#if your precious ego and ideas are that fragile do something to fix that

[njwinterquartz]

I guess the showrunner apparently can’t tell you what the intended interpretation of scenes or episodes are. Apparently you don’t have “media literacy” if you take them for their word.

To be clear I get that the intended interpretation is not the only possible interpretation. But to go out and say people are dumb for agreeing with it and attack someone for pointing out the flaws in a flawed interpretation that is not based in the actual show and actively ignores a lot. Says a whole lot about a person.

[tumbledfreckles]

Your shirtless JP submission was incredible ❤

What I was going to request is a combination of shirtless James and your current "names" drabble kick. It may kill me, but I'm willing to take the risk if any inspiration strikes you 😉

I hope this is okay! I don't think it quite beats the locker room, but this is what came out!

As moments went, it wasn’t one of her best.

Lily could admit this quite readily from her current position. She could also admit she hadn’t meant to end up here. Mistakes had been made. Consequences must now be worn.

Fuck.

If only it wasn’t so embarrassing.

If only he hadn’t taken off his shirt.

“Evans?”

“I’m fine.” The words were bitten out of her. Automatic. More than a tad defensive.

“You sure? You hit the ground pretty hard.”

“It was nothing. I’m fine.”

“Can I at least help you up?”

Lily blinked one eye open, seeing a shadowed silhouette above her. Her other eye slowly followed, though she squinted and grimaced in pain. The dull ache in the back of her head pounded with much sharper alacrity as she recognised the shape of James above her. As if she needed to. As if she hadn’t already recognised his voice.

“Sure,” she sighed, taking the hand he offered.

His warm calloused fingers clasped around her own as a spark travelled from her head all the way to her fingertips. Or maybe the spark had started in her fingertips? Maybe it had started in his?

Merlin, her head hurt.

James pulled Lily up with ease, catching her around the waist with his other hand to steady her once she was on her feet. She felt her eyes close involuntarily, swaying precariously on the soft grass. Her head pounded, spinning the world in circles, and she cursed her clumsiness for making such poor decisions on her behalf.

A low groan escaped her throat.

“Alright, Evans?” Her hair was brushed back from her face, his thumb stroking gently across her cheek. “That was quite a spill.”

Lily forced herself to open her eyes, but the glare that followed was completely natural. “Peachy.”

“Do you want me to take you to Pomfrey?”

“Definitely not.” Belated embarrassment, as the throbbing ceased just enough to allow other thoughts, other emotions, tinged her cheeks red, and she ducked her gaze.

Holy shit.

And there.

There it was.

Right there, right in front of her, way too close for comfort, way way too close for her to not want to stare, want to touch, want to lick, was the reason for her fall.

Lily couldn’t tear her gaze away. James’ shirtless chest, bare, ripped stomach stared back at her. Smooth, tanned skin shone, the occasional bead of sweat highlighting muscle definition in a way that left her mouth dry. Toned muscles pulled and stretched, a fine dusting of hair trailed down under the waistband of his Quidditch pants.

Look up, Lily.

Her eyes flew back up to James’ face, to find him looking at her strangely. For several awkward, humiliating moments, Lily thought he’d realised she’d been gawking at him, and was about to take the mick something terrible. Then she realised he’d asked her something, probably more than once.

“Sorry, James, what did you say?”

“I asked if you remember what -” James stopped short and frowned. “Wait, what did you just say?”

Lily blinked, a still painful process that required a lot more conscious effort than it should. “I asked what you said?”

He was shaking his head before she even finished speaking, “No, not that.” He stepped a bit closer, squeezing at her hip. The touch startled her. She hadn’t even realised James still held her. A feat that hinted strongly at an emerging concussion, given she’d recently succumbed to the idea that she’d developed a constant awareness of him.

“What?” She wanted to move back, but his grip was insistent.

“You called me James.” His tone was soft, uncertain.

“What? No,” she went to shake her head, but stopped quickly when her vision blurred. “No, I didn’t.”

“You did,” he argued, lips quirking at the ends. “Just how hard did you hit your head?”

“Hard,” she sighed. It was the wrong thing to say, however true. James started to frown, concern taking over his features, and she hastened to put him at ease. It wasn’t his fault. Well, it was, but not in a way she could tell him. “Hardly, it was just a bump. It’s nothing, I’m alright, stop fuss…” her gaze had snagged on those abdominals again, chiseled and just begging to be fondled.

Jesus Christ, he was fit.

“Evans?”

“James, I’m fine.”

He blanched, letting go of her waist this time. He stared at her, and Lily didn’t blame him. Looking back wasn’t an option, looking down is what had gotten her into this mess in the first place, so Lily fixed her gaze just over his shoulder, just past his ear, out toward the lake, instead.

“You did it again.”

Lily huffed. Rolled her eyes. Refused to engage.

“You called me James, again.”

“I have a concussion. It slipped out.” She tried to make herself sound bored. Undisturbed.

But she wasn’t bored.

And she was disturbed.

She’d never called him James.

She’d also never tripped over herself because he’d pulled his shirt off, walking back across the grounds after practise, but that seemed a lesser issue right about now.

James stepped closer, reaching to take her elbow. “Just let me take you to the Hospital Wing.”

“No.” She tried to pull away, but he held tight.

“You’re not yourself.”

“I’m fine.”

“You called me James.”

“I wasn’t thinking straight!”

James let loose a growl. “Well, which is it? Either you’re fine, or you’re not.”

“I, you, well, uh,” Lily gave her own small fit of noise, frustration, confusion, and embarrassment and pain boiling over.

“Evans?”

“I don’t know, alright?”

“Let me-”

“No.”

“Evans, you’re -”

“Stop it! Look, could you just put a bloody shirt on so I can think straight?”

Oops.

James stared at her for a second time. Probably wondering if she’d lost her mind. To be fair, Lily didn’t think he’d be wrong coming to that conclusion. She felt absolutely stark, raving mad.

“Lily.”

He’d never called her that, either. The use of her first name tipped her gaze to his. His thumb helped, then gently traced the edge of her jaw. It softened the blow her ego had incurred, dulled the drilling in her skull. He smiled, a tender, gentle, beautiful thing that felt like a balm.

It made his next words that much more jarring.

“Are you telling me you hit your head because I took my shirt off?”

Turns out nothing will clear your head like a very fit, very shirtless guy realising that you might be attracted to him.

“No.” Lily backpedalled. Hard.

“Is it possible you were distracted by me?” He was enjoying this too much.

“No.”

“Evans.”

“You’ve got it wrong.”

“Evans.”

“That is not what happened.”

“Lily!” Her own name brought her up short again, just like his had him. It sounded so different when he said it. He took advantage of her quiet and continued. “It would be okay, if it was, you know.” James ran a hand through his hair, before reaching out, twisting a lock of her own around his finger. “I’ve done far worse for your attention.”

“I’m aware.” He was so close, her voice lacked its usual bite. “That’s not what this is.”

He was so warm. So practically naked.

“What is it then?” He was practically against her now, her jumper brushing against his skin.

“Concussion.” Her hands came out to push him away, but the moment they landed on his skin, she became mesmerised by the silky feel, the heat that radiated out of him, and couldn’t complete the action.

James’ hands both cradled her head now, soothing and stroking and caring. Lily tried not to wince as his hands ran over the emerging lump at the back of her head, but he saw it anyway. His frown was back as he looked down into her eyes. “I’m taking you to Pomfrey in a minute. And I’m not listening to arguments.”

How was she meant to counterpoint when he was overwhelming her? She nodded dutifully.

He dipped his head, pressing his lips to her forehead in a soft kiss. “I’m sorry for making you fall over,” he murmured.

“You didn’t” Lily tried to refute him, but James wasn’t listening as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Let me make it up to you, then we’ll get you checked out.”

“What -”

Oh.

As far as apologies went, it was a pretty good one. James caught her lips with his, pressing his body against her, angling her head delicately, as if she was this fragile, breakable, precious thing. It was undeniably sweet, with more in that kiss than Lily’s poor, melted, muddled brain could process. The tingles she’d felt in her hand, the ones she’d thought had come from her brain, she knew now they were definitely from him, as they raced through every location where their bodies connected.

James was smiling as he pulled back. “I should take my shirt off more often.”

Lily winced, though she knew her lips curved upwards as well. “Only if there’s a bed, or something soft behind me.” Her eyes widened. “I didn’t mean -”

“I reckon that could probably be arranged,” James chuckled as he put his arm around her. “But let's go get that head checked out, make sure you're not going to change your mind when the world stops spinning.”

Unlikely, Lily thought. But she wasn’t going to ruin a pleasant trip back to the castle, tucked up in James’ arms, by letting him know. If she was lucky, played her cards right, maybe he’d even apologise again on the way.

[star-munchies]

Day 1: ThorQuill Week / Dance

Post-Infinity War: Finally after Thanos was defeated, all those who disappeared into dust peacefully returned to the real world and reunited with their loved ones happily.. apart from an unfortunate few that were not able to be brought back. However, Quill is still stuck in his own guilt and blames himself for killing half of the universe. Nobody but Thor is there to try cheer him up, even if he has trouble getting close to the other.

Author Note: This prompt went from angsty, cheery, to plain crack in a minimum of a few minutes. Dear god what have I done. It fits more in the ‘Comfort’ prompt but, I like it like this.

—————————————-

‘If you ever change your mind’

Quill’s thumb ghostly brushed across the smooth surface of the Zune softly in a slow pattern, treating it with such delicacy as if it were a rich fragile item that was rare to get a hold of. A soothing tune rung out from the mini pair of earphones that were connected by the music device by a cable. The man had his eye’s cast to the floor, a mixture of tenderness and sorrow painted in his forest-green orbs. A bashful of memories flooding in his head as the song wistfully continued to play in his ears.

‘About leavin’, leavin’ me behind’

He could only remember so much. The complexity of her beautifully toned skin, her eyes that held a powerful ferocity yet kind-hearted as well. That sharp gaze of hers that never failed to have him fall to his knees like a deer in headlights. My god, she was so smart and strong. Unlike he, stupid and weak compared to her god-like figure. She was one of the only beings in the entire galaxy that was able to pull him back up onto his feet, support him no matter the circumstances, had a shoulder for him to lean on when it was one of those days where he just needed to sit down and have a breakdown. Gamora was always there for him, but now she wasn’t. She was gone and it was all his fault.

‘Baby, bring it to me. Bring your sweet lovin’”

How could he be so stupid? They should have never gone to Knowhere in the first place, and none of this would have happened. They should’ve just gone with Rocket and Groot. It was naive of them to think they could go up against Thanos who had the power of two infinity stones in his hands. She should have just gone right. Why didn’t she go fucking right?

Was he even worth to be called their Captain anymore? He got who he thought to be his soulmate, his lover, killed by that purple nut-sack of chin asshole. Then he had the rest of the universe dissolve into a land of nothing, leaving their close ones to grieve. It was all his fault.

‘Bring it on home to me’

Warm tears brimmed from the corners of his eyes, as he felt them slowly roll down his pink cheeks. The agonising pain in his heart burned up in his chest like a raging fire of emotions, as he let out a small sob that was welling up in his throat for so long. He felt pathetic.

Quill was so lost in thoughts that he didn’t notice the sound of the door to his bedroom creak open behind him, until a annoyingly familiar voice chimed in.

“Lord of stars.”

It was that low and husky voice that pulled him out of his web of thoughts, oh how he hated it. The authority and intimidation that made him feel threatened, smaller in comparison. After the whole universe-decaying issue was fixed, not everything had gone exactly back to normal. There were still many problems that were still trying to be resolved throughout the galaxy, and some people were torn apart. Thor had no one left, his brother along with the rest of his people were no longer there by his side. The few survivors that chose to abandon this journey to ‘Rebuild Asgard’ had went on their own paths, choosing a new civilisation to blend in with. The other Guardians suggested he come join them on the Milano and offered him a place on their team, with the ignorance of Quill’s protests and disdain to the idea. Sometimes he questioned if he was even a leader at the amount of uncountable times that his team made their own decisions without any of his regard.

Despite all that has happened to him though, the man still had a smile on his face throughout the trip. And that made him angry. How could this mere being who has lost so much in his life uphold his emotions like a marshmallow on a stick? Every time Quill caught him laughing with his friends on the ship, there was always a pureness in his eyes that bloomed of contentment. It made zero sense how someone could express such a face that has experienced, possibly decades, of misery and agony in life, even for a god. He didn’t like to think that he was ‘jealous’ of him for handling it so ‘easily’ per say, just very uneasy.

“What do you want..” Quill grumbled, loud enough for the Asgardian to hear across the room but still a bit hushed in a sense.

Thor’s reply was hesitant, but sounded genuinely concerned, “You’ve been in here for quite awhile... everyone has grown a bit worried of you, even the rabbit, so I came to check if you were alright.” He had his back faced to the man, so he had no clue of what kind of expression the God of Thunder held on his face. Nor did he want to.

“I’m fine... just get out...” His tone rose a little louder this time, refusing to let this buffoon see him in his weakest state, it would make him feel more humiliated than previously. He just wasn’t in the mood at all today.

“Quil-“

“I said get out!” He snapped. He knew it was unfair to lash out on Thor because of his own misgivings, but right now he could care less.

The air grew awfully silent after Quill’s sudden outburst, the only audible sound in the room was the faint music from the Zune in Quill’s. He could feel the strong gaze from Thor glare holes in his back, causing a strange insecure and self-conscious feeling to rapidly dwell in the pit of his stomach. It made him undergo an uncomfortable sense knowing that the powerful being behind him was watching him. All he wanted was to be alone, asleep and to never wake up again.

When Quill heard heavy footsteps steadily approach from behind him, his shoulders tensed knowing that he couldn’t run from this. “Peter”

Quill’s breath got caught in his throat, freezing in place. Only Gamora had ever called him by his first name, ‘Peter’. She was the only one who wasn’t from Earth that was given permission to speak his true name. It truly manifested how close their bond was. So the peculiar sensation that wildly burned in his chest when he heard his name roll off Thor’s tongue almost pushed him off the edge. Why did he feel so tranquil when he said it? A man he barely knew, one that made him envious, lit a serenity in his heart that eased it down.

Quill slid his face into his palms and let a shaky sigh escape his mouth. He was to tired for this, he couldn’t muster up enough energy to get mad anymore at this point, “I don’t know what to do..” He admitted, feeling his nostrils flare and the tears fall once again, “I- fuck, I loved her so much! She was so... G-Gamora was so perfect. She would feel so disappointed in me if she learnt I got everyone killed... I-I don’t deserve her.. I feel so helpless without her. And now she’s.. A-and now she’s gone forever..”

From the other side of the bed, he felt the mattress sink down a bit, indicating that Thor had seated himself opposite of Quill, facing away from each other. A thunderstorm brewed in Thor’s eyes, sensing the sorrow of the Guardian behind him, his usual happy expression switched to one of understanding and profoundness.

A few seconds of silence passed, which didn’t seem to bother him but gave him more time to think, before he opened his mouth to say what he wanted Quill to hear, “..When I had first joined your crew, I was hopeless and lost. Not knowing why I lived and everyone else I knew didn’t. I felt like a failure, failing to succeed to the expectations of my father in my youth, allowing my kingdom too fall, failing to save my brother and mother from death... My only way of coping was by bringing joy to others.” Quill shut his mouth and listened intently to what Thor was trying to convey “I have killed a great deal of men in my life-time, upon the thousands. I’ve done stupid and unchivalrous acts without knowing the consequences of my actions until it was to late. I could’ve become a war-ridden tyrant and a corrupted ruler like my sister, but I didn’t. My father saved me from that fate by casting me out to find redemption. That I did... Looking back on that memory made me realise that my purpose had not died out yet, and I still had something to live for. Even if Asgard has fallen, not everything can last forever. Knowing that at least some of my people still stand among the rest of universe is enough for me. Your friends, that I have grown to care deeply for are some people I want to protect... that includes you as well.”

Quill let the words sink in slowly, finding he had no response to Thor’s words of wisdom. It felt like he just got plummeted by a stack of bricks. He couldn’t understand why Thor would treat him with such kindness, whilst all he has done is disrespect the man because his own precious ego was hurt. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve any of this. But before he could respond to Thor, he felt a rough tug at his wrist and he was turned around and pulled off the bed, “Gah!” He squeaked in shock, struggling to keep a hold of his Zune without it falling out of his grasp, “Thor what are yo-“

Unexpectedly, an arm was wrapped around his waist as his body was brought closer to the other’s impressively built one. A large hand grabbed onto his, intertwining their fingers together. The hand that was safely holding onto his zune propped up on Thor’s shoulder, to keep him steady. Looking up at the taller man in shock, confusion evident in his tear-glistened eyes, all he got in return was a warm smile, “..I am not exactly aware of the many forms of dance from your homeland, so bare with me here..” He said sheepishly, as he glided the to across the room slowly, spinning the pair around gracefully. The motion was slow, but Quill could hear his heart ramming in his chest as he felt his body heat connect with Thor’s, the vulnerability he felt when settled safely in Thor’s strong arms. The enchanting blue shimmer in his eyes that reflected upon his own green ones sent a shiver down his spine.

Was this okay? Should he be allowed to feel this way? It felt similar to how he felt when he and Gamora danced, but Thor wasn’t Gamora. Shouldn’t he be hating this man? Pushing him away and screaming at him? He didn’t know what to think anymore..

“Quill,” Said captain snapped out of his thoughts and concentrated his attention back on the Asgardian, “I know we may not have the best relationship, but I hope to get to know you better. Not only as my captain but as a person. So if you need a shoulder to lean on... i’m always here. Do not blame yourself for what happened, it was all on Thanos.. You acted out of pure love and sadness. You are not evil, Quill.” Thor said, his smile softening a bit as he stared deep into Quill’s eyes, showing his genuine support and care.

The former outlaw’s eyes widened a bit for a second. Quill couldn’t help but sigh, which quickly evolved into a light fit of laughter, “Man, how did I get stuck with an idiot like you..” He huffed, grinning up at the blonde which rose a flare in Thor’s chest, tightening his “...Thank you..” Thor chuckled, as the two smiled at each other. His former thoughts suddenly being rested away for now, as he felt his mood no longer waver. The pressure of his guilt no longer on his shoulders, as if the frustrations and pain was lifted up off him. Maybe he could try to get to know Thor a little bit better. The guy wasn’t half bad.

“OH MY GOD, CAN YOU TWO GET A ROOM?!”

“SHUT UP TRASH PANDA, WE ARE IN A ROOM- Wait, what?! Its not like that!”

“ITS EXACTLY LIKE THAT!”

[nanuri169]

Candy Shop Chapter 4

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3

Summary: Alexis is the leader of a small, but thriving community, hidden deep in the woods. It seemed that the people living there have found a small, fragile understanding of peace. How long can a quiet life last when Negan finds them and shows interest in what the small colony has to offer?

Chapter 4:

The giggling that came from Kitty as she enjoyed riding around on Negan's shoulders annoyed Alexis to the edges of sanity. She was far from covering her disapproval in the leader of the Saviors even coming close to her child. And now Kitty had a crush on him. Amazing.

When they entered the farm house, two of his men followed them. Alexis remembered them as being Dwight and Simon, Negan's front row men. While Simon miserably failed to hide a grin while he watched his leader playing around with the little girl on his shoulders, his mustache moved by every twitch his lips made, the reddish blonde guy next to him looked around cautiously, nearly nervous. He looked like was about to pull off some crazy shit, which made Alexis even more tense. That guy could do whatever he planned everywhere else, but not in the middle of her home.

Alexis snippily explained the purpose of every room, but Negan didn't even seem to listen, as he was busy joking around with Kitty. Of course the little girl loved it and the brutal leader turned to a little boy from one second to the other.

"What do you say, Sy? Wouldn't I be a fucking amazing daddy? Maybe I should really leave something inside one of my wives the next time we have a big time screw session."

He laughed while he fixed Kitty on his hip, his gloved hand thankfully holding her securely.

"Language."

Alexis hissed, but Negan didn't even bother to shoot her a glance.

"Another rug rat cursing like a sailor and barking orders? Hell no."

Simon and Negan both leaned their heads back to laugh heartily. Dwight and Alexis on the other hand just shared a look, definitely having less fun. But it told the young woman more about the relationships in here. Simon was the only one who wasn't shitting his pants to speak up to Negan, he actually joked around with him and seemed to share his vulgar humor. Still, he sure as hell knew where the borders laid. Negan was in charge, the unquestionable boss. Dwight didn't seem comfortable around his leader. His nervous habits gave him away and he never spoke, only when he was asked something and even then very sparsely.

Alexis continued walking, not bothering if the men were done with their laughter. She shortly knocked before she opened the door to the most precious room here.

"This is the nursery. Katherine will stay here now."

She put sharp emphasis on her daughter's name and looked right into the pale blue eyes that matched her own so much. It kept Kitty from daring to argue, she knew that look on her mother's face. Alexis took her from Negan's arms and handed her to the younger woman, Sharon, that was looking at her leader and the men she brought with her with fear.

"Keep her inside. I mean it."

Her voice left no questions. Sharon flinched, looking even more frightened by Alexis' tone. Turning on her heels, she pushed Simon and Negan out of the room and led them towards her office. Negan whistled impressed.

"You're even more scary than I thought. Keeping your people in check by frightening them, even though you're freakin' tiny, impressive."

She shot him a glare and sat on her desk after letting the three men in.

"We're here to discuss matters of interest, so shall we?"

Alexis said annoyedly, still mad that Kitty behaved so trusting towards the stranger men. As if she hadn't taught the girl better.

"What, don't you want some guys for back up in here? I'll always let my guys have a say in shit like this, you know?"

Cocking an eyebrow, she tapped her foot impatiently.

"How generous of you. But I prefer to work alone, thanks."

Negan stepped forward and took a look around the room, swinging Lucille by his side lazily, while Simon took a seat on one of the stools in front of Alexis. The right hand man had already noticed this predatory gaze Negan eyed the other leader with. He knew this look, he had seen more often. For example on Dwight's wife and her sister. Actually whenever he wanted a woman and they weren't easy to get. Negan hated if he didn't get what he wanted, so this girl was in serious trouble. But Simon had to admit that from what he caught glimpse of, he liked that one. She was good at what she did and was one of the few people that wasn't immediately intimidated by Negan. Alexis stood her ground and it was admirable.

"So, Lexi, what kind of shit do you need?"

Negan looked out of the window and enjoyed the nice view to the forest. Horses could be seen farer away, it actually looked pretty peaceful. It could easily make one forget that it was the fucking apocalypse.

"Not much. We're quite good on the basics. Well, food is always a matter. Guns. Antibiotics. Some blankets."

She decided to be truthful with him. If this should work in any way, she needed to be. Even if she hated to give some information away.

"Guns, you say. Well, we have many."

The tip of his bat touched her shoulder and lightly scratched down her leather jacket onto her forearm. Alexis showed no reaction to the provocation.

"...But why should we give them to you? How can I be fucking sure that those blow job lips of yours spill nothing but lies?"

He had walked around her, Lucille now resting against her leg.

"We have an agreement, Negan. You always make it seem as if we just profit from you, but I sure as hell have many things you want, too. I feed most of my people by stuff we plant on our own. How about someone who can show you how to do that efficiently? Isn't that a fair exchange for some guns?"

Negan looked over his shoulder to Simon who smirked lightly.

"I told you she's likable."

The leader grinned as he spoke.

"...Deal. For the rest we need to scavenge. I'll pick ya up tomorrow. Bring two of your men."

"Fucking amazing how you leave me any say in this."

She looked up to him provokingly.

"Do you have a to freakin' be somewhere, doll? What is it? Getting your nails done? Shopping? Girl's night? Oh wait, no, I forgot, it's the apocalypse. Bet your calendar isn't that full."

Negan stated sarcastically, annoyed by her constant habit to question everything he says.

"Fine. Are we done now?"

She spat and Negan chuckled.

"So eager to see us leaving? Not yet, darling, you haven't fulfilled the second part of our bargain. You know, the riding part."

He moved his hips in an explicit way, to which Alexis rolled her eyes. She stood up and pushed him backwards so she could walk past him.

"Well then, hurry."

...

"Oh the holy fucking fuck, this is goddamn amazing, why the hell hasn't anyone told me how much fun this shit is?"

Negan had the brightest, pearly grin on his face since the moment he mounted the horse. His booming voice clearly irritated the usually quiet mare, but thankfully she didn't spook. Alexis just rolled her eyes at the salve of curse words.

"Can't you for once shut your cake hole? Horses are sensitive, they don't like if a loud dickhead on their back shouts around."

Annoyed, she continued to walk next to the horse. She held the reins in her hand as she didn't trust Negan to handle it all at once. He obviously struggled to hold the balance with his long, lean body.

"Did you just say cake hole? Freakin' Brit."

Alexis spared him a look.

"Yeah. Can you please concentrate? I don't want to pick up your gangly ass from the dirt."

Now she fired his unbounded ambition. He growled lightly at the insult.

"I'm not gangly. I can show you how un-gangly I am, darling. Why don't you hand me the damn reins and step aside?"

The young woman tried hard to hide her amusement at his childish behavior, but she just shrugged.

"Don't complain about me not warning you afterwards."

She handed him the reins. He probably already noticed that this was a bad idea when his hands left the horn of the saddle, but of course he was too stubborn.

"Yeah, I don't need to get walked around like a freakin' kid. Can't be that hard."

Negan sure as hell wouldn't think that for long. Alexis chose the most quiet horse she had, but he still was an inexperienced rider and had no clue how to use his legs and the reins to lead the horse properly.

The second she stepped aside, he did the worst thing possible: To stabilize himself, he closed his legs tightly and of course the well taught horse took it as a sign to go faster. She fell into a slow trot, but of course it took Negan off guard.

"Whoa! Easy, buddy!"

He lost control more and more by the second while the mare continued to trot towards the other horses on the meadow. When he finally had the idea to let his legs loose, the horse stopped all of a sudden and the exact thing Alexis had predicted happened. His feet slipped out of the stirrups and he fell down like a limb meat sack, landing on the ground with a thud followed by a groan coming from Negan.

Alexis strutted towards him, hiding her smile with her hand. Negan laid outstretched in the dirt and cursed under his breath, but he was obviously not hurt. Just his ego took some deep hits.

"Don't you dare say a word."

He mumbled and then Alexis couldn't hold it back any more. Her head fell backwards as the most genuine laugh escaped her throat. She hadn't laughed in quite a while and she couldn't stop. Negan couldn't help but notice how angelic it sounded. It was infectious.

"I really had to fall from a fucking horsey to make the woman laugh. Seriously, that tells a lot about how screwed up you are."

After a while, the laugh faded into a giggle and she held out her hand to help him up.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

His gloved hand clenched around her forearm and Alexis pulled him up. Negan quickly cleaned his jeans and leather jacket off the dirt.

"I'd bash your pretty head in if you'd even think about spilling it."

He finally let go of her arm and Alexis immediately turned to her grazing horse and loosened the girth of the saddle and took the bridle off. She ignored his joking threat.

"Well, next time simply listen to what I say and it won't happen again."

Without hesitation, she handed him the heavy saddle to carry back to the barn.

"You sure as hell know that I'll have a problem with that."

Chuckling, she walked beside them through the knee high grass.

"Your problem, not mine."

When they reached the stable, Alexis brought the tack to its usually place and then picked up the bats they left up here. She threw him Lucille and he easily caught her, instinctively letting his hand glide over the weapon's smooth surface.

"Will you let me say goodbye to your little girl? She's cute as hell."

Alexis took a deep breath and made the mistake to look into his mischievously glistening eyes. He was telling the truth, he really liked Kitty. Negan may be a cruel asshole, but hurting kids wasn't his style.

"Fine."

Rolling her eyes, she walked back towards the farmhouse with him and peeked inside the nursery.

"Kitty, say goodbye to your new...friend."

The last word she said through gritted teeth as she saw her daughter happily hopping towards her, smiling brightly at Negan. Well, these two obviously had found each other.

"Goodbye, uncle Negan!"

Kitty lisped a bit when she spoke his name, but it made it even more adorable. Her toothy grin struck something in Negan that everyone, including himself, thought was long dead.

"See you soon, cutie."

He ruffled the girl's hair and spared a grin at Alexis before he walked out of the farm house, leaving the community for today.

Alexis hugged her daughter tightly and watched the group leave through the window. She took a deep, relieved breath, tension falling off her shoulders. But she had to admit that this little incident early surely broke the ice between the two leaders.

Tag List:

@greengellybean

[emphoenixcat]

The Sleeping Prince (Pt. 2)

Summary: The other sides face the dragon witch, but find that there are more secrets waiting for them within Roman’s part of the mindscape. (This kind of got darker than I had initially intended. Also another cliffhanger. Ahhh sorry about that!)

The dragon witch had burning, blood red eyes that glowed like fire. Dark scales glinted in the dying rays of sunlight. Her bat-like wings were spread out to their full-length as she slowly stepped toward the sides.

Virgil, who was still holding the sword in his shaky hands, stepped between the dragon witch and his friends. With as much confidence as he could summon, he questioned the beast. He tried to keep his voice steady.

“What is the meaning of this? Why are you doing this to Roman?”

She regarded Virgil with a look of amusement, “The meaning?” she laughed. “Why?” she taunted. The dragon witch’s tail swished with enjoyment.

“Why, I bet you don’t even know what I truly am.” She leaned in closer to the sides. They could feel her hot breath. They could smell the acrid scent of the pyre that burned within her. A pungent smell of rotting eggs and singed flesh flowed around them. They tried their best not to gag.

She came closer and closer, not caring about the blade that Virgil held in his hands. “You probably don’t even know what this place truly is,” she said as she blew her smoke toward them.  

From behind Virgil, Logan’s curious voice rang out. “Th--this is Roman’s room. The creative part of Thomas’ mindscape. And you--you’re nothing, but a figment of Thomas’ imagination. What else could you possibly be?”

The dragon witch fixed her steely glare on Logan. “Aren’t you nothing, but a figment of the imagination. We are all in the mind. Who is to say what is reality and what is fantasy? You are facets of a person’s emotions, yet you all feel joy, sorrow, and fear.” She snarled and the sides stepped back involuntarily.

“The mind is such a fragile thing, subject to break. All people have a breaking point. Anyone can go completely mad. Why do you think you fear me? Why fear anything? The truth of the matter is that you….” She smiled sadistically, baring sharp fangs. “You can be killed. And when any of you are killed, this mind will snap.”

Virgil, Logan, and Patton’s eyes widened in terror as this information sunk in. They could--they could die?

“B--but then, who are you?” Virgil croaked.

“I am the Queen of Nightmares,” the dragon witch said proudly. “And this is the Land of Dreams. Your precious prince reigned here, but the Prince of Dreams has begun to have nightmares of his own!” she laughed gleefully.

Without warning, the dragon witch swatted the sword out of Virgil’s hands and wrapped her claws around him. 

Virgil fought to escape her grasp, but she was already beginning to take flight. Virgil was horrified. The ground was swiftly getting farther and farther away.

Logan and Patton were panic-stricken. Logan ran to pick up the sword, but was uncertain as to what to do at this point. He couldn’t help while Virgil was airborne. Logan and Patton could do nothing, but watch helplessly.

“I can see your nightmares. I can sense your greatest fears. You’re just swarming in insecurities and dread. I suppose you wouldn’t mind if I ended your suffering once and for all?” The monster cackled.

Virgil clung tightly to the dragon witch’s talons in alarm. His heart pounded wildly against his chest. He felt dizzy. His stomach did a somersault and he thought he might throw-up. He could feel the dragon witch’s grasp loosening. Virgil closed his eyes, overcome with foreboding.

Roman! Please, wake up! Please….He thought wildly.

The dragon witch let go of Virgil completely.

WAKE UP!

Within his tower, Roman still slumbered.

He tossed and turned, but did not wake. The prince was stuck within his nightmares. Shadows pervaded his dreams, they were everywhere. He couldn’t stop them from hurting his friends. He couldn’t stop them from hurting Thomas. Is this fake or is this real? He found himself thinking.

Roman was running through catacombs of long-dead dreams. It was maze-like and at every turn, he found a memory of failure. A memory of disappointment. Roman had steered Thomas and the other sides toward disaster. He had stupid ideas. His over-inflated ego made him careless. He had clouded visions of success. Everything he thought about was unoriginal. He had failed time and time again.

Horrible visions of what was and what will be flashed before his eyes. Every single one emanating abject failure. In the end, Roman was defeated by it. And Thomas was left broken because of it. Can’t follow your dreams if your dreams all backfire on you. When you can’t follow your dreams, you’re left with no hope. No purpose. The demons taunted.

The shadows wrapped themselves around Roman. Their grip getting tighter and tighter until the prince was gasping for air. What little light was left in the catacombs was extinguished.

Patton watched in horror as the dragon witch dropped Virgil. Not knowing what else to do, he began to run toward them.

“Patton! We’ll never get there in time! There’s nothing we can do….” Logan yelled from behind him.

“There has to be something!” Patton yelled back. There has to be something, he thought desperately.

Roman was barely breathing. Everything was complete darkness. The shadows had stopped whispering. Everything was complete silence. Empty….

Roman! Please, wake up! Please….

Virgil?

WAKE UP!

Virgil! Are you alright?

Ro--Roman? I’m falling. The dragon witch….

Roman could feel Virgil’s distress. All of a sudden, he could see it too.

He could see through Virgil’s eyes. They were falling rapidly to the earth, the cold air rushing past. Their hearts were pounding at an alarming rate. It felt like a sledgehammer beating away at their insides.

Virgil, listen to me. You are in my part of the mindscape, you can conjure things here. You can have certain abilities that aren’t possible elsewhere. Imagine that you’re capable of flying.

What?

Now, Virge! You don’t have time!

Roman felt them nod and close their eyes, concentrating. Before he could see if the creating process was successful, Roman was pulled away from the scene and back into his nightmare.

Virgil concentrated with all his might. C’mon, c’mon think wings! Giant, feathery wings. You have to do this. Not only for yourself, but for Princey. What would happen to Thomas if his creative side was gone? He might be able to get by without you, but not without the prince.

Focus! You’re flying, not falling! Flying, not falling. Flying, not falling. Flying, not falling.

Virgil slowly opened his eyes, afraid that he was only closer to the ground. Closer to his death.

Much to his surprise, he was hovering. Black feathered wings sprouted from his back. He grinned in relief.

His problems weren’t quite over yet. The dragon witch growled in dismay. “Not so easy to get rid of then. I guess you’re playing the part of pesky little fly.” She huffed.

“Well, I know you….” she grinned wickedly. “I know that your symbol is the thundercloud. Let’s see how well the sad, little thundercloud flies in a real thunderstorm.”

The night sky darkened even more as clouds rapidly moved in. A deep rumble shook the mindscape and lightning flashed. It began to rain.

From deep within the woods, a chorus of howls could be heard among the storm. At least a dozen massive dark wolves could be seen sprinting out of the trees. Sharp teeth flashing. Virgil watched in dread as the wolves closed in on Patton and Logan.

The dragon witch smiled coldly. “Fight or flight, am I right?”

Virgil’s eyes widened in shock. How does she know so much about me? I know I have a lot of fears, but this is insane! he thought.

Virgil felt the splatter of raindrops weighing his wings down, it was getting more and more difficult to stay aloft. Another flash of lightning. This one nearly hit him.

The dragon witch was before him, her claws coming at him fast. Virgil dodged just in time. He barely had time to register that she was coming at him from the other side. She kept attacking. Virgil kept dodging, but he was tiring. Her size was an advantage, this was less effort for her than it was for him.

I have to get to Princey, Virgil thought helplessly. Waking him up is our only hope right now.

The dragon witch swung at him once more, he maneuvered out of the way and then darted as fast as he could towards Roman’s tower. The dragon witch grabbed at Virgil, catching him by the leg with her claws. Virgil let out a cry of pain as he felt them dig into his skin. He twisted, he felt the claws drag through his leg even deeper as he struggled to get out of her grasp. With a great amount of effort, he propelled himself forward. Almost there, he thought through labored breathing. With a crash, Virgil fell through the window of Roman’s room.

“Logan! There’s too many!” Patton screamed. Logan and Patton were up against a castle wall, wolves surrounding them. Logan was keeping them back with the sword, but he knew it wouldn’t keep them away for long.

“Virgil conjured up the sword and even a pair of wings....” Patton was saying. 

A wolf jumped at them, Logan swung with all his might slashing the side of its face. It howled in pain, but stood its ground. 

“....We need to try and conjure wings too.” Patton glanced at Logan.

“Patton, I’m not any good at fanciful thinking!”

“Just try, Logan. We don’t have much of a choice.”

Logan tried to imagine large, strong wings that would carry him to safety. The image kept fading in and out of his mind. “Patton, I can’t--”

A wolf pounced. It went straight for Patton, who didn’t have a weapon. Patton tried to jump out of the way, but the creature was on him in seconds. Logan stabbed it. The damned thing was about to rip his jugular.

Logan wiped the sweat from his brow and helped Patton up with his empty hand, “You okay?”

Patton nodded, but Logan could see the fear in his eyes. Patton looked at Logan with desperation mixed with determination. “I think I know what I need to do.” And he closed his eyes and thought not about wings, but about getting them to safety because that was what the moral side was good at. He knew how to protect his loved ones. Patton was scared and worried, but he was more concerned about everyone else. He didn’t care about his own well-being at the moment, he cared about Thomas. If anything happens to me, Thomas gets hurt too.

Logan gasped as light blue wings like that of a blue jay’s began to grow from Patton’s back. Patton opened his eyes and smiled. “C’mon, Lo!” he said as he grabbed Logan from underneath the arms and began to flap his wings. The wolves tried to grab them as they ascended, but failed. They growled deeply and glared at them as Patton flew away from the wolves’ snapping jaws.

Patton set Logan down gently on a balcony of the castle and landed easily beside him.

He was grinning ear to ear. Logan was staring at the wings in astonishment, they were so beautiful.

A horrid piercing screech broke Logan out of his reverie. Bat-like creatures, the size of a person’s head, were gathering like a dark cloud in the distance. Patton and Logan shared a look of disappointment. “Will this ever end?” Logan sighed.

The creatures were demonic in nature. As they drew closer, the two sides could make out dark, beady eyes and grotesque faces twisted in nasty smiles. The little demons had spotted them.

“Inside! Quickly” Logan tugged at Patton’s arm. They ran for the door to the castle and slammed it shut behind them, breathing hard. They could hear the demons pounding on the door. Patton grabbed at Logan’s hand as they slowly backed away from the entrance. The door continued to shake and rattle.

Patton pointed, “Over there!” There was a dark staircase to the right of them, it seemed almost endless, but it was their only hope. They began to run up the stairs, fighting to keep their strength about them. Patton could fly now, but carrying Logan took too much effort. Their best bet was the staircase.

The problem was that a great stained-glass window was near the stairs. Patton could see dark figures moving on the other side.

Gotta keep moving. Gotta keep moving. We have to get out of here. We have to. Patton was having trouble catching his breath.

The abrupt sound of shattering glass and demonic laughter permeated the air around them as wicked little monsters swarmed around Logan and Patton’s heads. They gleefully plagued the sides. Logan tried fighting them off with the sword, but there were too many. One of them ripped the sword away from him. The sides were defenseless as the creatures assailed them. Sharp claws pierced their skin like needles. They seemed especially keen on tormenting Patton. Claws slashed at Patton’s wings endlessly. Logan stared on in abject horror at the deep lacerations that were beginning to form. Patton was screaming loudly in pain, tears forming in his eyes.

Logan’s heart was thumping wildly inside him, threatening to break. What can I do? What can I do? His face was wet with tears.

What can I do?

Virgil was trying to get to his feet, but the pain in his injured leg made him stumble. Virgil spotted Roman. Virgil began to crawl, dragging himself along the floor with great effort toward the sleeping prince. He heard another clap of thunder, then another, then another. That isn’t thunder, he realized in dawning horror.

The crashing noise reverberated throughout the tower. The dragon witch.

“Princey!” Virgil yelled. “WAKE UP!” he shouted. “WAKE UP!”

Nothing. Not even a flutter of the eyelids.

Virge….

Princey!

This isn’t a natural sleep, I don’t know how you can wake me. The prince sounded as despondent as Virgil felt.

Behind him, the tower wall sounded like it was crumbling. The pounding was incessant and it wouldn’t be long before it gave way.

Patton’s screams were dying down, he was passing out from the pain and the loss of blood. Claws were digging deep into Logan’s neck, but he didn’t care about his own safety at this point. Patton.

I need to help him.

Logan would never be able to tell anyone how he did it, but the next thing he remembered was charging the swarm of demons with the fury of Hell. Surprised, the monsters scattered for a moment in confusion. This gave Logan enough time to grab Patton and get away.

Not just get away. Fly away.

Logan had deep blue wings, the color of a starry night. They were immense, bigger than Virgil’s and Patton’s wings put together. He found that he could carry Patton’s weight rather easily, and he was already relatively far from the angry demons. We’re almost there, Patton. Just hang on. Just hang on.

Roman, help me! Please….Virgil was sitting on the side of the bed now. He contemplated smacking the prince across the face a few times. Maybe that would work.

What? Don’t do that! Roman thought back to him, indignant.

Despite the precarious situation, Virgil smirked slightly. It was just a thought.

But, really. How can I help you?

I--I don’t know. It’s like the nightmare is fighting back. They won’t let me go.

Virgil frowned in concentration. How could he fight something that he couldn’t see? How does one fight nightmares?

That’s it, Virge!

What?

He could feel the prince’s mounting excitement. You fight nightmares with dreams. You fight the demons with your angels.

Well, then do it. Virgil thought back in frustration.

Th--that’s….No, I--I can’t. Roman faltered. You don’t understand. In this part of the mind, nightmares are like a prison. The more I struggle, the more entangled I become. I need you and the others. You have to be the ones to save me. I can’t fight the demons by myself.

Virgil felt the rising panic like a stone in his throat. I can’t do that! I’m Anxiety. My dreams aren’t strong enough!

I believe in you, Virgil. If anyone has powerful dreams, it’s you.

Virgil was in absolute panic now. No. No. I’m Anxiety, my nightmares are greater than my dreams. I’ll only make it worse.

Please, Virge. If you can’t do this for you, do it for me.

Virgil gulped and nodded. He forced his eyes shut.

Dreams? Dreams. Virgil took Roman’s hand in his and focused on any glimmer of positivity he could summon within his being.

Images flooded his system. Everything Virgil had ever hoped or strived for.

He had wanted to be a better person for the other sides, a better person for Thomas. Visions of laughing with the others and being worry-free, of sharing afternoons huddled together, of sharing secrets, of being friends. Virgil had always worried that they only tolerated him. He remembered when Roman had hated him.

Something vicious lanced at Virgil’s mind, he gasped at the stab of pain. No. Virgil saw himself alone in his room. Day in and day out, he was left alone with his thoughts. Nobody visited him, nobody called out for his presence. They didn’t need him. They didn’t want him.

Roman gasped with dawning realization. He was seeing when Virgil had decided to leave Thomas. The reason Virgil had felt useless.

The sides hadn’t seen or spoken to Virgil in weeks. Nobody had thought to visit him. Nobody had thought.

They had had conversations, they had made decisions, they had had fun. All without the anxious side.

They had left Virgil alone and forgotten.

As if he wasn’t part of the family.

Virgil felt like someone was drilling a hole into his brain. The positive images he had been trying to dream up weren’t staying in focus. A fuzzy grayness clouded his visions as the nightmares became clearer.

Roman struggled under the weight of his nightmares, as well as Virgil’s. No! Virgil, I don’t hate you. We don’t hate you.  We were just being stupid, we didn’t realize what we were doing. I’m sorry we underestimated you. We never took the time to really get to know you. We prejudged you, I prejudged you and I’m sorry.

It’s okay, Roman. It’s okay. The fog lifted slightly from Virgil’s vision.

An image of Roman and Virgil laughing together took the place of the lonely image of Virgil alone in his room. Another image of Roman telling Virgil how much he was needed flashed before their eyes.

Still clasping hands, Virgil and Roman’s minds were melded for the moment. Virgil could see the place that Roman was in. The catacombs of failure. Virgil shuddered. I didn’t know that you had so much self-doubt. I guess I always assumed that being Thomas’ ego and all, that you didn’t have problems like that.

HA, Roman smirked. Everyone’s got a problem, some are just better at hiding it.

Virgil nodded thoughtfully, I was always jealous of it though. People look up to you. You can bring joy. You can be social.

The catacombs were beginning to fade away, in their place were moments in which Roman had made them laugh. Moments in which he had had a brilliant idea. Success. Even in moments of failure, there was comfort. Thomas and the others helping to make Roman feel better. Loving him despite his crazy ideas.

The world swirled around Roman and Virgil. Their hopes and dreams becoming one.

Roman’s eyes snapped open at the same instant Virgil’s did. It took them a moment to realize that they were back in the tower. Roman glanced down at their joined hands and Virgil blushed. He let go of Roman quickly.

The dragon witch had ceased pounding the tower wall, but the silence was eerie. The storm had vanished. Sunlight was filtering in through the window.

Roman surveyed the room around him. Thorny brambles were scattered throughout and shattered glass lay strewn about the floor. He looked back at Virgil and noticed the dark wings protruding from his back. “Those are….” he carefully lifted a hand to feel the feathers. “....amazing.”

“You’ve never conjured wings before?” Virgil asked curiously.

“No, it takes a great deal of energy. When it comes to wings, you usually have to be more worried about another’s well-being more than your own. Kind of like angel’s wings.” Roman smiled.

“Angel’s wings?” Virgil smirked. “I am definitely not an angel.”

Roman chuckled, “Oh, Virge how can you possibly say that after everything you just went through.”

Virgil shrugged uncomfortably.

There was a loud flapping sound coming from behind them. They turned and saw….Logan?

He was carrying a limp figure in his hands. Patton.

“Logan! What happened to Patton?” Roman rushed to his aid. Virgil struggled to his feet, clutching the bedpost for support and looking grim. Virgil shuddered at the sight of blood.

“We were attacked by some sort of winged demonic flock. Roman, can you conjure up a first aid kit?” Logan eyed the prince hopefully. Virgil noted that the logical side’s eyes were red and puffy.

“I’m on it.” Roman retrieved a first aid kit and Logan helped him disinfect the wounds. Logan tried to control his turmoil at seeing Patton’s beautiful wings wounded like this. He could still hear Patton’s screams echoing in his head.

“His breathing is a bit ragged, but he seems to be doing fine.” Logan sighed with relief. “But his wings--I know they’re only temporary, but still--”

Roman glanced up at Logan. “Umm, hmm,” he seemed to be thinking.

“What is is Roman?”

“Well, see the funny thing about altering your appearance in such a drastic way….” He began again, “The funny thing about conjuring fully-functioning appendages….” Roman frowned. “It isn’t something I really have experience with, but theoretically such things have a certain kind of uh, permanence.”

Logan and Virgil turned their full attention to Roman.

“These are permanent?” they said in unison.

Roman laughed nervously. “I mean they’re really quite impressive. Shouldn’t be a problem, really….”

“What about Patton?!” Logan asked, outraged. “He would’ve loved to have wings. Now he’s going to have to live with this mangled mess!”

Roman looked at Patton guiltily, “Not necessarily. They might heal just f--fine. Things tend to heal quickly here.”

Logan glared, “Maybe so, but we are facets of personality. Like the dragon witch said, the mind can snap.”

“Speaking of the dragon witch, what happened to her?” Virgil questioned.

“She was likely weakened when you woke me up. Most of the monsters from her shadow realm have probably fled, but she is still a powerful adversary. Especially with us injured.” Roman said worriedly.

Virgil looked up at Roman, “But where--”

The tower began to quake. “We’ve got to move now!” Roman shouted.

Logan grabbed Patton and flew out the window. Virgil grabbed Roman following closely behind. His wound was still sore and unbandaged, but he could fly. He was still feeling drained from waking Roman up though.

Logan landed gracefully. Virgil landed unsteadily. He almost toppled over, but Roman steadied him, a look of concern crossing the prince’s face.

A dark shadow loomed ahead, the dragon witch had not been defeated just yet.

Tag list: @otpislife2002 @toreen-m @kittyboof8 @pantasticpanini

[ju5tacr3at0r]

Marvin’s Support (Part 2/2)

Hey guys, here’s the second part to Marvin’s Secret, the story I posted yesterday. If you missed it, you can find a link under the “Writing” page on my blog!

Glad you liked yesterday’s instalment @magic-marvin-protection-patrol, hope you like the follow up!

@chase-brody-protection-squad I like the idea of an overprotective Chase who: just wants the others to be ok and can’t turn off dad mode. What about you?

@therealjacksepticeye @ego-surveillance-squad @ego-protection-squad @the-septic-theory-squad​ @chase-brody-protection-squad @schneeplestein-support-squad @jackieboy-man-support-squad @jacks-support-group @anti-support-group​ @jack-n-mark

Marvin's Support -Part 2/2- I listened as he got up. Heard him make breakfast and clean up. I sighed as I got up and crept into Doctor Schneeplestein's room. I found him sitting up, noting something in a small journal with a picture of Marvin's cat mask on the front. "You've noticed he's upset, too, then?" the doctor ask. I nodded, "Tell the others we're gonna let Marvin practice in front of us this morning. He needs the support. His first gig in a while is tonight." Once Schneeplestein had agreed to something along the lines of 'patient study', I left to get dress and walked down stairs to breakfast. I was really proud of the way everyone casually brought up watching Marvin so he'd have an audience. Not a single one gave away what we were doing. I knew he already knew anyways, but it was a nice touch. After breakfast, we all settled in Marvin's room. I've always been impressed by his seemingly natural ability to immediately woo a crowd of people excited to see magic. His tricks were flawless, as always, and I was sad to see him go once he needed to leave for his performance. I just always love to watch over Marvin, he's so adorable and amazing. I can't wait to see his career take off. After today, all the parents in town will want him at their kids birthday parties! While he was gone, I convince Jackieboy Man to chill with me. We played some video games, did some Bro Average stuff. It was amazing. We had so much. But there was still a small part of my brain whispering Marvin was sad and I had to fix it. I called all the others in and we sent out a plan. When Marvin got home we'd talk to him until we knew he was ok. If he didn't want to talk we'd do everything we could to just cheer him up, even for a bit. Someone like Marvin didn't deserve sadness. And if that didn't work, I'd personal destroy anything that could be causing my little Marvin distress. I heard his car door. When he didn't come in, I looked out the window and saw. Marvin crying on the steering wheel, while Anti glitched out of the back seat. So he was behind this! He would pay dearly for this. One way or another. I retook my place next to the open seat on the couch, and waited with the others while Jack put in Marvin's favourite movie (Now You See Me, because of course it was). The door opened and we called to him. He called back something about a nap. He stuttered over his words. Anti must have really gotten to him. I waited a few minute, then followed him upstairs. The rest of the guys promised to follow in a lil' bit. I found him crying on his bed, curled up and he just looked so small. I felt my heart break. Someone as innocent, childlike and precious as Marvin should not be allowed to be this sad. I quietly walked up and flopped down beside him, pulling him into my chest and holding him while he cry, clinging desperately to my shirt. I felt my heart shatter once again. This incredible person before me was broken enough that he cried for half an hour, babbling incoherently and begging me to stay. I did my best to calm him, cooing softly in his ear, promising I would never leave him and holding him protectively to my chest. If Anti had done this to my Marvie, then not even his glitchy ass was safe. Marvin pulled back suddenly. I heard the others coming up behind us. He looked me in the eyes, his red rimmed and bloodshot. I reached up and wiped the tears from his face, smiling kindly down at him. Marvin took a deep breath and let it out as a shaky sigh. He snuffed and asked, "W-what if I h-had a s-s-s-secret? One s-so-o dark and da-dangerous-s you w-would n-never-er want to e-even hear m-my na-name again-n?" I had to fight back my tears. He looked like a puppy who had been kicked. My heart was going to be permanently scared after this. Hold it together Brody. Marvie needs you right now. "Nothing could ever make me leave your side, buddy," I soothed him, pulling him back to my chest, petting his hair in that way I knew always made him feel. Marvin scooted away, sat up and turned to face everyone. We all followed his leading, sitting on his bed. He wouldn't look at us. I just wanted to take away all his sadness and, I dunno, flush them down the toilet where all shit belongs? Sure why not. "Anti exists because of me," Marvin's voice was steady but his body was shaking as he explain. He wanted a friend so badly. All the negativity he had from being bullied, beaten up and pushed away trickled in. Anti was a mistake he tried to undo. His magic wouldn't let him. I looked around and saw everyone glancing between each other. They looked to me and I nodded. I shuffled over and draped my arm around him, leaning his weight against me, holding him up. "I don't blame you, Marvie," I forced my voice to be calm though I was raging on the inside. Anti had been holding this over poor Marvin? Was that why Marvin was pleading with me to stay, wanted to know if I'd leave. Did that poisonous bitch tell my Marvin I'd leave him if I learned he'd made a miSTAKE? "It was an accident. I probably would've done the same thing. Anti isn't your fault." Marvin snuffed again as the other made agreements. "So you guys don't hate me then," Marvin looked up at me from his place against my chest and I saw a fragile look in his eyes telling me I had the power to destroy him in that moment. I could never do that to you, Marvin. Never. "Of course not," I replied, then I scoffed, "What kind of a friend would I be if I turned my back on you because of an innocent mistake? Besides, if it wasn't for Anti, none of would know each other right? He is the connection between all of us. I don't care how bad he is, I'd take meeting you over not any day, Marvie." The others agreed with me as Marvin made a sob-like noise and buried himself against me once again. I pulled him close and promised no matter what, we would always have each other, truly meaning it, then I scooped him up and carried him down stairs. Together we watched Now You See Me and the sequel. Marvin was tired by the end, as were most of us, so we all went to bed. I went out back for some fresh air before heading back upstairs. I felt my head begin to spin and my nose started to bleed. I slowly lost control of my body. Anti turned me around so I could face him. "If you ever lie to Marvin again and tear him up like that, I don't care how powerful and scary you are, I will destroy you," I warned him. Anti smiled back at, "Don't you see, this was for Marvin, honey. If that poor baby boy hadn't told you guys, he'd be forever scared of you finding out." With that, he glitched away, and as I collapsed I realised he was what Marvin had wanted. A true friend. Some anger issues to work out and, like, he loves his knives too much, but a true friend to Marvin.

[brettanomycroft]

Kneadful Things [VLD, Hance oneshot]

Hunk has always been good with his hands: he can assemble an engine in less than a day, whip up a perfectly creamy pot au chocolat, and fly a massive alien lion ship through outer space. And, as Lance knows well, he can also give a mean back massage.

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Pairing: Lance x Hunk, Hance Rating: T, for mild sexual innuendo Words: 2178 Tags: Fluff fluff fluff everywhere, back rubs, cuddling, Pidge being Pidge

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An almost totally-not-late Valentine’s Day fic for the precious @sockdilemma I LOVE UUU

Hunk knows what Lance wants well before his sidles up to the open doorway of the lab and leans against the frame. He’s already powering down the soldering gun and saving the data from his system readout when Lance does finally ask the question.

“Hey, Hunk, you got a few minutes?”

He loves how hard Lance tries for casual, even when it’s just the two of them. There were a lot of words Hunk might use to describe Lance - bold, caring, wild, handsome, loyal, downright ridiculous - but right now, the only adjectives he has for him are painfully transparent. Still, Hunk plays along; given the beating he’d seen Lance take at training earlier that day, he doubted Lance’s ever-fragile ego could tolerate much ribbing.

“Sure thing man, what’s up?”

As he slips of his work apron and does a quick rearrangement of the tools at his workstation, Hunk watches Lance from the corner of his eye. Waffling, Lance rubs the back of his neck and shifts from one foot to the other.

“Well, you see…”

Why Lance was so hesitant to ask, Hunk would never really get. Unlike with the other paladins, there had never been a place for pride in the relationship between him and Lance: even before they’d been shot into space in the cockpit of a giant blue lion-bot, they’d understood that they could find safety in the other. The best he could figure, Lance just really hated seeming like a waste or a burden.

Lance rolls his shoulders, then stretches his arms above his head with a groan. The motion is stiffer than it should be, and Lance’s accompanying wince raises a red flag. Maybe he’d gotten roughed up worse than Hunk thought.

“Sounding like an old man there, Lance,” Hunk says. He keeps his voice in the sweet spot between amused and concerned, and Lance, thankfully, picks up on what Hunk’s trying to get at.

“Yeah, actually I’m pretty sure I tweaked my back kinda funny earlier today during practice,” Lance admits. “It was right after I got Keith by the waist and flipped him over my shoulder that everything started getting pretty sore.”

The smooth confidence with which Lance spouts stuff like that never ceases to amaze Hunk. Hunk and everyone else had been there. He’d watched Lance grapple Keith by the waist, start to lift him, lose his balance from Keith’s flailing, and then topple backwards. Not a tick later, the bulk of Keith’s body weight had followed the pull of gravity. Hard. Straight into Lance’s prone form. The two recovered from their inglorious flop pretty quickly, but still. It wasn’t like they hadn’t been wailing on each other before that.

Just replaying it over again in his head makes Hunk’s muscles twinge in sympathy. No one could ever say Lance didn’t fight hard, and he often felt it afterwards.

“Dude, that’s brutal. Sounds like the kind of thing a Hunk Special could fix up pretty easy, though,” he says.

Lance melts at the words. His shoulders slump forward and a smile lights up his face.

“Please, that would be amazing,” Lance says with a relieved exhale. “Your hands are magical.”

Hunk’s been waiting for Lance to cross into the lab and nestle up against his chest since he showed up, and it’s just as rewarding as he’d pictured when Lance does. When Hunk wraps his arms around Lance’s waist and gives him a tight squeeze, it’s as much to pull him close as relieve the tension in his back. Letting his head rest just below Hunk’s chin, Lance returns the gesture and doesn’t let go.

“You didn’t even do anything and I’m already feeling better,” Lance murmurs into his shirt.

Since the top of his head is close enough anyway, Hunk brushes his lips over the swirl of soft brown hair, then plants a kiss there. His hair still holds a hint of dampness from an earlier shower, and it mingles with the fruity, near-coconut scent of the soap Lance had dragged Hunk all around some on-planet alien bazaar to look for.

“That’s the magic,” Hunk says.

He smiles into Lance’s hair and moves his hands up his back until he reaches the bottom of Lance’s shoulder blades. His fingers rub circles, small but firm, all along the middle of his back and spine. After this many years training and fighting in space, Lance is all muscle under his shirt, and despite Hunk’s continued efforts, most of that muscle is quick to tense and knot. Sometimes, Hunk wondered if being a paladin put more strain on Lance than the others: internalizing the unreal notion that somehow, Lance wasn’t as cut out for the job as anyone else, he tended to work himself longer and harder. The rest of the team didn’t notice it as much, thinking Lance’s constant calls for training floor rematches and extra patrol shifts were just part of his competitive streak (and, well, they weren’t all that wrong), but Hunk could always feel the truth of it in the tension Lance carried in his back and shoulders.

Switching his hands from Lance’s back to the tops of his shoulders, he palms and pinches the flesh at the junction of his neck and collar. Lance leaves even more heavily against his chest, and a low groan wells up the longer Hunk massages the muscle.

“You’re amazing,” Lance mumbles.

Hunk drops another soft kiss onto the crown of Lance’s head, and Lance returns with a happy hum.

Without warning, Pidge swans into the lab and over to her workstation. Through the transparent hologram of her data screen projector, Hunk can see her nose wrinkle.

“Gross, get a room, you two,” she teases. Her eyes flick back and forth between her screen, them, and the jumble of tools scattered around her work area.

“My lab is a sacred space for scientific endeavors,” she continues, “not some kind of Makeout Point.”

Lance leans away from Hunk just enough for Pidge to get to full brunt of his eyeroll.

“Since when were backrubs and necking even remotely in the same category?” Lance protests.

“They’re both PDA,” she says, “and displays of affection that are public have no place in a lab environment.”

She’s kidding, of course: no one in the Castle had ever raised legitimate complaints about Lance and Hunk’s minor public intimacies, nor anyone else’s. On a cramped ship that’s been hurtling through space with the same seven people for almost five years, hugs and kisses and hand holding were commonplace. And it’s not like Pidge was one to talk.

Still holding the data screen, she shifts through her mess of tools. Under normal circumstances, Hunk might offer to straighten her workstation up for her - more for his sanity than hers - but she’s not even aware she’s given him an opening, and he’s petty enough to take it.

“Oh, but like, me going to use the kitchen only to walk in on you and a certain someone about to put some buns in the oven is totally cool, yeah?” he says, voice casual.

He's got to admire Pidge's poker face: she keeps from cracking a blush for a good ten seconds, even as Lance's eyes just about bulge from his head and his strangled questions fill the long pause before Pidge’s response.

“Carry on,” she says, blindly grabbing for one of the tools at her table. Her eyes fix straight ahead, she hides her flushed cheeks behind her data screen, and she darts out.

Much of the exhaustion has faded from Lance’s face at the prospect of new gossip. The rapt attention with which he’d watched Pidge leave shifts to Hunk.

“Who’d you catch about to do the do with Pidge?” he asks. “Did she check ‘mullet’ or ‘muscles’ off her list?”

Trying not to snort in laughter, Hunk shakes his head and makes a zipping motion over his mouth.

“They both asked me not to say anything. My lips are sealed on the matter.”

Pouting, Lance trails his fingers up and down Hunk’s sides. The sensation is nice, but he knows it’s in part a tactic to soften him up to Lance’s questioning.

“Come on, you can tell me,” Lance whines.

Hunk shrugs and lifts his hands, doing his best to look contrite. While it had been worth it to tease Pidge back some, he’d known he was going to have to deal with Lance’s insistence. Fortunately, for some reason, all of them on the ship acted more like children than adult defenders of the universe, so he already knew how to shut the rest of this conversation down.

“Sorry,” he says, “but no can do. She made me pinky promise not to tell, you know I can't break it.”

Lance shifts from foot to foot, then crosses his arms over his chest. Disappointment crosses his face, but he sighs and nods.

“That's totally fair,” he concedes, “I can respect that.”

Mischief alights in the corners of his lips as he grins a tick later. “I may not be able to ask you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t eventually pry it out from Pidge. She’s always been weak to my wiles.”

“Dude, she’s never been weak to your wiles,” Hunk says with a laugh. Lance deflates back into a pout.

Shaking his head, Hunk wraps an arm around Lance’s waist and starts steering him towards the lab exit.

“That said,” he continues, “she does have a point about the whole ‘getting a room’ thing.”

Lance puckers his lips and raises an eyebrow. He loops his arm around Hunk as they walk towards Lance’s room. “Pidge’s public displays of affection giving you ideas about something you’d like to do in private?”

Hunk bumps Lance’s hip with his. “Well, I had been thinking you needed some more work on the pain in your lower back, but if that’s not what you want…”

“No!” Lance says, leaping a little. “I need more of your back rubs if I’m going to be in fighting shape tomorrow. But maybe afterwards…?”

“You should really take a break, man,” Hunk says. Lance shoots him a ‘yeah, right’ kind of look as the door to his room unlocks and slides open.

“I’m just saying, if you keep pushing yourself, not even my massages are going to be able to fix it.”

“Lies. Your massages fix everything.”

The lights in Lance’s room raise, comfortably dimmed to match the Castle’s evening settings. Boneless, Lance flops onto his bed, then scoots over for Hunk to join him. Hunk kneels on the bed, shifting so that he can get into the right spot to start on Lance’s back, but Lance reaches out and tugs on his shoulders. Hunk tips forward and catches himself on one elbow. It brings him close enough for Lance to crane his head up and press a soft kiss to Hunk’s lips.

“But even if they didn’t,” Lance continues, “your kisses would.”

It’s so sappy, but damned if Lance doesn’t know how to make Hunk blush. Joy swoops up through his gut and goes straight for his chest; he leans in closer to nuzzle his cheek against Lance’s.

“All right, flip over before you make me incapable of doing anything but swooning like a school kid.”

Lance winks but obliges. Sitting back up on his knees, Hunk shuffles around on the bed until he’s at the right angle to begin. His hands slip under the hem of Lance’s shirt, and he presses at the flesh just above his hips. Lance wiggles the rest of the way out of his shirt and settles back in.

The next half hour is filled with a warm chatter as they discuss everything from possible alien pizza toppings to the mystery behind Shiro’s seemingly ever-permanent eyeliner (‘If it’s not natural, then it’s gotta be tattooed on’ ‘Nuh uh, the man just knows his around a gel liner’). Hunk kneads at Lance’s lower back and works his way up. Huffs and groans of relief begin filling up more of Lance’s conversation than his words.

“You want me to keep going?” Hunk asks.

“Mmmhmmm…” is the languid reply.

It’s not long after that Lance’s breaths begin to slow and deepen, and his body goes even more lax under Hunk’s hands. Hunk smiles to himself.

“Lance, you conked out there, buddy?”

No response.

Hunk skims his hands over Lance’s bare back, admiring warm brown skin accentuated by the rise and dip of countless battle scars. The shaggy hair at the nape of Lance’s neck curls ever-so-slightly, and he wonders how long it will be before Lance asks him to trim it (‘There’s no way I’m growing out a mullet, I’m not Keith). He runs a gentle thumb along the line of Lance’s neck, following it up to his jaw, then sweeps his touch across his cheek. Lance stirs and whispers something nonsensical, but his eyes remain shut.

Shaking his head, Hunk carefully rolls onto his side, rests a hand on Lance’s hip, and lets himself bask in the comfort of the body next to his.