminated their beauty, and the sunset gave way to the dark night.

[viperanoxia]

توق

Cassiopeia Du Couteau was not, per se, a good person.

It was not something up for debate. One did not consciously and sanely do the things she did without understanding that they did not fit into the mold society had created of what good, upstanding, moral people should be.

She slipped through the shadows, pulling heartstrings for power, understanding with every step she would never be viewed at the same level as the rest of her family.

But it didn’t matter to her, because while the rest of House Du Couteau could slit throats, she could pierce hearts with the same deadly accuracy. While the others dealt in death, she wielded pleasure and false affection as her weapon; she picked apart the minds of every victim, understanding exactly what made them the way they were, what they craved more than anything.

And she gave it to them, in tiny doses, little tastes of heaven that only she could provide.

In a way, she was the deadliest. While death was absolute, while if one had the misfortune to fall victim to Talon or Katarina, if one were to be singled out by Cassiopeia’s jade eyes it spelled nothing but eternal downfall.

It was possible to live without her, but no one wanted to.

She was something that crawled under skin and never, ever left.

In a way, she was the cruelest of all of them, and she had no remorse about it. She took her pleasure, her every whim and inclination, and she never looked back. She got what she wanted and what she needed, and then she left.

She was in every respect a viper, and she knew that; she had made her peace with it a long time ago.

Better to be toxic and burn what she touched as she ascended than to stay at the bottom. Why should she, when she could rise so high and take everything before anyone realized?

After all, being anything less than the absolute best was boring.

Cassiopeia loved to long for gold and power. She had many vices, and she acknowledged each and every one fully.

It was, perhaps, not surprising that she would fixate so much on the lost treasures of Shurima in her spare time. After all, they too had adored their gold.

It takes her nearly a year and a half of exhausting her contacts, spending small fortunes that still did not compare in the slightest to her personal reserves of wealth, to attain all the information she needs to piece together a map to the lost city of Nashramae. It takes her another half year more to understand how to unlock the tomb below the city, where true power lay.

The texts weren’t exactly specific on what kind of power was there, but quite frankly she had only ever been patient when it came to pulling the strings on her puppets. When it came to controlling herself, well. She was confident there was nothing else to be found, so she ventured out to find it herself as soon as she could.

It was in a way cruelly ironic in retrospect, the way she had stood in front of long mirrors each day before, checking her complexion for any sign of a flaw.

Flaws simply would not do, not on her.

The toys that dared to leave a mark paid with their lives.

She would stand each night, twisting and turning in the candlelight gleaming off polished surfaces, dark hair tumbling over her shoulders, and smile—and of course she did. She was nothing but beautiful, a purely sensuous creature that made pulses quicken with a glance, the barest curl of her lips, in the way she moved to let the shadows dance across her pale skin.

Her beauty was her defining feature, her entire purpose, her everything. Her greatest weapon, the key to every lock in her path.

It was really almost a shame that she was now so monstrous.

Now she screams relentlessly, thrashing at the borders of a tomb long-forgotten but now yawning open and cavernous and damning before her.

The air whispers, You do not deserve death. Face what you truly are.

Cassiopeia hates crying, because it turns her ugly, turns her pale skin blotchy and puffy and irritated, but she sobs desperately, chest heaving, hoping it is all a dream.

But there is venom coursing through her veins, searing her from within. Her fingers look far more like talons, and her legs...well, they simply aren’t there.

She shrieks her pain and her despair, sinking razor-sharp nails into her own flesh in her panic, breaking every rule she had ever set for herself because she is a monster, an abomination.

Ugly.

She claws at her waist, tearing at skin and scales, rending angry and deep enough to see bone before she shudders to a halt.

She never was very good at coping with pain.

She lies there, sobbing, refusing to move in the slightest for days until her wounds scab over just the barest amount. She cannot stand feeling that tail—not her tail, no no, she refused that thought—slither through the sands, muscled and sleek and disgusting.

When she does finally shift, she drags herself as far as the piles of gold she had so craved.

She picks out a plate with trembling hands, carefully cleaning the surface with a torn sleeve. Stalling for time. Hiding from herself.

She lifts it, and in the wavering reflection she finds inhuman eyes and fangs she had tried to ignore, dark marks in her lips and scales scattered across her cheekbones and shoulders.

Her heart stops in her chest, and she shudders; she does not even have the energy to scream and fling the thing away, blame it for the truths she wishes were lies. She wants to shriek, voice piercing and angry and shrill, but instead she simply turns the plate over, shunning her own visage.

She is every bit the monster she has always been on the inside now.

And she knows it.

She does not have the courage, the will, to kill herself, though she wants to. She has nothing to live for now, after all.

She hates it.

She hates herself.

She always has, but for the first time she admits it.

She hates everything she has become, for not being good enough to deal in violence rather than secrets, for her ego and her greed, but she also knows full well she is still the best at the games of her own design. She is clever, she is striking, she always has been.

She always will be.

There will be new ways. She will make them, with blood and venom and every ounce of the fury coursing through her.

She lifts her chin, locks away the hurt and the despair and the seething bitterness deep in her heart, and she sets now-golden eyes on the horizon.

[bahannah01writes]

Bring Me a Dream (Pt. 12)

Summary: Mornings can be rough or sweet... but could they be both? For Mark, the answer is yes. Most Definitely.

Hilarity, dorkiness, and fluff ahead- you have been warned!

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~~

     The sleepy male stirs all while tightening his grip on his warm and soft pillow, refusing to fully get up just yet. For the first time in a while, his state of slumber left him with a feeling of peace and relaxation in his chest- void of the dark, harsh emotions that would linger in his mind after a nightmare or the hollow indifference of waking up when his nightly state of unconscious had neither dreams nor nightmares; but instead was only a blank, black world that made the night pass by quickly although still being able to give him the proper rest he needed for the day. But last night… despite the rough beginning, he was blessed with heavenly images that contained silly and loving moments with his precious savior of the night, his darling Dream Maker, his girl.

     A smile splits across his expression, closing his eyes and allowing himself to replay the parts of his dream that he could remember; an enchanting and endearing dance scene with you. It wasn’t anything too extravagant, a simple slow dance amongst the clouds and a desire to recreate that moment buries itself in his heart. Mark can feel his heart swell with anticipation at the mere thought and feels the heat rise to his cheeks at his cheesy romantic wish- but what can he say? The idea warms his heart and the longer he thinks about it, the bigger his smile becomes. With a blissful sigh, the ravenette opens his chocolate eyes once again and casts a gentle gaze to your still sleeping visage.

     Even with your hair strewn about from sleeping and looking less than ready for the day, you manage to make this goofball come undone.

     An audible ‘awe’ slips from his lips and his eyes widen, hoping he doesn’t ruin this darling moment by awakening his sleeping beauty; unbeknownst to him, it will take much more than a simple ‘awe’ to wake up a Dream Maker in the middle of recharging- there are only a few things that can do that and unless Mark decides to suddenly scream, you wouldn’t be waking up if it isn’t due to your own accord.

     Relieved to see that you don’t react to the little sound, Mark hums in delight and begins to wonder if he should selfishly stay in bed with you or leave and get his day back on track, since he’s assuming he overslept which sets things off just a tad. He chews his bottom lip, God, he doesn’t want to leave your embrace, leave you, it’s such a wonderful and relaxing feeling to be held by you and he doesn’t want to bring himself out of it…

     But, being the workaholic he is, Mark knows if he stays any longer he’ll become antsy with his lack of progress. So, sighing to himself the ravenette begrudgingly pries himself from your warm embrace and almost instantly misses your warmth that he was so happily wrapped in. A frown tugs at the corner of his lips but is soon overshadowed by a soft smile as he watches you curl up under the covers, missing his warmth just as much as he missed yours. Without thinking, Mark leans down and presses a delicate kiss to your temple, his fingers combing through your hair gingerly as to not startle your sleeping state. After one last longing glance, he turns to leave the room and his feet trail down the stairs into the open floor plan living room and kitchen, seeing Tyler already on the couch munching on a piece of toast.

     “Wow,” He hears the brunette breathes out, with a hint of surprise and smugness to his voice, “How did I wake up before the diligent Mark Fischbach?”

     Said Fischbach, rolls his eyes- albeit it’s empty of any ill will and instead a playful smirk spreads on his lips, “Actually, I woke up at normal time but I was too busy cuddling (Y/n) that I couldn’t bring myself to leave her. But, my tummy growled,” he pats his stomach, despite his words being false, “so, I finally had to leave my precious chickadee to feed this monster- speaking of, you fed Chica?”

     “And walked her.” Tyler chuckles and offers his friend a sly smirk, “So… you two were cuddling this morning?”

     Quite proud and quite oblivious to his friend’s scheming, Mark nods curtly, “We were. Even when she’s sleeping, she’s so cute…” He sighs wistfully, the image appearing in his mind once again; Mark certainly wouldn’t mind waking up to you everyday, if anything, it could start his day off with a smile.

     “And you were sharing a bed?”

     “... Yes? That’s kind of needed for cuddling?”

     With what Tyler says next, the blatant smug and teasing tone laces his voice and Mark finally realizes how much his friend wants to torture him, “So you slept together, huh?”

     Of course, Tyler knows this wasn’t true as 1) he probably would have heard and 2) both of you dorks were too busy being cheesy and silly to so suddenly become intimate. And seeing as Mark chokes on air from the question and harshly coughing, Tyler is sent into hysterical laughter at the result of his successful tease.

     Should he be worried?

     Nah, he’ll be fine.

     “NO!” Mark sternly protests once he finally finds his voice, eyes wide as he looks at his friend who is currently drowning in his own laughter- it’s almost contagious enough to make the ravenette start to laugh himself. He waves his hands for extra emphasis, trying to shake the notion away as he can feel his cheeks flush, radiating heat that could challenge the sun, “No, no, no, we fell asleep together but we didn’t… sleep… together,” Despite how crude his humor can be at times, Mark can’t help but become flustered at the idea to the point where his voice lowers an octave as he talked like it was some secret.

     To say the least, Tyler found the situation hilarious.

     “You’re so easy to tease sometimes, Mark,” Tyler chuckles, his laughter finally calming down as he shakes his head. The two love to mess with one another and with your new presence, Tyler received even more ammo to tease and annoy his friend who’s in absolute puppy love with you- Tyler even finds it cute, sometimes a bit much, but he’s happy that his friend found someone as kind and caring as you are, not to mention that the two of you draw in the competition of who’s the bigger dork. He may not have known you long, but Tyler really is glad that you’re in Mark’s life.

     A loud groan brings him back from his thoughts as his baby blues catch sight of an annoyed Mark, sending him into another, yet smaller, fit of laughter.

     “I just wanted to come down and have a nice breakfast!”

     “Too late for that now!”

     “I know,” Mark huffs, arms crossing over his chest and a pretend pout making its way onto his lips, “Screw it, I’m still gonna have a nice breakfast, I’m just going to ignore your dumbass.” He says with more sass than needed, leading the brunette to shake his head at his friend’s odd antics and methods of revenge.

     “Whatever you say...” Tyler trails off; even with his back towards him, Mark can tell he’s wearing his smug smirk again and while Mark opens his mouth to say something, Tyler cuts him off before he can do so, “Just remember to mark my victory on the scoreboard!” The ‘scoreboard’ being the imaginary record of the two’s ‘battles’ and who’s come out on top each time. It’s nothing real nor nothing that really holds much weight, yet it can rile the boys up at times.

     This is one of those times.

     And without thinking, a devious smirk slides onto Mark’s expression as he opens up the fridge, “Well you know… Unlike you, if I really wanted to, I have the option to do that.” He quips, feeling quite proud of himself since it seems as though his friend is lost at words for a comeback.

     However, Mark is about to soon find out the real reason as to why Tyler has gone silent.

     The moment he shuts the fridge door, he catches sight of a very curious and still sleepy you and freezes; praying that you didn’t hear-

     “Option to do what, Markimoo?” A yawn follows your innocent question that has a less than innocent answer. The ravenette stammers and casts a glance to Tyler, seeking help, yet is only met with the sight of a silently laughing mess who offers no aid whatsoever.

     Tyler is really not being the best of friends this morning.

     Mark rubs the back of his neck as you approach, reaching around him and opening the door once again to take out the orange juice. You patiently await an answer; you honestly thought it would be quick and you could slide yourself into their conversation with ease but with Mark’s odd, buffering state, you slightly regret asking the question now.

     Although… seriously? Out of all the times you had to come down, you come down when he said that? There couldn’t have been a better time for you to wake up. With a sheepish chuckle, Mark shrugs and a slanted smile splits his lips, “Y’know, just, to make breakfast is all.”

     He locks his lovely brown eyes with yours, hoping it would help distract your mind and not really allow you to sink into whatever that phrase may have meant.

     God, Mark really hopes you believe him- not matter how silly it may seem.

     Sadly, you do not believe him.

     Everything from his half-assed excuse to the suspicious tone of his voice screams that whatever they were talking about, was not simply making breakfast. Tyler’s laughing fit does nothing to convince you of Mark’s reasoning either. All the same, you decide to drop it seeing as the boys can be more than weird at times and this may very well be one of those times when they’re just being weird for the sake of being weird. Shaking your head, a feathery laugh escapes your lips and you place a hand on Mark’s shoulder, “Highly doubt that, but- it’s too early in the morning to care. So instead of asking more about whatever that is, what do you guys have planned for the day?”

     The now calmed down Tyler, apart from the occasional breathless chuckle, offers a gleeful grin as he answers, “The typical- plus Ethan should come over to hang out later. Care to join us?”

     With a nod, your lips curl up into a warm smile, “Love to! And you, Mark?”

     “Proving just how much of a workaholic I can be,” the ravenette laughs lightly before turning his head to you, giving you his full attention, “But for you, I can make room if you have something in mind.”

     Your smile only seems to grow with his sentiment and you can’t help but plant a swift kiss onto his cheek, “Not currently, but I’ll keep you updated, sweetheart,” you shoot him a cheeky wink with a few giggles escaping past your lips, “Thanks for the offer though.”

     A giant goofy grin spreads across his expression, unable to do anything else but melt under your loving gaze, “Always, chickadee.”

     A loud groan meets your ears and your gaze snaps away from Mark and lands on the brunette on the couch, “Stop being cute, you two. I’ll be going up soon so save it for when I leave.” The two of you laugh at Tyler’s request and after a shared glance with your dear Dreamer, mischievous smirks replace the smiles that were previously held on your lips; a plan had just been formulated.

     “Oh (Y/n)! My snoopy boopy kins! Do you think we should dial it back for ol’ Tyly Whiley? Though I’m not sure I could! You’re just so cute!” Mark cooes, leaning into you as you both cheesily rub your noses together truly acting like the giant dorks you are.

     “Aw, you’re the cute one, Markimoo! I can’t help but want to hug and kiss you whenever I see that adorable face of yours!” You chime in that sickeningly sweet tone as you begin to pepper Mark’s face with quick kisses that elicit a cheerful laugh from the male before you and another groan from the one out of sight.

     “Ha. Ha. Very funny, I’m going to the office, you love sick dorks,” Tyler playfully jests, getting up and making his way up the stairs and into the office. Once he disappeared, Mark and yourself laugh as you fall into each other’s embrace, thoroughly proud that your plan worked.

     “Good job, babe,” You can feel the rumbling in his chest as he laughs or talks, you smile up at him- he returns with both an adoring gaze and a smile, “Cutie pie.”

     “Buttercup,” Your darling voice rings out after a moment, Mark saw how the gears in your head turned to find a new ‘cute’ nickname for him. His expression softened further at the effort you put into such a small thing.

     “Buttercup….” He lets the name linger on his tongue, slowly nodding in appreciation, “Not my favorite- but I like it.”

     “Good,” You sigh happily and turn so you’re directly in front of him and wrap your arms around his neck, concern and hope starting to stir about in those intoxicating eyes of yours that meet with his, “So… are you feeling better after you-know-what?”

     Nodding, Mark smiles to assure you of your worries as his hands find their way to your waist, “Much; after you came and got me and I fell back asleep, I think I had some of the best sleep in a while. I can’t remember it all, but I know there was even a dream, so thank you.”

     While you would like to try and hide your confusion, your brows furrow unconsciously and by then you realize there’s no point in hiding it; you hum and your fingers mindlessly play with the strands of raven hair, “There must be a subconscious or hidden factor at work…” you mutter to yourself before shifting your eyes back up to his own loving brown ones, “I won’t lie, Mark, it’s a bit peculiar that you had a dream, but I have no doubt it was due to something I did- I just can’t think of what,” you reason, a gentle laugh flowing from you as you talk.

     “Well, either way, I think we should do that more often. Both for protection and… ‘cause it was nice.”

     “It was, wasn’t it?”

     “Definitely,” The two of you share a serene silence, simply enjoying the other’s presence. Mark hesitantly leans down and meets your lips with his own; it’s both soft and exciting somehow. To say the least, you found the kiss to be far too short, instantly missing the sensation as soon as he pulled away.

     Albeit, what he says next makes up for it ten-fold.

     “If you want, around lunch time I can take you out and we can get slushees?”

     He really is the perfect man.  

~~

Heyo! Time for an import memo, my dearies! I am going on vacation this Saturday and it will be until the 19th. Now, I can't promise I will be updating this story during that time; however, I will probably do quick one shots and stuff! (If the wifi gods are in my favor, of course) After all, I have a seven hour drive ahead of me... ;^; Fun times... I already have a lil to-do list but feel free to send more in- I can’t promise I’ll do them all but they can certainly inspire me all the same! Anyway, if you enjoyed this fluffy chapter, please leave a like, comment, and maybe even reblog- thanks for reading! <3