#however I promise that when I learn to properly draw him i’m gonna be very annoying about him

[kev-smell-my-fart]

hmmmrrgh i wanna draw vigilante jusy to show how much i love him and put it in the tags for all to see but. I can’t draw him (either in his canon design or my human version of him) good. ☹️☹️

[nishigo]

an anomaly. // bennett x reader.

a page from the book of memories.

[ p a g e 3 2 9 ｡ ]

authors note: hello! this is my first ever attempt at something for genshin impact. this is longer than i expected, and there may be errors here and there, so i am sorry about that in advance. i do hope you will enjoy it though. i got bennett yesterday after rolling and although many say he’s annoying...he’s very much like me in real life. coincidence? i think not. Σ('◉⌓◉’) i also rolled a girl named keqing. she seems nice, and is a five star, but i don’t know if she’s rare. i truly don’t know how this system works, apologies. T^T anyways, traveler, happy reading. (*'▽'*)

word count : 2191

tw : none that i can think of. very much fluff. and perhaps a touch of a flirty!reader. :)

request status at time of posting : open.

in which he had finally someone who could balance out his unluckiness.

would you like to read?

＞　行｡ ( y e s )

＞　不行 。( n o )

———

Bennett was, to put it simply, confused.

He had just finished a mission with you, being your support the whole entire way through. There had been an offering that had been posted on the tavern’s walls in dark, smudged text that caught his eye at an earlier time. It read that whoever could get rid of the new pop-up hilichurl camp that blocked the path to Liyue would receive a grand sum of Mora. Course, running low on money, Bennett had decided to take up the offer. They would be easy enough to take down, just a simple slash of his sword and a few burns here and there could get the job done in no time. However, there was a problem.

No one would come with him.

Bennett knew that he was very...loud. And he was energetic. And annoying. And, though he hated to admit it...he was unlucky.

Everything seemed stacked up against him. Everyone he turned to in the tavern took a simple glance at him and rejected the offer with no further questions asked. He would try to convince them, but they would simply get more annoyed at his stubbornness and shoo him away with a flick of a hand or some splash of beer to the face. It’s not like he could take the older adventurers out either, they could barely walk on their own two feet. They were so old that they certainly would have shriveled up in the sun if he brought them along. So there that option went, leaving him with practically nothing else to turn to.

But then, if he had no one to go with him, what would happen? Would he continue to be stuck in that tavern? No, he wouldn’t allow himself to waste away like that. He was meant to be out there, in a world that could supply him with the thrill and rush that his heart yearned for. The boy desired to be just as great of an adventurer as the ones who came before him, or perhaps, dare he dream, even greater than them. Bennett desired to be a legend. But being a legend could not be done alone, even if that was what Bennett determined he would forever be, deep in the back of his brain.

Which is why you were such an anomaly.

You were the last person he spoke to that night. He was a complete mess. His shirt was damp with beer and some white wine, his white locks were a birds nest with the goggles sliding off slowly, and his eyes looked devoid of life as he took a deep inhale and they brightened up again. This was his last chance. You were the one who was either going to make or break this plan.

“Hello stranger! I am the great Bennett, and I was wondering if you would be able to help assist me with a mission that was posted on the tavern walls. It’s about the hilichurl camp by Liyue! Although I am rather strong, I need some help so it’s done more efficiently and faster. I’m even willing to split the Mora with you that we make out of it! What do you say?” Bennett recited his lines again, as if he was in an interview of sorts. His leafy green eyes watched as you scrunched up your eyebrows, as if thinking and examining him. Your face was blank other than that, lips in a straight line and hand cupping your cheek. Bennett found it to be quite terrifying. It was such an intimidating look, in fact, that he was about to ask you to forget about it before you spoke first.

“Sure.” You stated simply, a smile forming on your face as you crossed your arms.

“Ahhh, understood, I’ll get goi- WAIT!” The pyro boy turned to look right at you as he gasped. His face was one of shock morphed with a cute, ecstatic look. One could compare it to a puppy of sorts. You were not meant to say yes. You were meant to be like everyone else and reject him. He was dumbfounded as he grabbed a hold of your shoulders and tilted his head.

“You’re not joking?!”

“Course not! Why would I do such a thing?” You rebuked before he giddily jumped up and down while pulling you up to a sweet hug. It was a gentle and firm one, though, he pulled away quickly after realizing he still wreaked of alcohol. You told him you didn’t mind it though, making him rub the back of his head sheepishly and laugh. You two would converse for the night, agreeing to meet up at the gate the next morning so he could lead the way to the camp and also split the mora gained evenly. After the small chat, you would leave the tavern to stay at the local inn for the night and get some rest. Bennett’s eyes were trained on you as the door then closed, realization hitting him like a truck: he found someone. He found a real person to take on a mission. Better yet, they were as gorgeous as they were strong. This was better than any dream he could have made up. Bennett decided he had to turn in for the night soon after you left, taking a spot in his cozy bed under the sheets. His eyes closed as the curtains rustled at the soft wind that blew through the window. The pyro’s last thought before going to bed was that he truly hoped that you would fulfill your end of the deal and show up.

And you kept your promise. You were there as the morning sun rose to reflect your beautiful skin, hair flowing gently in the light breeze as he ran up to you and froze. You looked powerful now that you were out of the tavern and he could see you properly. You had on your adventure gear, dressed appropriately for a mission that required taking out many enemies. What caught his attention, though, was your white cape with golden accents that flowed from behind. Flicking your hood down and off your head, your face was now fully visible as you watched him stare. He was adorable, like a little baby who was just discovering the world for the first time.

“You’re really gonna do this with me?” Bennett asked in wonder. His face was blank as a smirk landed itself on your features. You positioned yourself to stand upright, away from the wall you were leaning on as you held your weapon of choice in your dominant hand. As for the other, you outstretched it towards him with a grin.

“Lead the way.”

Bennett didn’t even have to think twice about it as he eagerly took your hand into his own gloved one and began to lead you out of the city and into the wilderness. He seemed to be very hyper from what you could tell, as he couldn’t seem to stop commenting on how he was destined for greatness, or how thankful he was that you were going to come along with him. He also bombarded you with questions about yourself as well, like if this was your first time in Mondstadt or what kind of element you had control over. He was easily excited, but especially when you told him that you were a traveler that had been moving around place to place to see the sights of the world. It was why you were so strong, you had defeated a wide range of enemies, great and small, on your journeys. Bennett was fascinated by that, drawing him to be more and more curious about you. Alas, the questions and storytelling had to wait. You two had arrived at the camp, and it was time to take some enemies down.

You two ended up making a fantastic duo of sorts. With his sword and experience, he was able to cut down enemies with ease. You did the same, your speed and agility outmatched as you two basically made a massacre out of the camp. His fire would spread through the long grass, and with the natural wind, spread quickly to begin burning it all down. You were quick to come to his aid when he would sometimes get backed against the rocks or a tree, helping him heal with some quick magic you had learned. It wasn’t anything special, but it was enough to keep him up and moving. With such precision and perseverance, your duo was able to defeat the camp with relative ease. However, both you and Bennett were still tired from fighting for so long. You two were out of breath as the fire died out, heaving for air as you gave him a head pat and grinned.

“You did amazing out there. You’re a talented pyro user as well, I’m impressed.” There you went again, making him all confused as he sat there. You just complimented him. A powerful traveler, that has practically defeated every sort of monster there is out there, was impressed by him. Bennett, the unlucky, was impressive? For the first time, he was rendered speechless as he looked at you. It was now night, the moon high in the sky as it illuminated your face. Oh goodness, you looked ethereal. The way the stars were reflected in your eyes, the way the gold of your cape sparkled and flowed behind you, the way you smiled at him, like he was the most handsome boy you had ever seen. The only thing that stopped the comfortable silence between you two was the fact that he shivered when a breeze brushed against his pale, scar littered skin. You snapped out of it and looked him up and down, noticing how a lot of his skin was exposed to the chilly night.

“Here, take this.” You told him as you unbuttoned your cape, taking it off your shoulders. With one swoop, you draped it over his own figure, being as gentle as possible as you buttoned it up again. Bennett was reduced to continuing to stay silent as you clothed him. You placed the hood up on top of his head, a hand on your hip as you grinned at him. It was a bit big on him but nonetheless, it was rather cute. You used your other hand to take his chin gently, making him look you in the eyes. He was rather happy that the hood cast a bit of a shadow, because his cheeks were flushed a hot pink as he was forced to look at you.

“Huh. Looks better on you than it does me.” You commented before he seemed to regain his ability to speak.

“You need this more than me! I-i’m literally a pyro user, I c-can heat myself-” You hushed him, letting go of his chin as you put a finger to his peach pink lips.

“Doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t waste your energy to heat up, especially since we have to walk back to town. I’ll be fine, I’ve been through worse weather situations.” He glanced down at your finger, and then back to you as you dropped your hand and began walking down the path again, back towards the city. Why did you have to be so, so...enchanting? And you were so smooth as well! He had never been so flustered when talking to someone, heck, he was the one who was meant to be doing most of the talking! Though, he supposed that him being talkative didn’t equate to being able to flirt. But something about the thought of you leaving made him pout. It was as if the butterflies were leaving his stomach, but they left him emptier than before.

Bennett refused to be lonely anymore. Not when he had you.

“Hey, darling!~ Would you stop standing there and staring off into space? I know I look wonderful tonight, but we gotta get a move on! We won’t be able to get to town and rest our weary bones if you keep this up!~” You called out to him, making him shake his head and refocus. Right, a bed. Sleep did sound rather good right now, along with a shower and something to quench his thirst. He ran and caught up to you, walking by your side as he grinned. He began to already ask about other missions that the two of you could do together, like gathering supplies for the alchemist or helping around the town for some spare Mora here and there. Bennett then stopped for a moment again, looking at you.

“Would you like to work together again?” There was a moment of silence before you nodded.

“I think I would. We make a great team.” Bennett then continued walking with you, as if time didn’t just stop for a second as he went back to his usual, bubbly nature. The more he thought about it, the happier it made him. More adventures to be made. More memories to be created. All with you at his side the entire time.

And you would make all the difference.

[thedarkplume]

Throwback Thursday

Dust off those browsers, friends. We’re gonna travel back in time to the stories that brought us into the fandom or the ones that have stuck with you through the years.

Share your super old faves and reblog them, showing the authors their classics are not forgotten. Leave them a love note showing them how much it means to you.

Then reblog the first story you wrote for your current fandom or even the first one you wrote for each fandom you belong to. The world is our oyster. Let’s rediscover some pearls.

I'm not going to lie. This Ask made me a little bit sad. There have been some really great writers on this site that have left us for unspecified reasons, and some for the childish bullying that seems to be a daily thing.

One of my favorite blogs was @chocolatecherubs. They were a blog that was written specifically for black female characters in the Marvel Universe, with Steve and Bucky as the central love interests, particularly during the 1940s.

However, all is not lost! There are still plenty of blogs that I follow and love and can always count on to provide the most entertainment you can achieve without picking up an actual book. One of the blogs who always delivers on this front regardless of the subject matter is the beautiful and talented @avintagekiss24 . I've been following her for a year and it has been a nonstop rollercoaster of fun, excitement, surprise, and even a little bit of heartbreak.

@avintagekiss24 has so many stories that I reread over and over again, it's nearly impossible to pick just one. But...if I did have to choose a classic in a split-second decision it would be Night Shift. This was my first time ever reading a story about Andy Barber and since then I have not stopped!

As for my own forays into fanfiction, I've written for Twilight, Harry Potter, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Cruel Intentions, a few WIPs for We Have Always Lived in the Castle, Knives Out, and the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and that's not counting all of the stories knocking around in my head vying for attention!

Here is a VERY old Buffy the Vampire Slayer story I wrote.

Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Pairing: Buffy/Angelus

Setting: 1700s, New Colonies

A/N: This story is a little different from the others I’ve written. This story is set in the days of Angelus’ life when Drusilla had just turned Spike. Bear with me if everything is not exactly up to par historically – I am not a history buff! NSFW 18+ Warnings for offensive language, subject matter, violence, blood, gore, and sexual abuse.

His features could not be termed uninteresting—there lay in them something bold and daring—but the expression on the whole anything but benevolent. There were contempt and sarcasm in the cold dark eyes, whose glance, however, was at times so piercing that no one could endure it long.

from The Mysterious Stranger (1860) – Anonymous

What is obsession? Is it the madness that consumes a man when he’s confronted with the one thing he knows he is not supposed to have? Is it the burning desire to possess the aforementioned object, ensuring that she will only think of him as he only thinks of her? Angelus paced back and forth in his chosen room of the mansion. Darla was still off reconnecting with Dracula and giving Angelus some much-needed breathing room. While she was off having her own adventures, he moved his childe and grandchilde to the American Colonies. They were in the colony named New York. Angelus loved the New Colonies. The women were not as sexually repressed, and the humans as a whole were more trusting. Since their arrival, government officials, writers, artists, scholars – everyone who held wealth and power had invited Angelus, his “sister” Drusilla and her husband William, to parties. There was nothing Angelus enjoyed more than drunk socialites.

And it was at one of these parties that he saw her. The object of his obsession. Elizabeth Anne Summers. Buffy, to those who knew her intimately. She had long, golden blonde hair, not unlike Darla’s, but hers had more of a silky texture. Her eyes were large and hazel, brimming with innocence. She had sun-kissed skin that seemed to glow underneath the moonlight.

Angelus wanted her. He wanted to bury his fangs and his cock inside her. Her scent proved that she was untried, but that would only last so long. Angelus found out everything he could about her. She was promised to the governor’s son. She lived with her parents Hank and Joyce Summers. She had a baby sister – Dawn – who caught pneumonia and died at the age of six. Her father worked as a developer for the colony and his wife owned a prominent boutique. She had two best friends, Willow Osbourne née Rosenberg and Alexander Harris, husband to the beautiful and licentious Cordelia Harris née Chase.

The first time Angelus spoke to her was at a party that was thrown by an oil barren. Angelus, as usual, found himself surrounded by three potential meals. Drusilla stood by William’s side, smiling proudly as he recited poetry. It was terrible, but the women thought it was the most beautiful thing they had ever heard.

“Do you hunt, Mr. McConroy?” one of the women – Mrs. O’Hara or something or another – said, pulling him from his thoughts.

Angelus flashed an enticing smile. “Why yes, Mrs. O’Hara. ‘Tis one of my many pleasures.”

She wet her lips and fluttered her eyes in what he was sure was meant to be attractive. “Well, in that case, you should come to my husband’s estate in the country. You two can hunt and later you could tell me more about your pleasures.”

“How can a man of sound mind resist such an enticing offer?” he said, kissing the back of her hand.

The woman continued to place unnecessary hints concerning secret rendezvous and Angelus almost lost control and snapped her neck on the spot until one of the younger women spoke up.

“There’s that Elizabeth Summers.”

Angelus’ attention immediately shifted, seeking out his dark obsession. She came in with her parents. Her large hazel eyes seemed sad, and Angelus suddenly wanted to seek out that which had caused her misery and destroy it. He wanted to be the sole source of any pain she felt. But he could not gaze upon his obsession in peace as one of the three women continued her verbal assault.

“How a strange girl like that was lucky enough to have a contract with Governor Finn’s son is baffling.”

“She is a strange one, Harmony,” Cordelia Harris vehemently agreed. “My husband says that she spends all of her time reading. Reading! Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“Well, I hear that she wishes to become a writer! As if any respectable man would want anything written by a woman! A proper lady should spend her time learning to attend a household and concern herself with pleasing her husband.”

“Yes, well, we all know that Buffy,” she sneered the name. “Is as far from a lady as one can be. It baffles me why Alexander enjoys her company so. It’s embarrassing!” she glared as said husband made his way over to Buffy.

“I see nothing wrong with a properly educated woman, Mrs. Harris,” Angelus said, drawing their attention away from Buffy. “It would be refreshing to hear a woman contribute something to the conversation beyond how pretty the dresses are overseas.”

Cordelia Harris’ expression darkened so that if Angelus had been human, he might have been afraid. “Well,” she sniffed, highly offended. “It is upon the hour, and I believe I shall take my leave.” She stood and scowled at Angelus when he broke societal conventions and refused to stand when she did. “I bid you goodnight, Mrs. O’Hara, Harmony, Mr. McConroy.”

“Mrs. Harris,” his flourishing bow was meant and taken in all its mockery. He smirked as she huffed and stomped away. He watched her approach Buffy and Alexander, and used his enhanced hearing to listen in.

“…husband and I must be going,” she said in a clipped tone.

Buffy knew that her friend’s wife didn’t like her, but for Xander’s sake, she at least made an effort. “I am sorry that you must be leaving so soon. I hope you will feel well, Cordy.”

“Oh, Elizabeth, how many times must I remind you to call me Mrs. Harris?” she said tightly.

“Of course. I apologize.”

“Alexander.”

The dark-haired young man looked between his wife and his friend, wishing he could stay, but knowing he would never hear the last of it if he did. “Of course, dear. See you soon, Buffy.”

Her other friend, Willow, who had watched the scene from across the room, performed her usual damage control ritual. “You know I think one of these days he shall divorce her.”

“Willow!” she whispered, linking their arms. “You should not say such things.”

“Well, he should! I’m fairly certain the only reason he puts up with her is for the sex and we both know the pregnancy scare was the incentive for the marriage to start with…”

Angelus watched the two young women disappear out onto the gardens. “Ladies, if you will excuse me.” He left the woman at the table and sought out William. He didn’t have the same mental link with him as he did with Drusilla, but William could feel when his grandsire called him.

“You called?” he said, appearing moments later.

“Yes, I’m stepping out for a moment. Make sure no one sees Dru nibbling on the livestock.”

“Are you ever going to tell me what’s so special about this bird? I mean, she’s a cutie and all, but is she really worth our queen mother handing you your own arse?”

“What Darla doesn’t know won’t kill me.” Angelus knew William had a point. Darla was extremely jealous and possessive of him, but he was still sore around the edges where she was concerned, considering that she left him to die in a burning barn. Darla was his sire and that was a bond not easily broken, but nothing could reestablish the trust he lost for her. He glanced at Drusilla to see if she was keeping out of trouble and caught her thralling Harmony. “If you want the blonde as a party favor you should take her out of here. She’s as dumb as a post but has a pleasant peach scent to her.”

Angelus left his grandchilde to attend to Dru and followed Buffy’s scent through the large garden maze. She and her friend, Willow sat on a bench in front of a pond talking quietly.

“…says?”

“You mean when she’s not nursing a bottle? She blames me. She says even whores aren’t low enough to chase their own fathers,” she sniffled.

“Oh, Buffy, have you thought about telling Riley?”

“No, I can’t tell him, Will. If he thought for a moment that it’s gone further than a drunken fumbling, he’ll never speak to me again.”

“And right now, he’s your only way out,” Willow sighed in sympathy to her friend’s plight. “You know Oz and I will let you move in with us.”

“People will talk.”

“They’re already talking. One of New York’s most beloved sons married to a kike?”

“Willow!” Buffy admonished. “Don’t ever call yourself that.”

The redhead shrugged carelessly. “I have been called much worse. I am just telling you that Oz and I do not care what anyone else says about us.”

“I appreciate it. And if the wedding was happening later than next month I would say yes.”

“But what if he goes too far before Riley can save you?”

The unanswered question hung heavy in the air. Angelus seethed. He barely restrained himself from going back inside, grabbing Hank Summers and tearing off his worthless cock with his bare hands. It didn’t anger Angelus that the man was taking liberties with his daughter. It bothered him that his touch would not be the first she had known from a man.

“I should get back inside before Oz starts looking for me. Come with?”

“In a little while. I just want a little more time away from the noise.”

“Don’t take too long. Your parents,” she mumbled.

Angelus watched the Osbourne woman return to the party from his place in the shadows. He turned his attention back to Buffy realizing that they were finally alone. She leaned back, her hands flat on the bench and her face turned up towards the starlit sky. Her eyes were closed, and the subtle breeze disturbed the tendrils of silky tresses framing her face. Angelus had the perfect view of the golden skin of her smooth throat. His face shifted as he imagined sinking his fangs into her throat as her naked body writhed helplessly underneath his.

Buffy’s eyes suddenly snapped open. She stood and she looked around her as if sensing she was not alone. “Is someone there?” she called.

Angelus contained his excitement and returned to his human visage. “Just me,” he said, pretending as though he was simply out for a stroll through the garden’s maze. “Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Buffy stared at the man before her. She was certain that she had never seen him around before. He was tall, very tall. He had long dark hair that was bound behind his head. He had a wide mustache and she wondered if it was as soft as his hair looked. He had dark eyes. Eyes that were mischievous and secretive. She started to believe she was dreaming. She always thought Riley was cute in a boyish way, but this man before her with the long brown hair, his piercing dark eyes and his enticing smirk was…beautiful. His smirk seemed to widen, and Buffy realized with startling clarity that she was rather rudely staring at him.

“No, you did not frighten me, sir,” she recovered.

“You are Elizabeth Summers, correct?”

“Yes, but everyone calls me Buffy.”

He took her hand – it seemed tiny and engulfed by his – and pressed a small kiss to it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Buffy. I am Angelus McConroy.”

Recognition flashed in her large hazel eyes. “Of course, Mr. McConroy! You live in the Crawford’s old mansion. Your brother-in-law, William, is it? He ordered a gown from my mother’s boutique for your sister.”

Angelus suppressed another smirk. He had sent William on that particular mission to scout out the boutique and Buffy’s work hours, and to spread the word to the local undead community that she, her family and friends, were off limits.

“Yes, my family and I moved there a few months ago.”

Buffy fidgeted with her dress before resuming her place on the bench. “Would you…would you care to sit?” she offered timidly.

He flashed a dazzling smile and took his place beside her. “Now what is a lovely girl such as yourself doing out here all alone? It’s really not safe,” said the wolf to the rabbit.

Buffy glanced up at him and flushed as he stared down at her unblinkingly. “Oh, well, I just stepped out for a moment. Just for some air,” she shrugged.

“You don’t truly enjoy parties, do you?”

“They are…acceptable.”

“Ah, but a lass such as yourself would much rather be at home in front of the fire with a book. You prefer the silence and solitude to the noise and excitement.”

She flushed an attractive pink and looked up at him from under her lashes. “I realize that those are not exactly the qualities one looks for in a woman, but…”

“But you are far from a woman, lass. You’re still a wee child.” He watched appreciatively as her skin flushed a darker red.

“Sir, I will have you know that I am of sixteen years and will soon be a wife,” she said, not really succeeding in sounding offended.

“Yes, to Governor Finn’s lad no less. I find it difficult to see what it is the boy could have done to deserve the hand of such a fair lass.”

Her hazel eyes met his and she wore a smile befitting that of the most experienced of coquettes. “Do you tell all your ladies that, Mr. McConroy?”

“Only the pretty ones,” he smirked and wiggled his eyebrows.

She started laughing and Angelus thought it was the most enticing sound he had ever heard. “You are indeed a charmer, Mr. McConroy. If I may be so bold…?”

“You may.”

“Why is there not a Mrs. McConroy? A gentleman such as yourself should have amassed quite the number of prospects from the fairer sex.”

Angelus, seeing his opportunity, angled his body towards hers. “Perhaps it is because a man can only have ale for so long before he starts to long for a fine wine.”

He could hear her heart pounding in fear and excitement as their seemingly innocent conversation began to take a different turn. “But what if you’re not supposed to have the wine?” she breathed.

“That’s when it’s the sweetest.” His hand cupped her cheek and her eyes fluttered from the contact. “Look at me, Buff,” he commanded. “Look into my eyes.” Angelus knew he could have waited rather than jumping at the first opportunity to thrall her, but he was anxious to have her in his bed.

“You have pretty eyes.”

Angelus felt his eyebrows rise. You have pretty eyes? Angelus concentrated harder and Buffy flinched as he suddenly seemed to be scowling at her.

“What? Men can have pretty eyes,” she pouted slightly, thinking he was offended.

Angelus blinked. He surveyed her carefully, playing close attention not to let himself linger on her pouting pink lips. He didn’t understand how it was possible for her to resist his thrall. No one had ever resisted! The girl was obviously human. She smelled human. She had a heartbeat. What had gone wrong? His eyebrows knitted together as he ran through any and all explanations as to why his gift had failed him. He felt her warm hand press against his own.

“Angelus? Is something wrong?”

He recovered, wearing his signature smirk. “You think my eyes are pretty, do ye?”

Buffy fiddled with the sleeves of her dress looking anywhere but at him. “Yes, they resemble little pools of chocolate.” She felt his fingers lace through hers and looked down. She liked the way their hands fit.

“Now which one of us is the charmer here, Buff?” he watched her shiver as his fingers idly stroked hers.

“There you are!”

Buffy stood, withdrawing her hand from Angelus, completely missing his darkened expression. “Riley,” she said, her heart pounding heavily as though she’d been caught doing something terribly wicked.

“I have been searching all over for you, Bethie.”

He took her hand in his own, missing her subtle wince at the nickname she loathed. “Forgive me if I have caused distress. I only stepped out for a moment.”

“Your mother and father are looking for you. They –.” Riley stopped short when he saw movement behind Buffy. “Hello,” he said to the man who sat on the bench watching them unabashedly. “I do not believe we have met. I am Riley Finn, Elizabeth’s husband-to-be.”

“Oh, yes, the governor’s boy,” Angelus said, taking in the blue-eyed baby-faced boy with mocking eyes.

Although the sarcasm went completely over the boy’s head as he puffed out his chest and stood a little taller, Angelus smirk only grew when Buffy gave him a warning glare.

“Yes, yes, I am,” he said proudly.

“Riley, this is Mr. McConroy.”

Riley tensed slightly, something neither Angelus nor Buffy missed. “McConroy. You purchased the old Crawford Mansion.”

“Yes,” he confirmed, his eyes glinting slightly.

“Well, it was nice making your acquaintance, Mr. McConroy, but Elizabeth and I must be going.”

“Of course. Nice meeting you, Finn.” He turned his penetrating eyes to Buffy. He picked up her hand and gave her a lingering kiss that left her near breathless. “T’was a pleasure makin’ your acquaintance, Buffy.”

“Mr. McConroy,” she blushed.

Riley’s jaw clenched as he led Buffy away. But his annoyance over what he saw as a threat to his future wife was nothing compared to Angelus’ fury over Finn impeding the progress he had made.

“I do not trust that McConroy fellow,” he confided when they were of a safe distance away from him. Or so he thought. “He worries me.”

“Riley,” Buffy sighed. “Mr. McConroy is a nice man.”

“You know him well, then?”

“No. We only made acquaintance tonight.”

“Yet he already calls you Buffy.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Riley Finn, I do believe you are jealous.”

“Perhaps I am,” he admitted. “Do you find him attractive?”

Buffy blushed and lowered her eyes. “He is…agreeable. But it is you who will become my husband. Your name I will carry and your children I shall bear. Tell me once more why you are jealous?”

With a few well-executed words, Angelus could see Finn’s worries and inferiorities fade away. He leaned down and kissed her lips as carefully as if she were made of glass.

“Bethie?” he whispered, still holding her close.

“Yes?”

“If I asked you to do something, as your future husband, would you do it?”

Buffy tensed. Her small hands fisted the sides of his shirt as her mind twisted and turned over in itself. As her future husband, he could ask almost anything of her, and she was duty bound to obey. She trembled against him and swallowed the bile suddenly flooding her mouth. “Yes.”

“I wish for you to have no further contact with Mr. McConroy or any of his family.”

Buffy stepped back from him so that she could see into his eyes. “Riley, I have already told you that Mr. McConroy bears no threat to us.”

“But he does,” he argued. “Have you noticed the strange occurrences in our town?”

“Are you referring to Madeleine Archer?” Maddie Archer was two years younger than Buffy and had gone missing from her bed in the dead of night.

“Yes, as well as Rebekah Harte, Joshua Black, Edward Morton, Christine Adams, and countless others.”

“Riley, how do these unfortunate people pertain to you desiring distance between Mr. McConroy and myself?”

“They all vanished or perished inexplicably after McConroy, and his family took residence in the Crawford Mansion.”

“You are not suggesting…?” she gasped.

“There is something amiss about them. His sister is said to be touched in the mind, but there is more. She speaks in prophecies. Her husband, William, the poet, who may I say is not very good, he was seen with Rebekah Harte before she went missing. Then there is your new acquaintance. He never leaves the mansion during the day. He does not work and yet he attends every party and somehow amasses enough wealth to support his family. They have no servants or cooks. Their skin is unnaturally porcelain – must I go on?”

“Are you suggesting to me that Mr. McConroy, his sister and her husband may be…nefarious individuals?”

Riley smiled humorlessly. “Why does it frighten you to speak the word, Bethie? You once told me that what most would believe to be a monster, you see as a beast maintaining his nature.”

“I was referring to the work of Bram Stoker, Riley. Beasts exist, yes, but not of that sort, and certainly not amongst Mr. McConroy and his family.”

“You have always had faith in the most undeserving of creatures, Bethie.” He reached inside his trouser pocket and withdrew a silver cross on a chain.

“It’s beautiful.”

“I wish you to wear it whenever you leave the mansion.”

“Even in the sunlight?” she quipped.

“Even in the sunlight,” he answered, unaffected by her glibness. “All of the victims’ blood was drained through small punctures to the throat.”

Buffy paled as she gasped. “What? But you never said anything!”

“My father thought it was best that the families were not informed of this. It would lead to panic and at this time, the authorities have declared it a beast. Wear it. For me.”

“Okay,” she whispered, still struggling with the concept of the creatures she learned of as a child could truly exist beyond the pages of a novel.

Riley secured the cross around Buffy’s neck and exhaled in relief. “Now I believe we should find your parents. They can hardly fault a man for enjoying the company of his love.”

The couple left the garden arm in arm, completely oblivious to the heavy stare on their backs.

Angelus was beside himself with fury when the Finn’s and the Summers left the Hardy Mansion. He had covered his tracks and the tracks of his childe and grandchilde carefully. Yet, the Finn boy seemed to have linked all of their victims back to them. Although he tried his best to come across as noble and caring in Buffy’s eyes, the boy was far more concerned with her affections rather than her safety. The thought in itself caused a malicious smirk to befall his angelic features. They would have to be careful. Meticulous. One mistake and all would be lost. Nevertheless, Angelus would have Buffy Summers…even if he had to eviscerate every townsman to get her.

Angelus itched to relieve his fury and he knew just how to do it.

“Margaret, is it?” she was nothing. An aide in the Hardy household with the burden of a fatherless son. She was not remotely attractive, and her blood was not in the slightest appealing. But her polite smile and cautious eyes appeased him.

“Yes, sir.”

“I regret to bother you as I can see you are terribly busy, but I am afraid I require your assistance.”

“In what way, sir?” still so trusting.

“Come with me, please.”

Ah. There is the hesitation. “Very well, sir.”

He led her to a dark corner underneath the stairs hidden from the rest of the intoxicated socialites. “Ah, that’s better, isn’t it? Not complete privacy, but it should do for what I have in mind,” he said, letting his eyes drift over her, hoping to discomfort her. She predictably squirmed under his gaze, unaware that her used and aged body held no appeal for him.

“Sir, I…I should get back,” she stuttered, her heart pounding beautifully, forcing her blood to flow quicker through her arteries.

“Why not stay a while? After all, you did say you would help a fellow with his problem,” he purred, moving even closer to the frightful maid.

*“Sir, please, I should return to the party.”

*“Margaret, Margaret, there’s no hurry.”

She tried to pull away from him, hoping that someone might see. *“Mistress will be wondering…”

*“Sshh,” he cooed. “Mistress will be wondering how to get the good Reverend Chalmers into bed and will not notice the absence of canapé.” He stroked her chin for good measure, and she shuddered in spite of her fear. “Stay with me,” he urged.

Angelus could tell by her eyes that she was considering it. How could she not? A lowly maid, past her prime, receiving the attentions of the young and wealthy Mr. McConroy, a man that all women, be they married, betrothed, or divine worshippers, have attempted to lure into their beds.

*“Sir, people might talk,” she weakly protested. “I’ll be put out on the streets. My little boy would…I can’t lose this job,” she said, forgoing any thoughts she might have had about taking a chance with the beautiful Angelus McConroy.

Angelus, sensing her resolve, lost his temper. He grabbed her arms. *“Then you must keep quiet.”

*“You’re hurting me!” she said, speaking a little louder than she intended.

*“Ah! Cry out. Call for help. I’m sure Mistress will believe your behavior beyond reproach,” he sneered.

*“Please!” she gasped, wriggling in his embrace.

Angelus shook her roughly. *“Come, make a scene, huh?” he taunted. “Shall I?”

Margaret hesitated. *“No,” she whispered.

*“No, no. We’ll be as quiet as mice.”

Margaret lowered her head. Her shoulders sagged in defeat. If she closed her eyes and didn’t put up a fight, maybe it would be over soon. No one would believe her if she said their familiarity was forced.

Angelus could almost taste her defeat. His face shifted and when she looked back up at him, her fear and terror flooded his senses. *“No matter what.”

*“Sir!” she trembled, tears welling in her eyes. “My son!”

Good, he had almost forgotten. *“Oh, he’ll make a fine dessert, huh?”

He grabbed her, sinking his fangs into her throat before she could scream. He drained her quickly. She was unsatisfying and not at all fulfilling. He released her, letting her body fall carelessly to the floor. He tucked her away in the corner, knowing one of the other servants or perhaps her Mistress herself would find her. Angelus maneuvered around the intoxicated guests, following Margaret’s scent to the servant’s quarters. He found Margaret’s whelp sleeping in his bed. He was a boy of no more than seven years. His hair was curly like his mother's and a brighter shade of blonde. Margaret’s pallet lay positioned beside the boy’s bed. The boy clutched a worn brown bear that was missing its left eye. He was a beautiful child, clearly taking after his father. The boy opened his eyes and startling emerald green eyes met his own.

“Are you an angel?” he whispered.

His lips twitched as he fought the smirk that threatened to reveal itself. “An angel?”

“Mum says when it’s time an angel will come and take me to see my Da. Will you take me?”

He arranged the boy’s body in his bed and retrieved his mother, placing her on top of her pallet. From a distance, it would look as If they were merely sleeping. He returned to his mansion an hour before sunrise.

“Daddy, we saved her for you!” Drusilla called over the screams.

He strolled down to the “playroom” in the cellar. The room smelled of sex, blood, and fear. The young woman from the party, Harmony, was naked and railroad spikes had been driven through her hands and ankles, courtesy of William. Her legs and stomach were flayed, and Drusilla greedily lapped up her flowing blood.

William leaned against the wall, a pipe in his hand. “How did it go with the bird?”

Before he could answer, Harmony turned towards Angelus. Her face had been clawed, most likely by Drusilla, and her right eye hung out of its socket and lay limply against her cheek. “Mr. McConroy, help! Please help me!” she whimpered.

A cold smirk drifted on his lips as he played with her blood-soaked hair. “I could help you, Harmony, but you would have to do something for me first,” he taunted.

“Anything, anything.”

“Open your mouth.” A single tear fell from her good eye. She opened her mouth without hesitation. Angelus released his semi-hard cock and shoved it into her mouth. She choked and gagged as his hand knotted in her hair. “She resisted my thrall.”

William pushed off from his relaxed stance against the wall. “Resisted? How the bloody hell did she do that?”

“Gee, William, I have no idea. I’ll be sure to ask her next time,” he growled, shoving his entire length down Harmony’s throat.

“She’s not like the others,” Drusilla whispered. Her eyes were wide and unfocused. She was having a vision.

“What do you see, pet?”

Just as Harmony’s heart stopped beating, Angelus felt his seed spurt into her mouth. He pulled out, using her hair to clean himself off, smiling lightly as his seed and her blood dripped from her mouth.

“She was almost Called.”

“Called?”

“As in…?” Angelus had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“But the Powers…she was unworthy…innocent blood on her hands…now she is just a human.”

Angelus ran a hand through his hair, attempting to process what they had just learned. Buffy was meant to take the Calling. She was to be a Slayer, but she killed someone. The Powers deemed her unworthy and now she will never be a Slayer. But even though she didn’t have the Call, she was still equipped with the typical Slayer attributes. A mental block to resist the thrall. Possibly strength to fight against any demonic creature.

“Darla is going to kill you,” William snickered.

“Darla is too busy fucking Dracula to care what I do!”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

Drusilla hunched over, moaning and hugging her stomach. William’s good mood faded quickly as he and Angelus flocked to her side protectively. “What do you see, Dru?”

“Bad man…bad man…bad man…”

“What bad man? What is he doing?” Angelus questioned her as she leaned against William.

“Touching…bad touch…bad touch…wants to keep her…wants to hurt her…!” she moaned.

Angelus growled deeply, startling his childe and grandchilde. “Hank Summers is a dead man. William, at first dark, I need you to do something for me.”

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

For the soulmate au thing how about 2: name tattooed on wrist, for Rohan. Considering how popular he is there is no where near enough content for him honestly. Anyways, I love your blog and hope you have a lovely day!

I'm suprised too, he needs some love.

I hope you have a nice day too!

Chaotically in order

(yandere Rohan X Gender Neutral Reader)

Marioh Cho was a small town but it was also a bizarre one. Not that you could remember any other to compare it to. You just woke up one day in a tree with no recollections of who you were or how you got there, the only identification you had was a bag with the name (Y/n) on it. That's when you met the group of teens that would become your closest friends. Josuke, Okuyasu and Koichi and much like them the town was also just as friendly, besides the occasional rouge stand user of course.

You had managed to get a job in a cafe and a small rental apartment within a couple of weeks and life seemed to go quite smoothly for you. Of course you wanted to figure out who you were and how you ended up in such a predicament but for now you just wanted to plant your roots and keep it steady.

Today was a beautiful Saturday, so you had decided to catch up with Josuke and Koichi at the cafe you usually were working at. You had also invited Okuyasu too but he couldn't make it. You assumed it may have something to do with his father, however despite the lack of Okuyasu you all had a good talk until you looked in you bag in search of a pen to use for a drawing you were working on when your stand Learning to fly had activated and you had ended up with several different ones.

"Hey that's my pen I've been looking for it for weeks!" Koichi exclaimed as he grabbed one of them.

"Welp at least you have it back now, my stand really has a mind of it's own I guess..." You said as you rubbed the back of your neck with your free hand before searching through the handful of pens you had for the right colour until Koichi interrupted again.

"That looks like one of Rohan's pens, don't you think so Josuke?" Koichi said as pointed to a black and gold one amongst the rest.

"Yeah" Josuke agreed as he tried to snatch it out of your hand but you stopped him.

"Wait, Rohan?" You exclaimed.

"Do you know him (Y/n)?" Koichi asked.

"Not really but I've have a tattoo with that name on my arm for as long as I can remember" you said as you pulled it out of your hand and put the rest away.

"Maybe he knows something about how you ended up here" Koichi explained before writing down something on a napkin.

"This is his address, hopefully something good comes out of it" he said as he handed it to you with a wry smile on his face.

"Be careful thou, he's a real creep" Josuke warned with an annoyed expression on his face as he fixed up his hair.

"Josuke you don't have to say something so harsh about Rohan, I'm sure you only feel the way you do about him because he said something bad about your hair" Koichi said as he looked up at the other teen. The looked like they were both years apart but surprisingly they were in the same grade.

"Hey I'm not just gonna let anyone get away with dissing my fucking hair like that, it takes me ages to get it looking like this" he argued with a huff.

🖋️🖋️🖋️

You looked down at the napkin once more before nervously knocking on the door. You were anxious but also hopeful that this Rohan Kishibe knew something about how you ended here. You silently waited for a few minutes until you saw the door creak open slightly.

"I'm not expecting any visitors today, if you want an autograph then you'll just have to wait til the next issue comes out" the male said arrogantly as he peered through the door.

"I'm sorry but Koichi told me to come here" you muttered as you tried to avoid eye contact with his harsh gaze.

"Are you a friend of Koichi?" He asked.

"Yes" you replied. His expression lightened and he opened the door fully. You were able to see the male properly. He had short green hair that was held up by a zigzaged shaped headband and wore a baggy green and purple outfit.

"Well any friend of Koichi is a friend of mine, come in" he chimed as he moved aside to let you in. You quickly took of your shoes and put them aside before entering his home. It was fairly clean except for the occasional bundle of pens, pencils and erasers that littered his home. It was no suprise that he would have lost one at one stage.

"So what brings you here today?" Rohan asked as he brought you into the living room and sat down on his lounge and you followed.

"I think this belongs to you" you said as you pulled out the black and gold pen and handed it to him.

"So you just came here to give me a pen?" he asked in a sceptical tone.

"No... I also wanted to ask you something" you nervously replied.

"Oh you want to get a sneak peek at the latest chapter of Pink dark boy before it's published?" He asked.

"No, I'm afraid I don't know what that is..." You mumbled.

"Wait you haven't heard of my work before?!" He asked in absolute shock.

"No, not as I'm aware of... I can't recall much, I was here to ask you if you knew who I was?" You explained.

"You see I woke up a maybe just over a month ago in a tree with no memory of who I was or how I got there" you continued before lifting your sleeve up to show the tattoo on your wrist.

"I thought that you might be able to explain how I got this" you said.

A smile grew on the males lips as he  pulled up his sleeve to reveal (Y/n) written on it.

"So I assume you are (Y/n)?" He asked.

"Wait assume? how could you have my name tattoed on your wrist and not know who I am?" You exclaimed.

"It's a birth mark" he responded.

"And yours is quite possibly as well" he explained.

"But how could we have corresponding birthmarks?" You asked, you just couldn't wrap your head around it.

"I believe it maybe a soulmates sign, a symbol that we were meant to cross paths" he said slyly as a mischievous smirk drew on his face as he leaned closer to you, causing you to press yourself against the lounge as you felt his dark gaze violating you. This was what Josuke must of meant by calling him a creep.

"You know, I always wondered what you would be like..." He hummed as he  harshly grabbed your arm.

"Wait what are you doing?!" You screamed as you tried to get his grip off of you before he pinned you down and a creature that almost looked like a little boy appeared, he must of been a stand user. He noticed that your your attention diverted from him.

"Oh... Your a stand user too? Don't worry I just want to have a look at your memories... It won't hurt, I promise" he cooed before grabbing a pen with his free hand drawing across your face causing your face to peel back and. You hated this you felt so violated know that he was going to look through your memories, there may not be many but you still didn't want him seeing into your private life.

He hummed in delight and muttered under his breath as he read your life story like a book.

"Truely remarkable, you'd make a great character in Pink dark boy... A young person with amnisia trying to maintain an ordinary everyday life while also getting caught up in situations that could only be referred to as bizarre, a character with developmental potential... A character that couldn't be hated by the readers!" he exclaimed as he sat up and pulled you up before waving his pen in your face. You wanted to run away so badly, you would already be out the door but you just couldn't, your body was as stiff as a rock, unaware that he had already written his orders on you.

"I know you want to run but I need you to be still for a bit while I sketch you up" he said as he grabbed out his sketch book before pressing the pages on you face til it was closed.

'Oh Koichi, what the fuck did you get me into?' you mentally asked as he pushed you head lightly to the side. Fear just continued to build up in you

"Oh your such a perfect muse already... I could just draw you from every angle" he cooed.

🖋️🖋️🖋️

After all the fuss he made of drawing you he removed the writing he had wrote in earlier. You instantly ran to the door but you found yourself unable to turn the doorknob.

"Please, just please let me go!" You yelled at the male.

"No I have so much more to learn -" he said until his home phone began to ring and he picked it up.

"Oh Koichi hello... yes they're with me" he said. You quickly tried to grab the phone out of his hand but he managed push you to the floor and use his stand on you again.

"Oh (Y/n) are you alright? I'll put them on now" He said as he helped you up.

You grabbed the phone out of his hands and this time he didn't stop you.

"Hey (Y/n) how are you doing? I hope he isn't acting weird?" Koichi asked you.

"No everything's fine... I'm actually getting along with him very well" were the words that came out of your mouth which were contradictory to what you had tried to say.

"Oh that's good, I just wanted to check in on you that's all" he said

"Well good bye" he said.

"Bye..." You sheepishly replied before the phone hung up. You were mentally screaming as you realised how hopeless you were.

"You have such an interesting personality... I just want you to show it to me first hand" he said as he wrapped his arms around you from behind.

[ofxwordsxandxletters]

Learning Curve

Series: Wynonna Earp

Disclaimer: The pairing and plot are mine and the characters are borrowed in this work of fan-made fiction off of which no money is made.

Pairing: Hollirey

Rating: PG

Self-indulgent drabble regarding a personal HC that the one sure way of making Bobo Del Rey uncomfortable is anything soft and tender because that's when feelings are at risk. Given a choice, he prefers less gentle encounters because then it doesn't have to mean anything. So when faced with something that goes against that, he does the only thing he knows how to do; run.

Thankfully for them both, Doc is far more stubborn than Bobo could ever be scared.

*~*~*~*~*

Learning Curve

“Is something up?” The question has Doc slowly shifting his gaze at Waverly who is watching him from the other side of the bar worriedly.

“Why ever would you think that?”

“Because you’ve spent the last couple of days looking at your phone with growing degrees of exasperation and annoyance.”

He was being obvious, he realizes and that wasn’t exactly what he’d wanted. “It’s...complicated,” he responds as he slides the phone into his pocket trying for a smile and sure it doesn’t reach his eyes at the moment, “but it’s...fine.” Except he has the sinking suspicion that it is anything of the sort which was most of the problem.

“Are you sure?”

He brings the cup to his lips unsure how to answer that without it being a clear lie. If he had to make a true guess; nothing was going to be alright until he went and forced the other to talk to him like a normal person. And the ground was shaky enough between them that he didn’t really want to muddy the water further by getting anyone else involved. So he takes a sip before murmuring, “I’m sure, Waverly, but thanks for the concern.”

It’s another couple of days before he’s absolutely had all he can take of the nonsense and he drives himself out there. He’s not even sure what he’s supposed to say or what excuse that might possibly work here but if he didn’t do something he was liable to shoot someone.

Or actually see what it would take to raise a man and then kill him again.

So without more than how he feels coiling him tighter than a spring, he bangs on the familiar trailer door and waits. Then he bangs again. Waits. Repeats. It’s the seventh time before the door opens with a snapped, “Th’ hell do you want?!”

“Hello to you, too, Robert,” he greets, “Mind if I step in?”

“Absolutely not,” comes the immediate response as the other’s demeanor goes guarded and wary, “I thought I made it quite clear to you that…”

And it was as far as Doc was willing to let the other go as he took a few steps in and crowds the man back into the trailer. “What part of ‘no’ was not clear in that?” Bobo demands teeth bared at him.

“All of it,” he replies amiably.

“How...You know what, I’m not asking anything else. Get out. And stay away from me, Holliday.”

“Now, Robert, I know you don’t mean that.”

“No? You want me to throw you out and see if I don’t mean it?” comes the low warning in a growled tone that should have him worried but honestly, he’d spent the week concerned about other things.

“Robert, what is this really about because I know something happened. You have never pulled away this hard before.”

“There is nothing between us for you to concern yourself about. Go back to Shorty’s and leave me alone, Holliday. I mean it.”

But he didn’t, that much was clear. In fact, the more Doc looks the more afraid the other seems. Of him. It hits like a freight train as he finally realizes what he should have known from the start in terms of this man alone: there were things Bobo Del Rey was used to, a lot of them. However, there were things he wasn’t and Doc had probably hit them all the last time they were together.

Robert was absolutely not sure how to handle what had transpired the last time they were together and he was running scared. Doc should not have waited this long to come and find him but he’d been hoping the other would calm down and talk. Clearly there were things so broken that he had to be more conscientious of them if he wanted to make this work between them. And he did very much want this to work.

“Robert,” he says softer this time, more gently, “I told you that I was in this to the end and I meant it. You can trust me not to hurt you on purpose. You mean way too much to me for me to just let this go. Confide in me or at least give me an idea here what happened.”

“Holliday…”

The warning was clear: he did not want to have this conversation. At all. But Doc was nothing if not a stubborn bastard so he takes an alternative road and leans the inches between them to press his lips to his softly, sweetly. And it definitely catches the other off-guard drawing a soft sound from low in his throat. Doc breaks it with a quiet, “You are not used to someone being sweet to you, are you? You have no idea how to handle this.”

“Don’t…”

“Robert, you deserve to be treated gently because you deserve all good things. Me being kind to you does not come with any sort of strings. There are no ulterior motives, nothing waiting in the wings to trip you up and trap you or hurt you worse, I promise. Just let me love you, you insufferable demon and stop hiding from me.”

“You don’t.”

Doc blinks at him a moment at the sheer audacity those two words hold. “I don’t?” he asks, “You tellin’ me how I feel now?”

“You can’t possibly…”

“Oh, I can and I do,” Doc interrupts him not wanting to hear the rest of it but knowing what he means, “You seem to forget, Robert, that I am not now nor have I ever been like Wyatt Earp. I do not abandon what should be most precious to me. I am a lot of things but what I am not is in the business of usin’ a man for my own ends.”

“You have every reason to. Wyatt certainly…”

“Wyatt,” Doc sighs softly, “Listen to me carefully about Wyatt goddamn Earp would you? The man neither deserved you nor treated you properly. Hell, I didn’t do you any much of a service either back then. But unlike Wyatt, I do not intend to repeat my past indiscretions where you are concerned, Robert. I do not.”

“Just...please go.”

“No,” he says firmly, “No, Robert.” There is something heartbreaking about the look he’s flashed, the look of just desperation as it becomes clear that losing him might just be the last straw in a lifetime of abandonment and he’d prefer to do it now rather than later. Doc reaches and tugs the other to him. “I’m not leavin’, Robert. I’m not. Not without a hell of a fight. You’re stuck with me, Bobo Del Rey.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Henry. Don’t you dare.”

“I’m not, Robert Svane.”

He feels the other shift so he can press his forehead against Doc’s. “I can’t…” comes the quiet admission, “I cannot do this again, Henry. I can’t.”

“And you won’t,” he tells him, “Not alone. I’m not gonna leave you. I’m not. I’m here and good, bad, or ugly here is where I’m stayin’. Trust me a little would you?”

“Do you know what you’re asking? Do you honestly understand what you are asking of me?”

“I’m asking you to let me have what’s left of you, yes. You hold all that I am as well if you hadn’t noticed. I love you, insufferable demon, so stop hidin’ from me because I ain’t nearly the scariest thing here in Purgatory. That’s you if you’ll recall.”

“Henry…”

It earns a soft sigh before he reaches and lightly brushes his fingers along the side of the other’s face. “I know you’re used to people leavin’ when you need ‘em most, Robert. But I’m not goin’ anywhere without a hell of a fight and so much fuss the devil himself would get out of the way. I promise. You have to trust me better.”

“Trust isn’t something I’m good at. I did that with Wyatt, remember? And you know what that earned me.”

“I know,” comes the soft, sad response, “I know, Robert. But I’m very, very much not him.” And he'd do whatever it took to convince the other of that and of the fact that at the end of all things with him is where Doc wanted to be. Robert had become his home and his reason. He leans and gently kisses the corner of his mouth. “One of these days I am hopin' that you'll start to believe me.”

[lnarizakis]

my name is... (what’s going on?) | a. keiji

masterlist

part 3: what’s going on? | my name is...:akaashi keiji x f! reader

Oh no.

Oh no…

(Y/N) was going to have to play volleyball. The funny thing is: she doesn’t know how to. So as she stood at the entrance to the gym that Fukurodani Academy’s volleyball club is currently occupying wearing his practice gear, Suzumeda had to urge her inside.

“Akaashi-kun? You good? Come on, today might not have been good for you but Bokuto-san really wants you to practice with him today. He wants to work out a few plays before nationals.”

(Y/N) turned sharply towards the girl behind her. (Y/N) was in total shock. Nationals?! These guys played on a national level? In high school? What kind of person was this kid, really…

Suzumeda stifled a laugh. She did not know what was going on with Akaashi-kun today but whatever he was on, it was extremely funny.

“Are you fully here, Akaashi-kun? Come on, before I get Bokuto-san to drag you inside.”

Not wanting to be forcefully dragged inside the gym, (Y/N) complied and walked inside. There she fully got to see Bokuto-san, as he leaps up, ready for a spike. He slams the ball down at an amazing angle. A cross. Thankfully she was taught a few terms from her first-year friend Yachi Hitoka as they watched one of Karasuno’s practice matches together. Therefore, yes, she does have some knowledge of the game.

But wow. Bokuto is an amazing player. He landed on his feet, shot his arms up in the air, fists pumping, and shouted at full force, “Hey, hey hey! Come on, guys! Hey, hey, hey!” The surrounding players unwillingly put a fist up as they coaxed on Bokuto with their unenthusiastic cheers.

Bokuto is a wing spiker. (Y/N) wondered what position Akaashi-kun played. Hearing the footsteps of his favorite setter come into his range, the third-year wing spiker turned his head towards (Y/N) and smiled from ear-to-ear.

“Hey, hey, hey! Akaashi! You’ve finally decided to arrive! C’mon, I’m ready for your sets!”

Ah, so he’s the setter. Wait a minute, every time (Y/N)’s friend Tanaka-san asked her to help with his spikes, her sets were always too low or too high. Just how could she be able to pull off playing as a national-level setter when she herself is a terrible setter? Things were about to get very, very interesting.

Evidently she had completely forgotten about the strange text she received just some minutes ago. But the other guy had not.

—

In the now empty classroom, Keiji stared at the phone not knowing how to respond.

XXX: Who are you?

Just how should he respond to a text like that?

???: My name is (L/N) (Y/N).|

No, absolutely not.

???: My name is Akaashi Keiji.|

Wait, but he just asked if—

???: I think we may have switched bodies.|

What a terrible conclusion to come to! Keiji groaned in confusion. He deleted the message he was about to send and turned off the phone. He stood up, smoothed out his skirt, and grabbed his backpack. Keiji put the phone in his backpack and walked out the door. He opened the door and standing right in front was none other than the one and only Nishinoya Yuu. The libero, as he recognized the face, grinned widely.

“Ah! (Y/N)! I was just gonna get my knee pads that I left in there. Mind waiting for me?”

Keiji was not sure if (Y/N) had any plans after school so he agreed to wait. Nishinoya-san skipped into the classroom and went straight to his desk to retrieve his knee pads.

When he walked out with the same energy as he did coming in, Nishinoya-san said, “Alright! Let’s go!”

And so they walked to the gym together. An awkward silence ensued, and Keiji was feeling more uncomfortable by the minute. Shouldn’t the other guy have come up with something to talk about right now? Wait a minute, he knew what to talk about.

“Ah, Nishinoya-san.”

“Yuu!”

“Uh, Yuu. Do you think you could perhaps give me tips on how you receive so well? I’d like to get better before nationals. Wait, I mean, I—”

Nishinoya-san stopped in his tracks. He placed his hands on his hips, and laughed very heartily. For such a short boy he had a very big presence.

“Oh, (Y/N)! You know I’d do anything for you! I’d love to teach you anything about volleyball! I’m so glad you want to learn more! Why don’t you wait for me after practice. I’ll give you a text when I’m done and just come into the gym!”

Keiji smiled and nodded. They continued walking.

When they arrived at the gym, they bid each other a good “see ya!” and went their separate ways. As Keiji decided to find a place for him to get situated for a good few hours, Tanaka Ryunosuke and Nishinoya began to gossip from inside the gym.

“Ryu. The funniest thing happened today: (Y/N) called me Nishinoya.”

“Pfft, you’re lying, Noya-san. She would never.”

“Uh, yeah, she did. She even forgot our lil’ handshake! Something’s the matter with her.”

“Oh, damn… there is something wrong.”

—

“Wow! That was crazy, Bokuto! You really went: Bam! and that ball went: Boom! And everything else ‘bout that cross was so good! Great job, Bokuto!”

Bokuto laughed. He felt amazing, basking in the rare praise of his setter. The others, however, were more than mildly shocked at Akaashi’s outburst.

“Thanks for that, Akaashi! Let’s all eat somethin’ later today!”

And with that, their practice ended. (Y/N) ran a lot. Way more than she had before. Who knew the setter had such an important role in the game? It seemed to her that usually it’s all the wing spikers who get all the credit. Maybe she will start to see setters in a new light…

Later, (Y/N) arrived at home thanks to the help of her teammates who had to walk her home. She should thank Konoha-san later for being her neighbor. She trudged herself into Akaashi’s room and fell face-first onto the bed. She was tired.

—

Keiji felt so well-educated in receiving. He was glad that (Y/N) was friends with Nishinoya-san.

However, he was not glad to walk back into a messy bedroom. So he picked up all of the clothes that lay around, trying not to mind the underwear. He placed them in a hamper that he promised, if he were to wake up in the same body, to bring down tomorrow. Keiji grabbed books, closed the open ones, and stacked them neatly all on the desk in the corner of the room.

One of the books he saw was a sketchbook. It was half-filled, and his curiosity tempted him to flip through the drawings. He gave in to the temptation and observed the art. How nice. He placed that book on top of all of the other books and decided to get ready to sleep.

Keiji was unsure what would happen once he fell asleep. Knowing that, he had some trouble sleeping. But slowly, and surely, he did so…

—

(Y/N) opened her eyes to the sound of her alarm ringing. She remembered a face. And hands. And a voice. She hopped out of bed, grabbed the sketchbook on her desk, and drew what she remembered.

Her drawing was of a boy. He had stern eyes and a serious gaze. His hair was curly yet it did not look messy. (Y/N) tore the page from the sketchbook and taped it up onto her wall, hoping to find some significant meaning in it later. Then she took in the appearance of her room. Since when was it so… organized? She was sure that the last time she saw her room she couldn’t even walk properly towards the bed. Wait, she realized, but where was she last night if she must recollect to when she last saw her room?

Ah, that’s right. She switched bodies with a boy. Wait, she switched bodies with a boy? (Y/N) opened her phone to her messages because she somehow recalls that she had some strange conversation with a stranger yesterday. However, when she reviewed the messages, she noticed that the one she received… are the ones she sent. There was just one thing that confused her: the messages themselves.

???: Hello. Is this [REDACTED]?

XXX: I’m sorry, you must have the wrong number.

???: My bad. This must be [REDACTED] then.

XXX: Who are you?

So she remembers everything from yesterday… but not the boy’s name. Just what is going on right now?

—

next

[babineni]

So... ages ago I half-jokingly (or was I half-joking...?) made a post about being open to smut prompt requests and @hellyeahniccage actually sent me something - thank you 💖💖💖

anyway, here is the result :)

cw: explicit content

Illa couldn't stop smiling. The hallway leading to the docks of Citadel Station echoed her footsteps. She walked besides Atton, close enough so that her hand brushed against his knuckles as he carried a bag of supplies. Going on a vacation was the pilot’s idea. He believed they – or the Exile, at least – deserved to enjoy the galaxy they saved. They deserved a chance to unwind and let the weight of their responsibilities fall from their shoulders, even if for a few days only.  As much as Illa liked the idea, however, she was also far too aware of the Republic’s dependence on their continued work. Eventually they arrived at a compromise: a day off, spent in one of Telos’ restoration zones. But even then, on the morning of their trip, the Exile still felt a sense of frustration and eagerness emanating from her lover walking by her side, yawning.

‘We can go back to the apartment, if you want to rest,’ she suggested. ‘We have the whole day to us. We can go whenever we like.'

‘I don’t wanna waste my time sleeping,’ Atton replied, ‘and don’t worry, I can fly just fine like this. There is no traffic in and out of the restoration zones, I could fly a route like that with eyes closed and hands tied behind my back.’

‘We crashed the last time we went to the surface…’

‘We were shot down,’ the scoundrel corrected her. ‘We should have no trouble this time. Czerka has no presence in the zone we’re headed to, last time I checked. I mean… you checked.’

‘It’s true,’ Illa sighed. ‘It’s just… we’re supposed to relax today and I can sense how frustrated you are. There is no rush. We can take care of you first.'

Atton sighed, then gave her a reassuring smile a moment later. 'I'll feel better once we get to the surface. Trust me,' as the last words were uttered, Illa felt his adoration so intensely, it nearly disoriented her. She caught the glimpse of a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, one that she knew well. It was a reflection and a promise. The Exile lightly bit her lip to stop her imagination running wild with that promise. She didn't even notice that Atton hastened his pace when he saw her flustered expression.

'I assume you made plans? Aside from the picnic, I mean,' Illa asked mostly to just distract herself.

'You know it,' the scoundrel's face lit up with amusement. 'I'm a little offended, you needed to ask.'

'Oh? Is it pazaak?' She teased, and a moment later she glimpsed a familiar airlock.

'Come on, you're the mind reader here, you can take a better guess than that,' Atton teased right back.

'A stroll on the beach?' Illa unlocked one airlock then the other. Before she could enter the hangar itself, however, Atton pulled her back and pinned her against the wall. He stole a shallow but forceful kiss, just long enough for the Exile to taste the hunger he had for her. But she tasted something else as well: that frustration of his was still present, hidden behind his lust and playful teasing - like a drop of poison in a wildly rushing river

'That is on the list, actually,' he winked at her once pulled away and rushed ahead to the Ebon Hawk.

Illa took a moment to make sense of that strange bitterness she just felt. She held on to its resonance within her and she followed it, the same way she followed her lover to the ship. She felt a pull, faint but powerful, right to its kernel. Some of it was rooted in boredom and reluctance but it mingled with... fear, and a sense of powerlessness and inadequacy.

Atton was many things, but he was no teacher and no politician. He once swore he'd protect the Exile, but with the Sith gone, there wasn't anyone who posed the kind of challenge to her that he could face on her side. He promised he'd help in any way he can, but she was dabbling in things he only understood on a surface level. What else was left? What else could he offer? The things he learned from her? The things he could only give back to her? It didn't feel fair. It didn't feel enough. So he gave all that was his, however little it was - and if something, anything, stopped him from doing so, it also pulled at his soul into doubt and anxiety.

'Oh, Atton,' Illa sighed as she closed the ramp of the Ebon Hawk. She went to the cockpit, where the pilot was already firing up the engines. His movements reflected his eagerness, and she still felt his passion strongly. Had the Exile not touched his insecurity within him, she wouldn't have guessed Atton was burdened by it at all.

'I came up with a plan of my own,' the Exile called out to Atton as she approached his seat. She reached for the pilot's hair and spent a few a moments playing with it, until a gentle smile crept onto his face. 'I want to make sure you get to blow off some steam. So you get to properly enjoy the day.'

'You're not gonna make me meditate, are you?' Illa couldn't tell if he was joking or not and she got the impression, he wasn't sure either. 'I'm flying as you can see,' he said just as the ship left the hangar.

'Nothing like that,' the Exile chuckled. 'I want to spoil you a little.'

'That's more like it,' the pilot let out a short laugh. 'So... what is it? Don't leave me in suspence.'

'I'll show you, once you spread your legs for me.'

Atton froze for a moment, then turned to the Exile. His smile widened slowly just as he parted his thighs. 'You're really better than any dream of mine, you know that?'

'Is that so?' Illa asked as she pulled her hair back then descended between the scoundrel's legs.

'Yeah... Whenever I dreamt of this scenario, you always ended up lecturing me about unsafe flying conditions,' he laughed.

'I thought you said you could fly this route with your eyes closed and your hands tied,' the Exile felt the pilot's bulge through his pants, drawing a quiet groan out of him. 'Still, it would be probably wise if you kept your hands on the controls and your eyes on the horizon. Just to be safe.'

'Or what?' Atton asked with a challenging grin.

'I don't know,' Illa shrugged as she undid his pants. 'I guess, I'll just stop.'

The scoundrel swiftly turned his gaze away from her, but the Exile kept hers fixed on his face as she pulled his half-erect cock forth. She placed a hand on Atton's thigh and gave him a few soft rubs as she left a trail of kisses along his shaft. Illa caught a glimpse of fluttering eyelashes but other than that the pilot did his absolute best to act like he was focused on flying alone. She left one last peck on the tip, then wrapped her mouth around it. She pumped the base of his sex but refused to lower her head. She just kept teasing him by caressing him with her lips and her tongue, until she pulled the frustrations deep in his mind to the surface, until she turned those frustrations into a pleasant pressure that she could alleviate, even if for a short time.

'Illa... You're making this no touching thing... pretty challenging,' Atton complained.

The Exile noticed that his hovered halfway between the ship's controls and her head, tempted to push her down. Illa pulled away and guided his hand back to the controls then took him in her mouth again. She sunk down on him slowly, stealing the pilot's breath away. He exhaled a groan as she rose back up, prompting her to answer with a satisfied hum. She sunk lower and lower with each bob of her head and Atton's breathing followed her rhythm. Soon, Illa noticed that he had trouble keeping his gaze fixed on the horizon - either he tried glancing at her or he grew less and less able to stop himself from keeping his eyes open.

'Your mouth feels fucking fantastic,' he sighed and threw his head back against his seat. He bit his lip trying to stifle a moan before he turned his attention back to flying. However, he was only able to maintain his focus for a few seconds longer. He whispered a series of curses, as he hastily programmed a straight route into the ship's computer and turned the auto-pilot on.

Illa squinted at the scoundrel disapprovingly as she pulled away.

'Oh, come on, don't look at me like that,' Atton leaned down to steal a kiss. 'You were taking your sweet time.'

'I thought you liked it, when I take my time with you.'

'I love it,' he smiled at the Exile as he gathered her hair and wrapped it around his fist. He rested his hand on the back of her neck as he sat back up. 'But this is a short flight.'

Illa shook her head but she couldn't hide her smile. She started working her way down on Atton's cock again, this time, with the pilot gently setting the pace for her. He rolled his hips against her slightly, meeting her with light thrusts as they hastened their movements. Atton kept talking, breathlessly, switching between profanities and expressions of his adoration. But even that stopped as his thoughts were overwhelmed by pleasure, leaving only moans upon his lips. Soon, neither of them knew how much later, the scoundrel was pushed beyond the edge, shivering ever so slightly as ecstasy overtook him. Illa pulled away, wiping at her lips.

'Fuck, you're sweet,' Atton kissed her hungrily and pulled her on his lap.

'You're feeling better now, I take it?' The Exile asked. She let her lover rest his head on her shoulder, who nuzzled her neck in turn.

'I would've been fine, but... yeah,' he answered, enjoying Illa's kisses on his hair.

'You make me very happy, you know that, right?'

'I...' the pilot pulled back so he could look Illa in the eye. 'What brought this up?'

The Exile gave him an apologetic look. 'I'm sorry. I read some of your feelings earlier.'

Atton didn't reply at first. He stared at the empty air over Illa's shoulder and nodded to himself. Then he let out an exasperated sigh and massaged his temple for a few seconds.

'What did you find this time?'

'You... You thought you had nothing to offer me,' the Exile sounded pained as she echoed his thoughts back to him. 'But that's not how I see it.'

'And you thought you could suck my issues out of me?' Atton chuckled.

'No...' Illa frowned at him, but that made him laugh harder but also with more open adoration. 'I just wanted to make you feel a little appreciated. If I had more time, I would have done something gran-'

Before the Exile could finish, the scoundrel claimed her lips. He kissed her softly, but also deeply. 'This was perfect,' his breath mingled with hers as he spoke, 'but next time, just ignore thoughts like that. That's what I do.'

'You mean... But I felt it so strongly...'

'Yeah, I guess, it did get to me more than usual,' the pilot explained. 'I wanted to give you more time away from all the things you're wrapped up in and... I guess, I overreacted. Most of the time, this is a feeling I can shove so deep I forget I ever felt it,' he tucked a loose strand of hair behind Illa's ear. 'I might sometimes think you're crazy for letting things between us get this far but... I would never give up on us. Or you. I don't think I could, even of I wanted to.'

'Good,' the Exile smiled at Atton, 'because you're truly precious to me. And you make everything so much easier... don't ever doubt that.'

Atton spent a moment reveling in that smile. He leaned closer to her once that moment passed. 'So... My turn, then?' He was just about to nibble on Illa's ear when the ship's computer flared up with a warning. '...After we landed.'

Illa was just about to stand up but the scoundrel pulled right back on his lap. He guided her hand to land the Ebon Hawk onto an open field that promise almost as much bliss as their own embrace.

[raidbossmadi]

People Like US Chapter 3

3. Into the Vault

Previous chapter: Here

“So what’s the plan Ty? Are we really gonna take her in as a janitor?” Troy asked as he snuffed out the butt of a blunt into the balcony’s ashtray. Tyreen hadn’t said much once they’d gotten back to the hotel and he was curious as to what she was thinking.

“Don’t you think that’s an insult to the maintenance crew. You know they’d take it as  the God-Queen thinks we aren’t doing good enough so she sent in a siren” Tyreen pitched her voice up as she did her impression of the maintenance staff. “Besides that’s a waste of a Siren. Imagine how much more influence we could get if we had another siren on our side, under our control. We could get her to do things the war meat can’t.”

“Yeah, I can put a good spin on that. The twin gods in their infinite mercy take in a poor stray Siren. People oughta love it, plus like we haven’t brought someone into the inner circle since Iris and that was what...three years ago now, I’m sure she’d like a friend who's quieter than  Mouthpiece.”  Troy said pulling out his echophone to write a note to himself. “We’re really doing this then? Can’t take it back once we approach her, you know that Ty.”

“We’re really doing this, something about it just feels I dunno...right in a weird way.” Tyreen couldn’t put into words the almost magnetic feeling that drew her to the other siren and she supposed that it was a siren thing, one of the many for which there were no words to explain. She only hoped that what little siren power Troy possessed made him feel the same way.

Part of Tyreen also wondered if perhaps taking in Sloane could solve another issue of theirs, of course she knew Troy could take energy from her, he had been reliant on her for as long as she could remember but what if he could feed on another siren? That way she could get by without having to spread herself so thin looking for enough to leech to sustain them both. It was an interesting prospect that she was willing to experiment with.

“I’ll send word back to the ship, tell the circle what we’re planning. Better to have everyone prepared for a new family member.” Troy remarked closing the balcony door behind him as he reentered the hotel room, now that they had a solid plan it was time to get the preparations in full swing.

                                                            When the twins made their return to Sloane's house they found the other siren waiting for them in the front lawn, sat at her easel painting the tree tunnel they had emerged from. A vine pulled out of the house window a mug curled in its tendril as it came to her side and she plucked the cup from it.  

“And here I was worried the two of you were having second thoughts.” She remarked standing up from her seat as they approached. It was late afternoon and while the twins hadn’t specified when they’d be arriving to make their deal she had almost expected it to be early so that they could just get it out of the way.

“Such little faith, gods always  keep their word doll.” Troy said with a smirk before deferring to Tyreen.

“We’ve decided to agree to your terms Sloane, we will take you into our family and you will serve us in exchange for freedom from this planet. Provided of course that you take us to the Vault  and hand over the vault key.” Tyreen crossed her arms, she was short in stature but her voice and overall demeanor projected the will and intent of her title. Sloane had seen the streams she knew this woman was dangerous and not to be underestimated yet she felt no fear in cooperating with her.

“I assume you want to be taken to the vault key now then?” She asked as she checked the time, they could make it there before the forest got too dark but it would be nightfall by the time they made it to the vault itself.  “It’s a bit of a walk from here.”

“Lead the way.” Tyreen said the pair flanking Sloane on either side as they disappeared into the wilds of Eden-4. As they walked Sloane finally got a good look at Troy now that he wasn’t trying to physically intimidate her, she noted the red looping patterns on his left arm that crept up to under his left eye and the similarities they had to her and Tyreen’s siren markings, but male sirens weren’t possible were they?

“You’re a siren?” She asked her voice barely above a whisper as if she was afraid to make the accusation and be wrong.

Troy opened his mouth to answer but quickly looked over to Tyreen his expression twisting into a slight frown. Sloane was starting to see a pattern in which Troy seemed to not be allowed to voice specific details without some kind of permission from his sister.  

“Not a siren.” He said in a much more subdued tone than she had expected from him “Just a side effect of being born with one.”

Sloane could tell there was much more to that then he was letting on but it was obvious that she wouldn’t be getting more than that out of him at least not now. The twins put so much of themselves on display that the fact that they had secrets at all had seemed absurd up until this moment, granted as far as she knew this was still part of that display.  She decided she would ask no more questions out of a partial fear of asking the wrong one and Tyreen changing her mind about her usefulness.

They stopped as the path ended abruptly at the rocky base of a cliff, face of which was overgrown with vines and other vegetation. Before either twin could ask why they had stopped Sloane reached towards the cliff her siren markings flared with bright blue light as the vines peeled away to reveal  an intricate pattern of Eridian writing  that surrounded a small hole in the formation too clean to be natural.

“What’s it say Troy?” Tyreen asked as she gestured at the writing. He squinted at it his brow furrowed in concentration as he looked over the carvings.

“It’s a warning.” He stated. “About what would happen if the Vault was opened.  Open the Vault of the Aggressor and fire and destruction will follow; says the planet would be scoured to ash the likes of which no one  has seen before.”  

“Well that sure sounds inviting, but nothing we can’t handle.” Tyreen remarked, seeming totally unmoved by the threat of whatever danger lurked inside the Vault.

Sloane however was a little unnerved by the promises of the planet burning even if she did plan to leave it behind by the end of this. She still had her obligations to the Calypsos though so she stuck her hand into the carved hole in the rock, her fingers closing around the object hidden within. Despite it being surrounded by cold rock on all sides it radiated a perpetual warmth that confirmed it was what she was looking for.

“One vault key, just as you requested God-Queen.” She said presenting it to Tyreen. It was a perfect cube of stone with  smaller square channels cut into the sides, it was an unassuming thing considering what it opened.

Tyreen regarded the cube as if it were a precious gem. She took it from Sloane and turned it over in her gloved hand  holding it up in the fading light. “So is the vault far then?”

“No, it’s a brisk walk from here. Shall I take you there?” Sloane asked, hiding the brief hesitation in her voice. It was all so real now, she had only been out to the vault a few times before each to check for meddling. It was all becoming very real now, she never thought she would have to worry about the vault being opened and yet here she was leading the charge to open it.

The entrance to the vault was an unassuming thing, Sloane was pretty sure that was why no one who wasn’t directly looking for it had ever found it. It was a cave situated behind a large waterfall which, while  beautiful to look at, threatened to sweep away those who ventured to close. Luckily Sloane knew the way to approach and avoid any of the danger and the roar of the water was only a distant hum now that they were inside the cave.

Guardian constructs that usually would have rushed to challenge those stupid enough to dare try approaching the Vault were instead destroyed, bound to the ground and sides of cave by thick overgrown vines. Sloane had dispatched them in a fit of fear and desperation when she had first approached the vault years ago now but not before she had learned the hard way that they were dangerous. The vault arch stood in the center of the chamber that had stretched out before them.

“Get your cam-bot ready Troy, it’s showtime.” Tyreen said walking towards the arch with the vault key in hand.

Sloane watched the male twin reach over and press the shoulder of his cybernetic arm a cam-drone deploying from it. She was impressed with how clever a design choice that was as she watched the bot follow after Tyreen.  

“Alright Eden-4, let's see what you’ve been hiding for all these years.” Tyreen cooed as she stuck the stone cube into the pedestal before the archway.

The vault entrance shimmered into existence and no sooner had it opened when a large clawed forelimb shot out from the dimensional gap followed immediately after by a second limb. A large snake like head  joined the collection of body parts and as the rest of the creature emerged from the vault Sloane muttered the only word she felt properly described the creature standing before them.

“Dr-dragon, That’s a dragon!”  

Troy’s prosthetic arm grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her out of the way as a column of flame erupted from the  monster's mouth towards them.  

Tyreen however was ready and a crackling purple orb slammed into the monster’s  side drawing its attention away from them and toward her.

Sloane watched as Tyreen baited the monster around the chamber somehow always managing to slip away before claws or teeth could get close to her. It was like a dance and watching both of them put Sloane into a bit of a trance like state what was only broken when the monster, thrown into the wall  close to herself and Troy by the blast from the other siren. Yellow slitted eyes focused on the two and the monsters fanged mouth opened in anticipation.

Before the creature could strike however thick vines from the surrounding cave walls sprang to life as Sloane reached out with her powers and they coiled around the monsters neck dragging it back to the center of the room and tying it down to the floor. It was a struggle to hold the creature down, Sloane had never used her powers on anything this large before, she tended to be defensive with them. The creature of course was more powerful than anything she had encountered before.

Tyreen seemed to get the message and hurried over to the felled monster which shrieked and pulled against its bindings harder than before as Tyreen’s power, now brilliant red chains of energy hooked into it and drained the very life out of it, leaving only a stone and eridium husk.

“Annnd cut.” Tyreen called, the cam-bot  whizzed back to its master and slotted back into his arm. Sloane fell to her knees panting, she felt overextended and exhausted .

“Hey, You alright?” Troy asked, the concern caught her off guard as she figured they didn’t care about her well-being after all she was a means to an end to them and they had gotten what they wanted, as far as she knew they could easily leave her dead for being foolish enough to have trusted them at all.

“I’ll be fine, I just need to catch my breath.You...You’re bleeding. ” She responded, a glint of concern in her eyes in kind as she noticed blood trickling down Troy’s arm, it seemed he’d been grazed by a rock kicked up by the creature.

Troy’s eyes widened in surprise as he followed her gaze, his metal hand coming up to cover the wound. “Ty, need a hand here!” He called over to his twin who was still staring at her kill with a look of satisfaction.

Tyreen sighed as she hurried back over to them. “Aye manito you need to be more careful, what would do without me.” She chastised taking his hand in hers, he gave a short ‘heh’ at her words but otherwise seemed unphased . Their siren markings flared  in response to contact and the wound on Troy’s arm closed, it would seem that perhaps his markings, whatever they were, were not as inert as Sloane had been led to believe hours before.

“You sure you’re alright? There’s plenty of Eridium around if you need a boost.” Tyreen asked her attention squarely on Sloane now that Troy had been patched up.  

Sloane picked herself off the ground and gave herself a once over. “No, no I’m fine really. I just well, wasn’t expecting to have to deal with something like that.”

“Yeah vault monsters are nasty business, it gets easier the more you deal with though!” Tyreen was oddly chipper about the prospects of fighting more of these monsters.

“Can’t wait you have a look through that footage, bet you I can make some killer edits Ty.” Troy too was very energetic now, both Calypsos seemingly buzzing with excitement.

“Right, thanks for your generous contributions Sloane. Troy and I will escort you back to your house, you can make sure you have everything you want and our crew will  come and grab you first thing in the morning.” Tyreen explained as they made their way out the vault cave back into the cool night air of Eden-4.

Sloane still couldn’t believe this was actually happening, it seemed so fantastic and out there that she was sure if she were to tell anyone else they wouldn’t believe her. After all, she felt she wasn’t anyone special outside of being one of six sirens which when compared to what she knew of the other sirens her powers weren’t even that impressive. Yet she had earned the company of the two most influential people this side of the six galaxies.

It felt like a dream as she stood at her front door the twins behind her seeing her off safely.

“See you tomorrow, welcome to the family.” Tyreen said as she turned to walk away Troy following after. Sloane watched them disappear down the tree tunnel again as she had the first time they’d come.

She walked into her house, the essentials of her life packed into two large suitcases ready to leave come morning. She took one last look from the doorway, knowing this would be the last time she ever walked back into this place as home.

[bruciewayne]

dear diary

Tony finds one of his diaries from 2015. (post-cacw)

read on ao3 (recommended for mobile)

Tony’s trying very hard not to think about St- Rogers at all, really, but especially now, when he’s meant to be clearing out his workshop. He could get someone to do it, has, for the most part, he is a billionaire after all, but it doesn’t feel right, his workshop is his sanctum sanctorum, the first place he went when he got back from Siberia, their bedroom too much. It’s the last place he goes through, a week before the official move upstate.

His therapist said that the move will do him good, that the new place might give him a better mindset. And that he won’t see him in every corner of his house anymore.

It still feels like betrayal, somehow, even though Tony knows that it wasn’t himself who was in the wrong, Rogers said so, in that letter. Rhodey suggested burning that bastard letter, and the flip-phone, but Tony still can’t bring himself to destroy it, despite how much he hates Rogers.

It feels like betrayal because it’s Rogers’ first home in the 21st century, it’s where he fell in love with him, it’s where he found more of his family. But he can’t hold on to memories forever, according to his therapist.

So he tries.

//

When he gets to the workshop, he finds most things already tidy, courtesy of FRIDAY (god, he misses JARVIS) through Dum-E, U, and Butterfingers, everything that isn’t password/lock-and-key protected is all packed and in the hangar, ready to be put on the quinjet.

All he has left, really, is the drawer, his servers, computers and the like.

He’s always been drawn to technology, so he tackles that first. It doesn’t take long, a lot less time than he wanted. He powers everything off, with a goodbye to FRIDAY. He doesn’t know if he wants to revive JARVIS for the compound, or keep FRIDAY, he’s lived his entire life with a JARVIS of some sorts, and in the year that he didn’t, everything fell to batshit. But he has to move on.

(But he misses JARVIS like a son and a father at the same time and he would go to the ends of the earth-- he would keep himself healthy, alive and safe for him.)

He banks the thought for another day and carries on cleaning out the drawers of his desks, finding mostly old drives and abandoned blueprints. All of that’s done faster than he wanted because now, that bastard drawer is the only thing left, mocking him.

The old, sharpie’d-on scrawl of ‘Steve’ has long since been scrubbed off - probably when he was drunk, or Dum-E - however, the carved-in ‘S.R.G’ is still there, albeit small, but there. When he opens it, slowly, like he’s expecting something to jump out, a snake, maybe, but to his relief, it’s no different to how it was months ago, with the very latest addition at the top. (Tony locked away the letter, after he managed to memorise it, on the advice of everyone around him, but he still carries the flip-phone with him. He made a promise and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t go through with it.)

Under that is drawings upon drawings, some on art paper, some on napkins, or the back of mission reports, all of them have something to do with Tony or the bots, all signed ‘S.G.R’. Tony’s almost ashamed to admit that burning them doesn’t even cross his mind.

It's not the last, or the only, thing he left him, but there’s something so fundamentally raw and human about them, qualities that Tony honest-to-god didn’t believe that he had back when they first met. Even the pictures, they make Tony look human, reachable, touchable, he doesn’t know how he did it (he does, he told him, but it feels all like a lie now anyway), but there’s more life to them than the actual, professional photoshoots he has to do sometimes. Hell, he even made the ‘bots seem more than decades old bolts and metal. (They are so much more than that, but only to Tony, and, seemingly, him.)

Under all of those is a black, leather-bound notebook. He takes it out and sits down, tracing his fingers over the embossed ‘Anthony E. Stark’ on the cover. It’s a diary. One that his therapist encouraged him to write in, properly, with a pen and everything, ever since he started the whole ‘therapy’ thing. Tony had been against it, vehemently, because of the Ol’ Stark Ideals™ but Charles convinced him to write in it at least a few times, when he felt like it, on important and mundane days alike.

This black one is his third, starting March 2015. He knows what most of the entries are about, dumb stuff that made him feel like he is reliving the middle-school experience he didn't have. There’s a big part of him that wants to burn it, or ‘accidentally’ let Dum-E have it, but before he knows it, he’s slipping off the elastic and flipping it open on a random page.

18th May, 2015 Steve’s a moron. I think I’m in love with him.

That’s all that’s written on that page, with a tiny drawing of Avengers’ tower stuck under it with tape. He quickly turns the page, only to be faced with another entry about Steve, and then one about the Avengers, and then more Steve and then something about Dum-E finally learning how to make good smoothies, and then more Steve, then Steve and Steve and Steve, all the way until last April, when his name isn’t written, in favour of ‘Rogers’, or, memorably, when he was drunk, ‘traitor’ and ‘liar’.

All it does is make him angry again, angry at what he lost, what Steve threw away, it brings back all the feelings he had for him, still does, however much he claims to not, but this time, tinged and overcast with bitterness. He wants to regret it so badly, he wishes he did, he wishes he could wish that he never met Steve, that Afghanistan never happened, or Steve was never found, or never picked for the super-soldier project, but he can’t. He knows, more than anything, that meeting Steve, knowing him, falling in love with him was one of the best, and worst, things to ever happen to him, and if anything happened in any different way then the world would be a very, very different place.

He’s lost in his own mind and memories, skimming over the pages of the diary, when something in his pocket vibrates, loud and obnoxious. The fucking flip phone.

Tony can barely get it out of his pocket, that’s how bad his hand is shaking, but he does and ‘Steve is calling’ flashes up on the screen.

Tony throws it across the room.

Dum-E catches it.

Tony waits until it’s stopped vibrating, and then another five minutes for good measure, before encouraging Dum-E to throw it back to him. Surprisingly, he throws it perfectly. “I’m gonna give you another upgrade, buddy,” Tony mumbles, smiling when Dum-E chirps happily and finally opens the phone.

You have one new message [play] [delete]

-

@iron-man-bingo

iron man bingo masterpost

[dzamie-oc]

6: Hidden

“...so by adjusting the variable theta here in the matrix, you can alter the angle of rotation.”

Ocellus kept her eyes on her note paper, making clean, orderly brackets to house the grids of numbers and trigonometric functions. She flicked her forked tongue, getting a cursory taste of the emotions in the room. The delicious, cool flavor of learning and understanding, soured slightly by a smattering of confusion. A couple spicy motes of frustration, largest from where Smolder sat. The changeling glanced towards the dragon, finding that her friend’s own eyes were darting between the chalkboard, Headmare Starlight, and... her. Pulling herself back from the draw of nibbling on the emotions, Ocellus startled when she realized she had missed two entire equations being written. That they were just the first steps in a practice problem was small comfort to the blue-chitin changeling; who knew what verbal instructions she could have missed, too?

After catching back up in her notes, she chanced another taste, intending to take more of a passive taste, paying more attention to class. However, what she intended was overruled harder Princess Celestia denying Prince Blueblood the last bite of her cake; an intoxicating wave of lust filled her tastebuds, overpowering nearly every other emotion in the room. Reflexively, Ocellus turned towards its source, both surprised and suddenly hungry - although she hated to admit it. Not only was it filling yet almost nutritionally useless, the taste and her reaction recalled memories in her from before the Great Reformation, when she had been drawn towards and fed on such strong love-adjacent emotions.

Nonetheless, she found herself staring at her dragon friend, who was now staring entirely at her. A light blush crept onto her cheeks as she considered the implications: her unsubtle, willful dragon friend was focused wholly on her, and thinking incredibly lewd thoughts at her. Her thoughts were once more diverted when the lust suddenly cut off, replaced by a more platonic desire. In the back of her mind, she acknowledged that Headmare Starlight was going over the answer to the problem on the board, almost unconsciously copying down the correct answer for later comparison; at present, though, she noticed Smolder repeatedly moving her hand. Thumb and fingers together, save for an extended pinky, rocking back towards the dragoness twice. Pause, hand still in position, and another two rocks. It was a sign the two of them had worked out - miming the high-society griffon etiquette for holding a teacup.

Ocellus smiled and nodded ever so slightly, then waited until Smolder smiled back, put her hand down, and turned back to the front of the class before doing the same herself. She mentally kicked herself for dropping her attention from class, but reassured herself that friends were important, as well. After all, the School of Friendship has “friendship” right in its name... as well as school, so she resolved to stay focused on the lesson until after class. Her pencil once more found the paper when the headmare moved onto three-dimensional transformation matrices, and her tail subconsciously began to sway back and forth as she drank in the learning - almost literally, as an emotivore!

After class, Ocellus met up with the dragon, who was leaning against the wall outside of the classroom. “Was that... necessary?” she asked, her blush returning with the memory of the wave of lust, “I mean, you could have asked me after class; I tend to linger the longest to speak with our professors.”

Smolder smirked. “No, but I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t stay for an hour or two after Starlight Glimmer dismissed us and take up all the time we could’ve used. Seeing your reaction was just a bonus. So, same place as before?”

Ocellus nodded, starting to walk with her friend. “That works. I’ll drop off my stuff back in our room first, and then we can head out.”

“Sounds good. I’ll tag along; I’ve gotta grab a-” the dragoness cut herself off, looking around at the ponies and creatures around, “a... a thing. My thing.”

Back in their room, the two students swapped out their schoolbooks for a small selection of carefully-folded dresses. Ocellus levitated a tube of lipstick into Smolder’s bag for her, and added a bottle of hoof polish and a compact of blush to her own. Loaded up with their secret payload of fancy fittings, the two girls strode out of their room, sharing fanged smiles.

They made it to the main hall before somecreature noticed and approached them. Silverstream, with her distinctly bubbly step, strode up to the pair. Ocellus flicked out her tongue and got back a hefty dose of curiosity from the hippogriff, fighting against that spicy taste of frustration (and the faintest hint of shame) from the dragon beside her.

“Hi Celly, Smolder! Are you two heading out?”

The changeling nodded. “Yep. Just the two of us.”

“Ooh, girl’s night! Or, girl’s afternoon. Whatcha gonna do?” Her bright, innocent smile was infectious, and Ocellus found her own lips curling up. She stayed silent, however, unwilling to tell her friend where she was going with the dragon.

Fortunately for her, Smolder had had years of hiding her secret interest. Unfortunately for her, Smolder was Smolder. “We’re going to set a new record for longest two-creature lesbian makeout session. Do you want to come?”

The sarcasm flew straight over the hippogriff’s head, and her enthusiastic nodding only abated when Smolder’s deadpan expression and admission that she had just been messing with her sunk in. With a promise to have a good time given, the pair strode out of the building, before making their way through the meandering, misleading path to a secret spot in the woods.

Ocellus and Smolder walked up to the large, flat stump in the middle of the forest clearing and set about setting up. From Smolder’s pack came a white tablecloth, fringed with lace. From Ocellus’s, a teapot, two saucers, and two teacups. The makeup came out next, and finally, the dresses. Smolder slipped hers on with an ease that came from far more practice than she would ever admit. As for the changeling...

“So, myself or Professor Rarity? She has the accent and mannerisms for it.” Ocellus held two dresses aloft in her teal magic, looking between them.

“Hmm... Probably not Rarity, but...” Smolder’s off-center stance and stroking of her chin were a stark contrast to the frilly, pale pink dress she wore as she thought, “I think, maybe... Oh! Could you do Gallus? I bet he’d look ADORABLE in a dress!”

That drew a grin and a giggle from the changeling. A wave of fire washed over her form, and in the next moment, a pair of yellow eagle claws caught the two floating dresses before they could hit the ground. ‘Gallus’ handed one to Smolder to fold and return to Ocellus’s bag, and the griffon set about fitting into the other one. After a little difficulty, getting stuck twice, and ultimately asking Smolder for help with the wings, ‘Gallus’ was proudly sporting a pale yellow dress. “Well? How do I look?” ‘he’ asked the dragoness.

“Heh. Actually, not bad. The next time we play Truth or Dare with the boys, I think I’ve got a good idea.” Smolder leaned to one side, then the other, taking in the griffon’s form. “But, I think you’re missing something very important.”

The grinning dragon held up a couple of the makeup implements before setting them down. The pair of friends spent some time matching blush to their scales and feathers, picking out the right lipstick - or beakstick, as it were - painting each other’s claws, and otherwise gussying themselves and each other up until they both looked like slightly exaggerated versions of the fanciest fancy bourgeoisie to be found in Canterlot - nay, all of Equestria.

Smolder cleared her throat. “Now then, Madam Gallus, shall we?” she prompted in a Received Equestrian accent, “it would be a terrible shame to come all the way here for some tea, and to then forget the beverage in entirety!”

‘Gallus’ gave a proper curtsey, then stepped up to the stump. ‘He’ picked up the teapot in one hand, held the lid on with the other, and gracefully tipped it over, pouring a cup for Smolder, and then a cup for ‘himself.’ With two steaming cups of tea properly set on their saucers, the well-dressed duo took their seats. ‘Gallus’ added two sugar cubes to the cup in front of ‘him;’ Smolder added only one. Keeping their pinky claws extended, they lifted their cups and politely toasted their friendship. 

Hidden away in the calm, peaceful grove, the disguised changeling and her dragon friend traded light gossip, homework tips, and compliments. Their table manners would put several Canterlot nobles to shame, and over time, the level of tea in the teapot declined. The pair were in the middle of discussing which creature in their friends group had the shapeliest rear when Sandbar wandered into the clearing and promptly did a double-take.

The three of them stared at each other for a minute, before ‘Gallus’ finally spoke up, “we... lost a bet to Ocellus. Why she has these dresses, I haven’t the foggiest, but she’s, uh...” the griffon turned his head to look around, “well, she’s one of these branches around, to make sure we keep the deal.”

Smolder’s look of shock faded as her friend spun the tale. “Yeah, but look. This whole thing? Never happened. You’re gonna leave, and next time we see each other, it’s like we weren’t even here, even if you ask. Right, Gallus?”

‘Gallus’ nodded. “Yeah, you’re actually lucky I’m not denying this right now. Anyway, we’ve got, like, another teacup to finish before this is over. See you back at school.”

Content with their answer, the pony silently nodded and walked back off through the forest. Once they were sure he was out of sight and hearing, both of the well-dressed creatures let out a big sigh of relief. Their secret was safe. And they still had some tea left to talk over.

[randomfandomfamily]

Please tell us more about your spyro au some of us at curious!!

---

alright alright alright alright alright alright sO- 

A few notes! Or a lot of notes! I dunno, we’ll see how this goes. (i’ma put it under a cut just in case this gets long)

Spyro and Sparx are 11 and 15, respectively.

Spyro’s abilities include creation and manipulation of fire, enhanced strength, and flight! Well, kind of. Almost. He’s working on the flying thing.

Sparx’s abilities include advanced healing magic (which he spent years studying) and flight. Actual flight. Yes, Spyro is jealous about it.

When Sparx and Spyro first met, they did not get along. Not at all.

Spyro grew up with little to no supervision, and didn’t really understand why, all of a sudden, he had a teenager babysitting him. He’d been just fine being mostly on his own.

Sparx was equally annoyed with the arrangement, felt his talents could be useful elsewhere. He was very skilled in advanced healing magic, and he was made to “babysit” Spyro, who couldn’t stay out of trouble to save his friggin’ life.

Spyro is near constantly injured. Even before he had to deal with the events of the games, he had no less than three band-aids on him at all times. That’s what happens when no bothers to teach a kid how to use their powers properly.

The main difference between Spyro and Sparx is that Spyro’s irritation quickly faded. He realized that for the first in ever, there was somebody around. The dragons were great, and they were all really nice, they just weren’t the most... attentive guardians.

Sparx’s irritation faded much slower. It was definitely a gradual process. I mean, come on. He spent his life learning advanced magic, and then got stuck with a literal child. The guy’s salty.

He does, however, acknowledge that Spyro needs the protection. The kid’s powerful, but young. That doesn’t mean he has to like the situation, though. And he makes it very clear that he doesn’t like it.

When the events of the first game go down (Gnasty Gnorc imprisons the other dragons in crystal), the slow beginnings of ‘caring for Spyro’ began. After Spyro releases the first few dragons, Sparx starts to realize they have no real intent on helping. They’re just leaving this kid, this tiny kid, this tiny untrained kid to fight this battle.

Sparx realizes that the kid is gonna be the only one able to do anything. But Spyro’s not gonna be able to save anyone if he’s dead, so... spell time.

Which is how we get the color-changing thing. Sparx’s spell allows him to take half the damage from any fatal blow, but only three times. His colors change so he can keep track.

Spyro likes to run off, so Sparx doesn’t always catch every fight, but if he suddenly turns blue then he knows Spyro is in some sort of danger somewhere.

Spyro still retains any minor bumps and bruises and burns he gets, which is why Sparx keeps a thing of band-aids in his backpack (of course he has a backpack, how else is he gonna collect the gems and stuff Spyro keeps finding?).

While Sparx sees taking the damage as an absolute necessity so that Spyro survives long enough to defeat Gnorc, Spyro absolutely hates that Sparx is taking damage for him.

And the first time Sparx disappears? That didn’t get go over so well. Spyro lost it. He was having a hard enough time, trying to rescue his fellow dragons, whose “help” came in the form of information he had already learned himself. And then the person he’d been traveling with, the one person Spyro had, just disappeared.

Spyro found out how to heal Sparx by accident. He thought going through the portals was the only thing that could fix Sparx. Then, out of pure impulsive anger, he toasts a sheep.

Now, a dragonfly’s corporeal form is entirely dependent on their energy. And the spell Sparx used to link the damage between him and Spyro took a lot of energy, not to mention the additional energy used for more mundane healing magic.

They can take energy from other creatures, though. And Spyro taking out animals is an easy fix to the energy problem. Except nobody had bothered to explain that to Spyro, he wasn’t aware that Sparx was still alive.

So when Sparx appears behind him, he is surprised. And so so relieved. He promises to never ever let Sparx disappear again. Sparx tells Spyro not to make promises he can’t keep, but he appreciates the sentiment.

And when Spyro “dies” for the first time? That’s bad too. Lots of panicking. There were a couple of times that the only thing that saved Spyro was his link to Sparx.

And this is all just the first game. You bet your buns I got ideas for the second and third games too.

Basically, I just wanted them to interact. And that was hard when one of them was a bug. So I made them people, and now they can talk and hug and all that soft stuff.

Honestly, this all started when I was in high school. I came up with some human designs (and oh ho boy did they look like crap back then), I had a rough outline for a comic I wanted to do, and even a few sketches.

I didn’t have the means to make the comic then. Still don’t, really. But, I do have the means to redesign a few things. Huzzah! Might try to start up the comic eventually, but I dunno.

It’s mostly gonna be written outlines and maybe a few drawings for now. Don’t know how much of those I’m going to post though. Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed this rough draft of notes!

[witchymarvelspacecase]

Spread Your Wings: Pt. 10: Turbulence Ahead

Summary: Reader is a HYDRA experiment (like the Maximoffs, but not voluntary) who grows wings (like Angel from X-Men). She escapes, and is now trying to rescue and prevent further kidnappings and experiments.

Word Count: ~2300

Warnings: Mostly, nothing. Some fluff, discovery of feelings, and a little bit of a cliffhanger at the end

A/N: Send all the love to the bestest best person ever: @writingwithadinosaur​

Spread Your Wings Masterlist

You woke early the next morning. You didn’t tend to sleep well after a nightmare, usually giving up on sleep entirely. Having not been around the compound much in the few days you’d stayed, you weren’t sure about the team’s schedules, but you wanted to try and do something for them. Breakfast seemed like a good idea. Assuming they did that sort of thing. No matter how many times Bucky told you that you weren’t bothering the team, you really had a hard time believing it was true. As such, you figured the least you could do was attempt to make breakfast. Nothing fancy, you weren’t all that skilled or anything, but you were good at a few things.

The kitchen was a little daunting; all the shiny appliances, and tools were way beyond what you were used to using. At least the space was large, since your wings were going to be out for the duration. You carefully maneuvered through the space, pulling out the ingredients and supplies you would need. After a few minutes of trying, you caved and asked FRIDAY for help with the oven and stove. She and HERMES helped you use the appliances and time all your cooking properly. You were fairly certain it was the smell of bacon and coffee that had the entire team out of their rooms, but when they all piled their pates full of food and were making happy noises while they ate, you just smiled.

The breakfast casserole you made wasn’t difficult to throw together, nor were the biscuits and bacon, but every team member seemed shocked when they realized you’d been the cook.

“So, who woke up early and cooked?” Sam asked

“And why?” Natasha added. “Anyone feeling guilty for something?”

Feeling embarrassed, you said, “I cooked.” When everyone turned to you, with shock on their faces, you looked down. “I just-- I was already awake, and I figured I could do something to make up for the trouble I’ve caused so-“

“You haven’t caused any trouble,” Bucky said, sounding a little exasperated, but before he could continue, Tony interrupted.

“But, if this is how you apologize for making trouble, please feel free to make all the trouble you like.”

“I’d be careful making a statement like that, Stark,” Clint said with a grin. “Y/N and I haven’t had a lot of time together yet, but I think she and I could cause more trouble than you could handle.”

That had everyone laughing, you smiled, not totally sure whether or not you should be laughing; breakfast went by in a happy blur after that.

When you started to head back into the kitchen, Wanda and Vision cut you off. They insisted that since you had cooked, they would clean. Though you were confused, you allowed yourself to be ushered out of the kitchen. Then you were left wondering what to do with yourself, but that only lasted a few moments.

Natasha appeared at your shoulder and pulled you with her to the gym. You wouldn’t be able to do anything strenuous since your wings were still healing, but Natasha insisted that yoga would do you some good. You’d done very little yoga before, since it wasn’t exactly on HYDRA’s training priority list. It mostly looked like fancy stretches, but once you were doing it, you were sweating and your muscles were aching.

“This is a hell of a lot harder than it looks,” you panted, trying to hold a tree pose that had gone wobbly.

Natasha chuckled, “It takes practice, and even then some people just aren’t built for it. But I think, after a while, your body is gonna protest not being used. This is the most low impact thing I could think of, short of swimming. I figured that would be problematic with your wings.”

“Actually, I can swim with them. It’s not pretty, but I can do it.” HYDRA couldn’t have their Angel stymied by a lake or river after all. “The wings are mostly buoyant, and the feathers are pretty waterproof, so they don’t drag me down. I like swimming without them, but I can make do with them as well.”

Natasha nodded her head approvingly and lead you through several more poses, until you felt like your body would give out. You didn’t stop, and you didn’t say anything, but you were in pain. You controlled your breathing and fought through, but tears were prickling the corners of your eyes. Natasha was still moving, so you would move.

Show no weakness. Weakness gets you killed. Weakness gets you tortured. Lessons that you’d learned the hard way in the halls of HYDRA were still loud in your mind. So loud in fact that you didn’t hear the footsteps approaching you. You didn’t notice that Natasha had moved until your felt her push you, knocking you out of your pose and onto your ass.

“What are you doing? Do you want to hurt yourself?” she shouted. You were disoriented and breathing heavily. You couldn’t figure out why she was yelling.

“What are you-”

“You were going to pull a muscle holding a pose too long!”

“But, you were-”

“Yes, I was. However, I am used to doing this. My body is used to this. Yours is not. You’re already injured, why would you keep-” She paused. Shaking her head a little she spoke again. “You don’t need to push through things if they’re hurting you. This isn’t HYDRA.”

“I wasn’t- I mean, I don’t think you are. I guess I just don’t know…”

“When to stop,” Natasha supplied, moving to sit next to you on the floor. “It’ll take adjusting to; being in a place where we you aren’t tortured.” She spoke with the voice of experience. You didn’t know her whole story, you doubted anyone did, maybe not even her, but she did understand.

That was the moment when Bucky, Steve, and Sam entered the gym. You could feel questions in their gazes, but none of them said a word. Simple nods of acknowledgement were exchanged, and then light conversation began. Individual routines were started and finished, and then sparring began.

You were not allowed to join, even though you asked. You promised to keep your movements slow, but Natasha shot you down regardless of your reasons. Which left you sitting on the sidelines watching as she and Steve faced off. It was amazing to watch. The two of them were so athletic, their movements so fast. They had no fear of hurting one another, knowing each other to such a degree that they were attuned to the other’s movements. You were almost in awe of them as Bucky sat next to you.

“Every time he does this, all I can think of is how he used to get into all those ridiculous fights when we were younger. He was so small, and sick all the time, but he would fight anyone. It was like he was looking for excuses to fight,” he said with a smile.

“He’s not very small now, and I don’t think he can get sick,” you replied.

“New look, same attitude,” Bucky grumbled, causing you to laugh. It startled Bucky. He was fairly certain he hadn’t heard you laugh before.

He’d only known you for about a week, but he’d never heard you laugh before that moment. It immediately became his favorite sound. One that he wanted to draw from you again and again.

That was a new feeling. Even since he’d been with the Avengers, since breaking the HYDRA conditioning, Bucky hadn’t really had feelings, beyond the team. He cared for his teammates, he cared for Steve on a deeper level than most, but this wasn’t the same. Something that Steve, Sam, Clint, and Tony had been sure to point out just a little while ago.

As soon as Y/N and Natasha were out of ear shot, all remaining members of the team fell on Bucky.

“What?” Bucky had asked, uncomfortable with everyone in his personal space all of a sudden.

“Don’t give me that, Tin Man,” Sam said, “You know ‘what’.”

“No, I don’t. If I did, I wouldn’t have asked, Bird Boy.”

“Wilson is referring to the tension between you and our new feathered friend,” Tony said as he moved to sit across from Bucky at the table. When Bucky scowled, he continued, “I know you’re old, and have probably still got some ice crystals in your brain, but I refuse to believe you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“Well, I don’t.” Bucky was feeling defensive. “Tension” implied that something was wrong, that he and Y/N weren’t getting along. He’d thought they were doing well, or he’d hoped they had been. Now he was worried. “What tension? Is she mad at me?”

“Not that kind of tension, Barnes,” Clint supplied, patting Bucky’s shoulder as he passed him, moving to sit a few chairs down.

Bucky was still confused when Sam spoke up.

“Let’s try comin’ at this a different way. How do you feel about her”

“What’d’ya mean? I like spending time with her. She’s honest, and kind. She’s been through some similar shit, so we understand each other.”

“Didn’t answer my question though,” Sam said, meeting Bucky’s gaze directly. “How do you feel when she’s around?”

“I feel… calm. Relaxed. Like I can take a deep breath, and my mind is clear.”

“You feel comfortable around her?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” Bucky responded, warily.

“What about when she’s not around?” Steve asked.

“I worry about her, I guess. Same as any of you idiots. If I can’t see you, who knows what kind of shit you’ll get up to.”

“But you’ve only known her a week, Barnes,” Clint said. “It took you months to give even half a shit about most of the team.”

“True, true. In a week, you care a lot more about Y/N than you did about any of us,” Tony nodded.

Bucky wanted to argue, but found that he couldn’t. They weren’t wrong; it had taken him a lot more time to develop any kind of relationship with the Avengers than it had with Y/N.

“The situations were pretty different, but I have to agree,” Wanda entered the room, and stood beside Clint’s chair. “The question is ‘why’. Why would you become attached to Y/N so quickly?”

At this point, Bucky knew where the questions were aiming, but he would be damned if he were going to say what they wanted him to.

“Cause she’s like me. We understand each other. No one else here has the same background as me, but her’s is the closest, so it makes sense we would be close.” Bucky’s reasoning was sound. He’d spoken in a calm, rational tone. It was a pretty reasonable statement, even if it was complete bullshit.

He cared about Y/N. More so than most of his teammates. Yes, some of that was due to their shared experiences. He hadn’t been lying when he said they shared an understanding that no one else did, but his feelings weren’t limited to that.

She defended children she’d never met, people she didn’t know. She protected people to whom she owed nothing. She stood in front of bullets for them. She’d risked incredibly painful seizures to help Tony with his suit. She taken countless knives and blows to protect the compound and Clint and Bruce when she’d know them only a few days.

She’d wrapped Bucky in her wings to protect him on the roof. She had willingly exposed her weakest point, to protect a man who she barely knew. Who, up until a day before, she had only known as the Winter Soldier.

Yes, he cared for her. He liked her. He wouldn’t say he loved her, he couldn’t know that yet, but a part of him wanted to say it. It certainly felt like love.

Bucky had been zoned out for a moment, in his head. When he came back, all eyes were on him again. And everyone had an odd expression on their faces.

Clint’s expression was especially ridiculous. Bucky was pretty sure this was what Shuri had called “heart eyes”. He sorta wanted to slap him, but chose not to.

Then he was sitting there, on the gym floor, watching Steve and Natasha spar, and listening to you laugh. A smile crossed his face. He didn’t say anything aloud, but in his head the team’s words from earlier circled around. Maybe he could say he loved you already…

“Hey,” Sam called from the door, getting everyone’s attention. “You’re gonna want to see this.”

...

With everyone gathered in the conference room, Tony pulled up a display of several files, and began explaining what was on them.

“Wait,” you said, slightly confused. “I thought you said the mission was a fake.”

“It was, but you didn’t think I went into a HYDRA facility and came out empty handed, did you?” Natasha grinned. You smiled back. You had actually assumed that, silly of you.

As Tony talked, you looked at the files displayed in front of you. Several flipped by before you stopped him.

“I know that code.”

“What code?” Steve asked coming to stand behind where you were seated at the table.

“That sting of numbers up at the top left,” you said, pointing to the numbers.

“I assumed that was a case number or something,” Tony said, enlarging the file.

“Kinda, the last 4 are an agent number, the first 2 are a location, the 6 in the middle are a date.”

“Okay, so which agent, went on what mission for HYDRA in Russia, in April, two years ago,” Natasha asked

“I did. I was sent on a recon mission, and it went badly. Really badly.”

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[raendown]

Chapter: 8/9 Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 4039 Rated: M Summary: Walking patrol around a university for mages probably sounded like a wild time but Tobirama has never found it all that exciting. He’s not even technically supposed to be here. When responding to a tripped alarm becomes a desperate attempt to stay alive, however, excitement is the last thing on his mind. All he’s ever wanted is a quiet life alone with his books until he finds himself bound to Uchiha Madara in the most impossible way and finally learns to think about more than just himself - in a way.

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Chapter 8

Cool evening air around them, a heaviness on their skin like the pressure before rain, symmetry in their mind and an ache in their flesh as though they had gone three rounds with a heavyweight champion. Waking was not peaceful but it was better than the darkness that lingered and reached for them still.  Voices murmured around them but whatever they were saying wasn’t half as interesting as burrowing in to themselves, arms holding tight and throats humming in quiet protest to the way foreign hands were suddenly petting at their hair.

“Tobi? Madara? Can you hear me?”

“Don’t call us that,” they murmured, unsure why but knowing that was the usual response.

“Oh no, they’re doing it again.” That voice was familiar in more than one way, attached to more than one set of memories, and that was the first hint that something was off.

Another voice that set off the same dual reactions chimed in from somewhere off to the side. “Doing what? Were they talking together like that a lot before?”

“In the beginning, yes.”

“That’s dumb. And weird. Why?”

Without opening their eyes they smiled, two foreheads pressed together, whole and safe and happy. “We are one,” they whispered.

“Oh hell no! Fuck that! I thought I told you two not to be gross whenever I was around!” A hand grabbed at one of their shoulders but the pull lasted only a moment before it was torn away again without shifting them more than an inch to one side.

“No! Izuna, no! You don’t – you can’t know the pain it would cause them! If you love your brother then please do not separate them! It has to be by their own choice or it could do even more damage!”

Brother. The voices continued to babble back and forth but they had already reverted in to their own mind to contemplate that word. Brother. It brought forth so many different feelings, identical and yet so very different, and they associated it with both of the voices speaking close to them…and yet they didn’t. How strange. Brother and yet not brother, sibling and friend and long-standing rival.

The fog of first waking began slowly dissipating for clearer thoughts to seep in. Memories of the days before came to them and the reminder that they were, in fact, two people was as painful as it was necessary. With their eyes still closed they pressed closer together and sighed. Parting as a mere concept was abhorrent but as they gradually remembered who they were they could see more and more why it was necessary to break the perfect harmony of being together. They didn’t have to like it though.

Nor did they have to do so quickly. Izuna could be heard whining about not wanting to lose his brother to the mind of some ‘frosted flaky asshole’ as the two of them very thoroughly said goodbye to each other. It wasn’t like they would be very far away from each other – obviously they didn’t have to move apart if they didn’t want to – but it was different being together like this as one person than being together as two people sitting next to each other yearning to be whole again. Still, there were things beyond their shared consciousness that they wouldn’t be able to experience the right way in this state. Things like properly greeting the brothers they both loved so deeply despite also frequently desiring to murder them.

As they both grimaced at the discomfort of extraction Tobirama nevertheless grasped at the frayed ends of his own self and pulled them all together, inevitably pulling a part of Madara deeper within himself but not caring in the slightest. They had already picked up enough habits from each other because of this bond; a few more wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“Will the two of you please just shut up?” he growled. Hashirama spun around to clutch at the covers he just now realized were spread over their legs.

“Tobi? Is that you? Just you I mean?”

“Stop calling me that!”

“It is you!” He threw himself down on the bed with no further questions, trying to draw both of them in to a hug at the same time and fending off their screeching protests with happy smiles.

Standing to one side with an irritable scowl, Izuna eyed his own brother with obvious trepidation until Hashirama was thrown off the bed at last and Madara had a moment to look over and return his crazy expression. With the hand not still clutching tightly to Tobirama he reached out to swat Izuna on whatever body part was in range.

“You can stop making that face,” he snapped. “I would suggest learning to be a bit nicer to Tobirama since this little situation here isn’t going to change any time soon – or ever, if we get our way about it. We’re a package deal now so what you say to him you are saying to me.”

“Whatever, Aniki. Apparently I wasted all that time I spent worrying. If you’re gonna be all preachy about things then maybe I just pack up this investigation of mine and leave!”

“Hashirama won’t pay you if you leave,” Madara deadpanned.

Izuna paused and furrowed his brows, realizing his brother was right. He peeked over at Hashirama, still clinging to his own sibling, but all Hashirama did was shrug apologetically and nod. After only a couple days here and no real leads yet paying him at this point would just be stupid. Seeing that his threat was an empty one Izuna rolled his eyes and slumped down on to a nearby chair. It wasn’t until he did so and brought attention to their surroundings that Tobirama sat up slowly with the realization that they had woken up in the infirmary.

“Who found us?” he asked because clearly someone had.  

“Me.” Hashirama raised a hand. “You never gave me a straight answer about Madara’s class so I was coming up a little early in case I had to run down to speak with the substitute before lunch and give him time to prepare. I found you on opposite sides of the lab and you were both unresponsive. It was scary.”

Both of the bonded pair shuddered at the memory, Tobirama falling back to the mattress so they could curl a little closer together. In several hundred years of wielding dangerous magics they had both encountered their fair share of painful moments but nothing would ever compare to that moment when their connection was lost, all sense of their other half blocked by the automatic protective barrier the laboratory seals had dropped in to place.

They weren’t given much time to put those dreadful moments behind them though; Hashirama was well-known by many for his inability to read a room, a habit he freely demonstrated now.

“Was it scary for you guys too?” he asked. Tobirama scoffed and looked over his shoulder.

“I’d love it if you would talk about literally anything else in the world, how’s that for an answer?”

“Seconded.” Madara gave his brother a narrowed eye look, to which Izuna crossed his eyes and exaggerated the same expression back at him.

Hashirama offered them both a sympathetic look that they chose to ignore. Undeterred, he fussed about straightening the blankets around them until they had to shove him away again. Even then he still continued to fiddle with the corners, dodging Tobirama’s slapping fingers, while he nodded towards where Izuna was moodily sliding lower in his chair.

“I had our resident investigative expert check out your lab for foul play so we have a general idea of what happened at least, you guys don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Unfortunately that’s really the only solid thing we learned yesterday.”

“Not true,” Izuna said. “Your seer helped us determine that whoever laid the original seal is here in the castle, at least. That makes it an inside attack.”

“That’s a lot of people to go through, even if we’re just looking at the staff and not including the thousands of students who stay here all year round.” Hashirama shook his head.

“Well you’re the headmaster, you would know your staff best. Let’s make sure these idiots are fine and then you and I can sit down together to go over a list of your staff for possible suspects. I’ve haven’t been here for that long but I’m already sick of watching these two cuddle up like an old married couple; let’s get this shit figured out so I can leave again.” Hauling himself up, Izuna quickly ducked away when Madara and Tobirama both shot up in the bed to reach out and smack him.

After calling Tsunade over it took a bit to convince her that her two patients were okay to leave. She wanted them to stay a while longer for observation but both of them did their best to impress upon her that they would rest much more easily at home. Eventually she gave in to her father’s infamous puppy eyes and allowed them to go, one finger shaking threateningly under her uncle’s nose with instructions to take it easy for at least a day or two and not push themselves to separate again before they were ready. Her descriptions of the mental trauma she expected might result from any more forceful separations was enough to have them promising to take it as easy as she liked.

Crawling out of bed was easy. Making it to the end of the hallway was more difficult. Neither Tobirama nor Madara understood how tired they really were until they closed the door of the infirmary and realized just how far away their rooms were.

With Izuna laughing mercilessly at them the whole way they managed to stumble along the halls, fingers woven together and curled tightly against the fear that one of them might trip and accidentally pull them apart. Several dozen students who knew one or both of them stopped to watch them go by, staring at their entwined hands with the light of gossip in their eyes, but it was easier to ignore this time than it had been before. Having a taste of what it was like to be apart had only affirmed the unspoken agreement that this was just how things would be from here on out. For the rest of their lives it would be the two of them together come what may. Hashirama, at least, could be counted on to support them as he was supporting them now while they straggled their way back home.

Their brothers saw them both tucked in to bed and then headed off together with their attention already turning to which of the staff could possibly have a grudge against either Tobirama or Madara – or even Hashirama himself since he was the one who was originally supposed to be walking patrol duty that evening. It was a surprise that they even remembered to turn off the lights and lock the doors on their way out.

Finally alone again, Madara and Tobirama shuffled under the covers until they were facing each other with their foreheads touching once more before letting themselves drift off for a much needed nap.

Sleep came easily to them, although that wasn’t much of a surprise considering how tired they were. On the journey here Hashirama told them about how their bodies had gone in to shock and begun to seize shortly after they were found so it was no wonder they were feeling exhausted despite not having done anything for a solid twelve hours. In fact, it was probably lucky that neither of them were injured in any way, no bitten tongues and no heads bashed against the concrete while they jerked about uncontrollably.

The bedroom was golden with late afternoon sunlight when they finally woke up again and the covers so warm that moving out from underneath them felt like an impossibility. With no one here to remind them it took more than fifteen minutes for them to remember to pull back in to their own minds and remember who they were separately.

Laying so close together gave Tobirama an excellent excuse to trace his eyes along the planes of Madara’s face and admire the shape of his jaw, the curved cheekbones that gave him the appearance of permanent chubby cheeks and always made him look cute instead of angry when he puffed them out with rage. Tobirama studied the dark color of the eyes looking back at him and the sweeping lashes that framed them. Quiet thoughts about what Izuna had said yesterday morning crept in before he could stop them and, as close as they were both pressed against the barrier between their minds, he knew Madara would be able to hear what he was thinking.

He hated to admit it, just like he hated to admit any time Izuna was right about something, but there was a possibility that some of those things they had both denied so vehemently were true. Now that he took a few moments to really think about it he thought that perhaps they had gotten closer than he realized – and in ways he hadn’t at all expected.

Right now with his consciousness still very close to slipping right over in to Madara’s was probably not a great time to discover the fact that he might actually have romantic feelings for his partner that he probably hadn’t noticed until now simply because their bond made everything between them feel so natural and right. In that way it did make sense to him that he would fall hard and fast, much more so than if he wasn’t able to see Madara’s true self and how compatible they really were.

It wasn’t quite shame that painted his cheeks red since there was little point in being ashamed of anything between them but more of a general embarrassment for being the one to prove them both wrong after they denied feeling anything romantic for each other. Still, he held Madara’s gaze when he saw the man’s eyebrows slide up with momentary disbelief and listened carefully to the way his thoughts stopped to consider the idea. The genuine curiosity and the fact that there was no hesitance or mocking in his thoughts would have given Tobirama pause if he hadn’t spent so long at this point getting to know the man behind the scowl that he himself had once mocked so easily. Not that it failed entirely to surprise him but he was still touched in a way he couldn’t explain.

More than touched, he felt the first stirrings of hope when Madara’s curiosity rose like a cresting wave. When his partner shifted and ducked down to tentatively press their lips together he held as still as he possibly could for the first few seconds, afraid to ruin the moment, as if by simply twitching wrong he could drive Madara away from him and make the other realize what he was doing.

Their first kiss was quite possibly the softest thing Tobirama had ever experienced in his life, a slow glide of soft lips, limbs shifting to wrap around each other as tightly as they could. Slave to the drive for as much contact as possible, Madara pushed himself up to roll Tobirama on to his back. Listening to the thoughts passing back and forth between them meant that Tobirama was on board with that almost before the movement had begun. Madara touched his shoulder and he rolled without having to wait for the pressure asking him to do so. Having a thigh on either side of him and the weight of his partner pressing him down in to the mattress made him feel safe, grounded, and the sheer rightness of it left his mind free to concentrate on the incredible warmth of their kiss.

Apparently Madara was enjoying the experience as much as he was, pleasantly surprised sensations filling them both as he cocked his head for a better angle and very carefully drew Tobirama’s bottom lip in between his teeth for a light nibble. They groaned at the same time and that was their clue for what was happening.

Far too connected, their physical reactions were caught in a feedback loop where everything experienced by one was shared with the other. Tobirama pressed one hand in the center of Madara’s chest but his partner only pulled back a single inch.

“Is this- are we sure you’re not just interested in whatever this is because I am?” he asked quietly, scared of the answer but knowing that he had to ask anyway.

“Of course I’m interested because you are,” Madara said. Before Tobirama could panic he scoffed and added, “But who’s to say it’s not you that’s interested because I am and you were just the one to figure it out? That’s the whole point, Tobirama. We’re intertwined, we’re one, everything you feel I feel too. If you laugh then I laugh. If you love…then I love.”

Without the words to properly express himself Tobirama settled for pulling Madara down to meet him once more. Obviously he had been around the block a time or two in these matters but he would have felt confident even without any prior experience in saying that nothing had ever felt quite as good as having Madara’s tongue trace the shape of his bottom lip while blunt fingers drew shapes along the lines of his ribs. And by the sensations passing back to him through their bond he gathered that Madara very much approved of the way he used his own hands to skim the length of the spine arching above him.

The first time Madara rocked down against him it was hard to tell if he was being flooded with his own pleasure or his partner’s – or even both at the same time in equal force – but he found it hard to care when it felt so good that he could do nothing but shift his hands down to grip the man’s waist and encourage him to repeat the motion. Their bodies rolled together in perfect sync. Within moments Tobirama was lost to the rhythm.

It should have come as no surprise when the edges began to blur, when the separation between the two of them grew slowly indistinct. Each caress of their hands and every movement of their bodies was experienced by both of them until eventually Tobirama could no longer tell which hand was his own or whether he was the one to initiate a movement. Still he clung tighter in whatever ways he could with what limbs he thought might be his own, more and more desperate, never satisfied and always hungry for another touch. It was hard to tell whether that hunger was his own or not but he felt no qualms with following it.

Pleasure running rampant and unchecked through their veins, neither of them were paying much attention to the fact that they were perhaps getting a little too close until between one moment and the next it stopped mattering. The sensations melted together as one or both of them slipped across the barrier and they were together in the most perfect way.

From then it no longer mattered who was touching where. What mattered was that it felt good and it felt right. Hands pulled away clothes and lips pressed in to skin. Tongues and nails teased the places no one else knew about while one of their other hands reached out to dig in a nearby drawer for the half full bottle of lube they knew had to be somewhere close. Soft shameless noises dripped from their lips as fingers were slicked and one of their bodies was slowly worked open.

Which body wasn’t important. Identity wasn’t important. They both felt the pleasure of being stretched and filled as they moved together and they both felt the heat coiling in their bellies like nothing they had ever experienced before. When they peaked they did so as one massive flood of pleasure crashing down over them, muscles clenching and voices crying out together, two sets of eyes open wide yet seeing nothing but each other. There was no word in their shared mind to describe the incredible sensation except ‘perfect’.

Coming down from the high was as unique as building it up had been. At some point whoever had been inside the other slipped away and they both fell to their sides once more to wind around each other with as many limbs as possible.

Oddly, detangling their minds in that moment felt nowhere near as terrible as it usually would, perhaps because one of them felt as though they had a point to make to the other and even though that point was made as easily as thinking about it when they were still joined in this way that just wasn’t the same as saying it out loud. It did still take a bit of effort to figure out which thoughts belonged to who and what name went where but after several slow minutes they were staring in to each other’s eyes and Tobirama found it impossible to look away from the expression on Madara’s face.

“That was…intense,” his partner murmured and Tobirama couldn’t help but agree.

“I would feel embarrassed about the poor showing for my stamina but honestly I don’t know if I could survive that much intensity over long periods of time.”

“Yes I think quick but incredible trumps long but mediocre any day of the week.” Madara took a moment to stare at him again before he asked softly, “Does it really matter where the feelings came from as long as we both feel them?”

Tobirama rolled his eyes. “I suppose not. This is all just…very fast. Logically I know that anything I can do you can keep up with since we’ve both got the power of two brains to work with but…”

“But you can’t help but worry. I get it. ‘What if’ is in your nature, I suppose, what with all the experiments you do and all the research papers you’ve written. Sometimes I’m surprised you haven’t discovered the inner workings of the entire world yet just from asking too many questions.”

Squirming in place, Tobirama hummed. “I feel like I have the energy to go do it,” he mumbled.

Which was true. He’d never been one of those men who came once and then passed out. Sex had always left him feeling energized and after such an intense orgasm as the one he’d just experienced he felt like he could take on the world itself. Madara, on the other hand, was definitely one of the ones that always wanted a nap afterwards. He still made an effort to sit up and look around to see where their clothing had gotten to, bringing one leg out of the blankets to discover a pair of underwear not his own hooked around his ankle.

“I’ll come sit in the lab with you if you stay in one place so I can just sleep on the table or something.”

“Deal,” Tobirama agreed. “I might even have something soft in there you can use as a pillow.”

“Actually I was planning to just fall asleep on your shoulder.”

“Oh. Yes that…that would be preferable.” They smiled at each other and Tobirama sat up as well to capture a kiss from those inviting lips.

This was indeed all happening very fast but he supposed there was no point in denying a truth once it had been discovered. Whether it was that the connection left them no choice but to fall for each other or that it had simply shown them how compatible they really are and the feelings were all their own, wondering about it was truly pointless. All he should care about was that they did love each other – and that Izuna could never know it was his words that had sparked the beginning of these discoveries.

Just because they had found their happiness didn’t mean they had to do something as disgusting as spread it around.

[scramblingminds]

Good Company

Okay I know you didn't ask me for this one @ezrabylene but I really love Disney and I need something to get me out of my writing funk and I really enjoyed this prompt. So, even though you didn't ask me for it, I hope you can still enjoy it!

__________________

Paul sat perched on the picnic table, Daryl situated on the bench between his knees. It wasn’t nearly often enough that Paul got to eat lunch with his husband, so he might have been drawing out the eating of his sandwich a bit.  

The Hilltop had more peaceful day than otherwise but that didn’t mean there wasn’t much to get done on a daily basis. Everyone had their own duties to attended to and Paul’s usually had him going in the opposite direction of Daryl. Not that day however so Paul was enjoying Daryl leaning back into him as he watched Hershel get his first lesson with Henry.  

Henry, thanks to Morgan’s teaching and years of practice, was the Hilltops staff master. Since he had come to apprentice at the blacksmith Hershel had been begging to learn some of the skill too. Though barely about to be seven the boy already was handy with a knife and had great aim even with only a pistol. Ever the little sponge that all kids should be, he was always ready to learn more.  

Paul didn’t think he did half bad. Of course, it was mostly basics but Hershel had taken it all in with a serious face that was so much like his mothers. When Henry dismissed him, ruffling his hair and telling him his staff was his to keep, the boy sprinted over to their picnic table.  

“Uncle Paul! Uncle Daryl! Did y’all see me?” Hershel's eyes were bright and brown hair a mess as he reached them.  

“Sure did, bud!” Paul smiled just as wide as the boy. When his face lit up like that it was Glenn all over.  

“Ya got yer own stick and all, huh?” Daryl grinned and Paul swatted at his head.  

“Yes, sir. I’m gonna learn really fast, promise.” Hershel started giggling as he turned his eyes up to Paul, “I was really concentrating but you wanna know what I kept thinking Uncle Paul?”  

Paul scooted up, knocked Daryl around between his knees who huffed at him, “What? I’m on the edge of my seat here.”  

Hershel took a step back, calming his giggles as he turned serious. He waited a beat before taking the staff in both hands and thrusting it out horizontally in front of himself while barely on key bleating, “Let’s get down to business!”  

Paul could have squealed like he was the little kid here not just Hershel as he sang, “To defeat the huns!”  

“Did they send me daughters, when I asked for sons?” They sang together as Daryl just looked back and forth between them in complete confusion.  

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

“You and Uncle Daryl are really different, huh?” Paul blinked at the question being asked by the little boy wandering around his trailer.

It wasn’t uncommon for Hershel to stop by and want to hang out. Paul didn’t mind, he loved his nephew but that seemed to come out of left field. Paul looked up from the book he was reading, had been reading out loud to the boy since he now seemed old enough to enjoy the wonders of the wizarding world.  

Hershel had been poking through their stuff, nothing harmful just childlike curiosity. Not that he or Daryl had anything to hide in their closet or among the many drawers and cabinets throughout the trailer. Hershel was glancing from Paul’s rows of books on the shelves, that Daryl had installed to get Paul to stop leaving piles of them lying around, and at the many different animal pelts that Daryl placed here or there.  

“Well, everyone is supposed to be different, bud.” Paul smiled as Hershel wrinkled his nose at the fur of a skunk that was almost as old as the boy.  

“Duh, I know that,” Hershel rolled his eyes as he opened a draw that housed Paul’s many bandanas along with Daryl’s tons of rags, “It just seems weird that y’all like such different stuff but you’re married.”  

Paul was at a loss for a moment on how to respond. Love was a confusing thing to even adults, how could he explain it to a six-year-old so that he would understand. Paul closed his book around his finger so he wouldn’t lose his place as he scratched at his chin.  

Hershel looked over the many knick-knacks scattered about, Paul liked to grab the more novelty ones when he spotted them while Daryl sometimes would snag a snow globe. Paul didn’t know why it was always snow globes but it was so cute to question and risk him stopping.  

“You know how Tarzan grew up in the jungle?” Paul spoke after a moment, Hershel turned to with a nod, “And Jane, she grew up in England, right?”

“London,” Hershel nodded again, “I’ve only seen that movie a billon times, Uncle Paul.”  

“I’m sure you have,” Paul chuckled, he had been the one to find the miraculously undamaged DVD and he watched it almost all of those billon times with him, “Jane and Tarzan were really different, huh?”

“Oh yeah.” Hershel came to sit on the bed next to Paul.  

“But they loved each other anyway, right?” Paul smiled as Hershel seemed to think this over before grinning with a nod, “That’s what me and your Uncle Daryl are like. We are really different but we still love each other so, so much. Get it, bud?”

“Makes perfect sense!” Hershel agreed.  

“I think so too!” Paul snagged the boy tugged him to lean back against the pillows with him.  

Hershel snuggled against his side as Paul reopened his well wore copy of ‘The Sorcerer's Stone’ and picked up where he was interrupted.  

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

“Why doesn’t Mama ever let me do anything?!” Hershel stomped his foot and Paul looked down at the huffing boy.  

Paul was standing at the gate as Maggie and Kal took a cart of supplies to the Kingdom. Though things were still sour with Alexandria, Maggie made a point to stay in contact with the other communities and it had been clear for some time how much help Ezekiel needed. That was why Henry was at Hilltop after all, to learn how to properly repair his home.  

Hershel had asked to come with his mother but she had told him no. To stay back and finish his school work and she would be back no later than the next day at lunch. Her son had protested, of course, but she wouldn’t budge on the subject.  

“When I get bigger and I’m in charge and not Mama, I’ll get to do whatever I want.” Hershel crossed his arms and stamped his foot again.  

Now Paul had a very red-faced child just seconds from a tantrum at his side. Paul reached down and petted his hair with a grin, “Alright, calm down there, Simba. Let’s not get in too much of a hurry to be king.”  

Hershel looked up at him and blinked for a second before a smile took over his face, “But we don’t have a king, silly.”  

“That we don’t,” Paul chuckled as he got down on one knee so he was level with the boy, “I know you wish your mom had let you come along but I think she made a much better choice by letting you stay.”  

“How’s that?” Hershel cocked his head to the side.

“Because that means she trusts you to help look after all of us here at Hilltop,” Paul gestured around then at all the people milling about and going in and out to the fields. Hershel’s eyes widened has he took all of it in, “And I figure, that’s a much better job than riding some stuff out to the Kingdom.”  

“It is!” Hershel nodded putting his hands on his hips and looking very proud.

Paul stood back up, glad to have lifted the boy's spirits. Paul turned to leave Hershel to oversee his new charge but stopped when Hershel called out, “But Uncle Paul?”

Paul looked back at him with a cocked eyebrow, Hershel grinned huge as he sang, “But I just can’t wait to be king!”  

Paul’s laugh just made the boy grin even bigger.

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

Daryl’s hands had just slipped under the hem of Paul’s shirt, Paul moaned into his mouth as he crawled into the redneck's lap. Calloused fingers squeezed his hips at the same time that a small knock came to their door. Twin groans left them as they looked over at the door and another knock came.  

Paul untangled himself from Daryl, who huffed as he swung his pajama clad legs over the side of the bed to sit on the edge. Paul opened the door but he was sure that only a few people would come calling so later. Hershel looked up at him, the glow from their lamp lighting his face as he clutched a stuffed animal to his chest.  

“What’s wrong, Hershel?” Paul asked softly but he figured he knew the answer. Whenever Maggie was away for the night Hershel would sometimes come spend time with them.

“Can I...Can I spend the night?” His voice was a tiny whisper and it made Paul want to scoop him up like he did when Hershel was a baby.  

“Of course, bud.” Paul ushered him inside, locking the door behind him. In the distance thunder rumbled and Paul figured that was another thing that sent to boy to their trailer.  

Daryl sighed as he saw the boy and got up to tug a thermal on. He wasn’t as shy about his scars as he used to be but Hershel was just a kid and he didn’t need to see them. Paul pulled the spare blankets and pillow out of the closet and set it up on the couch.

“You get cozy, I’m going to hop in the shower and will be right out. Then how about another chapter of Harry Potter?” Paul watched as Hershel got on the couch and nodded happily.  

Paul had just started washing his hair when Daryl came into the bathroom, “Really, babe?”

“What?” Paul scrubbed at his locks as Daryl sighed on the other side of the showers glass door.

“Why did ya let him stay when ya know we ain’t done...ya know what, for weeks?” Daryl grumbled. Paul almost giggled at Daryl’s reason for annoyance.  

“He’s just lonely, love. I can’t turn him away with those puppy eyes he has, he is just a kid.” Paul reasoned and Daryl threw his hands up in defeat as he left the bathroom.  

Daryl sat on the bed, his back to the head board as Hershel moved his blankets around. The little boy jumped when a clap of thunder went off above them. Daryl could see a slight tremble to his lip as Hershel looked up at the ceiling then over at Daryl.  

“C’mon.” Daryl patted the bed next to him and Hershel darted over as thunder rolled again.  

Hershel pressed to Daryl’s large side and Daryl wrapped his arm around him, rubbing his back. Poor kid really didn’t like thunder storms as the next and loudest so far crash had him almost lifted off the bed, he jumped so hard.  

“Ain’t nothing to be scared of, kid.” Daryl mumbled as he looked down to see Hershel pressing his face into his stuffed animal. It was a small orange cat and something he hadn’t thought of in ages came to him.  

Daryl tugged the boy up into his chest, more cradling him than Paul would be able to do with his slighter frame. Hershel burrowed into it as Daryl started humming and rocking just the slightest.  

“You and me together we’ll be. Forever you’ll see. We two can be good company. You and me,” Daryl’s voice wasn’t as nice as Paul’s but Hershel relaxed as he rumbled over the thunder, “Yes together we two. Together, that’s you. Forever with me.”  

Hershel had calmed, humming softly along to the song he had heard before but didn’t know as well as Daryl as his eyes slipped shut.  

“We’ll always be good company. You and me. Yes, together we’ll be.” Daryl glanced up to see Paul standing in the doorway to the bathroom.

 A smile on his wet hair framed face as he watched Daryl with Hershel. They looked so warm and soft, Daryl’s arms holding the boy to his wide chest as he sang in a voice even Paul didn’t know he had.  

“You and me, together we’ll be. Forever you’ll see,” Daryl kept singing softly even as he noticed Hershel go limp into his chest with sleep. He carefully turned him so he was laying on Paul’s pillow, rubbing his arm so he wouldn’t wake, “We’ll always be good company, you and me. Just wait and see.”  

Hershel was sleeping soundly, orange kitty squeezed in his arms as Daryl covered him with the sheets. Paul sighed as he whispered, “I love you, so much, Daryl.”  

“I know,” Daryl grinned as he settled into bed next to Hershel, “Enjoy the couch, babe.”  

Paul’s face fell as he realized Hershel was taking up his side of the bed. He opened his mouth to protest but Daryl shook his head as he reasoned, “He’s jus a kid.”  

Paul sighed in defeat as he turned the lights off and laid down on the couch. Paul got under the blankets and whispered, “Cast out of my own bed, like some street rat.”  

Daryl flipped him off though it was barely visible in the dim room as he warned, “One more Disney reference and yer sleeping out in the storm.”  

[whisker-biscuit]

Starry-Eyed

*Based on the beautiful artwork by @crysptrsh, please go check it out!*

Summary: Skout accidentally encounters the Nomad when everyone else is too far off to be of assistance. They share a bit of an unwilling soul search, and the spittoon girl learns that the world is a lot more complicated than she wanted to believe. 

And some things shine brighter than the stars.

Skout had done it. She still couldn’t believe it, that she’d managed to accomplish what so many others had failed to do for over a century, but here she was, standing in front of a simple animal snare that had caught prey unlike any she’d ever expected.

Skout had captured the Nomad.

It was a bit of a lucky thing though, if the girl was honest with herself. She and the crew had been traveling into near-sunset when they had found a rare patch of cactus and desert shrubs, spanning a good several miles at least and very difficult to navigate. Toth, spirited and impatient, had ordered the majority of her group to start working through the undergrowth despite its treachery. The Y’dala woman herself took a smaller team to split up and ride around the perimeter – a task that would take the rest of the evening.

Of course Skout had begged to join, but ever since the encounter with the beast in the Nowhere storm, Toth had been bouncing between avoiding her spittoon girl in harsh silence and hovering over her like a mother hen. It was confusing, and frustrating, and Skout was just about ready to tear her hair out.

Jethro had been the one to suggest that someone stay behind with the larger wagon and set up camp, since it was obvious they’d be here for possibly a few days. Toth was against the idea until she realized it’d be a good way to both keep Skout out of harm’s way and ignore her at the same time, so she had assigned the poor girl the job with no room for further argument. One other Dandy-Lion was voted to keep her company, “just in case”, and then the group had departed.

After the tents were set up and a fire was built, Skout was left to her own devices as her companion decided he was taking an afternoon nap. He told her, settling himself onto the dusty desert ground, that the likelihood of the Nomad being here – or anyone really – was pretty slim. Skout was usually optimistic but she felt a little inclined to agree with him.

So now, two hours after arriving, she could maybe forgive herself for being a little slack-jawed at the sight.

The Nomad was stuck in a bit of a squat, his right arm inside the low-hanging, hollowed-out cactus arm Scout had set up to snare an animal for dinner. He was very still and very wide-eyed, left hand still gripping at the crook of his elbow in an interrupted attempt to pull out of the trap.

“You, yer arm’s stuck,” Skout said quietly, dumbly. She shook her head to snap out of her shock. “What’re you doin’ here, Nomad?”

That was enough to pull her catch out of his own freeze up, because he started tugging more frantically at his trapped appendage. The girl scampered up quickly in order to stop his struggling and the Nomad flinched back so violently he fell on his behind. His arm was bent at an awkward angle, uncomfortable but probably not painful.

“Hey, hey now, don’t be doin’ that! You’ll pull a muscle or somethin’!” She lightly scolded. “What am I s’pposed to tell everyone if you go gettin’ yerself hurt?”

But the Nomad wasn’t listening. He looked terrified, keeping as much distance between them as he could while still tugging desperately at the cactus snare. When Skout inched closer his shoulders jolted up to his neck and he tried to clap his hands through the plant. It didn’t work and the poor thing got a gloveful of prickly needles for his efforts.

Skout wasn’t really sure what to do at this point. She could go back to the camp to grab her fellow sleeping Dandy-Lion, but it was a fifteen minute push through the brush one way and leaving the Nomad alone was just asking for him to escape.

She could shout for help, maybe, but the search party had set out hours ago and would have good distance, careful searching or not. It was also starting to get dark, and she didn’t have a flare or anything to signal where she was.

The best option would have been to bring the Nomad back herself, but she faced two problems with this. First, she was recovering from her injuries. The moment the girl had gotten off her crutches she had demanded to jump back into the fray, and it was the only debate she’d managed to win against Toth since the incident. The exertion of walking alone for this long was difficult, much less hauling along an unwilling companion.

Secondly, the Nomad was acting…much more skittish than the last time she’d interacted with him. Sure, they’d been pursuing and evading each other for weeks now, and there wasn’t any doubts about which members of the group were willing to bring him back in less than one piece, but something about this was…different.

Wrong.

So, with a quiet resigned huff and a painful sigh, Skout sat against a brittle shrub to consider her dilemma. She brought up her legs halfway to her chest and draped her arms tiredly across her knees, eyes distant while the Nomad heaved and panted in front of her.

“What’m I supposed to do?” The girl near-whispered. “If I go messin’ this up again, Toth could get in a whole lotta trouble again.”

The two made brief unexpected eye-contact before the Nomad’s face turned abruptly to the side, still clearly terrified. Skout huffed again and picked absentmindedly at a scab on her thumb.

“And you ain’t been helpin’ things much, Friend. Actin’ all afraid a’ me like that. I ain’t that scary…am I?”

The Nomad blinked up at the girl and gave a tiny, timid shake of his head, and Skout frowned.

“Ya say that, but I’m not much reassured, Mister Nomad.” She looked at him again, studied him a little more closely. “Why’s everyone so upset at you, anyhow? I know you’ve been doin’ magic and all that rule-breakin’ stuff, but…what makes ya so special to get everyone up in a tilly?”

The words made her captive tense as a rattlesnake. He stopped struggling to stare at her, an expression on his face that was half pleading, half disbelief, and mixed together to form 100% distress. Skout would have been unnerved, but everything about the last few weeks had been unnerving and she was sick of the feeling.

“And, why ya gotta be bundled up so much too? The desert is plenty cold enough at night for that, but it ain’t so kind durin’ the day.” She scooted up to him on her butt, green eyes starting to fill with the inquisitiveness she used to be more famous for.

Whatever the Nomad was seeing, however, he wasn’t liking at all. He tried to kick backwards, and when his trapped arm stopped the movement he instead tried to hide fetal-position behind the hollowed cactus. Skout was having none of it.

“Come on, Friend, I ain’t gonna hurtcha! I just wanna,” the girl paused. “Actually, I don’t really much know what I want. I guess. Maybe…” She chewed her bottom lip. “Maybe I could just see yer face? Is that alright?”

Her captive uncurled just a bit to watch warily. His gaze drifted down her body, and Skout realized with a start that he was looking for weapons. She almost snorted in irritated amusement.

“Nah, I ain’t got nothin’ dangerous on me, Toth has been real weird lately, not lettin’ me do nothin’ useful. I dunno why she still wants me here, if I’m bein’ honest.”

The Nomad leaned around the snare, closer than he’d been willing to get before, and Skout’s breath almost caught at the brightness of his eyes in the growing dusk. She tentatively reached a hand out, not quite closed into a fist.

“Can I? Please? Just one look?”

Her fingers brushed against the rim of his hat, but he didn’t wince away. The Nomad remained completely rigid, with a slight twitch to his body like a reluctant marionette with no other way out. Skout took the hat off and turned it this way and that, respectful but curious. She didn’t notice nervous tears forming in her captive’s face.

Next came the bandana, wrapped so tightly around the Nomad’s face and neck it was a miracle he wasn’t suffocating, in her opinion. She gently pulled it down and made a startled noise when she couldn’t see an obvious mouth.

“Uh, well.” Skout stammered as the Nomad made himself a little smaller. “I uh, I’m sure lots a folks don’t have mouths! It ain’t that uncommon, promise!”

But she was even more eager to see the rest of his face now, and the head scarf was grabbed a little faster, with a little less consideration of his comfort level. The Nomad jerked back at her action and ended up coming right out of the headwear. It remained stuck in Skout’s hand, but she didn’t notice.

Because the sight before her was nothing short of incredible.

Pitch, fluffy hair swept up in a current of soft innocence, highlighting a slim, childlike face. Eyes, once tempered by so much faded orange, now glowed in beautiful brilliance against the deepest of dark skin, and the tears still prickling at their corners added the illusion of liquid light circling two dazzling moons. The lack of mouth and nose were no longer disconcerting, but ethereal. As if to complete the celestial picture was the sky, finally reaching that point of showing stars but not so opaque as to obscure everything else.

It was unlike anything Skout had ever seen before.

It was magical.

“Flippin’ flapjacks,” she breathed, drawing the scarf close to her collarbone. “That’s, this – you’re beautiful.”

The Nomad remained still, tears threatening to spill and shimmer down unmarred cheeks. He – they – made a move as if to take the scarf back, then stopped and recoiled. Skout blinked dazedly and slowly came out of her trance.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she passed the piece of clothing back and the Nomad accepted it gratefully, managing to wrap it back on properly even with only one hand available. The bandana came back up to cover the bottom half of their face, and with a hesitant tap they took back their hat, pressing it snugly on top of their head like a security blanket.

The girl tried to get the amazing image out of her mind, but no amount of blinking or headshaking could do it. She picked at her scab without looking at it.

“So uh, I don’t s’ppose yer gonna come back with me if I ask nicely, huh.” Skout grimaced when she received an incessant ‘no’ in all forms of body language. “That’s what I thought. Dang it, How’m I gonna explain this to everyone?”

Her captive seemed just a little less fearful for their life, because a half shrug was her answer. The spittoon girl sighed and looked up at the evening sky.

“You know, there’s so many stories ‘bout before magic disappeared. Sometimes Toth tells ‘em to me, when she’s in a good enough mood. It always sounds so amazin’, and I’ve always wanted to see it with my own eyes.”

Skout went quiet for a few seconds and just watched the stars twinkle. “And then I gotta chance to meet you, and – now don’t get me wrong, those little critters you make are right plum outta the fantasy books, but this…I ain’t never realized how special it really is, I guess. You’re really special. Honestly. And I wanna help Toth and help her people, that’s why I’m still goin’ with her even though…even though she ain’t been too happy with me lately. But I don’t…what happens after all that? Where do you go? Why does El Ray want you so bad?”

Something anxious and troubled leaked into the Nomad’s eyes then, and if Skout didn’t know better she’d say they knew exactly what would happen to them. But that was impossible. It was probably just the fear talking.

“When we came here today, nobody really thought we’d see you. I think Toth’s the only one who wanted to search this place. Maybe…just this once,” she hesitated, and stared into the subdued radiance of the Nomad’s eyes. “Maybe I could just…not find nothin’ in this trap. Maybe it just sprung by itself somehow, cause that, that happens sometimes, right?”

The Nomad’s expression was bordering towards disbelief and the first inkling of hope, even as tears still glimmered along their skin. Skout wanted to cry too, at the unfairness of it all. She took ahold of her captive’s free hand and clasped it in her own, willing them to look at her.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Twenty minutes later, the sleeping Dandy-Lion woke to find Skout stumbling into the camp, dirty and tired and rather listless. He propped himself up on one arm and watched her.

“Did the traps catch anything?”

And Skout looked at the night sky again, at stars that were once so inviting when she had been younger, and more naïve to the complicated nature of things. They weren’t like that anymore.

“Nah, nothin’. I think you’re right, ain’t nothing worthwhile here at all.”

They weren’t like that, because she had started to lose that naivety, that stupid belief in a black and white world and her ability to know the difference.

But in return, she had received a glimpse of something even more magnificent. Something worth protecting even if she didn’t know how to do it yet. And it wasn’t just a visible sight, either.

Because after she’d freed them, before the two parted ways again and she’d started the trek back –

The Nomad had hugged her.

I love this series and I love crysptrsh’s amazing talent and I love the fluffy-haired Nomad theory. I just love everything tbh - thanks for reading!

[ruvatia]

MaintenLance III

Pairing: Lance x Reader Word count: 2,8k Context: You wake him up in the middle of the night because you appreciate space rocks. (lowkey doesn’t really work anymore because this was all written during season 2-3 but that’s ok) Pt1 (xxx) Pt2 (xxx)

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BEEP.

BEEP.

BEEP BEEP BEEP.

The girl woke up in a flash, looking at the universe hologram that had   suddenly summoned itself in the room. She hurriedly got up and threw her blanket aside, Lance slowly waking the moment she pressed the “dismiss alarm” button.

“What’s up?” he asked groggily.

“There’s a Kromerran nearby! We have to go get some of its metal!” the girl said, practically jumping into her clothes. “Come on, Lance!”

“Urgh, god, please no. Remember how we almost lost the ship last time?”

“Come on, this metal is half-titanium and half-rune! There’s almost nothing like these wonderful creatures!”

“Finnneeee.”

You’re so lucky I have this gigantic crush on you I swear.

After what seemed like an eternity to her, she grabbed him by the hand and dragged him all the way to the main control room. There they both did the usual route towards Blue and set off for the closest Kromerran.

During the past two months since her awakening, it’s happened three times where Lance would be awaken in the middle of the night or disturbed while he was relaxing to go hunting for rare or special metal with her. Not that he hated it, seeing her excited and hearing her talk about what she loved (also he got to learn about new things which wasn’t unwelcome when she was teaching him) but it did get a little tiring to always be there for the rock-loving dork.

“After this one, I’m not escorting you unless it’ll really be useful.” he said with a big yawn, more cranky due to his lack of sleep. He just knew that when he was going to get back on the ship, he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep, and neither would she.

“Okay. Promise I’ll tone it down a little bit after this one.” she grinned as they approached the planet.

Lance raised his eyebrow at her. “A little bit?”

“Everything is very useful if you know how to use them properly.”

“And you know how to use everything?”

“I like to think that I do.” she giggled, making him sigh as he looked at the planet they were approaching.

Lance noticed that it looked a little bit like a Balmera from afar and questioned about it.

“You’ve been to a Balmera already? That’s incredible!”

“Is it? I was only there for a short while though.”

“A Balmera is a great grand beast that can produce quintessence crystals, while a Kromerran is one that can produce quintenssence-compatible metal. Sure, quintenssence can be found a little everywhere, but the metal from these creatures just have a better, uhm, flow for it?”

“Soooo, Kromerrans are like Balmeras’ sisters or something like that?”

“I guess so! That’s a very nice way to put it, actually.”

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Lance let the lion land on the planet, the two stepping out of the beast with their arms linked. She seemed to know an awful lot about Kromerrans, but she couldn’t lie: it was her first time seeing one. And as luck would have it, it was a Kromerran untouched by Galra claws.

It was breathtaking. The creature was stunning upon further exploration, and the caves seemed to all link to the core, that, again, resembled a Balmera’s. It was less colorful, since what the creature had to offer was metal but everything still had the same vibe. Mysterious and most definitely alive.

“So uh, do you think we’re gonna have to do a ceremony thingy to be able to extract the metal?” he asked, looking up at the gigantic core with her. Now that he thought about it, the one he saw on the Balmera was smaller. Does that mean that this creature is healthy?

Lance turned to the girl, only to see her staring at her own reflection with wide eyes. There was a huuuuuge crystal that stretched just a little above her head. It rivaled the size of the core, but it wasn’t as shiny. Lance noticed this, and wondered why she was looking at herself.

“Hey, you listening?”

“Y-yes!” she said, turning to him in quick motion. “What is it?”

“Ceremony thingy to extract the metal?” he shrugged.

“Yes, r-right. We’re a little short-handed so we’ll have to manage with just the both of us. We don’t need that much. Blue can only carry so much after all.” she said, brushing some of her hair to the side. Didn’t help much.

“Hey, Blue can do anything he needs you to do. Trust.” he said, a smug grin coming on his face.

“Of course, Lance.” she grinned back, making his heart skip a beat.

Even though he was pretty cranky about half an hour ago, her smile always managed to instantly wake him up. Honestly he was scared that he would grow used to seeing it and thus lose his way to wake up so easily in the morning, but at the same time, the thought of her smiling more, at his side was really, really nice.

“If only the bunk beds were a little wider…”

“Did you say something?”

“UHM, NO. IT’S OKAY.” he answered in a robotic voice, his shoulders immediately hugging his neck. “I UH, UH, RIGHT. DID YOU SPOT A GOOD ONE?”

The girl grinned at him. “Yup! I think I saw a good one while we walked on the surface.”

She slowly let her fingers wrap around his wrist, pulling him away from the core’s room. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

Oh wow she was touching him and he wasn’t ready for that.

The girl dragged him back up to the surface, making sure that he was always either beside or behind him. Lance realized that he liked it better when he was beside her, but he wasn’t going to say anything about it yet.

“A little more time.” he thought to himself. “Just a little more time.”

The moment the blue lion was in sight again, the girl stopped and turned to him. “It was around here, I believe.”

Recently it’s been like this. She would touch him gently and there would be a lingering warmth that always made him crave more. Her fingers were a little rough, but he expected that since she was working with big parts, screws bolts and magical stones or whatnot.

Lance looked around him as their hands refused to separate. Most of these resembled the castle’s crystal, but smaller, and… Darker. He was staring at their reflection in a bigger one, until he let out a yelp as he was pulled from the front.

“Here! This one!”

“T-this one?”

“Yeah! It’s a peculiar shape, don’t you think?”

“Peculiar, you say.”

It looks like half a deformed butt is coming out of the ground.

“It’s unique.”

“Of course it is.” she said, finally letting his hand go. “Come, I’ll prepare to take it with us.”

Lance let his hand hang in the air before it returned to his side. “Right. Be right there.”

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“Heave-ho!” She let out with a big huff.

Lance pulled the best he could, the girl pushing what had come out of the ground. At first the crystal seemed to become smaller, but then it decided to become bigger again. This form was complex, compared to others, or maybe it was bigger than they thought it was and had many more bumps like this to come. Thankfully however, the shape popped out thanks to their relentless effort.

“Whoa!”

It fell at Lance’s side, the ground immediately closing after the stone had separated with the creature. Lance and the engineer looked at what had come out, a familiar shape coming to mind.

“Hey, it..” the girl started, gently caressing the stone.

“It looks like a heart. Well, sort of.” the brunette shrugged.

The girl nod, slowly lifting the stone with slight difficulty. “I’ll shape it when we get back to the ship. Oh, right! Take the small one too.”

“The small one?”

“It seems the Kromerran gave us this one and another small shard.” she said, gesturing the smaller piece with her chin.

Lance saw it a few feet from him, and picked it up. He had nowhere to put it for now, so he left it in the palm of his hand as he helped the girl carry the bigger one back to Blue.

Back on the ship, she immediately got to work. She sanded the smaller one first, and then grabbed one of the smallest drills she had. Curious, Lance peeked over her shoulder and approached his face to her cheek.

“What are you doing?” he asked over the drill.

To answer, she stopped the device to look up at him.

“It’s a secret.”

“What? Come on, don’t be like that.”

“It’s no fun if you know what I’m doing with this one! Run along, wait downstairs!”

Pouting, Lance retreated down the ladder that led to her workshop and dragged his feet to Blue.

“How rude, am I right buddy?”

He received a silence from the lion, but imagined him talking back and nodding.

“Women.” he would say.

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After thirty minutes, the girl came back down with the smaller shard now spherical, with odd carvings here and there. Lance pointed at it with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s all that?”

“Drawings. I had one of my machines laser them all on it.”

“L-laser?” he repeated, reminding him of tech from his world. Guess some things are just universal. Lasers being one of them.

“Mhm. Come on, let’s lay down.”

“Lay down?”

“I drilled a hole under to let me place a light there. I sanded the sphere so that it’s thin enough to let most of the light pass in some places. It’ll act like a projector.” she explained, Lance following him across the hangar.

“A-and you did all that… In the span of thirty minutes?” he asked, blinking quickly.

“Oh Lance, who do you think I am?”

“The craftiest person in the universe right now, why?”

A giggle escaped the mechanic as she placed the little projector on the ground. It was connected to a small button by a wire that Lance figured to be the on/off switch.

“Come, let’s close the lights.” she said, taking his hand again.

“But of course.” he answered in his usual flirty manner.

The girl laughed, turning her head. She hoped that he didn’t noticed how red the tip of her ears were turning red.

Before turning the lights off, she brought out a flashlight from one of her pockets.

“Wouldn’t want to trip out way back here, would we.” she grinned, Lance mimicking her expression.

She pushed the button, and the room turned dark. She switched the flashlight on, and lead Lance to the device she had left on the ground earlier. He was a little impressed that she had remembered exactly where she left it. The mechanic didn’t even need to wave the light around to make sure of where it was.

“Lay down, I’ll go get some blankets from upstairs.”

“Blankets?”

She nod. “I found them as I was working earlier. Wait here.”

His eyes followed the only source of light up and down the stairs, looking at the blankets that she had brought back.

“Are you planning on sleeping here?”

“No. I’m planning on laying here.” she said, spreading the bigger one across the ground. She sat on it and then stretched her legs before Lance sat down beside her, flinching when she suddenly closed her flashlight.

“Whoa, it is really dark.”

“Hold on, I’ll fix that…” she said, reaching for the switch.

The room lit up with clouds, mountains, rivers and the sea. There were two sceneries, one being the sea and what seemed to be under it and the other was a field with mountains in the background. It was something that you’d see Van Gogh painting, since the machine didn’t have the best accuracy on a metal such as this one. The lines on the images seemed nervous and tense, but calculated and exactly where they needed to be.

The mountain seemed to resemble a volcano a little more, with the top being pretty flat and all, but the field was something that Lance hadn’t seen in a long time. He had seen many clouds here and there upon many planets during their travels, but none compared to the fluffy ones they found back home. To his mind came along the image of Pidge geeking out at the clouds that were made of pure acid or metal or whatever else.

The other side of the room, representing the depths of the sea showed mostly dinosaurs, and other creatures that were extinct. He couldn’t recognize much of what he could usually see in textbooks. Same with the flora in the image. He didn’t know that many plants, but none of these seemed like modern plants. It looked more like something he would find in a prehistoric picture book.

A complicated emotion came over his features, but the only thing she could clearly see on his face was a small smile.

“Huh, pretty close to the real thing.” he said softly.

“Is it?”

“Yeah. It’s not all that realistic, but I can make most of these out… Sort of.”

“These are images I’ve taken from the Blue Lion. Ten thousand years in the crust of your planet, after all.” she chuckled.

“Yeah. Most of the creatures from the ocean side are extinct though, probably.”

“Extinct? They couldn’t move to other ocean to live there?”

“I mean, yes but no? Our planet’s surface is 70% water, just like our human bodies, but the water isn’t the same everywhere. We don’t have technology to travel to other galaxies like you guys either. We already have a lot of trouble getting to the end of ours.”

The Kerberos mission flashes into his mind for a second, but that seems so far away now. Lance looked away from the lights momentarily, but then focused on them again as he continued.

“The creatures on this side existed waaay before humans ever did. We call them dinosaurs. They dissapeared because their surroundings weren’t livable anymore or a meteor killed them all. But everyone doubts that it’s the second one.”

“Well, if there was a small amount of them…”

“I don’t think so, we’ve found too many remains for there to be a few.”

“Remains? From such a long time ago?”

“Yep. Just bones though. Scattered here and there around the world.”

“On land? Even though these dinosaurs are aquatic?”

“Oh, we had some that live on land too. Come to think of it, the animals that live in the oceans and lands of earth today are all their descendants. Either that or they’re weird hybrids because earth is constantly changing.”

The girl turned on her side, looking up at Lance.

“Will you… Tell me about it?”

“About… Our planet’s animals?” he said, looking back at her.

She nod with her eyes shining, which he found hard to refuse. But he did anyways, averting his eyes and scratching his chin lightly.

“I… I don’t know that much about them. I didn’t really study up about those kind of things. Pidge would be a better person to--”

“Just tell me what you know about your planet then.”

He turned back at her. “H-huh?”

“You can just tell me what you know. It doesn’t have to be detailed or planned or smart. I just…”

She bit her lips before she continued, he didn’t miss that.

“I just want to know what it’s like… What it was like for you before you became a paladin.”

He felt his heart stop. She… Wanted to know more about him. She was curious about his life and what he went through. He didn’t know what to start with though. It always started with someone talking about themselves, be it him or them, and it just came out. No one’s really asked for him to talk about himself.

“Will I… Hear about you then?” he asked, turning to his side to face her.

“I don’t… Have much to say about myself.”

RIGHT, SHE HASN’T REGAINED HER MEMORY YET.

Lance felt a very strong blush come to his face was he was getting ready to roll around in embarrassment, but she spoke up before he could even move.

“But the moment I remember something, I promise you’ll be the one I tell first.”

He felt his blush deepen.

You’ll be the one.

That hit him hard. Too hard.

“Okay.” He managed to squeak out.

Until she fell asleep, Lance spoke of everything he knew of earth to her. Eventually, she scooted closer and closer to be able to hear him better. Sleep was getting the best of her and she couldn’t hear him all that well because he was getting tired too. Eventually, they ended up close enough so that they were nestling against each other. Eventually, Lance pulled the blanket above her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t too cold. Eventually, her eyelids became too heavy.

Before she fell asleep, she could’ve sworn that he had whispered goodnight.

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