#I PAUSED AND HE IS CRUSHED BY A ROCK NO FUCKING WAY HE DIED oh nvm he is alive

[hauntingblue]

*seeing 80 warships coming to destroy a whole nation*: you gotta be kidding me....

[emeren]

speed racer pt.2 - eren jaeger

pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader

word count: 4.3 k 

content warnings: 18+, smut, car sex, possessiveness, choking, dangerous driving idk LMAO

notes: it’s my birthday today! my gift to you all is speed racer pt. 2!!!! pt. 1 is not necessary to enjoy this oneshot, but may help with some context. here is that! 

SUMMARY: eren takes the reader for a drive where he decides to clear some things up about their relationship in his own special way. 

“it’ll be quick; i promise,” eren’s voice brought you from your daydream, head shifting against the cold window to look at him in the driver’s seat. his hair was up, brows furrowed in guilt as he waited for your response. 

you let out a dramatic sigh, reaching to unbuckle your seatbelt. “fine, but i’m not going to wait in the car.” 

“once it’s over i’ll buy you some food,” he rationed, unbuckling his seatbelt the same. you eyed him suspiciously, waiting for the inevitable sexual innuendo to leave his lips. “n’then i’ll take you back to mine and fuck you, just like you want.”

your unspoken agreement with eren had become routine at this point. after your mutually discovered attraction a couple weeks prior, the two of you had spent many a night in his bed, unashamedly basking in your sexual tension. 

the concept of sex buddies hadn’t been one you’d previously dived into, and you would’ve been lying if you’d said you didn’t want to be exclusive. it only made matters worse that eren insisted on doing everything with you at this point, including dragging you to his board meetings for his sponsorship. he was a pain in the ass, but he was a pain in the ass that treated you like his girlfriend. 

you wanted to make it official, but were too scared of embarrassing yourself, so you resorted to enjoying things the way they were. frienemies with benefits, as eren would say. 

“c’mon, don’t be so vulgar,” you responded, slipping out of the car as eren snickered to himself quietly. you hated the fact that his comments made your face heat up. you were beginning to act like a schoolgirl around him, infatuated by your little crush. 

“you know you love it,” eren smirked over the top of the car as he joined you, locking the vehicle. it was dark outside, the stadium brightly illuminated against the navy sky. “what was it you said again? ‘i want this just as much as you do’?”

you scowled, giving his arm a hard shove. he would not let you forget the things you’d said in the heat of the moment. “oh, fuck off.” you snipped. 

eren laughed again, jokingly rubbing his arm as the two of you walked up to the stadium. it was around eight, the building being nearly vacant save for the members of eren’s sponsorship board inside. 

“what’s the meeting about?” you asked as he held the door open for you, a gush of air conditioning making you shudder. 

“if i’m being honest, i don’t know,” eren replied, his eyes settling past you. as you turned your head, you saw a group of exhausted looking men in worn grey suits talking quietly amongst themselves. they stopped whispering at the sound of the door opening; a short, balding man making his way over. 

“mr. jaeger, thank you for coming on such short notice,” his voice was thick as he spoke, obviously a smoker. eren reached out to shake his hand, the man’s beady eyes settling on your face as he did so. “i’m sorry, but we won’t be allowing any unauthorized people in this meeting.” 

startled, you looked to eren, whose face did all but curse at the short man. “do you mind waiting out here?” 

“oh, yeah, no biggie,” you smiled reassuringly. he shot you a look of gratitude, mouthing the words “i’m sorry” as he walked off with the group. it was funny to watch him go; surrounded by serious men in suits while he wore jeans, a sweatshirt, and a pair of sneakers. not to mention he was about a foot taller than the rest of them. 

a sigh escaped your lips as they disappeared around the corner. the building was ominous when you were alone; large and vacant, normally filled with people excitedly bustling to watch a race. without the energy, it was downright creepy. 

you decided to stand against the wall while you waited, anxiously toying with the hem of your skirt and counting the number of fluorescent bulbs that flickered in the ceiling. 

the distant rumble of talking suddenly hit your ears, head snapping in the direction of the sound. it was getting louder, obviously two people approaching. you readied yourself to launch into an explanation as to why you were sitting alone in the stadium, after hours, only to be pleasantly surprised at who rounded the corner. 

“yo, what’re you doing here?” connie cried out in excitement, a smile splitting across his face. he was with jean, the two of them spattered with engine oil and dirt. 

you grinned back, pushing yourself off the wall to meet them halfway. “eren had a sponsorship meeting and dragged me along. what about you guys?” 

jean smirked at your response, sharing a look with connie that went unnoticed by you. “well, connie accidentally told the boss that we don’t know jack-shit about car mechanics, so now we have to go to a stupid workshop five days a week.” 

“hey, it’s not my fault he was eavesdropping on our conversation with armin,” connie retorted, coming to stand beside you. you smiled at your friends, happy they were there. “we’ll wait with you, if you want?” he proposed. 

“that’d be great,” you sighed. “eren said they’re usually only like thirty minutes long, so we won’t be here all night.” 

“about that,” jean started, uncomfortably bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. you frowned, wondering where he was going with this. “are you and him, like, y’know...” 

you paused for a moment, deciding to play dumb. “huh?” 

“are you and jaeger-meister dating?” connie interjected, wiggling his brows. despite knowing that this is where the conversation was going, you couldn’t help the wave of embarrassment that washed over you. you shifted uncomfortably in place, looking between your friends. 

“i don’t know,” you answered honestly. “i can’t tell if he likes me or not. god, this is so high school.” you muttered. 

jean gave you an apologetic smile, opening his mouth to speak before connie decided to give his own advice. “huh? why wouldn’t he like you? you’re a hot piece of ass!” 

a laugh escaped your mouth at his idiocy, jean dishing him a scowl. “don’t listen to him. personally, i can’t see why you’d want to date that little shit.” 

“yeah, it’s pretty embarrassing,” you replied demurely. 

“well, if you like him that much, i say go for it,” connie shrugged. you eyed him warily, waiting for the ‘but’. the three of you stood in silence for a moment longer, considering what to say next. 

“do you want my help?” jean asked apprehensively. he looked put-off by something, but you couldn’t tell exactly what. connie gave him an incredulous look. 

“sure, i guess,” you responded. in some ways, you felt bad for jean. your friendship had been built off of a mutual distaste of eren, and now that you two were sleeping together, the playful mockery with jean had died down. he motioned his head back towards the wall, indicating that you and connie should follow. 

“alright, here’s my plan,” he whispered dramatically. connie nodded his head, the two of you leaning in as if it were some grand escapade. “eren is a dumbass. in fact, i think he still has the brain of an ape.” 

you rolled your eyes, suppressing a laugh as connie nodded once again in agreement. “get to the point, he’ll be out here any minute now.” 

“alright, alright!” jean held his hands up defensively. “i genuinely don’t think he’s capable of intelligent thought. that being said, i believe the right way to gage his feelings are to activate his instincts.” 

“dude, how long have you been planning this?” connie snorted. you couldn’t help but smile at just how funny the two of them were. 

 “never mind that,” jean shooed him back in annoyance. you raised your brow impatiently. “we need to make him jealous. if my assumptions are correct, it’ll piss him off and then you can tell him that he’s the only one you’re interested in.” 

you pulled back from the huddle, unsure about his grand plan. “i dunno, jean. this sounds kinda stupid, if i’m being honest.” 

“oh, c’mon,” jean begged, a devious smile on his features. “this’ll be our last chance to taunt him together.” 

connie grinned as you contemplated it. “i think this is a great plan!” 

you groaned, the small side of you that liked to make fun of eren starting to grow once again. “okay, fine. how’re we gonna do this?” 

“leave that to me,” jean smirked. as if on cue, you could hear the bustle of the sponsorship men coming down the hallway. your tall friend was quick to step behind you, wrapping his arms around your torso and placing his chin on your shoulder, effectively pulling you to his chest. “follow my lead.” he whispered into your ear. 

you couldn’t help the heat that rose to your cheeks at the action. jean was respectfully keeping a distance between your ass and his groin, but he was close enough that it wasn’t very obvious. 

connie started to babble about a new korean barbecue restaurant that he and sasha were planning on going to, you rocking in jean’s arms to make the sight believable. 

your heartbeat was drumming in your chest as eren rounded the corner, his professional smile plastered on his angular face. he was in the middle of talking with the balding man from earlier, eyes fixed on him. jean gave your waist a squeeze in reassurance. 

eren’s gaze peeled from the short man, teal eyes landing on you and jean all cozy. it was as if a flip was switched; the professional smile he’d been wearing slid off his features with ease, face hardening. 

you held his angry stare for a moment before turning to connie, laughing at whatever had been said, the feeling of jean’s breath against the shell of your ear as he let out a light chuckle. “it’s working.” 

you heaved out a deep breath, focusing on connie instead of eren. you could feel his eyes practically burning holes in your head, shifting your neck so that yours fell back on jean’s opposite shoulder. 

“alright, that should be it for tonight,” you heard one of the men say, glancing back over to them. you didn’t look for long though, quickly noticing that eren’s stare was intently focused on you and jean. 

the men shuffled past the three of you, leaving the building. “hey, jaeger. we ran into y/n as we were leaving.” jean hummed against your shoulder. 

you looked back at eren, who was standing in front of you with his eyebrows furrowed. jean must’ve been right, judging by eren’s face. 

“we’re leaving.” eren deadpanned, taking a step forward. he wasn’t looking at jean, rather staring directly at you. you could feel a slight amount of guilt creep up your spine, jean sighing exceptionally loud as he pulled away from you.

“do you guys wanna come to the korean barbecue place with us? it’s gonna be real good,” connie asked innocently. eren didn’t look away from you, his jaw clenching. 

“no. we’ve got other plans.” he said seriously, reaching forward to grab your hand and tug you the opposite way from the doors. 

“woah, eren, you’re going the wrong way,” you huffed in confusion, trying not to trip as he yanked you away from your friends. he continued forward, not looking back. 

“uh, bye i guess?” jean yelled. you looked over your shoulder to see the two of them giving you a thumbs up. you dished them an appreciative smile as you rounded the corner. 

“eren, where are we going?” 

eren stayed silent for a moment, not letting go of your wrist. “for a drive.” 

“huh? but your car is in the lot out front?” you mumbled, absolutely dumbfounded. the tall man didn’t respond, large hand still wrapped around your wrist. 

it wasn’t until you came to a familiar large door, eren giving it an unnecessarily hard shove. the lights flicked on, revealing ten shiny race cars, all perfectly lined up. 

eren let go of your wrist, making his way over to his own car. it was a sleek black with white checker decals, much like the rest of the vehicles in the garage. you’d seen it before, as it was quite literally one of eren’s most prized possessions. 

you stood in the doorway, eyeing him warily. “your race car? you never take it out on regular roads.”

eren’s jaw clenched as he unlocked the car, pieces of hair falling in his face. he looked upset, muscular arm propped on the roof and brows laced with annoyance. 

he walked around to the other side, opening the passenger door for you. it was strange, seeing him dressed in his regular clothes next to his race car. something about the nonchalance was attractive, teal eyes looking at you expectantly. “c’mon. be a good girl and get in the car.” 

at his choice of words you swallowed, inwardly cursing jean for his plan. you knew you were in for it, judging by the fact that eren only referred to you as good girl when he had his most sinful plans in mind. maybe you should’ve just talked to eren about making things official rather than making him jealous, you thought. too late now. 

“okay,” you sighed, resolutely deciding to accept whatever fate it was that jean had painted for you. you crossed your arms, slowly approaching eren. you stopped right as you were about to slip into the car, looking up at him through your lashes. he stared down at you, eyes serious. 

you slipped into the dark interior of the car without further discussion, the cold leather making you shiver as eren shut the door. you observed him through the windshield as he pressed a button to open the garage before getting in the car himself. 

the smell of his cologne filled the car, your teeth nervously nibbling at the skin on the inside of your lip as he turned the vehicle on. you’d never been inside the car before, only seeing it on the track and in the garage when you came to pester your friends before a race. 

it rode impossibly smooth, eren bringing his hand to the back of your seat as he backed out of the garage. you tried not to stare at the way his arm flexed, jawline enhanced as he strained his neck, but you couldn’t help yourself. he was just so hot. 

eren must’ve felt your eyes, glancing down at you momentarily with an expressionless look. you quickly shifted in your seat to stare out the window, heat burning in your cheeks. god, why was this suddenly so awkward?

it was silent as he drove out of the arena, the dark city glittering against the sky. it was beautiful at night, skyscrapers lit up all pretty. you quickly found yourself distracted by the view, leaning your head against the cool glass. you were so consumed that you didn’t notice eren merging onto the freeway. 

you were brought out of your trance at the feeling of his large hand resting on your upper thigh, grip tight and possessive. you glanced to him again, lifting your head from the window. 

he was staring straight forward, foot slowly increasing the gas. you felt your chest tighten, seeing how he was riding the tail of a minivan in front of you. 

“eren,” you warned, insinuating that he slow down. his index finger tapped tauntingly on your bare thigh, slowly rising up the skin. the fabric of your skirt rode up, eren weaving past the minivan with one hand on the wheel. 

“i have a question for you,” he said lowly, eyes not leaving the road. you gulped, a strange mix of arousal and anxiety pitting itself in your stomach as his hand reached the apex of your thigh. the side of his pinky brushed against your pelvis. “hm, no underwear?” 

you felt a pang of embarrassment. in your defense, you’d thought tonight was just going to be spent hooking up with the man, not going to the arena. “i, uh-”

“so, jean had his dick pressed against your ass and you didn’t have underwear on?” his voice was deep, jealously dripping from every word. your breath hitched as his middle and ring finger slid against your clit with ease, already soaking wet. 

eren’s shoe pressed down on the gas again, the car zipping in and out between other vehicles on the freeway. his fingers rubbed against your clit slowly, your legs subconsciously spreading to give him better access. it felt so good, the way he was circling the nerves with desirable pressure. 

“mmm, eren slow down, you’re going to crash the car,” you mumbled, watching as he sped up, whipping past the other vehicles. he was easily approaching 100 mph, your anxiety beginning to outweigh the pleasure. as if sensing this, eren sped up his fingers as well, a whimper leaving your mouth. 

“i know it’s bad for me to be so jealous,” eren said flatly, his middle finger deviating from the ring finger to slowly insert itself into your tight cunt. he pumped it slowly, still not looking at you. he was pushing 110 at this point, doing so with ease. “but something about jean touching you. being so close to you like that.” 

his ring finger joined the middle, the two sliding in and out of you, curling slightly. it was hard to stay focused on his reckless driving when he was fucking you with his fingers like that, your mind feeling fuzzy as a passing car laid on its horn. 

“eren,” you breathed out in worry, his fingers hitting your sweet spot in order to make you shut up. “you gotta slo-” 

an involuntary whimper left your lips as he curled his fingers particularly deep, the tingling sensation at your core beginning to build. you looked over to him, and boy what a mistake that was. 

his one arm was flexed, hand gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles were turning white. he was entirely focused on the road, eyebrows furrowed intently as his other hand purposefully increased its speed. he was so so hot.

you stifled another moan as your eyes looked forward again, the sight of eren nearly clipping a subaru outback making you sit forward.

“you’re going to crash!” you gasped. 

“i’ll slow down if you answer my question,” eren growled, his thumb coming to rub your clit rapidly as his fingers continued to pump in and out of your cunt. you hissed at the newfound pleasure, your head coming back to rest against the seat. 

“yes, yes, okay,” you agreed, screwing your eyes shut to avoid looking at how fast he was driving. 

eren took a deep breath, giving you a sideways glance. he’d never done this before, but he’d also never felt this way about someone. the way you clenched so good around his fingers making his chest tighten. he made you feel this good, not jean. the thought brought a smirk to his face as you let out a strangled moan. 

“i’ll stop speeding if you agree to be my girlfriend,” eren’s words shocked you right out of your pleasure coma, eyes widening as you jolted upright in your seat. did he really just say that? did jean’s plan actually work?

his hand jerked the steering wheel to the side, your mind too preoccupied with his statement to even notice his fingers had stilled inside of you, anxious for your answer. he wasn’t looking at you, eyes still locked on the road. 

you held your breath as you noticed how fast your heart was beating. “i thought you’d never ask.” you responded, cheeks burning. 

eren’s lips curled upwards, pulling his fingers from inside of you. your eyes followed his long digits as he popped the middle two into his mouth, sucking your bitter sheen from his knuckles. he was your boyfriend. he wanted you to be his girlfriend. “good girl.” he mumbled. 

you glanced back at the freeway, surprised as eren jerked the steering wheel, making an abrupt exit. it appeared to deviate into the woods, your eyes flitting nervously to the man beside you. “um, where are you taking me?” 

“i’m just fulfilling my promise,” he answered, bringing his hand back to grip your thigh. his fingers were wet with his saliva, the sight bringing a strong throb to your core. oh yeah, i never finished. “’member? i said once we were done with my meeting i was going to fuck you.” 

you suppressed an excited smile at his vulgar words, pressing your thighs together for some form of relief. you were painfully aroused, the burning sensation almost too much to bear. 

“plus, it seems like you never learn,” eren’s words were suddenly serious as he pulled the car up a gravel road. there was a sharp drop off to the side, the city skyline sparkling in the distance. you cocked a brow at him. “you’re my girlfriend now, but i’m still pissed about that stunt you pulled with jean. gonna have to punish you, of course.” 

you swallowed as he shut the car off, the city sitting innocently in view. the spot between your legs was aching, desperate for some form of release. you couldn’t help the swell in your chest at the fact that eren was your boyfriend now, anxiously awaiting whatever he had in mind. 

eren leaned over you, maintaining a deep stare as he shifted your seat into a flat position. his fingers lightly danced across your skin as he unbuckled your belt, face hovering above the hem of your skirt. he glanced back up to you, teal eyes glinting in the darkness. 

“can’t wait to fuck my new girlfriend,” eren growled, wasting no time in climbing on top of you. he shifted your legs so that your knees were bent by your head, wet cunt on full display in front of him. he stared down at you, a hand on each knee. “shit, you’re so hot like this.” 

he slowly brought a finger to your center, the feeling of his cold digit gliding against you bringing slight relief to the deep ache. his eyes were focused below your waist, lazily flitting upwards as he brought his finger to your lips. “taste.” 

you happily accepted, wrapping your lips around his finger. your tongue swirled around his knuckle, the saccharin taste filling your mouth. he pulled it from your lips, a devilish grin on his features. 

“i can’t wait any longer,” he breathed, leaning forward to press his lips against yours. the kiss was deep and heated, however it felt different from all the others you’d shared in the past. it was meaningful and tender, slow and deliberate. his tongue swiped your lip, slipping into your mouth with a sigh. 

his hands undid his pants as you kissed, the sound of his belt being undone filling the small space. you could feel him positioning the tip of his cock at your entrance, sliding it against your slick. 

eren pulled back to look at you, breaths mingled for a moment before he pushed past your entrance, burying himself deep within you. the stretch was slightly uncomfortable and you were convinced you’d never get accustomed to the sheer size of his dick.

eren didn’t wait for you to adjust, flexing his hips back to give you another purposeful thrust. a whimper slipped past your lips at the feeling, his hand leaving your leg and lightly wrapping around your neck. 

“fuck,” he hissed, speeding up his pace. your walls clenched around him, climax fast approaching with every deep thrust of his cock within your cunt. “feels so good fucking you when you’re all mine.” 

his hand tightened around your throat, the combined pressure at both ends of your body only adding to the pleasure as he rammed into you. he grunted as his other hand pressed your legs forward, getting a better angle so that he could fill you to the hilt. 

a strangled cry ripped from your throat as he hit particularly deep, bringing his face down to roughly kiss your lips. he was breathing heavily, the car shaking as he bucked his hips into yours.

eren craned his neck down to look at where his length disappeared inside of you, a small smile toying at his features. the sight caused his cock to twitch, relishing in just how nicely he filled you up. you were his, and he was yours. 

just the thought of you being his girlfriend was enough; a loud groan leaving his chest as he pressed his hips against yours. you could feel him release himself inside of you, the thick sensation bringing on a much anticipated orgasm. your limbs grew cold, the pleasure reaching the tips of your fingers. 

eren placed a chaste kiss to your forehead, gazing down at you. “my girlfriend is so fucking hot.” he grinned. 

you rolled your eyes at his cheesy comment, swatting his chest playfully. he carefully removed himself from you, trying not to drip onto the car seat. 

“here, pretty. you’ll have to keep your legs up,” he instructed as he pulled his pants back up. you frowned, the thought of holding this position the whole way back somewhat daunting. 

“huh? but how am i supposed to keep this stuff from coming out?” you whined, still trying to regain your composure. eren’s face was flushed as he smirked at you. 

“that’ll be your punishment, m’kay?” he said smugly. you scoffed, holding your knees in each hand. 

“but that’ll be impossible!” 

“don’t worry,” he leaned forward to kiss your lips once again. “i’ll drive slow.” 

<3 <3 <3

[angstyclowns]

Please don’t let me go.

Part 2 to this! Thank you all so much for 2K followers!

Katsuki Bakugo

Katsuki did not lose. Not in battles, not in competitions, friendly or not, and he would not lose you.  He refused to. He would not let you go. He loved you too much. He was too selfish to let you go. He fucked up, he’d own that. He fucked up badly, though he wasn’t certain he knew how to fix it. He could hear your sobs throughout your den, making him whine. 

You hadn’t done anything but cry since those blasted words left his mouth and he was beginning (Pshh beginning, he always worried about you) to get scared.  Groaning, he shut off his phone, thanking any and every being out there an old friend of his was willing to take his shift (He had to send her a gift basket for her and Deku). His duffel landed on the ground with a thud before he was running to your guys room, opening the door with zero hesitation. You looked up to him with such heartbreak in your eyes. Fuck, his chest hurt. 

Katsuki was never good with words, you and him both knew this, but he still had to make it right. He had too. Fuck his eyes were stinging as he approached you, making him collapse onto his knees in front of your nest. You watched him, not saying anything. 

“Please, fuck I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. Any of what I said. You don’t deserve it-deserve it. You deserve so much better than me- But I don’t want to let you go-” He was crying now, making you cry as well. You understood he was stressed, and you probably weren’t making it any better. Both of you were stressed and anxious and- fuck. 

This wasn’t healthy communication. You and him both knew it. You needed to fix this. With time you would. Right now though, right now you were focused on the arms wrapping around you, and thats all you would focus on for now. 

---

“Are you sure there isn’t anything you want to talk about with this upcoming pregnancy? This is a safe space.” 

Katsuki smirked at the therapist. playing with the ring on your finger as he held your hand. 

“What is there to say? I’m pumped. The Bakugou genes live on and I’ve got my pretty omega by my side.” 

While marriage counselling sounded terrible on paper, it wasn’t. It gave you both an outlet and coping mechanisms when hurdles appeared in your relationship, and made you both overall a lot happier. 

You purred as you leaned on your alpha, making the therapist smile. 

“As far as I’m concerned, I’m no longer needed here. You both seem to have impressive communication now, and I can’t see this changing when your pup arrives. Though, keep in mind when that time comes, you both will need to be top of your game.” 

You watched Katsuki nod, completely entranced by the therapists words. If you would’ve told yourself about this Katsuki a year ago, when your huge fight broke out, you would’ve laughed in your own face. But now, watching Katsuki work hard to prove he was the alpha you deserve?

Your heart fluttered and the butterflies in your tummy grew restless. While a pup would be a big challenge, you and Katsuki were ready for it. 

And he would be with you every step of the way. 

Shouto Todoroki

His choice was made before his subconscious even had the chance to boot up. His throat closed up and his phone was crushed in his palm when it tried dragging his attention from the fact at hand. It was dropped with little remorse as Shouto quickly ran in the same direction you did, stopping you from entering your guys room. You chirped in surprise when he turned you around, pressing a searing kiss to your lips.

You wanted to fight him but Shouto didn’t let you. He didn’t let you go when you squirmed, he only tightened his grip (Not hurting you). He didn’t know when it happened, but tears were starting to drip down his cheeks. 

Shouto didn’t get angry. But he got upset. He felt so guilty. Just seeing your heartbroken face replay on his mind was torture. Just knowing he had just did the same thing his father did to his mother. He was dismissing your worries and genuine concern because of his job. 

“I-I don’t see how messed up this is. But I want you to tell me- show me. I want to be a better alpha for you. Bonding you wasn’t and won’t ever be a mistake to me. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I want to. I want to know why it’s such a big deal.”

You broke down as Shouto held you, not finding the words to explain anything just yet. You would need time to do so, and he would give you that time. 

He just wanted to tell you he made his choice. 

In fact, there wasn’t much of a choice at all, and he hoped-- prayed-- you could feel that. 

---

“Shouto, we need you to start up the scenting again. You’re rep is dropping and-” His P.R. manager was halted with a finger, the half-and-half hero quickly dialing your number on a new-- not crushed-- phone.  

“Sho? Aren’t you at work? Why are you calling? Did something-”

“Scenting things that aren’t for you, thats a breech of privacy and demeans our relationship, right?” Shouto cut you off, sending a silent apology to you. 

You paused on the other end. “Yeah? We had this conversation a couple weeks ago. Are you okay?” 

He smiled. “Fine. Just reminding myself.”

You both said your quick goodbyes before Shouto turned to his P.R. manager. “My omega said no.” 

“Who cares what your omega thinks?! Your-”

“I’m nothing without my omega. I care what my omega thinks and what my omega says go. If her word isn’t enough then mine will be. I said no.” 

Silently, Shouto patted himself on the back as he turned, trying to leave for patrol. You would be proud of his newly shined spine. 

“Your-”

“Oh, before I forget. ” Shouto turned, facing the manager who was red with rage. It made him smirk. “You’re fired.” 

Keigo Takami

Patrol was rough. Brutal. He couldn’t focus. 

He had told you he was more important. He wasn’t. 

He was a broken shell of a man. Hawks was this fucking persona he put up, and in that moment those words came from him. Not the Keigo that you dug so hard for. Not the Keigo that you ached for late at night, just wanting to hold him in your arms. 

He was blurring the lines between Keigo and Hawks, with Hawks breaking through as the dominant. He didn’t want that. Not at all. He wanted Keigo to still be there. Be there for you. 

Fuck this. 

He was going to be there for you. Fuck the hero rankings. Fuck the commission. Fuck anything that kept him from you. 

Turning around, he ignored any calls of his name, soaring faster than he had all evening to get to you. He could see you through the windows of the balcony (You both lived on the top floor, enough enough ceiling to floor windows looked nice). You were looking ahead of you blankly, wrapped in one of his sweaters. Fuck you looked like you had gone through the ring. Hair messy and eyes blotchy. 

You didn’t even look over when he tumbled through the door, literally crawling to you. 

Keigo would admit he had never cried since he was six. He was twenty-three now. That was seventeen years. 

He would also admit he cried at your feet. Angry, painful sobs that rocked his body and made him hurt. He didn’t care though. He’d do it all for you.

He tried pleading that he was nothing without you. Hollow and empty. 

To be fair though, he wasn’t even certain he was doing anything other than incoherent babbles.   When your arms wrapped around him and allowed his wings to cocoon around you both, he figured he made some sense. 

For you, he’d go through all the pain seventeen years of hiding would bring him.

---

“Baby bird!” 

Keigo didn’t normally call out to you like he found himself doing, but recently, he’s found himself doing a lot of stuff he never imagined himself doing. 

Domestic life with you was such a nice feeling. 

Having you in his arms every morning, working with you as he got ready for work, watching you yourself get ready for your day. Just you. 

You were perfect in everyway and it made his chest tighten with love every time he saw you. 

You turned the corner with a smile, waving to him before gesturing for him to follow. He did so with a quirked brow, following you to one of the ex-guest rooms. You were giddy, bouncing slightly in your place with your scent so happy and boisterous it made Keigo purr. 

When you decided he wasn’t moving fast enough, you ran back, pulling him forward and into the nursery. His son was laying there, fast asleep in a makeshift mini-nest, bright red wings wrapped around himself as a blanket. 

You cooed and held onto Keigo, watching as your alpha picked up your son, holding him to his chest. The young boy merely ruffled his feathers, quickly recognizing the scent and nuzzling into his dad’s chest. 

While he went through seventeen years of pain in the span of two, he had you by his side. And now, he had his son. His son which you had gifted him. 

He didn’t know what he was thinking back then, but truly no one was more important than you. 

And he would take that with him until the day he dies.

[ultraimaginez]

My Love Is Not A Joke - [Mammon x Reader]

Fandom: Obey Me! Ship: Mammon x gn! reader Word Count: 1.9k Rating: T A/N: just thinkin about the amount of effort it would take to convince mammon you actually like him and you’re not just being an ass to him like everyone else made me feel a lot of thiiiings and then this was born lol.

Mammon lives in a liminal space between fear and a love so fierce it threatens to consume him. It’s a hell of his own making-- too cowardly to tell you how he really feels and too devoted to let you go. 

And so you are forced to exist in this hellish space with him. Each time you try to get close he pushes you away, afraid he’ll be the butt of just another joke. Each time you try to give him space he pulls you back in, terrified you might leave him. It’s an exhausting game of tug of war between his ego and his heart and, frankly, you’re sick of being the god damn rope.

Eventually you reach your breaking point. 

You are lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and replaying another days worth of back and forths between you and a certain white haired demon boy. This has become as much a part of your night time routine as putting on pajamas or brushing your teeth. Every flush of his cheeks-- be it in anger or embarrassment or affection-- every dumb argument, or sweet sentiment, or stupid joke. They all play like a never ending feedback loop in your mind. But tonight a thought strikes you as you roll over to finally try and get some sleep-- as long as Mammon is engaged in this endless war against himself you’ll be stuck in it right along side him. He’s never going to give himself peace. He’ll fight until there’s nothing left of himself. So if the two of you are going to get out of this mess it comes down to you.

It’s a scary thought, the idea you might have to be vulnerable and make the first actual move. Scary enough that you try and let it go. Maybe you can just sleep on it and think about it more in the morning.

But now you can’t think of anything else. The thought begins to ruminate in your brain and there’s no way you can sleep at this point. You stay awake all night wondering if there’s any other solution. Any other way out of this mess. It turns out you also exist in the liminal space between fear and love. The idea of telling Mammon how you feel is paralyzing. And so you go to school the next day not having slept at all.

This pattern continues for nearly a week. Each night you stare at your ceiling going round and round in circles. And maybe Mammon can take this awful tug of war but you certainly can’t. You don’t have millennia to stay away pondering this shit. You’re a mortal and you’re being driven in-fucking-sane. So finally, on the seventh night of nearly no god damn sleep, you fling off your covers and irritably begin stomping down the hall. 

You ignore Beel who is hip deep inside the refrigerator cleaning it out of whatever the hell is left inside. You passively wave to Levi when he sticks his head out of his room to ask you to play games and mumble some lame excuse. You’re on a mission to resolve this once and for all and nothing will stop you.

You make a beeline to your destination and once you reach Mammon’s door you begin to pound on it aggressively. 

A familiar voice rings out from inside. “Jeez, cool it, Lucifer. I told you, I’m working on it. I’ll have all these late assignments done by tomorrow just gimme some time.”

“It’s me.”

There’s a pause and you can’t practically hear the gears turning in Mammon’s head as he registers who is speaking.

“Oh well why the hell didn’t ya just say so? Come in.”

You open the door to his room and find Mammon sprawled out in one of the arm chairs in the center of his room. His feet are propped up on the table and his leather jacket is flung over the couch opposite of him, leaving him in his normal jeans and black shirt. You can tell he’s been running his fingers through his white hair in frustration as it’s mused and messier than normal and his brows are knit in concentration as he looks down at his notebooks. 

“Stupid Lucifer. Makin’ me do all this damn work in one night. It’s not fair.” He says, tossing the books onto the table as you shut the door behind you and approach him. 

You have a rebuttal about how it’s not exactly ‘unfair’ since all of that work had been assigned weeks ago, but it dies on your lips when he looks up at you. You can feel you heart jump into your throat as your eyes meet, the normal façade of the student mode dropped here where he is comfortable and alone. People often attribute fastidiousness with appearance with Asmo, but Mammon is usually just as put together. Seeing him so relaxed is special, it’s something you know he reserves for only people close to him. 

Your not sure how long you stand there at the edge of his chair looking down at him but it must be longer than normal because the sound of Mammon clearing his throat pulls your attention. “Eh? Do I have something on my face? You’re staring and it’s weirding me out.” His cheeks are pink and he looks absolutely anywhere but your face. “Anyway, what the hell are you doing here in the middle of the night? Couldn’t wait to see me until tomorrow, huh?”

Well.. It’s now or never. You’ve plucked up enough courage to make it this far so you might as well commit.

“Mammon, I like you. A lot. And I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable but I just... do. So. Yeah... Do with that what you will.”

If you weren’t borderline unhinged from the complete lack of sleep and frayed nerves and being so vulnerable, you would find the way his eyes quadrupled in size fucking hilarious. 

“Wha? What do you mean? Is this some sort of dumb prank.” You can see him looking past you at the door. He’s searching for his brothers, searching for a camera, searching for the evidence that this is all some elaborate joke at his expense. You can already hear the derisive laughter he’s waiting for playing in his head. ‘Stupid, Mammon.’ ‘How could you think they would ever like you?’ ‘Got you good, huh?’ ‘Actually thought that they might like you? You’re even dumber than we thought-’

You cut off whatever string of insults he’s playing in his own hand by gently touching his face, cupping his cheek with your hand. 

“It’s not a joke, Mammon. I like you. And I understand if you don’t feel the same way but... I need you to know that.”

It’s clear that the moment you touch his skin his internalized war rises into a crescendo. It breaks you open to see his eyes soften with a vulnerability you’ve never seen before, blue gold shimmering with an emotion you can’t quite place but sends your heart hammering harder than it ever has before... and then immediately they harden again. “Do you have a fever or something?! Jeez, leave it to a human to get sick right when I’m supposed to be doing something else. I don’t always have time to be-”

He begins to rise from the chair and it’s clear he wants to run, wants to hide, wants to lick his wounds before they can even form. You can tell he’s already written this off as another joke at his expense. If you let him get away from you right now you’ll lose that look you found in his eyes just moments ago for good.

You push down on his shoulders, seating him in the chair again, and then wordlessly climb on top of him, pinning him beneath your weight. Surely he could pick you up and yeet you across the entire god damn room if he wanted to, but the action seems to break the string of negative self talk long enough for you to actually speak to him. 

“Mammon.” You grab his face between your hands and force him to look at you. His expression is wild-- scared and hopeful and completely unguarded. “I. Like. You. And it’s not some joke. If you don’t feel the same way just tell me. But if you do-”

You don’t get to finish the rest of the sentence.

Mammon kisses you like you are oxygen and he’s on the verge of drowning. One hand shoots up to the back of your neck, pulling you close, tangling his long tanned fingers in your hair. The other comes to rest on your thigh. It’s all you can do to twine your own fingers through his soft white hair and pull him closer as he rocks into your body. You feel tears begin to well in the corner of your eyes as a surge of emotion races through you. You’ve never felt so much for one person in all your life. It’s enough to make you feel like you’re being crushed under the weight of it all. 

At some point you physically can’t keep kissing him because you’re afraid you might actually suffocate. You pull back to take in a breath but he continues to hold you close, keeping his hands in your hair, lips still only inches from your own. You look at him, his eyes are more gold than blue now and you feel like you might catch fire if you look at him too long. You let out a breathy “Oh...” 

Apparently he’s decided you’ve had enough time to breath and he’s on you again, pulling you close and making desperate little noises every time you part lips even briefly. You wonder if maybe you can die from catching on fire internally because every part of you feels like it’s engulfed in flames.

Eventually you manage to part again, long enough to put a hand on his chest and keep him from chasing your lips. You’re breathing heavily, trying to suck in air but finding it hard to do so when Mammon is looking at you like he’s just waiting for the chance to devour you again. 

“So..” your voice comes out an octave higher than normal and your face turns scarlet, clearing your throat so you can try to speak somewhat normal. “Uh.. I take it... we’re on the same page then? Y’know... about... stuff...?” You’re not exactly eloquent but Mammon just kissed you to the point of ceasing brain function so, really, who can blame you? 

There’s a beat of silence, and then Mammon speaks, voice deeper, quieter, and more serious than you’ve ever heard it before. “Don’t leave, okay?” 

You’re not really sure what he’s referring to. Leave this chair? Leave the Devildom? Leave him? But he’s raw and real and so fucking perfect staring up at you perfectly kissed like that and the answer comes to you without thinking. 

“Never. I’m never leaving. I’m here for as long as you want me.” 

Suddenly both of his arms are around your waist, drawing you close. Your face is pushed into his neck and his into yours. You breathe in the smell of his aftershave and shampoo and you’ve never felt more at home. Your hearts are pressed up against one another and you know you’ve never felt more right than in this moment. 

The last thing you hear him whisper as you drift off to sleep for the first time in nearly a week is a whispered. “Always... I’m always going to want you, silly human.”

[nonagesimus]

oh queer sam prompts? how about sam coming out to castiel <3

The thing about growing up in each other’s pockets was Dean knew just about every tell Sam had.

At first Sam had been glad it was finally being used on something that had a lighter weight to it. After Ruby and the demon blood, letting Lucifer out of the cage, just everything, Dean catching on to Sam having a bit of a crush? That was fine. That was great, actually, Dean could let off some steam, and sure he wasn’t being quiet about it, but Sam wasn’t worried about Bobby knowing, and Castiel never seemed to pick up on anything Dean was laying down.

Which was a good thing, he was pretty sure.

Still, after the fourth joke in two hours about Sam getting on his knees to pray to Cas every night, he decided it’d be a good idea to get some air.

The backseat of the Impala was always equal parts comforting and stifling. Sam had grown up there, it was the home he’d left to go to Stanford, and come back to after Jess died. Sat there, head tipped back against the seat, it felt like he never been away at all. Also familiar; the crunching footsteps of someone making their way through the gravel of Bobby’s yard, and the creak of the door on the other side of the car opening up so that someone could get in.

Sam opened his eyes as the car rocked, expecting Dean and instead seeing a familiar trench coat and a familiar unreadable face. “Cas,” he said, unable to keep mild surprise out of his voice.

“Dean suggested I come check in,” Castiel said, “After I expressed some concern for where you were going.”

Oh.

“I’m fine,” Sam said. “Not going to make trouble or anything, I just- I just needed some air.”

“I wasn’t expecting trouble,” he replied. “You seemed,” he paused, like he was considering something. “Distressed.”

“I’m fine,” Sam repeated. “Dean just- he was just joking around, he likes pushing my buttons.”

“About prayer?” Cas asked. “It seemed an odd thing to make so many comments about.”

Sam winced, quietly vowing to slip Dean a laxative as soon as they got a non-dire moment. If they ever got a non-dire moment ever again. “Not- that’s not really what he was joking about.” And, feeling a little guilty about Dean enjoying making so many comments at Cas’ expense. “He was joking about blow jobs.”

“Oral sex?” Cas asked, and Sam felt his cheeks light on fire.

“Yep,” he confirmed. When all Cas did was look at him with a confused expression he braced himself. He hadn’t had to try and explain the joke. In for a penny, and all that. “He- I’m bisexual. And he knows…” The words seemed to choke him a little, he stared out the windshield though he couldn’t tell what he was looking at, he just knew he couldn’t look to his left. “He knows I’m attracted to you, so he’s making jokes about getting on my knees to pray as a code for.” He made a nonspecific gesture with his hand. “That. Because he knows it’ll fuck with me.”

He was sitting in the same place he was when he came out to Dean, though Dean had been in the front seat. He wasn’t sure which conversation had been scarier.

“He’s making jokes to make you uncomfortable?” Cas asked, which was the last part of the explanation Sam had expected him to grab onto, so much so that it took him a moment to pick up the thread of the conversation again.

“Uh, yeah,” he said.

“That seems cruel,” Cas said.

Sam blinked, brain still rebooting. “Maybe. It’s- it could be a brothers thing. I do it to him too.”

Cas hummed an acknowledgement. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam could see him glance over. “You’re still uncomfortable.”

“Yeah,” he said, struggling for an explanation. “Kinda thought the bisexual thing might cause some issues.” He risked a glance over and saw a deep frown on Cas’ face. “A lot of churches don’t like it.”

“That’s a human obsession,” Cas said. “Not a heavenly one.”

There was something in Sam’s heart that he’d crammed down so small, held in so long he’d forgotten it was there. At Cas’ words he felt it unfold and disappear.

“Oh,” he said, melting into the seat. “That’s- good to know.”

“I think most angels would be hard pressed to tell the difference,” Cas said, “Watching from such a distance.”

Sam looked over at him, cheek to the leather. “Makes sense.”

It was a reminder, though. That the distance between them was more than it seemed. That, for all Dean could poke fun, this wasn’t anything with a possibility behind it. Honestly, maybe after Ruby that was what Sam needed. Something untouchable. Something he could long for, but didn’t have a chance in hell of ruining because it could never happen.

Cas looked back at him. Sam hoped that longing wasn’t too clear on his face.

“It’s interesting,” Cas said. “I wonder if it wouldn’t be good for my family to walk the Earth. It’s easy, from a distance. Caring only in the abstract. It changes up close.”

Sam tore his eyes away, chuffing a self deprecating laugh. “I bet.”

Fingers brushed the back of his hand where it rested at his side; a shiver spread out over every inch of his skin.

“You’re better up close.”

The words sounded like a pick-up line, but from Cas they just felt incredibly sincere. His eyes slid to the side again, to where Cas had shifted closer. Closer again, Sam started at the feel of breath on his lips.

“Cas,” he said, “You don’t have to-“

“You’re attracted to me,” Cas said. “Do you care for me?”

“Yes,” Sam said. That, at least, was easy, and true, and obvious.

“I came after you because I care for you,” Cas said.

“Oh,” Sam managed.

“I know I don’t have to, Sam,” Cas said. “I want to.”

Then he kissed him, crossed that last little bit of distance, and Sam stopped thinking about anything else at all.

[with-love-anu]

Undefined Coma

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: Sirius hates you and is forced to marry you.

Warnings: Mentions of torture, passing out, swearing, death, not a happy ending.

Word Count: 1,581

You ran, trying to catch up with the raven-haired boy. He was fast.

“Sirius! Sirius, wait up!” you shouted apologizing to people you hit on the way. Catching him finally, you placed a hand over his back, making him turn towards you in a huff.

“What. Do. You. Want?” he hissed as you gulped.

“I just wanted to talk to you. I thought t-“

“I don’t care what you thought. I don’t ever want to talk to you, why don’t you get it?” He barked as you felt you felt something in your stomach squeeze.

“Do we have any other choice, then?” you whispered as you saw something change in his eyes. “I thought you, of all people, would understand seeing we are going through the same thing.”

Sirius let out a dry laugh which only served your stomach to twist further.

“Same thing? Same thing? We are on the opposite ends Y/n. Completely opposite ends. You want money without earning it and have pulled me into whatever this is. Marriage, they call it. I hate you, Y/n. And I hate everything you stand for.”

“You act like don’t even know me!” you gasped as he just shook his head.

“I knew you.”

You stood there as he turned and left. You watched his back silently not knowing whether to laugh or cry. You wondered if he would ever realize. If he would ever even try to see through the narrow hole he had created. You wiped away the tear that fell down your cheeks. What did you agree to?

***

“No! Please Bella, no!!!” you screamed through the tears, beating your hands furiously to somehow break the spell they tied you with, not that it worked. “NO! TAKE ME! TAKE ME INSTEAD!”

Your heart thumped out of your chest as you screamed for them to stop. Your sister’s cries rang loud in your ears as they continued to torture her.

“Cruico!” you heard Bella scream as a hot red energy spread through your body, making you feel like you were on fire. You shouted and screamed as the pain didn’t stop. You felt dizzy and your brain banged making your surroundings feel fuzzy. You clenched your eyes shut at the agonizing sting that stretched throughout your body. You remembered seeing people running before darkness consumed you.

***

The great hall was full of chatter and life as the first years got sorted into their respective houses. Sirius smiled a little at the innocent, care-free children who were going to start a completely different life at Hogwarts. He listened on to James as he talked to a new-bee. He was grateful to have such a great friend. He was so scared when he finally ran away, thought he would have to leave James’ house the very next morning. But he didn’t. The Potters had unofficially adopted him. He spared a glance towards Regulus, who looked hollow. His heart clenched at the sight. He wanted to take him with himself, but Regulus wouldn’t budge. Dumbledore stood up, making everyone turn towards him.

“To the first years, welcome to Hogwarts!” he paused looking through the swarm of children. “Normally, I would have let the announcements wait until all of you are fed and fine, but there is something very important that you all need to know. Miss Y/s/n Y/l/n died a few days ago at the hands of a death-eater.”

Sirius’s heart dropped. Y/s/n? Was he hearing correctly?

“Her sister Y/n, present at the same place was tortured severely. We’ve somehow managed to keep her alive and she’s currently in the hospital wing in undefined coma. Times are dark for us. If…”

Sirius tuned out of the speech feeling something wash over him. He looked over to Regulus who rubbed at his eyes. It didn’t take him a much to figure out he was crying. Sirius looked down as a memory attacked him.

“Sirius, no! We’ll get caught!” you giggled making him smile involuntarily.

“Y/n, trust me, it was somewhere here!” he said, taking her further into the woods. He finally spotted the lake.

“See?” he said as your eyes sparkled taking in the beautiful scene.

“Wow. This is so pretty!” you gasped as Sirius took in your expression. “Wait until Regulus and Y/s/n see this!”

Sirius scoffed. He went to sit down over a rock gesturing you to sit beside him.

“This place is only for me and you,” he grumbled making you laugh.

“If you say so.”

There was silence for a moment as you took the beautiful spot in. Sirius however, couldn’t stop thinking.

“Why do you always want to bring Y/s/n and Regulus too? Am I not enjoyable enough?” he whispered as you looked at him.

“You’re taking this the wrong way, Sirius. I always want to bring them because I love them. I don’t want Y/s/n to sulk behind. Father is still grieving over our mother. She wouldn’t say it, but it affects her a lot. She was way closer to him anyway. I just want to make sure she stays happier than me. I always wish that I could give her everything she hopes for. I’m certain you want the same for Regulus?”

Sirius smiled. You really did love your sister.

“Yeah, I do.”

James shook Sirius, breaking him out of his reverie.

“Sirius, the food his here!” he said as Sirius nodded.

“Yeah, yeah.” He said placing something on his plate. He tuned out of what his friends said, lost in his thoughts.

***

Sirius tossed and turned through the night. He couldn’t sleep. Your thoughts ravaged him. He got up from his bead and quietly went over to James’ bed. Taking out the map and the invisibility cloak, he tried to make as less noise as possible. He went out of the common room, looking for anyone who might be roaming the corridors and stalked towards the hospital wing. He took off his cloak at the entrance, looking for the signs of the matron, but she wasn’t there. He tiptoed inside, walking towards the farthest bed. They always kept the more severely injured people there.

“What are you doing here?” a voice came, making him jump. He turned to see Regulus scowling at him.

“I’ve come to see Y/n.” he said calmly.

“No, you don’t deserve. Just go back to your Gryffindor friends that you love so much. Leave like you always do,” Regulus spat as Sirius’s stomach lunged.

“I don’t take orders from you.” Sirius said sharply as Regulus scoffed.

Sirius moved towards your bed, ignoring his brother. He had to see you, just once.

“Of course you don’t. You don’t take orders from anybody. Mighty big of you to come and see Y/n when you were the one caused this.”

Sirius’s head snapped towards Regulus.

“I’m the one who did this?”

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t know anything. Y/n made a pact with the death eaters to not take her sister in exchange of marrying a pure-blood. You couldn’t have waited 4 more days. Just 4 more days,” Regulus croaked, as a tear fell down his cheek. “They went after them the moment you ran away. Tortured Y/n and-”

Regulus broke down, taking in big gulps of air to control himself.

“No,” Sirius whispered, the weight of Regulus’s words crushing him. “NO!”

She wasn’t marrying him for money or- He felt stupid. So stupid. Sirius tried to breathe. His legs felt weak as they quivered.

“Leave.” He heard Regulus say as he stood fixed on the spot.

“I SAID LEAVE. YOU DIDN’T GIVE A FUCK THEN, YOU DON’T GIVE A FUCK NOW. LEAVE.” Regulus shouted, his voice echoing through the hall.

So he did. He left. He ran towards the room of requirement knowing he wouldn’t last long without breaking down.

He dropped down on the floor as his body shook with cries. He screamed. He screamed until his throat felt raw. He couldn’t see. Regulus’s words echoed in his ears as his brain made him remember all moments he spend with you and Y/s/n. He was the reason Y/s/n died. He caused you to suffer through everything. Come to think of it, wasn’t he the one who cut you off from his life? He was the one who stopped talking to you the moment you were sorted in Slytherin. He was the one who ignored every attempt made by you to reach out. He was the reason you ultimately stopped trying. And that, that ate him whole.

“I’m okay,” Sirius sneered as you just shook your head.

“I’m sure you are,” you said taking his hands softly and looking at the red lines on his palms.

You took the wet cloth slowly placing it on the flesh as Sirius hissed.

“Why do you always have to go against them Siri?” you asked softly.

“They were wrong, okay?” Sirius said before hissing again.

“Yes, but you know the consequences of speaking up. They would never listen to you. Why suffer more?” you whispered as he looked at you. “I hate to see you hurt Siri.”

You took his palm, placing small kisses all over making his heart flutter. He almost whined when you pulled away.

Sirius sniffed feeling numb. He didn’t want to go back to his dorm. The room seemed to understand him, turning into a cozy bedroom. He sighed, getting up and laying on the bed, transforming into his amingus form. He curled up, sadness giving way to sleep soon.

A/N: This was requested by a lovely anon. I feel this is complete and won’t be doing a part two!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In the Weeds

Ransom + ‘reader likes to garden and neighbor likes to watch’ as requested by @siren-kitten-his​

Finally got this done and it’s just smut, y’all, dark and dirty smut.

Warnings: noncon, sabotage, Ransom being his asshole self. As usual, your consumption is your responsibility. If you read these warnings and proceed, that’s your decision and any asks on the matter will be summarily defeated. If you can read 2000 words, you can read a warning.

Anyways, enjoy this little drabbling and have a great day, boo bears.

For weeks you’d been coming to the large house hidden away behind the winding driveway, trees carefully lined its borders. Weeks and you had yet to met its owner. On your first day, instructions had been left in a letter beside a bottle of water. The list was typed out and terse. A roster of duties.

Every Sunday you drove up the carefully laid mosaic drive and lugged your bag with you, returning to your beat-up truck only to fetch the electric trimmers. Weeds, pruning, hedges, flowers… It was your typical work, the only difference was your still anonymous and unseen employer.

The same water bottle sat on the front step, the same list. You didn’t need to read it at this point. You began your work, your jeans soon filthy with soil and grass stains as you made your way around the exterior of the house. Then there were the bushes along the perimeter. That always took much longer.

You opted for a break before you went about the last half of the list. You sat on the step and drank from the glass bottle. You replaced the attached cork and stood, stretching as the sun reached its peak above you.

“The sunflowers are starting to droop,” The voice scared you and you spun in surprise to face the man who stood on the other side of the screen door. You hadn’t even heard it open. “My mother chose them, you see? I find them tacky. They stick out like a sore thumb.”

“Oh,” You blinked. He watched you dully as you set down the glass bottle. “I could… re-home them. As long as I can dig out the roots.”

“Burn ‘em for all I care,” He scoffed. His blue eyes looked you up and down. “You’re a lot more diligent than the last gardener.”

“Thank… you,” You said awkwardly. 

He leaned his elbow against the door frame as he peered through the screen. His dark blond hair was combed back neatly, his broad shoulders stretched the cotton henley. He looked like any trust funder you’d met. “I should get back to work.”

“Mmhmm,” He nodded and disappeared.

You turned slowly and grabbed your bag of tools. You wanted to look back but didn’t as you crossed to the hedges along the walkway. You knelt and began your careful pruning. You inched down the bushes, snip, snip, snip. The sun beat down as you reached the end and stood.

“She stole,” You winced as you were once more frightened by the man. “Can’t help but wonder why considering how much I’m paying to have leaves cut.”

“I’m sorry she did that,” You squinted as the sun seared your eyes. “Um…”

“Ransom Drysdale,” He introduced himself. “I have your card. I know your name.”

“Well, I was just about to do the back. I just need to… um, get there.” You bent and tucked your shears into your bag and lifted it.

“Looks good, so far,” He said as he followed you from the other side of the hedge. “I can get you some more water.”

“I’m almost done,” You assured him. “But thank you.”

“Alright,” He stopped and you carried on. 

You felt him watched you as you disappeared around the back of the house. As you set up, you fought to focus on the work. The rose bushes were always the most obstinate. You took out your pruners and set to detaching the dying buds and stray branches.

As you moved from the white petals to the reds, you sensed something. You glanced over. The man, Ransom, was sat in one of the lawn chairs on the patio outside the tall glass doors. He was far but not so far away that you couldn’t tell he watched you. Well, if his last gardener had sticky fingers, how could you blame him?

You finished up and looked around one last time. You buckled up your large bag and slid the folded paper out of the side pocket, running down the list just to make sure. As you stood, bag slung over your shoulder, you found that your employer had gone as swiftly as he’d appeared.

You hauled it back around the house. The water bottle was gone. You went to your truck and dumped your bag in the bed. You climbed in the front and turned the engine. It kicked up but as you shifted into reverse, then puttered and died. You tried again. Odd. You’d just had it in for an oil change and they said it was in good shape.

You got out and walked around the pick-up. You checked out every inch then opened the hood. You didn’t really know what you were looking for. A shadow came up behind you and two large hands settled on the truck’s nose, a pair of thick arms blocking you in.

“Problem?” Ransom’s warm breath tickled your scalp. You went rigid, unsure of what to do. You didn’t know what to do.

 “No.” You said. “Probably just overheated.”

You pushed against his arm but he didn’t move. You grabbed the other which proved just as immovable. You turned around in the tight space between him and the truck.

“What are you doing?”

“Just having a look,” He said coolly. “You think it’s the battery?”

“I don’t know.” You tried to sidestep him again but he still wouldn’t move. “Let me go.”

“You know, at first, I watched you because I was bored. Then it became almost a hobby. Something to look forward to.” He leaned in and you could smell his cologne. “Then I thought about you. After. And you just kept popping up in my head.”

“I don’t know you.” You said firmly. “Get away from me so I can call a tow.”

“It’ll take them at least an hour to get out here.” He said. “What are you supposed to do while you wait?”

“Stop.” You grabbed his arm and pushed. He chuckled at your pathetic attempt to move him. “What do you want?”

“I’m sure you can guess.” 

He reached up and grabbed the lip of the hood. His other hand went to your throat as he backed up just a little and drew you with him. He closed the hood with a bang and you flinched. You grasped his wrist and twisted. He barely seemed to notice as his fingers tightened. 

He leaned in and his chiseled features turned malicious. He grabbed your shoulder and spun you to face the truck. He pushed you against the hood and you caught yourself on the hot metal. He crushed you with his body and his hot breath glossed over your head.

“I lied.” He nuzzled your head. “The last gardener quit. He hated the commute.”

“Get off.” You tried to elbow him and he grabbed the back of your head. He slammed it down onto the truck and held you there. “Ow, stop!”

“And on top of finding a new gardener, the bitch I called a girlfriend decided she needed to follow her dreams or whatever shallow shit those spoiled princesses believe these days.” He growled and pushed his crotch into your ass. “And then you show up. Sweet little flower girl. Hard worker… and for what? A beat up Ford and dirt under your nails.”

“Let me go!”

“You know I pay well to have the flowers watered, how much do you think I’d pay for… personal services?”

“You’re disgusting.” You hissed.

“Well,” He laughed. “I guess I don’t have to pay.”

He pulled on the back of your jeans as you wriggled against the hood, the metal seared your cheek. His arm snaked around you as he picked your fly open and pushed his hand down the front of your panties. You gasped as he kicked your feet apart and force his fingers between your legs.

“You like to get dirty, flower girl?” He muttered in your ear. “Hmm.” He rubbed his fingers along your folds. “I think that’s my answer.”

You closed your eyes. You were wet. Sweat, mostly, from the day in the sun, but more. Adrenaline, fear… He shoved a finger inside you and you squeaked. Your feet slipped on the stone work below.

“Please… stop,” You begged and he pushed another finger in.

“Weird how you don’t sound like you mean it,” He drew his fingers in and out as he pressed the heel of his hand to your clit. “How it feels…” He paused as you trembled. “Like you want it.”

“Ransom, Ransom…” You said his name. “Please. This isn’t--”

He filled you to his knuckles and you whimpered.

“Shhh,” He breathed. “This is a respectable neighbourhood… not that anyone can hear you.”

He slid his fingers out of you and left a slick trail along your pelvis as he pulled back. He ripped down your jeans from behind. His hand moved to your neck and he squeezed painfully. He wrenched your panties down and pinched your bare ass. You whined and kicked helplessly.

You pushed on the hood, trying to force him off. You only ended up with your ass pressed against him.

“Oh, I like that,” He stepped back and slapped your ass. “You really think you can win.”

“Please--”

He slapped you again. You swallowed your protests and he shifted behind you. The smooth whisper of a zipper followed and had you tensed against the truck. Your sweaty hands slipped over the metal.

He prodded you with his tip as he stepped closer. He bent his knees against your legs. He guided his dick along your cunt, poking around until he found your entrance. You inhaled sharply as he inched inside. Your walls clenched around him as he sank into. You were taken off your feet as he rammed into you entirely. You cried out and slapped the hood.

“Ow, stop, stop.” You exclaimed.

His hand left your neck as he grabbed your hips instead. He slammed you into the truck as he thrust into you harshly. You lifted your head as your back arched. Your toes fought to find traction on the ground as you whimpered and reached to try to pull yourself away from him. He easily rocked you back into him as he rutted into you.

Your nerves buzzed as he fucked you harder, the hem of his shirt brushed against your ass each time. You panted as the heat gathered along your spine and stormed through your core. You were so close and the thought repulsed you. Your disgust quickly flitted away as his grunts permeated the air around you.

Your eyes rolled back and you dropped your head back to the hood. You smothered your moans in your arm but your body betrayed you with a violent spasm. You came and he barely seemed to notice as he sped up. 

He bent over you and pushed your legs together. Your walls grew even snugger around him and he groaned. He swore as he twitched and pulled out of you suddenly. He tugged on your jeans as he climaxed in a series of primal snarls. He released you and his shoes scraped against the stonework. He sighed over the metallic zip and you found your feet below you.

You turned, slowly. You looked down at your jeans, rolled below your thighs. Your panties were shiny with his cum as you stared at them dumbly. Your legs shook as your stomach turned.

“Pull those up, flower girl,” Ransom sneered. “It’s not professional to walk around with your ass out.”

You lifted your head and blindly grasped the waist of your jeans. You pulled them up and the wet fabric pressed against your cunt. You buttoned your fly as you watched him reach into his pocket. He pulled out a metal part and winked.

“Pretty sure I can just screw this back into place.” He smirked. “Next Sunday, same time.” He passed you lifted the hood. “I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

[neonponders]

I’m so sorry that I don’t remember who originally posted about Steve accidentally calling Billy, Daddy, and Billy - naturally - going feral for it.

But daydreaming about this helped me sleep so ~ enjoy! (If anyone knows the post I’m talking about, I’ll happily add a link to it in a reblog and the ao3 notes.)

Read on ao3 here.

Featuring reunion/aged up trope ~ (I didn’t really keep canon in mind for this, but if you want it to be post season 3, that’s fine.)

It’s a strange twilight zone, meeting someone again. Being complete strangers with a history.

Not the best history, either, so Steve just had to laugh to himself while he sat on Billy Hargrove’s couch. The guy looked up from the kitchen counter across the open floor plan. “What?”

And Steve might be internally combusting a bit-

A lot.

Because Billy’s hot. Like...Steve can actually appreciate it now. It’s not the first time he feels like a fool for being too slow. Billy was a looker in high school; easily one of the guys who completed puberty first and knew it. Made him an asshole for it. And people liked assholes.

Steve guessed he just didn’t do it right. Being the mean guy. But that was far behind them, now, and Billy’s late twenties were doing him favors.

Steve supposed if young, spry, Adonis Billy came with being a complete dick, then he could appreciatively leave him behind. Because Billy wasn’t a complete dick anymore. And the man strolling back across the room with a pair of whiskey sours was definitely, 100%, burning a hole through Steve’s jeans better than the show-off from high school ever did.

Steve reckoned Adonis never got laid nearly as much as Zeus or Poseidon anyway, which he only knew from Robin’s ramblings about her Greek theatre class. Steve earned a distinct wrinkling of her nose when he said, “Lettuce? Adonis is symbolized with lettuce? Yeah, no. Aphrodite, that cougar, fell for a twink while Daddy Poseidon was getting whoever he wanted with his beard and all.”

Robin had barked a laugh but chided, “Please don’t ever call Poseidon, “Daddy,” ever again. Oh my god.”

Joke’s on her, because now she referred to the gods and heroes by whatever name Steve gave them.

And the joke was on Steve. Because he was definitely the twink in this new situation he found himself in.

Billy had always been stacked. But the guy walking through the university gallery to make Steve’s heart stop beating in his chest was something else. He wasn’t even bigger, really. Something just...happened as soon as a person could see 30 closer than 20. Steve had first noticed it with Robin, because they spent the most time together. Obviously that crush had been snuffed out with her gentle coming-out to him years ago, but Steve still had eyes in his head. Robin aged really well. Steve had begun to wonder if he was aging nearly as gracefully.

Billy, that bastard, strolled right up to him with a freaking mustache of all things, invited them to lunch the next day - where he had switched to clean shaven - and now sat on his couch in his newly built apartment complex with a sweating, rattled Steve. He had neatly pulled him aside before the three of them parted the restaurant to invite Steve over for drinks that evening.

Steve was unprepared for the sculpted scruff on the man’s face now. He’d never seen a guy switch facial hair styles like he was changing shirts. Frankly, he didn’t know anybody who could just grow it that easily.

Steve gulped loudly around his whiskey sour.

It was Billy’s turn to laugh under his breath. “You okay? You never answered me.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, a little out of breath. “I’m just...reeling, here. I think the last conversation we had involved a fist fight.”

Billy laughed again and Steve’s eyes trailed over the shirt fitting perfectly around his built shoulders. Maybe Billy is bigger. In like a...domestic sort of way. Like he still had all his muscle but didn’t throw a fit over a bowl of pasta. Steve is still taller. Steve still had that, at least, but he sure felt like his second puberty hadn’t graced him yet.

Billy was talking. Pay attention, Steve.

Something about Robin. Steve replied, and hoped he was answering close to whatever Billy had said, “Robin teaches there and some of her students were in the exhibition. It’s an art nerd thing. Everybody’s involved, even if it’s not your subject.”

Steve couldn’t tell if the pause was Billy processing or if Steve had been completely off the mark. Deflect. Reroute! his brain told him, so he asked, “Did we ever ask how you knew about the gallery?”

“Max goes to school there.”

“Oh,” Steve chirped bluntly. “Small world.”

Billy hummed a sound low in his chest. Something vibrated inside Steve and he closed his eyes in a hard blink, grasping at flimsy straws for composure. Billy finished, “I was in the area. Definitely a pleasant surprise to see your familiar face.”

“My Lego head?” Steve gestured vaguely at himself. “I guess this block always did stand out.”

Billy huffed a surprised sound, like he hadn’t expected that, but he let it tumble into easy laughter. “You look good. I never saw you with short hair.”

His fingers pushed the arching swoop of Steve’s fringe behind his ear. The briefest touch across his temple finishing on his neck...

I’m going to have a heart attack.

“Thanks. That goes for the both of us.”

Just like he almost missed never snatching a chance with high school Billy, Steve only kinda missed never getting his hands on that mullet. Only to know how soft that hair actually was. Not like Billy needed it, of course. Truly absurd, how he rocked any hair situation on his head that wasn’t shaped like a Lego person’s.

Steve finished his whiskey in the next gulp.

He could feel Billy’s laser blue eyes notice this, and then he stood from the couch. “I’m getting us some waters.”

“Okay,” Steve chimed dumbly. Feeling dumb.

Jesus Christ, it’s Scoops all over again. You suck. You suck-

“Poseidon liked a twink too, you nimrod,” Robin had teased back. “His name was Anteros.”

“And he dies too, right?”

“Nope. He’s basically Poseidon’s husband and chauffeur.”

“Aw. Good for Daddy P.”

Billy returned. “Are you one of these people who likes seltzers?”

Steve blindly took the can while his thoughts slammed mutinously into, Daddy B. B is kinda cute. Shorter-

“Thanks-

Billy.

-daddy.”

Steve opened the can before it sank in what he’d just said. Carbonation gently kissed his skin as he held the can to his lips but didn’t drink. Some may or may not have landed in his lap before he lowered it to see Billy’s unreadable face.

“Oh my god.” Steve rushed to place the can on the coffee table and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“Did you...?”

“Don’t say it,” he pleaded, removing a hand as if to physically defend against the words in the air.

“Steve-”

His words came muffled from where he hid inside his hands. “Oh my god. I’m gonna throw up.”

He stood up - to go where, he didn’t really know. Probably best to just leave at this point. Way to choke. Way to absolutely choke, Harrington. You don’t even know if Billy’s bi and you just deep-dived into WEIRD-

“I’m really sorry,” he rushed as he stepped around the coffee table.

“Steve.” Billy gripped his arm and pulled right back onto the couch as if it were easy. Steve more than landed in his spot, he landed flush against Billy. His thigh felt Billy’s warmth, and his lips stayed parted to keep breathing when he realized how close their faces were. 

Billy this close was something else, and Steve didn’t have the brain power to navigate it.

“Say it again.”

So it took him a long minute to absorb that. Was he seeing stars? So much for breathing.

“Huh?”

Steve’s lashes sagged heavily over his eyes when Billy leaned tantalizingly close. Either of them could stick their tongues out and taste the other’s lips.

Don’t, he commanded his mutinous subconscious.

“Say it again, Steve.”

He wondered which was louder: his thunderous heart or the racket in his brain trying to turn rusty gears. He whispered against Billy’s skin, “I didn’t mean to say it.”

A hand, gentle but there, found Steve’s nape. “I’m telling you to say it on purpose.”

Was he making fun of him? Steve couldn’t tell. He hadn’t spent more than a handful of hours with him. But his voice made that thing in Steve’s body vibrate and his brain had officially declared itself a lost cause.

In for a penny, in for a pound. Steve closed the gap - tiny as it was - and involuntarily moaned at the softness of Billy’s lips. The hand on his nape tightened and another came to hold the front of his throat; not pressing against his windpipe, but Billy’s fingertips held Steve’s jaw in place and his palm surely felt the drumming of Steve’s heart.

Steve’s tongue couldn’t help itself. He touched the plush skin of Billy’s upper lip, ever so lightly-

Billy groaned, wanton and hungry as he pushed entirely into Steve’s personal space. The latter gasped at the sound, and then he really did see stars as Billy’s tongue fucked against his own. He tasted sour and sweet and the citrus mixed with Billy’s natural taste in such a way that Steve tilted his head for more, pushed right back into Billy’s space.

Steve’s body rotated enough that his knee bumped into Billy’s. Then Billy was gripping that joint hard enough to bruise so that he could pull Steve all the way around to straddle him. Steve clumsily climbed onto his lap, grateful for the influx of air as Billy planted wet kisses and pressed his tongue into Steve’s pulse. He didn’t really know what the boundaries were anymore. This was explosive and sudden and Steve sat, unsure, higher up on Billy’s thighs-

“Ahh!” he burst when Billy gripped his hips and yanked his pelvis flush against him. Steve’s moan clipped short into a small ache of pain. The way his jeans tightened with the stretch of his thighs crimped into his already throbbing erection.

Billy opened his jeans. Steve’s voice escaped with his gasp when the colder backs of his fingers touched his belly as he dipped into Steve’s underwear. He stood up on his knees to give Billy the room to free his erection, and Steve couldn’t help the moan that exhaled out of him when he sat back down, feeling Billy’s soft shirt against his red cockhead.

Steve shivered as Billy’s hands slid up and around his body, mapping out Steve’s topography and shoving his shirt as high as Steve’s collarbones. Steve felt like a lewd wet dream: an exposed, panting mess on Billy’s lap. His heart ricocheted around his ribs with the sharp tickle of stubble, and he whimpered as it scraped over his nipple and chest.

“Your shirt,” he heaved, knowing he was dripping precum. “Billy-”

“Call me what you did before.” He reached into the back of Steve’s jeans and gripped a handful of his ass that had Steve lurching forward and bucking into the softness of that shirt and tummy, the warmth of Billy’s body. Steve whined when Billy held him down, unable to move.

“Say it. Whatever you want. Just say it for me.”

Steve bought a little time by kissing him, hard. Hard enough to make Billy lie back into the couch, his head tilted up to moan into Steve’s mouth. Steve’s lips nuzzled the side of his lips and began an exploratory trail across Billy’s cheek and jaw, down to his throat.

“I just...wanna feel all of this on me. I wanna feel your beard so much I’ll still feel it tomorrow... Daddy.”

Steve’s voice pitched to the ceiling when a hand gripped his hair. Billy’s other hand released his ass cheek to push encouragingly on Steve’s lumbar the same time he drew Steve’s earlobe into his mouth. Steve gripped the couch upholstery behind Billy’s shoulders as he bucked against him, rutting like a teenager. Billy’s own jaw fell for his moan to escape when Steve’s ass and backs of his thighs moved over his own cock trapped in his pants.

Steve tried to slow down a little, to rub against him without making the fabric chaff. “Daddy, what do want?”

If he didn’t feel Billy’s heartbeat before, he sure as hell did now. Steve felt it against his hands as he sought to know the contours of Billy’s shoulders and chest. He watched Billy’s swallow through the gorgeous neck that lay open to him as Billy gazed up at him. One of his hands traced the gently twitching artery on the side. Steve began to pepper slow, audible kisses against his face. When he landed on Billy’s lips, Billy kissed back, and when he wandered all the way up to Billy’s temple, Billy let him. Only his hands moved sluggishly between Steve’s thighs and his waist, seeking skin underneath his shirt.

Steve came back down to whisper against Billy’s lips, “Daddy?”

It was a blur of movement punctuated by Steve’s surprised yelp of glee as Billy threw him onto his back on the couch. Billy kissed the laughter out of his flushed, red throat, growling in satisfaction at how those bubbles of mirth sank into breathy moans.

“I’ve wanted you for years, pretty boy.”

Steve’s brain didn’t absorb that so much as his body did. Pinballs of emotion and sensation darted to and from his groin. He lifted his leg to rest across the back of the couch and to give Billy access to whatever he wanted.

Strong hands moved carefully - fondly - over Steve’s thighs. A stuttering breath left him when Billy clutched the backs of his legs. A sweet ache to have the muscle squeezed there.

“Don’t hold back on me now, baby,” Billy taunted, pressing his hands into the couch on either side of Steve and aligning his bulge with Steve’s hole and undercarriage still inside his jeans. “Let me hear you.”

Steve’s other leg wrapped around him and he lifted his pelvis to grind against Billy’s front. Billy’s bravado melted into an anguished, blissed-out frown as he shut his eyes against the sensation. When he opened them, Steve held his cock in hand, pumping himself in time with his pelvis rolling up to meet Billy.

It was sloppy and desperate and Steve didn’t think he ever did this even as a teenager. It had all been a small town rush to get hands or mouths on skin and get rid of the stigmatizing V-card. Except when Steve was in love, and allowed to take his time...

Steve didn’t know if he was in love now. But as another wave of ticklish warmth darted through him, Steve laughed a little.

“What?” Billy asked, not unlike the first time.

“I just...I just like this, that’s all,” Steve admitted. “You feel good. You smell good. Ahh! I’m close.”

“Let me see you, baby. Let me taste the mess you make.”

That didn’t so much as nudge Steve off the cliff as it drop kicked him into his orgasm.

“Hahh! Daddy, I’m there! I’m there...”

The mind-halting knot of sensation burst inside him with a force that let Steve not even care that he craned his face toward the arm of the couch, moaning and splashing his hair over the upholstery like a romance novel cover.

He realized somewhere in the middle that Billy had grasped his cock and was the reason his climax kept going. Milking little dribbles of cum out of him. Steve hadn’t cum like this in years, and he lay riveted to Billy hastening his rhythm to chase his own cliff edge.

The furrowed brows of concentration on Billy’s face were wiped off by Steve gripping his shirt and yanking him down for Steve to taste him, to plunder his mouth and feel that soft material against his own bare, messy torso. 

Billy shuddered and pushed, pushed against Steve like he meant to bury his cockhead inside as he came. The visual sent an aching thrill into Steve’s core, knowing how Billy looked when he came and knowing that he’d cum inside. It made Steve eager to feel the pressure of his thrusts and the aftershocks when he pulled out to repeat it all again.

Steve had just cum like a seventeen year old and wanted to go all the way, with Billy’s hands all over his backside and his scruff against Steve’s ass cheeks-

Billy’s hand brushed over his hair and eased around to cradle his head. “What are you thinking behind those big eyes?”

Steve blinked drunkenly up at him even though it certainly wasn’t whiskey giving him this high. “My eyes?”

“Mmhm,” Billy hummed through lips pressing into a content smile. He hovered over his elbows, still framing Steve in but not crowding him. Fingertips pressed little swirls over his scalp, drifting around his ear. “I like your big, doe eyes.”

No one ever commented on his eyes. His hair, obviously. His butt. His shoulders. His moles. Billy gazed down at him, searching through Steve’s thoughts. The way he always had, really.

“Thinkin’ about you creaming me instead of your pants.”

Billy turned his head to the side so he didn’t laugh directly in Steve’s face. “Only if I’m not dreaming this time.”

This time.

God, Steve liked what that implied.

His arms came around Billy’s shoulders, loving the broadness and weight of the man on top of him. He kissed him softly, bumping his nose against Billy’s and eliciting a groan while Billy tilted his head and deepened the kiss.

“Again,” he begged through the kiss. “I want you again, Daddy.”

[idga-buck]

Some and Others, 2/?

Bucky finds it difficult to end a relationship without a good reason, until he has a good reason.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3,702

Content: sexual references (18+ only), swearing, Bucky seems like a jerk in this, but he really isn’t. I’m so behind on FATWS (like..second episode behind) because the friend I’m watching with is very busy and I respect that. This doesn’t contain any spoilers that I know of and doesn’t use the show as a point of reference. May change in future chapters if I ever get to watch it.

“Fuck... Fuuuu-“

The word died in Bucky’s chest, dissolving into a

mouthful of shamelessness. Grunts that vibrated against the back of his teeth as his body tightened, every muscle from his fingers digging into your hips to his burning quads pulled so taut that his ass cheeks could have crushed rock between them. He was getting rather comfortable using his new body to dole out something other than pain and suffering, to experience something else too. Though by the yellowing finger shaped bruises scattered on your legs and arms, there was still a little pain. The good kind, you’d assured him many times and some days Bucky Barnes was in awe of the fact that there was a “good kind” of pain. He wasn’t ready to be on the receiving end to find out for himself and you never pushed him to it. You were good, he liked that.

When his orgasm faded, leaving Bucky feeling like an empty husk of a man, he leaned down to kiss you in the middle of your back. A “good job” kind of peck that ended with him pulling out and pulling away to flop his sweaty body into your bed. There was a fuzzy blanket that irritated his heated skin and while he kicked awkwardly at it until it fell onto the floor, you were catching your breath next to him and inching closer. He wasn’t in the mood to cuddle and he closed his eyes hoping you wouldn’t expect too much. That was why he’d come over so early in the morning anyways. To see you off to work in a fun way, but at a time when he knew you wouldn’t be able to dawdle. Much to his surprise, you kissed his shoulder, the same little gesture he’d given your spine, and then rolled away, yanking a flowery robe from under his wide spread leg to pull it out. It was getting hot outside, the summer air a little too sticky when it seeped under those long sleeved shirts he preferred, but thankfully you kept a stand up fan at the end of your bed and Bucky sighed dreamily when he heard you flick it on, the artificial breeze shooting up his legs and cooling his damp skin. He’d expected you to continue your walk across the room and into the bathroom to prep for work, but your footsteps were muffled, which meant you’d stayed on the rug next to his side of the bed. Even with his eyes closed, he could tell you were watching him. Sure enough, there was a small dip in the mattress next to his head and your hand reached up to play with his sweaty hair.

“I could call in today.”

Bucky’s left eye fluttered open at the offer. You’d squatted next to the bed, leaning in one elbow to mess with the hair around his ears while you spoke. He usually liked that. There weren’t any memories of gentle touches from the last oh, 7 decades or so, and the therapist he stopped going to had encouraged him to seek out hands that didn’t hurt him. He’d found you shortly after and it felt good enough. Lately, especially today, Bucky just wanted the touching to stop making him feel so guilty.

“You’ve been gone a week, maybe we-“

“Better not,” he interrupted, rolling his head against the pillow to look at you. It felt like the decent thing to do. Look a person in the eye when you tell them no.

You were still smiling at him, but the hand that was touching him fell to the mattress. “You sure? We could stay in bed,” your voice lifted, knowing it was an extremely tempting offer. “I missed you, soldier.”

“Yeah,” Bucky offered a tight smile that probably looked even less convincing when it was half smashed into a pillow. “You should go to work.”

You licked your lips and kept them tucked in over your teeth as you nodded then stood without saying anything else. You’d get ready in the bathroom, Bucky would close his eyes again and pretend to be asleep when you emerged. You’d kiss his cheek and he’d enjoy your quiet apartment for the rest of the day while you were at work. It was how things had gone for a while. Long enough that it surprised Bucky a bit that you were still offering to stay home with him after he’d returned from a mission.

He flinched a bit when the bathroom door creaked open again and recovered quickly, waiting for his kiss before the front door closed behind you. But he heard dull footsteps pause before being replaced by the sharp sound of heels against wood. Then the rivets on your leather bag scraped over the kitchen counter and the keys jingled in your hand. Bucky waited, but the door opened then closed again without your lips stopping near his face. He sat up right and looked through the open bedroom door toward the entry, half expecting you to come back in, apologizing as you awkwardly stooped in a tight skirt to right this mistake.

You didn’t. And Bucky took it to mean that you felt it too. This whole thing was over.

He’d started feeling that way just a few weeks ago. You’d been feeling ill and he realized that he was more than happy to stay away. There wasn’t any urgency or desire to take care of you and only realized it a week later when he was coming over and you’d asked him to bring a Gatorade. He’d stopped dead on the street just outside your window and wondered if he should ask after any other needs. Or if maybe he should just assume and bring something he knew you liked. But then he spent too long standing in front of the candy rack by the glass covered register without a clue what you liked. He grabbed one of everything at first then put them all back, not wanting to admit he hadn’t been paying attention. He’d been a spy, an assassin, a marksman, a ladies man- all of which required keen observations. Yet, he’d missed this. Bucky told himself it hadn’t come up and he paid for only what you asked before heading upstairs.

After that, he started to feel off about everything. Noticing all the different things he didn’t necessarily like about- not you- but being with you. Not that it would sound any better, but once he realized he wasn’t actually ready to be in a relationship, the awkward dance began. Bucky Barnes had never been dumped. Obviously. But he’d never really had to let a girl go either. Dating was so different back when he was at it. Dates were frequent and they were fun. Being seen out and being seen with the right girls only made you more popular. It was especially good for the girls and a date with Bucky Barnes was as good as gold. Now, you and he had skipped over all the steps he’d known anything about and once you called yourself his girlfriend he had no clue what to do with you. Fumbling around for a few months didn’t yield much progress and the frustration was too much.

Everytime he thought he’d do it, he decided it wasn’t the right time… or he’d decide to kiss you instead, one last time. Last kisses taste as good as the first if you don’t really mean it and too often, Bucky found himself back in your bed instead of walking away. He’d linger in your apartment while you were at work, treating it like his own secret clubhouse and try not to think about how his mother would pinch his ear for how he was treating you. So Bucky finally rolled out of your bed and stepped into the shower.

Under the spray, he eyed the products you kept in a gray plastic bin for him and he wondered if he should throw them out when he was done. He had no use for them back in the compound, but when he pictured you coming home to find all his stuff in the trash before he’d had a chance to say something, he left the bottles where they were and toweled off. Then he dressed and checked his phone in the kitchen. You’d texted from your office, asking him if he’d meet you for dinner. He didn’t prefer going out, but he could suck it up for this. It would be easier to let you down in public. Maybe. Bucky agreed and you responded with a tiny picture of a floating yellow head. It was smiling so he slid his phone into his pocket and left it there to eye the kitchen next. Part of him wanted to leave, knowing what he’d have to tell you later. But another part of him was hungry and he knew you kept bacon in the freezer for weekends. So he stayed.

He’d changed into a set of clothes in the bottom drawer of your dresser. Just a black pair of jeans and a sweater that you said made his arms look tasty. The outfit was left after a different date and now Bucky was glad to be getting it out of your dresser. He didn’t bother leaving the city, but he did leave the apartment, knowing you’d stop home to change before heading to the restaurant you chose. He found a bar to sit at until 6:00, but while he was killing time a text message came in that ruined his whole evening.

Bucky should have seen it coming and when the toe of his boot collided with the trash can outside, he wished it was his own brain. Or heart. Or whichever other organ was responsible for putting him in this mess. He looked down toward the sidewalk and kicked that too. He knew exactly which organ got him here.

There were plenty of signs. Little moments that he ignored to soothe every selfish ache. The need for sleep, the need for comfort, the need for release, the need for something that was just his. You’d given him all of that without question, but clearly not without expectation. Dating a hundred year old soldier came with its own difficulties sure, but dating an Avenger seemed to make up for all of that. Bucky knew he wasn’t blameless, having agreed to the whole boyfriend thing knowing your name, your address, and how much he liked sleeping on your sheets. Beyond that you were a mystery to him and it seemed to be unraveling right before him.

This kind of thing was meant for Steve or Tony, the faces of the organization not the bloody fists behind them. Bucky hadn’t even considered that he was being used until FRIDAY alerted him of a sudden social media buzz that included his name circulating around the internet. Tweets and posts and fan accounts which he wasn’t aware he had were passing around a photo of him. It was undeniably him. Even without seeing it on a regular basis, Bucky could recognize his own back from a photograph. The problem was his shirt, or lack thereof, highlighting the fact that one of his arms was the color of gunpowder and twice as deadly. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out who it was.

Aside from the obvious violation, feeling like the intimate moments he’d guarded so carefully were suddenly being invaded by a world of people who didn’t know him, Bucky also couldn’t help but feel hurt as the leaked photo proved something he’d suspected, but never gave much thought to. You were only with him to be with an Avenger. He wasn’t sure it would matter who it was, you would have gone home with any member of the team given the chance. It was his face you found at the bar that night, so it was his life you slithered into without remorse. Bucky had only one desire left when it came to you— to slither out the same way.

“What is this?”

Bucky dropped the phone on the table between you and watched you wince at the loud clattering of silverware. If only you’d known his real desire was to throw the damn thing. On the screen before you was a familiar photo, one you’d posted yourself to Instagram, desaturated just enough to catch the early morning sun glinting off Bucky’s arm complete with the location “Welcome to New York” and appropriate Taylor Swift lyrics in the caption. The muscles in his bare back tensed as he looked out the window of a swanky hotel room. You’d met him for drinks in the bar downstairs when the night manager caught wind of the avenger in his hotel and made the surprisingly vacant presidential suite available for you two. It’d been a good night. A very good night, Bucky thought, before those steamy memories were spoiled in this very moment.

“Earth’s Mightiest Lover, question mark?” You read aloud, laughing at the headline, before looking up at Bucky’s face drawn tight in annoyance. “I mean, it’s not far off,” you offered casually, winking as you passed Bucky his phone back. He was unamused and watched as you straightened in your seat, tone suddenly matching the serious look on his face. “My page is private, I don’t know how they got that.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he seethed. “You posted it.”

You scoffed. “I didn’t realize this was a secret.” You sounded offended and that surprised Bucky. As if you didn’t know exactly what you’d done.

“What I do in my personal life isn’t anyone’s business,” he insisted, still standing next to the table instead of sitting to join you.

He only became aware of the other patrons watching the exchange when your eyes left his to float around the room. You lowered your voice in response. “Well, what I choose to share from my life is.��

“This isn’t about you,” he sighed, dropping his voice a bit to match yours. No reason to bring anymore unwanted attention to himself.

“It feels like it is!” Your whisper was forceful and you turned your face away from him immediately after. “Why the big fuss, Bucky? Was it really a secret?” He didn’t answer. If he’d done what he’d been meaning to do sooner, this whole thing could have been avoided and he felt more ashamed of himself than you. It wasn’t that you were a secret, per se. It just wasn’t something he knew enough about to share with the world. He was still getting used to this century, let alone dating in it, let alone being a public figure in it. There wasn’t any part of him that wanted to fail in front of an audience and he assumed you’d know that. Even if he’d never told you. “What’s the point of a superhero boyfriend if no one can know,” he heard you mutter while he was lost in thought.

Bucky froze. “What’s the point?”

“Bucky, I’m sorry,” you said quickly. The air around your table changed immediately and you’d both picked up on it. “I hear how that sounds, that sounds bad, that’s not how I meant-“ he turned around and unfortunately, you chose to follow. He heard the offended gasp of a nearby table as you scampered after him, heels a dull thud in the thick carpet. “Bucky, come on. I didn’t mean it, can we talk about this?”

“No,” he said gruffly, pushing the door open and stepping out onto the sidewalk again.

“We’ve both said things-“

“Well, I’m done saying things.”

“Wait…” Bucky stopped walking when you grabbed at his arm. You didn’t normally go for his left side. He didn’t know if it was because you found it weird or if you thought he did. Another thing he never brought up. The feeling of your hands wrapped around vibranium was startling enough for him to face you, expectantly. “What just happened here?”

“This isn’t going to work for me,” he said, watching your mouth twitch a little as you considered his words. At least he wasn’t kissing you. He still kind of wanted to, it’d become a sort of habit over the last few months. When he was wound up, like he was now, he came to you and you made it go away. Simple. Yet now it felt complicated. Like the relationship was supposed to be more but also felt like too much. He wasn’t ready for it and as long as he focused, as long as he got out as soon as possible, he wouldn’t slide back into comfortable ways.

“Bucky…” your eyes were wide and your voice broke a bit at the end of his name. “Are we… are you breaking up with me?” You asked, before adding, “Over a picture?”

No, but also yes.

Bucky knew that he should, before you got hurt, though apparently he was too late for that. Your arms were crossed over your chest defensively and he dropped his eyes to the pavement. It wasn’t the picture. It was everything. The picture gave him permission to do the right thing. Though the right thing probably would have been telling you he wasn’t interested in a relationship at all when you asked.

“Delete the picture,” he said simply, choosing not to say more. “You don’t have a superhero boyfriend to brag about anymore.” With the twisting of that knife, he felt more like the Winter Soldier again in that moment than he had in months. Cruel and beyond his own control.

It happened so fast. All of it. By the time he’d returned to the compound, half the team was waiting for him. Tony stood smugly looking like a dad that hated being the bad cop, while Steve wondered aloud why Bucky had kept his relationship a secret for so long anyways. Sam’s questions were blessedly lighthearted, but Bucky’s gratitude could only be expressed in quick grunts as he pushed through the Brady Bunch. Back in his room with the door shut, Shuri called and without really thinking, Bucky answered. He didn’t turn to face the hologram floating above the kimoyo beads on his bedside table, just let the princess talk directly at the side of his head while he listened.

“Sergeant Barnes!” The honorific was standard for her and most of the time he appreciated it, but storming out of a date like a teenager had him feeling less than worthy of any title. He was barely fit to command his own personal life at that second and being called sergeant left a sour taste at the back of his tongue. If the boys could see him now, moping about because a gal was too eager to show him off. Ridiculous.

“Bucky…” he muttered to himself, but it didn’t matter. Shuri was already rambling excitedly about something or other she’d cooked up in her lab. Under normal circumstances, Bucky would be enthralled, but he was tired. Not physically, after accidentally on purpose taking a nap in your bed before getting dressed again. Just… all the other kinds of tired that he couldn’t talk about. So while the Princess talked, Bucky hummed randomly. He didn’t think he was allowed to miss this call and stayed on the line, though his disinterest was noticeable and promptly called out.

“Why do you look like someone kicked your goat?” Bucky turned to glare at the floating head and Shuri cackled. His time as a shepherd was nothing compared to the real Wakandans who’d been perfecting their craft over thousands of years, but she’d never let him forget his ‘roots’ as she jokingly called them. Because of her he was reborn, therefore Wakanda was his de facto home. Honorary member of the border tribe and the royal family’s favorite broken white boy.

“We broke up.”

“You know,” she started in a light tone, far too playful in response to his news. “White Wolf is just a name, you don’t have to be so lonely… or mopey.”

“I’m not mopey,” he argued, but the fight wasn’t really there.

“Says the mope,” Shuri countered, sucking her teeth and shaking her head. “Nakia would twist your lip if she saw it stuck out like that.”

“Well the next time I’m in the presence of the queen I’ll let her.”

“You know Sergeant Barnes,” the youthful tone in her voice disappeared instantly. She sounded every bit of the Black Panther mantle. “It’s been a long time since a man has snapped at me like that and walked away unscathed.” There was an underlying threat that sent Bucky upright, sitting on the edge of his bed and lifting the beads in his palm. Already his posture was more respectful than it had been a moment ago.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely and Shuri nodded. “I… I don’t want to talk about it.”

Finally the princess’s smile broke back through and Bucky was instantly relieved. “I didn’t call you to talk about girls anyways.”

“Can we skip this one?”

“No,” said Shuri, leaving no room for argument.

“How many diagnostics does one arm need?”

Shuri looked back up from the tablet she’d grabbed and squinted at Bucky. “The next time you rebuild a brain and an arm from scratch- you can tell me.”

And there was nothing to say to that, so Bucky detached the arm in question and set it down before popping a single kimoyo bead into the empty joint. He got comfortable and waited for Shuri to engage him again for another evaluation. The first year was critical, she kept saying, and he had no choice, but to agree with her.

He’d never rebuilt an arm or a brain.

While he waited for her to need his input again, Bucky thought about you. How surprised you looked when he started to walk away. Maybe you hadn’t seen it coming like he had. Just before Shuri finished with the arm, he’d decided to reach out to you. Not tonight. Probably not even tomorrow. But at some point, he’d apologize for the brusqueness of his exit. If he got the chance to.

Photo because, Bast bless this woman. She is too good for the world. Also. A mood. Shuri isn’t here to fix your relationship, Bucky. She’s a genius and a princess and a badass.

A/N: this is my not so subtle introduction to a genre I have created called, what is everybody else doing? Ok do the opposite just for fun. One of my favorite things in fic is when Bucky finds himself a girl who’s DiFfErEnT. Seriously I eat that shit up like fourth meal. But for fun, I asked, what if ‘reader’ is just like everyone else? A little shallow. A little star struck. A little in over her head. A little bit Alexis. Jk. Kind of. The excitement starts in the next chapter which I won’t wait two months to post. I don’t think.

Tags: @fangirl-swagg

[enchantedblackrose]

All the Pieces Pt 3

Gif not mine. Full credit to the owner. Taken from Google Images

All the Pieces

Sirius Black/Fem Reader

Warnings: unedited, mild language, alcohol consumption, brief mentions of underage drinking, small mention of bullying. Lengthy author's notes at the end. Also this was a huge PIA to write so hopefully it doesn't read too disconnected

Part 1|| Part 2|| Part 4|| Part 5

Part 3 of ?

When you touch me gently I remember how you know And the sun shines rings around your smile And I'm here laughing like a child -Pieces, Dan Powell

If it was any other person on your doorstep, you'd probably berate them for inducing that almost heart attack you just experienced. Instead you grab the familiar face by the sleeve of his worn jacket, pulling him into your living room.

"I could deck you, Remus John Lupin. I thought someone came for him. Ugh. Come here." Your arms wrap  around him for a tight hug, which he returns. "He's here, Remus. He's safe." You feel Remus let out a deep sigh of relief. Pulling away, you look at him with gentle scrutiny, knowing what a toll last night took on him. "You look awful. Did you walk far? You should've told me you were coming. I could have met you."

Remus shakes his head. "I caught a train and apparated most of the way."

"Stop fussing over him, y/n. Let the poor man get past the door."  Sirius's teasing voice calls out from behind you; no doubt his canine ears allowed him to hear the familiar voice even through the closed bedroom door and knew it was safe to come down.

The two men embrace; this encounter being much more relaxed than their last. No Peter, no warranted need for revenge, no threat of execution.

As you all stand in your living room, a haunting thought hits you: you three are it, the last of your true friends. Peter is the traitor. You suppress a shudder, swearing to make the most of this moment.

"You know," you say with a grin, "I happen to have a large bottle of firewhisky. Fancy a drink, boys?" Sirius's grin mirrors your own. Remus has a small tentative smile, but it's all the encouragement you need to send you to the kitchen to fetch the bottle.

The small, quaint kitchen appears even smaller with the disregarded dishes from breakfast still sitting out on your table. The sight causes a small frown to appear on your face. All the rest of the morning and most of your afternoon had been lost to the unplanned nap with Sirius. You fill your sink with soap and hot water. A few flicks of your wand and your dirty dishes are submerged in the water, scrubbed, and rinsed. The process begins again as now clean plates make their way to the drying rack, which is concerning because you dont believe you cast a spell for that. Confused, you turn to see Remus in the kitchen. He winks and wordlessly reaches your top cabinet without so much of a stretch to retrieve the bottle of firewhisky. You follow him back to the livingroom, toting three glasses.

"Cheers to freedom," you say once everyone has a full glass, "and to being reunited with old friends."

"You hear that, Remus? She thinks we're old." You roll your eyes good naturedly. Remus rests a hand on Sirius's shoulder, giving it a brotherly pat. "We are old," he says simply, before all three of you raise your glasses to your lips, sipping at the burning liquid. You each settle comfortably in your living room. Remus sits in the armchair, leaving the overstuffed couch for Sirius and you. You sit at an end, while he opts for the middle seat, but in a respectable distance of your space. The bottle of alcohol sits in arms reached on the coffee table.

"I thought you swore off this stuff y/n." Remus says with a twinkle in his eye as he takes another drink from his glass. "You know, considering your history with it.." You groan and Sirius throws his head back in laughter.

"I almost forgot," Sirius says breathlessly from laughing. "Was that seventh year?"

"Sixth. Just before we got together. I suppose I was trying to impress you," you tell him.

"You matched me drink for drink that night."

"Which was mad seeing how I never had a drink before. I spent all next morning and afternoon in bed, throwing up. It was awful."

"You're forgetting the best part," Remus interjects.

"Dancing on top of that old table in the Shrieking Shack, singing the chorus of "Rock and Roll all Nite" at the top of my lungs was far from the best part. I only wish I could forget it."

"That wasn't singing, love. More like cats dying," Sirius quips while he and Remus laugh. You say nothing, well aware how accurate the description fits. You take a long drink from your glass.

"Yes, well as, uh, entertaining as that moment was, I wasn't referring to it," says Remus. You look at him questioningly. "Have you forgotten sneaking into the Slytherin boys' dorm, stealing all their robes, turning them hot pink, changing the crest to a mountain troll, and then returning them to the dorm?"

"Oh,  Merlin. That was the same night wasn't it? James had never been so keen on lending me his invisibility cloak until I concocted that plan!" The two men laugh and you join in.

"You know most of my other friends thought I was strange for being into muggle music." You say as the laughter dies down.

"Lily shouldn't have?" Sirius asks after he swallows his drink.

"No. You're forgetting Lily and I weren't friends first. We didn't really talk or hang out until she and James started dating."

"That's right. I forgot. I remember the two of you constantly together."

"Because we bonded over you two idiots. Prior to that, she never came out and said it, but I think she thought I was daft hanging around you lot most of the time. The other girls were more forgiving, but they had crushes on you all." You give a careless shrug. It was no secret how sought after the boys had been in their schooldays.

"I never quite understood how you became friends with us," Remus says.

"It was easy with you. You were so nice, calm, dependable, and not obnoxious. Peter…" you pause, choosing words carefully, not wanting present feelings to influence memories. "He was quiet and lonely. Pretty much agreeable. Again, easy. James and Sirius? I was determined to never speak to either after that boat ride our first night."

"We saved your life that night!" Sirius interjects.

"You two were the reason it needed saving! Standing up in a fucking boat because you two saw whatever in the lake. James knocking me overboard in the process."

"It was a giant squid and we rescued you."

You roll your eyes. "I was drenched, freezing and completely mortified. And as apologetic as James was, he kept calling me the wrong name." You all laugh. 

"It wasn't until second year that I thought they might be okay. We had already become friends," you say looking at Remus. "I missed about a week of classes due to acute bronchitis. You spent time with me afterwards, helping me catch up. When you missed later that month, I was ready to return the favor."

Remus nods, remembering the time fondly. "You were an excellent note taker. Much better than the other three."

"Did you even take notes?" You ask with a playful glance to Sirius.

"In second year? Probably not." He grins ever so cheekily. You shake your head, but are smiling.

"So we became friends and you befriended James and Sirius by default?" Remus muses.

Sirius feigns hurt. "Are you implying we were some sort of consolation prize?"

"Actually," you interject, "They saved me once again. A group of four older boys were harassing me, just dumb taunts and knocking my books out from my hands. They came right over, not caring about being outnumbered. Got the gits to leave me alone. James finally learned my name and I realized Potter and Black weren't so awful after all."

"Those guys were jerks. It didn't sit well with us to see anyone bullied like that."

"Unless of course it was Snape," you counter.

"That was different," Sirius's free hand clenches into a fist as he takes a hard drink.

Remus is quick to change the subject. "Do you still have that remembrall?"

"The one we enchanted to go red only for James? Mhm! It's at my flat in the city."

"Do you mean our flat?" Sirius asks.

Your smile falters. "No. Sirius. I got a different place. After…everything. It was too hard."

A deafening silence falls. Each of you taking long sips from your glasses.

"Oh!" You jump up suddenly, which given your somewhat inebriated state is not the brightest idea. You stumble slightly, but Sirius steadies you, grabbing you by your hips. His fingers linger and your eyes meet. You lose yourself; for a moment you're sixteen again and his touch is more intoxicating than the alcohol. His gaze tells you he feels the same.

Remus clears his throat loudly before taking a drink from his glass.

"Thanks," you mumble, setting your glass on the table.

Sirius releases you from his grasp, though you still feel the ghost of his touch. "'Tis no trouble, darling." You sense his eyes on you as you disappear from the room, heading upstairs. Your head is buzzing, but you blame that on the alcohol…

You return downstairs to the living room, the fetched item tucked securely out of sight under your arm, and find the boys, men talking with easy smiles. It makes you so happy to witness and spend this time together. Your presence has their full attention.

"Follow me, please." You fill your glass with more firewhisky. Sirius mimics the gesture and offers Remus a refill, but he just shakes his head no and silently indicates to the liquid still in his glass. You grab your wand and lead your little group outside to the backyard. The sun sits low in the west, the sky becoming more plum and black than pink and gold. Buckbeak sits on the ground near your shed, one wing tucked over its head.

You hand Sirius your wand and then produce his prisoner robes. He laughs and even Remus looks as if he approves. Sirius waves your wand and the dingy, tattered garment is set ablaze. 

After a while, you all make your way back inside. You prepare a light dinner and the eating and drinking continue with more laughs and shared memories. Hours pass. The contents of the bottle nearly drained signal the night coming to an end.

"I'm one drink away from dancing on tabletops and singing, or, screeching some A-ha, or something equally as embarrassing." you laugh. "I'm going to bed. Remus, I offered Sirius your room, but you're welcome to the couch. There are blankets and pillows in the hall closet." 

"Thank you, y/n. But I should be going."

"What? No. Stay. I insist. I need to see your bemused face sipping tea when I come downstairs with a bloody hangover and you're just fine."

Remus grins. "I hate depriving you both of such a moment, but I have an appointment tomorrow morning. I've already rented a room." You frown but don't press the issue any more. "Though if you don't mind, I thought I'd travel by floo."

"Of course. Help yourself. Powder is on the mantle." You hug him close and kiss his cheek. You excuse yourself, giving the other two time to say goodbye.

As you head for the bathroom, you pause hearing their low voices.

"I'm so sorry, old friend, for believing you... betrayed them. I should have known better. I-"

"There's nothing to forgive. I doubted you, too. The war made us all fear the worst.."

Mentally, you chastise yourself for eavesdropping and begin washing your face.

Sirius has made his way upstairs. In passing his room, you say goodnight. You're about to close the door to your bedroom when he calls your name and you turn to see him stepping towards you. Without warning his lips crash down on yours. Your fingers intertwine in his dark curls at the nape of his neck as you let the kiss deepen. His hands grip your waist and he hoists you up off your feet with little effort just as he did many times all those years ago. Your legs wrap themselves around his waist as he carries you to your bed. He drops you gently and only breaks the kiss to look at you. Still hovering over you, his gray eyes search your face for the answer to an unasked question. You nod in response, but he continues to gaze at you longing to hear you say it.

"I want you."

A slow breath of relief leaves him and his mouth finds its way back to yours. 

The night ends with two former lovers once again completely losing themselves in a perfect moment.

//

There's an unspoken understanding that the night you and Sirius shared together was more than a drunken hookup after a long night of reminiscing. But you don't repeat the night, though you share your bed with him. Nights are hard for him. Sleep doesn't always come easy and he often wakes in the middle of the night screaming, or panicked with sweat pouring off his body. But your presence brings him a comfort he can't otherwise achieve. And so, you spend your night together in your bed. Sleeping.

As days turn into weeks, a comfortable routine has set. Remus visits about once a week. Surprisingly, Sirius has taken to caring for your garden. You go into town as needed and you and Sirius cook dinner together most nights. Buckbeak, now known as Witherwings per a letter from Hagrid that reached Sirius, roams your yard freely, occasionally taking flight in the safety of the countryside night skies, always returning by daybreak. As precautions for the hippogriff and Sirius you casted Protego totalum over the cottage and yards. 

During this time together, Sirius learns how you took over your parents' shop*, how you've taken on a promising young woman who mostly looks after it, leaving you to spend more time here at the cottage, which also belonged to your parents. With tears in your eyes, you told him how they died months apart just over two years ago. He comforted you, remembering them both fondly and told you they'd be proud of you.

The day is still young when you tell him you have to go to the shop to take inventory. Before you leave you call out to him.

"Since it looks like rain, can you please go through some of your things in the attic?"

"Yes, dear," he uses the term mockingly and you playfully glare back at him.

"Try not to burn the place down while I'm gone." With that, you close the door behind you.

It's late afternoon when you return home. Sirius is waiting for you. A midnight blue box in his hand.

"Will you marry me, y/n?"

*a/n: I kept this vague so you can imagine a shop that fits your personality/likes/whatever. I'll only specify this later if needed for storylines. I wanted something where you could be allotted time off easily. Personally I imagine maybe an apothecary? Or maybe an antique shop. What about you?

2: I'm thinking of writing a prequel? More like blurbs, highlighting moments between you and Sirius. But I need to know what you want to read. First engagement? First kiss? When Sirius realizes he's in love? Time at Hogwarts? Post Hogwarts but pre Azkaban?

Taglist <3:  @oingo233 @marimorena06 @medalloway-blog

[sometipsygnostalgic]

adventure time wizard city liveblog

 well here we go

my last adventure time liveblog, i havent actually done one of these in MANY years... probably not since 2014

this takes place at the same time as obsidian?

DID-- DID CHOOSE GOOSE JUST DIE

DID BUFO JUST KILL CHOOSE GOOSE

yeah i know that’s bufo, they only made it enormously obvious, tsk tsk

@spaceacepearl​ joked about us seeing choose goose get sent to hell but i diDNT EXPECT IT TO HAPPEN

This music is i assume by one of the many musical artists Adam Muto listed on twitter, it rocks. It’s not as hardcore as Obsidian’s intro, but it’s suitably chill for the scene. 

“get offa my bus kid”

Those wizards in the left and far right groups appear to be new! 

OH MY GOD--

HELP?????? NEW PROFILE PIC TIME

HAHAHAHAH

THE MUSICAL CON DID ME GOOD, I DID REALLY LOUD AUDIBLE LAUGHTER

i bet hanna and co had fun making these signs

my favourite is the cat with “FAMILIARS HAVE RIGHTS”

cadorka..... wow

We’re not even four minutes into the ep and peppermint butler has already killed someone in front of a large group of witnesses

“this smells of DARK MAGIC” “yall kids know thats illegal right” peps watches the other kids nod before later joining in, LOL

i cant believe pep started the great gum wars and got killed by golb

SOMEONE has been playing Overwatch... 

i-- i still cant believe choose goose is fucking dead

how long was he stuck in hell for, or was that recent to together again after new death showed up 

i have to admit im not a big fan of spader, too perfect, and not in that funny way either. i hope they give him some characteristics that make him stand out. 

im getting flashbacks to OK KO and Owl House here...

Cadebra using music is a reference to Abracadaniel’s love of interpretetive dance in Play Date. 

“they only laugh because youre different” “i know” “SO STOP BEING DIFFERENT” oh my god it’s like talking to my own parents cadebra is actually... a LOT like me, less in her hyperactivity but more in her nonchalant enthusiasm and almost acceptance of the inevitable bullying because it means more time in people’s consciousness

ahhh - it’s quietly revealed here that she is responsible and a skilled magician, she is just bored of magic! i like that she parents abracadaniel instead of being downtrodden by his ramblings. 

PEP NO--- oh i see the problem, he hasn’t got his Bug Milk... sorry Martin Olsen fans, no Hunson today. At least we get one more Phil Face for the road! 

candy people in their natural habitat

Ahhh that’s Doctor Calidoneus! The voice actor was at the recent Distant Lands panel alongside Pep and Blaine’s actors. 

“pretty sure hes just trashcandy” - i like you, sassy antler lady

the mystery of how he gets clothes

and once again spader is proving to be the most irritating distant lands character of the lot, there is no subversion here. where is the subversion?  

NANI

what is going on here? are pep and peppermint the same person or not? im sure they must be, but there is something going on here with peppermint butler’s soul being trapped in the body of his child self who hasn’t got the same memories. 

OH, HYNDEN WALCH DID A NEW LINE yes this is what im here for, special over 

peppermint butler cursed himself... of course he did - Shado was correct!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WHAT THE FUCK

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK

ROCK STUDENT, BLESSED ROCK STUDENT, WAS THAT POOR GUY WHO LOOKS LIKE A JAWBREAKER

love the reference to astral plane, of course pep cant astrally project because cursed pep is still inside of him 

wow, blaine, wow

they have a crush

LITTLE DUDE! COLE SANCHEZ!

i love the dynamic between cadebra and abracadaniel, imo so far it’s the heart of the special. im not really gripped by peppermint butler’s school troubles. i imagine someone else probably will be but i want to run past that shit as far as possible. 

TRDGFYGHJH

WE

WE MADE  A PREDICTION THAT WAS JUST LIKE THIS

PEPPERMINT BUTLER GETTING TURNED INTO THE FOUR COMPONENTS OF PEPPER MINT BUTT LURE WAS IN THE WIZARD CITY PREDICTIONS ART DRAW THAT HASNT BEEN POSTED YET

ILL SHOW YOU WHEN NICK POSTS THE VIDEO and then ill tell you who made the prediction because i... think it was nick himself, insanity 

who plagiarized finn’s signature???

turns out pep really DID take over wizard city!!!!

i love this band

i understand your pain peps

you probably have a bit too much in common with your mother, and i imagine it isn’t easy being turned into a kid and not being able to do stuff that came so easy. you’re disappointing yourself! (he’s literally disappointing himself)

I’m less than halfway through the special, what the fuck. I wasn’t wrong when I said Wizard City had a lot on its plate. It’s noit that I’ve been particularly gripped up to this point, though to be fair I didn’t pause at all during the other specials barring Obsidian. 

that... that poor kid is still a rock

and then the preview happened and bufo casually revealed to the audience that, yes, he killed choose goose

i dont know whats happening with pep but it seems he needs to be exorcised of... pep. which is a shame. i hope they learn to coexist. 

i have to say the background work in this special is really good! like, really damn good. 

WH

WHAT

DID SPADER JUST DIE

IS THIS WHY PEOPLE THINK PEPBUT KILLED HIM 

oh thats right - abracadaniel is cadebra’s uncle! this must be abracadniels sister. sorry, folks, he doesn’t fuck. 

Where are they? Is this anywhere near Wizard City? It’s an unpopulated prewar wasteland. 

THESE ARE JUST HUMANS

OF COURSE SHE WANTS TO PERFORM TO MILQUETOAST HUMANS

my child

is this an art style choice or did they get the people from that one studio to make this

HANNA FINALLY GETS TO FULFIL HER DREAM OF INSERTING KANEDA INTO ADVENTURE TIME

the red jacket he wears and his head pill shape is a big kaneda reference actually, which i suppose makes sense considering he’s a rival to our protagonist, but it’s a bit on the nose

bufo killed one of his own students? but why????

“MY UNCLE’S A COP”

“no one likes a rat”

i actually really like blaine, though im confused. did their VA change halfway through the special?

HOW NATURAL, NO WASTE, IT IS AN ENDLESS CHAIN

did doctor caledonius steal the trophy,,,? 

EVIL SNAIL EVIL SNAIL

MONMSTER HUNJTER DISCOVERY NOISE, this time it’s a tetsucabra

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I HAVE QUESTIONS

god i wish this is what this special was about, i miss adventure time

these remind me of the comics with their art style :) i wonder who designed them? the one on the right with pb and pep, in particular, very comics-y. 

fdgfhgf because he’s like 500

“pep can be kind of a jerk but he wouldn’t kill anyone”

sorry, cadebra, i have news for you

is doctor calednoius the true villain? if bufo’s out of the picture, she MUST be, 

ANTS

oh no, he might gbe stuck in wizard city :( 

HELP

the writing on the wall...

SPADER LITERALLY FUCKING DIED OH YM JESUS CHRIST

PEPPERMINT BUTLER’S OWN CULT????

THIS IS JUST OK KO NOW

okay im not surprised all the teachers at wizard city are cultists in worship of peps, maybe they killed spader and bufo because they bullied peps T_T

wait no, they thought spader had the potential, but sadly not

HE FUCKING KILLED HIMSELF

sorry, i was distracted by the pretty dope fight sequence and now the special is over????

fucking jesse, hes probably at least partly responsible for the cult nonsense

This credits art is by Maya Petersen!!!! Holy shit it’s adorable!

LRETGFDRGTFGMHGFHFG

LEAF MAN

DO YOU THINK THEY PUT HIM IN RETROSPECTIVELY

DO YOU THINK MAYA PETERSEN DREW THIS AND ADAM PUT IT IN THE EP RETROSPECTIVELY

HE LIVES

MAYBE THIS IS WHY CHOOSE GOOSE WENT TO HELL

okay, it’s over :) 

first thoughts out of the way: not a big fan of this special. it’s like watching a completely different show. it’s not got the PZSHAHH of the normal wizard city stuff and there weren’t a lot of funny jokes or even hearty moments in the thing. 

it suffers from a lack of invested character interactions, much like BMO did. there was not a single main cast member in the whole thing! and like i said before, much of peppermint butler’s character in the show is based on his very sweet relationship to his mother, princess bubblegum, so when they showed a single (hilarious) photo of them together it made me sad we didn’t get any scenes with them together. it would have STOLEN this episode. and they teased the hunson golf photo, and death!!! and jake appeared in a photo T_T last jake appearance. 

it also suffers because Peppermint Butler is clearly not himself, imo he was way more entertaining in the Together Again special, where we seem him back to his “normal” self. 

i dont think peps being a dark wizard was something to “kill off” exactly. i wonder what was going on there? was that actually peps, or was that a spirit he cursed himself with based on himself? we at least know in the future he does become a dark wizard again, and even princess :) this special didn’t answer those questions but lol. 

THE GOOD STUFF, because yes, there was a lot of good stuff! 

God, I’m with Aracle and Maya on this - I LOVE Cadebra and her relationship to Pep. I wish she was even in more of this - I would love to watch the adventures of Cadebra and Pepbut in their first year of school, like in the end credits.

That, imo, is where the heart of the special lay - Peppermint Butler’s attempts to impress himself, versus Cadebra’s self acceptance and desire to follow her dreams of being a goofy goober, no matter what other people thought of her. 

It turned out that Cadebra is a responsible student and family member. I really liked that. Her scenes with Abracadaniel were, somehow, my favourite in the entire special! 

I like that theres a lot of cool magic towards the end of this special, and a lot of HORRIFYING DEATH. It wouldn’t be adventure time if you didn’t randomly kill off child characters. Poor Spader, I hated you but damn, what a grim fate. 

I like that Bufo and Caledonius had this crush/hatred thing going on, but they were part of the same cult in the end. 

I didn’t like the giant peps scene at the end, the monster was extremely milquetoast compared to the madness we usually get in AT. Obsidian, for example, had the awesome Larvo design. Nemesis had some INSANE dark magic!!!!  I wish they drew more from that episode. 

Considering how much Steve Little appears in this special, I do feel bad for Mace (little Peps). He said he would have really benefitted from coaching, but recieved none. He had to re-record his lines 3 times! Judging from his description of events, Wizard City was a hard time for him. 

The wizard school did remind me, heavily, of both The Owl House and OK KO. Personally I was hoping AT would offer me something more insane, but I do love both of those shows, and I know Wizard City was on a really tight schedule. 

I think they should have spent less time on the school bullying plot, and skipped straight to MURDER. 

We did have a cold opening, not on par with Together Again’s at all, but damn!

I am wondering where I would put this in the watch list? I do think it should sit after Obsidian as the third special. The intro scene makes it clear this takes place at the same time as Obsidian!!!

Well, that was it, the last ep of AT for the next few years at least T_T

i think together again was the better finale, definitely. but wizard city feels pretty detached from AT for me, despite the familiar characters it tonally isn’t like the show other than the awesome brutal death scenes. I thought the last 11 minutes was easily the best in the special! Which, honestly, is how it should be, though I do wish it gripped me more. Maybe I’m just not the target audience for Wizard City? It feels like something I would find very compelling if I was a bit younger! 

[thetravelerwrites]

Roji (Fae) SFW

Rating: Teen Relationship: Gender Neutral Reader/Non-Binary Fae Additional Tags: Exophilia, Fae, Monster Lover, Hermit, Non-binary Character Content Warnings: Bipolar Disorder, Manic Depressive, Manic Episode, Possession, Fae Contract, Depression, Anxiety  Words: 3084

A commission for @unrepentantmonsterlover​​! The reader believes themselves to be possessed by a demon, so they become a hermit in the woods as to not hurt anyone. They’re met with an unusual stranger who trades them a tea that quiets the demons in their mind. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

The cottage was old and falling apart, but it was better than sleeping in a gutter or the woods. It was close enough to the road that you could go into town if you felt like it, but far enough away that it wasn’t visible from the road. You were less likely to be murdered by a highwayman or mauled by a bear in it, at least. You figured that since it was in such a state of disrepair that it didn’t belong to anyone and no one would mind if you lived in it.

You started the process of fixing it, though it was difficult with your… condition. Often, you had trouble controlling your emotions and became angry at nothing and destructive of everything, even though you felt remorseful after the episode was over. The last episode had you destroy the front door of the cottage, which mean you now had to make a new one and it was going to add days of work to your already long list of things to do. But there was nothing for it. You couldn’t help it anyway.

You were possessed by a demon.

It never spoke to you or revealed itself, but it had been with you since you could remember and it compelled you to do things you didn’t want to do, the destruction of the door being an example. It would keep you awake for days, and make you sleep for days. You’d forget to eat, or refuse to eat, or do nothing but eat. It made you tired for no reason, manic for no reason, scream for no reason, and silent for no reason. You couldn’t understand it’s desires, other than to create chaos for you and everyone around you.

Which is why you decided to become a hermit in the first place. The demon had done much to ruin every relationship you’d had with your friends and family, drive away lovers, and make people steer well clear of you, so you made the decision to not involve anyone else.

You had no interest in going into town, but you still had to eat, so you started finding things in the woods you could sell or trade with passersby for food, clothes, and medicine: mushrooms--poisonous and non-poisonous, it wasn’t your business what people did with them--flowers, the seeds of wild fruit and vegetables, bundles of kindling, any small thing you could gather that might earn you some things to keep yourself alive. You set up a table and chair by the roadside so that you could be on your own and not have to go into town.

You only sold on your good days and sequestered yourself on your bad days. You didn’t want anyone to see you when the demon had taken over. It always ended badly for you.

One day, on a bad day when you were sweating and exhausted from a particularly bad episode, there was a knock at your door. Anxious and alarmed, you went to the door and called out, “Who’s there?”

“You may call me Roji,” The voice said, though from the sound of their voice, you couldn’t tell if they were male or female. “Are you alright in there?”

“What do you mean?”

“I heard screaming from the road. Is everything alright?”

You huffed in annoyance. You had indeed been screaming earlier. The demon had made you crush a porcelain dog figurine, a gift from your departed younger sister who’d died shortly before you left, and you’d screamed in rage and grief and self-hatred. You didn’t realize anyone could have heard you out here.

“I’m fine,” You said. “Please leave.”

“Are you the one who sells by the roadside?” They asked. “I had come to trade today.”

“Today is not a good day,” You said, frustrated. Could they not read the situation?

“I won’t be back for some time and I had some shoes and medicine to trade. Are you sure you’d like me to leave?”

That gave you pause. You definitely needed shoes. The ones you had were not built for traversing the forest and were starting to fall apart. You sighed.

“Just a second, please,” You called. Your cottage was, in a word, a complete disaster. You picked up the worst of the mess as quickly as you could, and then unbolted the door.

There stood an androgynous person of indeterminate age. It was strange, it was almost as if they had designed themselves to look unassuming and inconspicuous: they had mid-length brown hair, hazel eyes, a racially ambiguous skin tone, and wore a simple shirt and trousers. They were neither skinny nor overweight, neither tall nor short, neither slim nor wide. There was a burlap sack slung over their shoulder. It all seemed… staged, as if this person was wearing a costume. You immediately felt on edge and leery.

“What can I do for you?” You asked slowly.

“Do you have any carrot seeds? Or toadstools? Oh, also, birchwood.”

“I have some of each, yes,” You replied, standing aside to let them in. The looked around at the state of your cottage with a raised eyebrow, but said nothing. You gathered up the items they requested and held them out to the… person. “Here. You said you had shoes?”

“Ah, yes, here,” Roji said, slipping the burlap sack off his shoulder. He pulled out a pair of decent working shoes that looked almost new.

“Will these things be enough to trade for those?” You asked skeptically. “Those look… expensive.”

“Perhaps they are, but I don’t need them and they’re taking up space in my bag,” They answered off-handedly.

“Where did you find them?”

They quirked an eyebrow. “Do you really care?”

You hummed. “I suppose not. If you’re sure,” You said, and they nodded, handing the shoes to you.

You felt your eyes tear up, and swore silently. You wiped your eyes and tried to get a handle on yourself, but it wasn’t helping. You weren’t even feeling sad, why the hell where you crying?

“Are you alright?” Roji asked, looking at you curiously. It wasn’t necessarily concern they displayed, but an odd, almost morbid interest. “You’re crying. The shoes aren’t all that expensive.”

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” You said, ignoring the tears as they continued to fall. “Is there anything else?”

“Hmm…” They regarded you closely. “Just a moment.”

They reached back into their bag and pulled out a small clay pot.

“Here,” They said, putting it in your hand without asking. “This is tea. It helps with one’s mood. I think you’ll like it.”

“Thanks,” You said, setting it on your table. You didn’t drink tea, but you weren’t going to tell them that. If anything, you could trade it for food. “I’m feeling unwell. Can you please go now?”

“Of course,” They said, bowing. “I wish you well.”

“Sure,” You said, rushing them out of the door. Once they were out, you bolted the door and lay down in your bed, unmoving, letting yourself cry.

“I hate you,” You said quietly as the sun began to set. You needed to start a fire, but at the moment, you simply didn’t care. “I hate you so much. Why are you doing this to me? What did I do to deserve you? Who cursed me with you? Why won’t you just leave me?”

The demon was as silent as ever, and the silence made it worse. You were still crying, but now the reason was obvious. Rather than starting a fire or eating dinner, you simply rolled over and cried yourself to sleep.

The next morning you woke starving, only to realize there was nothing to eat. Plus it was raining outside.

“Fuck,” You said under your breath. All you had was the tea that the stranger left, and you didn’t trust it all that much. You built a fire in the hearth and looked around for a root or something to chew on, but there was none anywhere. That was the problem with bad days; you forgot to do the things you needed to do to keep yourself alive. You hadn’t eaten the day before, or the day before that. Going out in the rain was out of the question, as it was a downpour. That only left one thing: the tea.

You held out until around midday when your stomach wouldn’t take it anymore and finally boiled the water for the tea. Once the water was boiling, you opened the clay jar. It smelled musty and earthy, and not necessarily botanical, but that was fine. You couldn’t stand flowery drinks anyway.

Once it was steeped, you sipped it. It was terribly bitter, and you had nothing to sweeten it, but you kept drinking it anyway, and it eased your hunger pangs. You drank two full cups before you realized there were tiny rocks in it.

What the hell?

Eh, well. Beggars can’t be choosers. You drank a third cup.

It was a full day before you realized something while you were out picking wild onions and carrots: you felt better. You didn’t have the urge to break anything. You didn’t feel tired. You didn’t feel angry. You actually cleaned for once. This was the closest thing to normal you had felt since you were a small child.

It couldn’t have been the starvation; you’d gone hungry before. So… was it the tea? It had to have been. You hated the way it tasted, but it was the only thing that it could have possibly been. You went back to the cottage and set down the food you collected, opening up the clay pot. What was it made up of? What herbs? What was in those rocks? What type of rock? How long would this last? A few days? A week at most? What would happen after then?

You tried hard not to panic, but Roji said they wouldn’t be back for some time. How long was some time? That could be anywhere from a few days to years. You’d have to ration it, make it last as long as possible.

Four days had gone by without an episode and it was bliss. You could sleep. You ate normally. You didn’t destroy anything. Is this how people felt all the time?

A week and a half passed, and you ran out. Well… it had been nice while it lasted.

When you’d had the last drop, there was a knock on your door.

“Who is it?”

“Roji,” The voice answered. You knew that voice!

You threw open the door in shock. There they stood, looking as shady and fake as ever. You didn’t care, though.

“You! You’re here!”

They looked down at themselves and smiled. “It appears I am.”

“Do you have more of that tea?” You asked hopefully.

“As it happens, I do,” They said, reaching for their bag.

“I’ll give you anything you want, please give me as much of that tea as you can,” You pleaded. “Anything that’s mine is yours. If you want this cottage, you can have it, please, I just need that tea. It’s the only thing that has ever helped me.”

Roji straightened up and smiled at you in a way that was not altogether comforting. “Anything?”

You grimaced at their expression. “You’re not inspiring much trust.”

“I don’t want your trust. I want your name.”

Your head rocked back. “My name? I don’t understand.”

“A person’s name is the most valuable thing they possess,” Roji explained.

“Don’t say ‘possess’,” You said with a scowl on your face.

They leaned against the door. “Why? What’s your problem with that word?”

“None of your business,” You snapped. “Do you have the tea or not?”

“Well, now I’m curious,” They said. “Tell me. Maybe I can help.”

“How could you possibly help?” You asked.

They came close, wrapping their arms around your neck, and before you could pull away in alarm, their eyes changed. The while sclera turned black, and the iris looked like it contained galaxies within it. They grinned, and their teeth were sharp and pearlescent.

You stared in shock. “You’re fae.”

“Very astute,” They replied, not releasing you.

“Makes sense now,” You replied, slightly weirded out by their closeness. “You looked as if you were wearing a human costume. Not real.”

“Oh, but I thought my glamour was getting better!” They pouted, finally pulling their arms away. “What’s wrong with it?”

“You just look like you’re wearing a person suit. It’s creepy.”

“Aww,” They said, tsking their tongue. “I’ll have to work on it some more. I don’t go out among people much.” They sat down on your bed and patted the space next to them. “Come, sit. Tell me your tale. What has you so desperate for the tea?”

“It’s none of your business,” You repeated.

“Do you want the tea or what?” They asked, folding their arms. You rolled your eyes and sat down.

“I’m possessed,” You said, folding your hands between your legs. “By a demon, I think. I don’t know what else it could be. It makes me rage and destroy things, and on the other side I’m lifeless and like a shell. I go really hot and really cold at a moment’s notice, and I never know when it’s going to happen. It’s driven off everyone I’ve ever loved and I don’t know why I was cursed like this. I want it to stop more than anything. The tea you gave me was the only thing that has ever stopped it.”

“Have you ever seen this demon? Does it speak to you?”

“No, never, but I’ve had it with me since I was small,” You replied.

“Have you ever seen a spiritualist or a priest?”

“Several. None could help.”

“Well, there may be a reason for that,” They said, bumping your shoulder with theirs. “There’s no demonic aura coming from you. There’s nothing magical or preternatural anywhere near you. Honestly, I think you’re plagued with a sickness of the mind.”

“The mind?” You said. “What do you mean?”

“There’s something in your mind that’s not functioning the way it’s supposed to,” They said, standing and reaching into their sack for another clay pot. “This tea is made from minerals from a spring near my home. You have to treat it with electricity, and large doses are toxic, but small doses calm the mind and ease anguish. When I heard you screaming, I thought you might need some.”

“It definitely helped,” You said slowly. “But if I’ve heard my fae stories correctly, if I give you my name, I basically belong to you. You could do anything with me you wanted.”

“That’s certainly true,” They said, smiling coyly. “Luckily for you, this is all an experiment to me. I don’t want much from you besides results.”

“I’m your test subject, is that it?” You asked them shrewdly.

“Does that bother you?” They asked.

“I guess not, if you’re telling the truth,” You replied slowly.

“Fae are nothing if not honest,” They said. “We may skirt the truth, we may gild the truth, but we’re not allowed to lie, especially when making a contract with someone. Besides, if you agree, I could make you very, very happy.”

“You mean you’ll sorcel me up so I don’t know any better?” You asked dubiously.

“Nonsense,” They said, holding a hand to their chest as if offended. “You’ll be in complete control of your faculties, living your own life, feeling a bit better than before.” They leaned forward and kissed you on the cheek. “There’s no reason this can’t be a partnership, right?”

You eyed them. “I have your name, after all.”

They snorted. “I just said you could call me Roji, I didn’t say that was my name.”

“Trust.”

“Hmm,” They said. “It’s something we can work on. Even still, if you want the tea, I need your name. Nothing else will do. What is your peace of mind worth to you?”

“Everything,” You said without hesitation. “Anything.”

“Does that include your name?”

You sighed heavily. “Yes. It does.”

You spoke your name, and they smiled.

“Excellent. All that’s left now is to seal the contract with a kiss.”

You squinted at them, but you leaned over and kissed them. Pulling back, you looked at them carefully. “What’s that strictly necessary to bind the contract?”

They snickered. “No. Are you upset?”

You snorted. “Not as much as I expected. You’re a good kisser.”

They grinned and kissed you again. “Now make your tea. I want to go berry picking.”

You sniffed a laugh through your nose. “As you wish.”

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 11- Much More 

Summary: Deciding to let Geralt handle the child surprise on his own and rekindle your friendship with Yennefer while against all odds, fight with mages by your side, it’s time to protect Sodden from Nilfgaard.

Warning: blood, fighting Nilfgaard soldiers, angst, reader going a bit feral, eyy more backstory ft. Geralt

Masterlist

The next morning, in the early hours of the dawn did you, Yennefer, and a handful of willing mages set off in lifeboats for the distant shore. You sat in silence within the tight cluster of other bodies seated all around you, every mage dressed very distinctive from one another, their outfits less then ready for battle if you're being completely honest.

You could almost laugh, what exactly did these magical people have in mind when the time came to stopping Nilfgaard? They travel in their fancy robes and attire like it's time to go to court. But you digress, they may look like a fashionable lot, but they do know how to use their powers for destruction if need be.

Hopefully they won't shy away from turning a soldier to ash.

The boat ride lasted longer then you'd have liked, honestly why didn't you just fly across? Oh right, you wanted information about what's going to happen and you know, Yennefer.

Cursed that damned djinn.

Once the boat safely rested against the sandy shore did you get out with the rest of the other mages. Not caring in the slightest to help them pull it fully onto the grass beyond the sand, though you could have done it with one hand. Instead do you follow Yennefer as Vilgefortz questions her relentlessly about many things she simply brushes off, disinterested and annoyed.

It's another boring cluster fuck of hours before you can hear the telling noise of people as they prepare for battle. Once you find your way out of the woods do you notice the great castle-like structure of the Elven keep upon Sodden's Hill, it's crumbling white stony walls sticking out like a sore thumb against the greenery of the land. On the other side, a long bridge pathway leading to the other edge of the great pass, exactly where Nilfgaard is planning to go.

You follow the mages as you all make your way down to the grassy hill towards the tents below, Tissaia meets up with another mage, a man who welcomes you all with open arms, clearly he did not expect such company. But by the looks of it, is desperately going to need every single one of you.

You walk in step with Yennefer, Triss to your back as you shift your gaze from the spread out mass of tired refugee villagers, orphans, and scared old men. The atmosphere is dreary and tense, they all know what's coming and the sight of your group makes some of them even more nervous.

"These people," Starts the robed mage as he walks in line with Tissaia, "they have been pushed from their homes. They've seen the scorched earth, the fields of corpses stretching between Gemmera and this river. Such cruelty."

"It's Nilfgaards way." Replies Tissaia, "There's nothing like a higher purpose to permit men to do the unspeakable." If that isn't the truth.

"But it's all any of us have left. We have to defend it."

"That's heroic." States Sabrina much to your surprise.

You turn to her, "And stupid." They all stop and stare at you in puzzlement like you'd just kicked a helpless puppy and laughed about it, letting out a sigh you shift your scarlet eyes upon the man and Tissaia, "Take the children and hide before they get here so they may avoid more terror and death."

His brows furrow, "There is no more hiding from Nilfgaard. They have come from beyond the mountains to destroy the world." You stay silent, it's not worth arguing over at this point. He's already made up his mind.

Saving the slightly awkward moment, Triss steps in, "You still believe it can be saved?"

Everyone looks to the mage as he stares off into the distance, a look of hope in his bright blue eyes, "I suppose I do." He smiles before turning back to your group, "With some help." And just like that do you all make your way into the keep to further make use of your talents.

Countless arrays of glass bottles are set out and filled with some type of strangely smelling blue rock, arrows are constructed and set out up by the ramparts as you watch from your perch high atop a castle ledge. The preparations are made throughout the whole entirety of the day, the villagers and mages alike all working tirelessly together in a hopefully fruitful attempt at saving this dying stronghold from the Nilfgaardians.

The sun has kept herself hidden from the world hours ago, the beautiful welcoming blanket of darkness settling across the land for the time being. Your favorite time of the day. You watch as the mages and other villagers find their company with one another on a last night of peace before blood is most likely spilt tomorrow when the soldiers arrive.

Against all odds the atmosphere is quite happier and light, people telling stories over fires under the stars as they take their minds off of the impending doom. You've placed yourself a couple feet from Tissaia and Vilgefortz as they sit side by side on a stone ledge with their feet just about touching the ground, a drink in their hands as they reminisce about better times in their lives. You hold one knee up, your other leg dangling freely as you listen to Yennefer and Triss as they walk into view.

Triss snacks on an apple as she points towards your direction, "Is Vilgefortz to be our new daddy?" A small snort escapes you as your heightened hearing catches her jest. Not a second later does Vilgefortz happen to get up, leaving you and Tissaia alone, Yennefer parting from Triss as she stops in the grass. Unsure of where to go next, Tissaia takes this as a cue to raise her glass, "The ale won't disappoint. We should enjoy it while we can."

Yennefer turns to the two of you, a stoic expression crossing her features as she walks over, "It's the first thing Nilfgaard will destroy." She quips bluntly before sitting down in between the both of you.

Tissaia hands her a spare glass, "Must you always be so fatalistic?"

"It's only appropriate, seeing as we might die." Replies the violet eyed mage before taking a sip of the ale, still rather unenthusiastical about everything.

You chuckle, "Well maybe you two, I on the other hand plan on tearing these dogs to pieces."

Tissaia laughs, "All the more reason to live tonight."

Yennefer sets her mug against her lap, "Mmm. Like you." She retorts, looking knowingly in the direction of Vilgefortz as he converses with some soldiers. You look to Tissaia, a smile upon her slender face as she stares almost adoringly at the raven haired man. The three of you look to one another and begin laughing like young school girls who just found out about their friends secret crush.

It feels nice, oddly so.

Your laughter slowly dies down, a more heavy aurora laying over the three of you as your smiles vanish from your once happy faces. Tissaia sighs before excusing herself from the two of you, no doubt heading to seek out the man of the hour.

You sit back in a comfortable silence as a light breeze caresses your face before turning an eye to your friend, "Are you ready?" Your voice is steady and calm yet holding so much, Yennefer quickly turns to face you, her eyes full of apprehensive wonder, "To die." You finish with a raise of your brow, "If destiny decides to finally take us out that is."

She pauses for a moment to think it over as she watches some kids run by in the firelight, "Yes. I've lived two or three lifetimes already."

"But you haven't been satisfied in any of them." You point out as she frowns, her eyes downcast in the nearby fire light.

"But I've no legacy to leave behind. No family." She says sadly, "It's time to accept that life has no more to give." A tinge of disappointment in her voice as she sits next to you, feeling rather defeated with her life.

"You still have so much left to give." She looks to you now, a kind warm smile pulling at your features, "I know it, and I'm not just saying that because of well, you know. I've never really thought about it but you're kind of like me in a way."

She slowly nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips, not sure where you're about to go with this, "How so?"

You shrug, "We're both half of something, two pieces that make us a whole being of vitality and raw power. You're half elf, I'm half vampire, two incredible immortal races that should not be fucked with." You playfully nudged her shoulder, "We don't always get what we want in life, she can be quite the bitch you know, and even though I'll never have a true heir of my own. Well I guess, if I can keep alive some of the good in this world while defeating the evil, that's good enough for me. My legacy is hidden within my actions and who I help along the way, it's all it needs to be."

She furrows her brows, "Thank you Y/N." Sincerity in her voice.

You let out a breathy laugh, clearly confused, "For what?"

"For deciding to come with me to this place, you could have left and fucked off to wherever you chose next. But you decided to stay, and well...maybe I do enjoy having you in my company....no matter how how scary those eyes of yours are." She teases.

You smile, "Not the djinn talking?"

"No. Not the djinn. I swear it." Says Yennefer honestly.

You softly hum in agreeance, "So do I. I think it just makes us want to protect one another, perhaps that's how we're drawn in. It's like I'm a beacon of light and you're a moth," You laugh, "or something like that."

"I think so too. Hopefully we don't end up dying, or well, I don't end up dying that is. Guess I'm not entirely sure if I'm ready." Inquires Yennefer uneasily.

"Is anyone ever? I can't die just yet anyways, I still have to see Geralt again, tell him I'm sorry for leaving and probably punch him for that damned wish. Gods I feel horrible..."

"You had every right to say what you did, and don't worry, I know you Y/N. You'll survive. I'm sure of it."

You lean back into the grass, your arms holding you up as you stare up into the dark starry night sky, "Thanks, very motivational. But hey, since we're out here and unsure for the inevitable future.....got any stories?"

Yennefer takes another sip of her mug before setting it down in her lap, "Got a few, but I'd honestly rather hear something from you." She lightly kicks your boot, "Is there any truth to Jaskier's ballad about when you and Geralt fought a Bruxa? From his tale, it appeared to be quite the story."

Rolling your eyes you scoff, "Oh yeah, that bard loves to make our hunts seem so glamorous and amazing, the famous White Wolf almost got his balls slashed off from the nasty fucker."

She hums in interest, "Do tell." You look at her with the most unamused face you can muster, she simply laughs at your lackluster reaction, "Oh come on, Y/N. Tell me all the gory details, I'd rather enjoy hearing about how your Witcher almost lost his prized jewels."

You stare a her before making a gesture for her to hand you the half filled mug in her lap, with a smirk she generously hands it to you, "Now. I can tell you the story." You add before taking a hearty chug, setting the mug down next to you in the grass as you let out a little hiccup, "Alright, so for this specific hunt we though it best to leave Jaskier or he would have without a doubt been killed on the spot, and blah blah we all would have sorely missed him." You lightly chuckle at the dark thought, "Anyways, the town nearby had been recently dealing with a very dangerous problem hiding in some nearby abandoned ruins of some burned down village...."

(Cue flashback)

It's daylight as you walk down an old dirt road leading to a recently destroyed village, the townsfolk living just across the river had told you and Geralt how some vengeful bandits took it upon themselves to burn and pillage the place after some hero wannabe killed their leader with a lucky arrow to the head. The next thing they new, every wooden house had been set ablaze in the dead of night as they raced outdoors to listen to the terrified screams emitting from within the woods.

The mayor claimed it was a horrendous display of revenge, only a lucky few had survived the torment, but something even worse then petty bandits had loomed over the land in the following month, brought upon by the lingering stench of death and blood. It had begun with high pitched shrieking in the dead of night, right were the ruined village was, some brave souls would investigate the next day to find the mutilated corpse of a male traveler.

More people would go missing for another month before you, Geralt, and Jaskier happened to stroll into town one autumn afternoon. No one at the local tavern, nor the mayor herself, would know what beast was taking all the men hunting for it. So with a suspicious curiosity did you accept her offer of coin in return for the death of the mysterious beast. The next day, with lack of a certain bard, did you and Geralt set off to explore the destroyed grounds.

You kick a loose rock and watch as the little boulder skids across the muddy trail while keeping pace with Geralt, "So, any idea what this hungry fucker might be?" You ask, turning to him with a wiggle of your brow, "I have a few ideas."

Geralt hums, turning an inquiring golden eye in your direction, "Considering this place has gone to shit in the past two months, dead bodies everywhere, could be a ghoul....or a wraith...maybe even a werewolf." His voice gravely and filled with a tinge of dark humor.

You chuckle, "A werewolf huh, now that would be quite the battle to witness, me and the notorious dogman, claw to blade. I'd have its head on a spike in an instant..."

"Would you now?" He teases.

"I would!" You lean in to lightly smack his arm, "What? Don't laugh...grrr ugh okay fine....after it put me through a couple rounds, I'd get there eventually. Then you'd be there to celebrate my victory with loud cheers of praise before taking me on the grass to thoroughly show me your ever loving gratitude." You cackle as he coughs awkwardly on his own spit, sending you an surprised but very amused facial expression at your more sensual implications.

"Right then and there, in front of the headless beast?" Wonders Geralt as you nod, a smile breaking out upon his handsome face, "Y/N, you are quite the woman."

"Course I am, best thing you've got." You sass with confidence before stopping dead in your tracks at the scent of something decaying. Geralt watches in curiosity as you sniff the cool air, your scarlet irises dancing across the burnt ruins of the village now that you're both so close, you raise a brow at him, "New flesh. Someone was just recently killed."

Your feet are quick as they take you past charred wooden houses and broken glass, all the way through the mess before you stand a few feet away from a large half caved in house, its entrance gone as it stands looming over all the other destroyed ruins. You turn to Geralt, "The dead one sleeps in here, the blood is a couple days old." He nods as you cautiously enter through the broken door, your eyes adjusting to the shadowy darkness as you walk into the room.

It's one large area with a crumbling ash covered fireplace at the far middle end of the wooden structure, you walk a couple more feet before stopping, Geralt coming to a halt at your side. "Nothings here." He confirms, his eyes still looking over the ashen room.

You shake your head, a smile upon your lips at his terrible observation skills, you turn around to face him before taking his chin between your thumb and forefinger, tilting his head towards the rafters. His eyes immediately lock onto the incomprehensible corpse of a man, or at least what was left of him, only his guts and a single arm hanging from the ceiling.

"That's lovely." Muses your Witcher bluntly as you release your touch, he lifts a brow to you, "Definitely not a wraith or a ghoul. I'm not even sure a werewolf would have done this, that is the charming work of something incredibly violent and depraved. Some creature that would not care for their victim in the slightest, and the victims...all men.." He looks to the side, trying to think for a moment, "just men. And it showed up after the burning, but then it decided to stay...now it kills for food and apparently pleasure too. Maybe this is a..."

"Bruxa." His golden eyes lock onto your causal stance, he sets a hand on his hip as you simply shrug, "I could smell the bitch before we crossed the bridge, wanted to see if you figured it out first. Wow Geralt, what a monster hunter you are, very good sleuthing work." You tease with a slow clap as he rolls his eyes, motioning for you to follow him out of the dying house so he doesn't have to spend another second in this gloomy old place.

Stepping into the daylight he turns to you, the ghost of a humored smile gracing over his lips, "I would have gotten there eventually." He sasses back, using your own words against you, "Maybe this Bruxa is a family friend."

You scoff, "I wish, these type of bloodsuckers are more feral and less elegant, they're a subspecies so I won't feel bad about killing it, not that that's ever stopped me before. But still, they're deadly cunts who kill whatever has a heartbeat, only silver will take them down." You take a step forward, pushing your pointer finger against his leather armored chest, "So you better be on your guard tonight, I'd rather not travel alone with the bard until he dies." You snort, setting your arm down once again, "Or I kill him first."

"I'll be ready." Confirms Geralt with a knowing tinge of confidence, much to your amusement at his self-assuredness, "The sun doesn't set for another couple hours, why don't we head back into town and tell our bard of the plans, hm?"

"Yeah alright." You reply, beginning to walk back the way you came, "Jask is definitely not joining us tonight. That idiot would be dead in a heartbeat, I mean seriously...these nasty bitches whole thing is appearing as harmless attractive women before...blah!" You pounce at Geralt, squeezing his muscular bicep before letting go just as quickly, "You're ass is dead. And torn to shreds like a piece of meat in a starving dogs cage, not a pleasant way to go at all."

Geralt chuckles at your dramatic antics as the two of you travel back to the town; Jaskier was luckily fine with staying behind, unsurprisingly he happened to have found himself a lady friend, who was all too satisfied once learning her new lover would be staying the night once more. Soon enough, dusk had settled over the land and you and your Witcher began the hunt.

Taking silent steps through the forest as you both walked across the beaten down trail leading into the sad abandoned village, the two of you go to stand behind a large oaken tree while your eyes wander over the broken houses. Your silver dagger clutched tightly in your hand as the other one presses against the rough bark.

Geralt's armored back touches yours as the two of you watch from opposite sides of the tree, "Y/N you hear anything?" Whispers Geralt.

"No."

"Smell anything?"

"No."

"See anything?"

"Ask me something again and I'll shove a stick up your ass."

"Noted."

Another fifteen minutes would go by before your superior hearing would pick up the supposed sound of something brushing past some leaves from the treetops across the destroyed houses. Your hand grips the dagger tighter as you listen more intently, it moves slowly, a branch creaks as it sits atop it. Then the wood creaks again, more leaves are brushed aside as you suddenly realize where this fucker is headed, the town!

"Oh, fuck." You whisper yell, not even aware that you just said that out loud.

"What? What is it Y/N, did you hear something?"

"The bitch is in the trees, she's going for town." You pause searching for your words, "Uh, be ready I'm going to lure her out into the open." You rush before taking a step forward, stopping to turn towards a confused Geralt as he studies your face, "Don't, uh...get bitten or killed. Love you, good luck."

He's left to his thoughts as you swiftly race across the muddy yard in a blur before jumping onto a half standing thatched roof, you stay low as your crimson irises scan the tree line in search of the Bruxa, it doesn't take long before you spot a beautiful pale black haired woman looking in the opposite direction as she stays perched on a thick branch. You smirk, your fangs showing in the moonlight as you decide to be as boldly annoying as you can.

Rising to your full height, you stare at the beautiful bastard before yelling, "Hey! You big ugly horse fucker!" The Bruxa immediately snaps her attention over to you, her yellow eyes glaring down at you before she turns from an attractive young woman into a terrifying lady demon.

She screeches, jumping down from her perch before making a hasty beeline in your direction, you jump, just as she narrowly misses your face with her long sharp nails. You gently land upon the muddy ground, the growling Bruxa eyeing you hungrily as she stands once again, her body facing you with great malice, lips curling in a snarl, hands balling into angry fists.

You smirk, feet planted firmly in the earth as you grip your dagger tight, "Come on you pale faced cunt, come get me." You taunt as she hisses in fury before darting in your direction, you twist to the side, slashing her arm as you skid in the dirt, facing her once more.

Her face whips around to find yours as she grunts in pain, the silver burning her skin as she charges you once more, this time you launch yourself into the air. Just as she grabs for your feet, missing them by mere inches while you quickly flip above her head, you land, facing her. But before she has time to attack you once again, Geralt races out of the tree line and slashes the back of the Bruxa with a fury enough to turn you on if not for the current circumstance. A blood curdling scream rips through the frosty air as she whips around with lightening speed, grabbing Geralt's sword less arm before thrusting him across the yard to your left.

Her feet move inhumanly quick as she follows her downed silver haired prey, instinctively you throw your dagger, it makes a strong thwack sound as it sinks into the pale flesh of the feral vampire's thigh. She stumbles back, falling to the ground as she screams in agony, all before standing up once again and keeping as still as a statue, staring you down like a wolf to her prey.

You ball your fists, not sure what to do now since your only weapon is gone, you shrug, "No hard feelings?" You jest before she growls, her feet bounding against the earth as she quickly tackles you to the ground faster then you're able to blink.

Damn, vampires are fast.

She bares her fangs doing her best to chop at your exposed skin, her hands trying to claw desperately at your everything as you hold her forearms tightly in your grasp, droplets of spit fall upon your face as you grimace in disgust. Geralt where the fuck are you? She angrily struggles in your fists as her face desperately snaps at your own, inches apart she just misses your skin, a moment later do you sigh in relief as she's ripped from your grasp and thrown across the rocky ground.

You jump to your feet, only to watch in awe as Geralt and the Bruxa fight with one another in the center of the destroyed town, she slashes and bites at him as he punches and gets in some hits with his silver sword. But soon enough does she have him on his back, his sword only a few feet away, just out of reach as she pounces on him in a fury.

Instantly she tears at his black pants, ripping them open from his lower right hipline to his knee, he kicks her away before she lunges for him once again. Geralt scoots back just as she smacks her taloned hand right where is crotch was, not even a split second ago.

"Y/N!" Shouts Geralt with wide eyes, "My sword."

Wiping blood from your nose you take swift steps forward, he braces for the worst right as you grab a fistful of black hair, yanking hard as you pull her to the ground, your other hand closing tightly around her throat as her yellow eyes expand in surprised rage.

You pin her down, squeezing tight as she squirms from beneath you, her thin muscled arms reaching for your neck as you force your face away from her sharp nails, "You get your fucking sword!"

He lets out an annoyed huff before scrambling for the fallen blade, grasping it in his strong hands as she digs her claws into your clothed arms, you yelp in pain, losing your grip on her neck. She shrieks again before you suddenly get cracked in the forehead by the bitch's own skull, you see stars as she uses this opportunity to kick you in the chest, hard. You let out a breathy gasp before stumbling backwards across the dirty path, your head falling onto Geralt's boots, he looks down as you stare up at him in a daze. Your labored breaths coming out as a wheeze.

You blink, trying to focus on his blurry physique, "Fucking ouch." You growl through clenched teeth as he hastily pulls you to your feet.

"Watch out." Warns your Witcher before leaving your side to tear into the furious Bruxa.

"Thanks for the forewarning, very helpful." He ignores your annoyed jest, conveniently slashing off the head of the damn bitch before your very eyes. He's breathing heavily as he towers over the bloody mess, golden eyes finding your irritated ones as you pick up your silver dagger, "Great work, bravo, well done." You deadpan, giving your man a less then enthusiastic round of applause.

Lowering the weapon to his side he glances down at his slashed pants before finding your eyes once again, "Almost got me." Chuckles Geralt with a small smile.

Rolling your eyes you break out into a grin, "Oh yes, then we would have really had a problem."

Yennefer snickers as you end the tale, an amused laugh falling from your lips as you sit up once again, "After that we told the town, which of course they were surprised but nonetheless ever grateful, giving us a nice bag of coin. Geralt got some new pants, Jaskier got some more writing material, and I got a solid reminder that I am not invincible when it comes to creatures like a Bruxa. Vampires, huh."

Yennefer nods, shaking her head as she smiles, "That's...more then I'd ever encountered. Better you then me." She muses.

You sigh, a small tired smile pulling at the corners of your lips, "Those were the best times though, hunting, traveling, being with those two idiots. I do miss them, a lot actually."

Her lavender irises fall upon your saddened gaze as you watch people converse happily with one another, a mother tucking her child into a makeshift straw bed, you suddenly feel much sadder then before, "You will see them again, I know it Y/N."

Shifting your scarlet eyes to her shadowed face, you lightly tap the edge of your mug, "Hopefully I won't see a Bruxa again, fucking cunts. But yes, thank you for the words of encouragement and...friendly counselling, I'm going to bed." You scoot off of the grassy ledge, standing on the soft earth as you turn to Yennefer, "Right here's good enough. Also, not to worry, I don't snore."

She watches as you lay upon the ground, others doing the same as the night progresses, deciding to follow your example she moves to lay a couple of feet from you, pulling a foresty green blanket from out of a nearby bag, "Won't you get cold?"

Laying on your back you look up at the stars, "I've never felt cold before actually."

She lays down, an amused burst of air flowing out of her nostrils, "Right, half vampire. Well, goodnight then you odd freak of nature." Playful sarcasm dripping from every word.

You lightly chuckle, "Night, you insane fucking witch." The two of you share a humorous moment together before falling into a comfortable silence, the both of you trying your best to fall asleep before the sun rises, bringing danger on the fiery horizon.

—-

You awaken to the shouting of men nearby, opening your eyelids do you raise yourself up into a sitting position as a massive fiery orange ball of light begins its decent from the great blackness of sky. Right in your very direction, you can hear it sizzling as your eyes grow wide in fear.

"Oh fuck!" You cry just as Yennefer throws her blanket to the side, reaching out her hands just in time to abruptly halt the death ball of enchanted flame before it can incinerate the whole yard of sleeping people. Her face is pained as she throws it to the left in mid-air, the tiny sun bursting into a beautiful explosion over the trees, safely away from everyone else.

In an instant are you up, both yourself and Yennefer screaming for everyone to rise and prepare for the beginning assault. The grassy grounds are covered in racing frantic bodies filled with frightful screams. Another fireball would be thrown at you all, and deflected just the same, nothing more coming about for the rest of the night. Nilfgaard keeping you all on your toes till the dawn.

Now here you are in the early hours of the morning, the sun illuminating the landscape as you follow the mages around the castle while they figure out a plan of attack. Everyone keeps low behind the walls as you'll quickly walk down some stairs, no roof to keep anyone adequately hidden.

"Stay low. We don't know what other tricks they may have." Warns Vilgefortz as you follow behind him, more mages rushing to a halt on the stone steps as you all look out over the forest in the direction that those damned flames came from last night.

"Maybe it's over." Says Triss, but you know better. This is just the beginning.

"No. Fringilla's just getting started." Whispers Yennefer.

"It hasn't been two days yet." States Sabrina, "How is Nilfgaards army here already?"

Vilgefortz gets up, "Doesn't matter. We can't wait for the Northern Kingdoms. We have to fight."

You chuckle, "There's only 22 of you left, those other cowards fled in the night like little mice chased by some housecat. Guess some heat was too much to handle." You quip as one mage stands, claiming with confidence that's he's not going anywhere, others agreeing as well. You suddenly feel uneasy, sorcery in the woods, snapping your attention over to the forest your crimson eyes go wide at the sight of white mist flowing throughout the trees, "Uh, what the fuck?"

"There coming!" Shouts a mage in fear.

"It's starting!" Exclaims another in excitement.

I hate magic.

In seconds is everyone up and moving to their assigned stations right before your very eyes. Leaving you alone to watch the strange unnatural fog slowly make its way closer and closer to the stronghold.

Times seems to go fast, in the next twenty-five minutes has the archers and people with slingshots wrecked havoc upon marching Nilfgaardian soldiers in the woods. No doubt giving them an explosive ending before their time in battle has even begun. Yennefer directs the mages assault from her position high up in the tallest tower with the best view. Your eyes shift from the nearing wood line where the real danger lurks to the grassy courtyard below where people are hustling back and forth, racing to their duties. You walk upon the castle ledges, high up above the sweating foreheads of the mages and archers as you make your way over to the tallest part of the Elven Keep. Gliding up to her level, you softly land with atop the wooden landing.

She appears quite distraught and panicky as you study her body language, she turns to you, tears in her lavender eyes, "Vilgefortz, he's..."

What is that fucking swooshing sound?

"Portal!" You shout, turning your body to look over the other ledge, just as you'd sensed, a large swirling portal has materialized from the earth. A second later do you watch in horror as arrows fly up from its center, thwacking into nearby mages and villagers. Killing them instantly.

Fearful tears fall from Yennefer's eyes as you feel a surge of rage forming within you at these grisly acts of violence. She quickly regains her bearings enough to telepathically speak to Tissaia before the heiress is cut off by something or someone in the woods. You can hear as more and more mages are being slaughtered from beyond the Keep's walls as they run to the stronghold for cover, Yennefer calls out to them but it's no use, they're already dead.

A gate has been breached!

You want to do something but you can't bear to leave Yennefer's side in such dangerous times, but hearing the screams and wails of agony from the brave people around you is enough to shift your mind. You must help them, now is the time.

"Triss! The gate! Can you buy us time?" Shouts Yennefer aloud, though you know she's speaking telepathically to Triss.

Tearing your eyes away from dying Nilfgaard soldiers and mages alike do you place a comforting hand on Yennefer's shoulder, she snaps her attention to you, almost startled, "I'll help Triss. Be careful, Yenn." She tearfully nods as you lend her a small smile in return.

Your feet move inhumanly fast as you run atop the castle roof, jumping down to the wooden balcony where the archers are, you race past them before bolting down the steps and into the grassy courtyard where a gate has been breached. Many armed villagers and a few Nilfgaard soldiers are currently fighting with one another, their swords clashing in desperate fury.

Across the courtyard is Triss who's struggling to cover the opened gate with thick vines as a couple dark armored soldiers get themselves tangled up in the process. A look of pure determination crosses your face as you unsheathe your silver dagger, your legs move quick as you take out a few soldiers on your way to aid Triss in her fight. Knowing you can't do much from behind the gate, you scale the stone wall with ease, falling to the grass below, you land atop the soft earth with the grace of a dancer.

A pained scream rips forth from Triss' throat as a Nilfgaardian soldier thrusts his flaming torch into her neck, in an instant have you sunk your blade into his skull, pulling the bastard away as you look down at Triss from behind the vines. Her screams of agony pierce your sensitive ears as she looks at you through glossy pained eyes, but the thudding of quickly approaching heartbeats alerts you to turn around.

Your scarlet irises lock with the green ones of a rushing soldier, his sword is bared as he charges you, adrenaline and hate coursing throughout his entire vessel. He swings the blade to his left in your direction, twisting around past him, you shove your dagger through his jugular and right back out again, a red spurt of blood bursting forth as a couple droplets dance upon your face.

The fresh scent is almost intoxicating, driving you into a more primal feeling, you turn with fire in your eyes to face three more ugly old bastards, weapons drawn and ready to strike. You hiss at them, bearing your fangs as pure fear flashes across their faces. In a blur do you end their pathetic lives before they even have a chance to realize what hit them. You hear another scream and race to the aid of a fallen mage, slicing through more Nilfgaardian men in a fury of blood and broken bones.

She fearfully thanks you, her eyes dazed as she carries herself to safety, though there is no safety here as moments later does your ear drums burst with the sounds of explosives shattering throughout the battlements where all the glass bottles of blue stone where being kept.

Oh, fuck.

Stones fly past your head as white smoke emits from the destruction, you can smell the blood and hear the cries of the ones most unlucky enough to be so close. No one alive is around you for the time being as you stand among the dead, your chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, some trickles of unfamiliar blood falling down the side of your face and hands. More red dripping off of your sharp silver dagger as you stand in the evening sunlight, the smell of smoke and blood on the breeze.

"Can anyone here me? Is anyone out there?" Calls Yennefer from inside your head, likewise to all the other mages, "If you can hear me, you need to get to the front line. More Nilfgaardians are coming to the woods. We can't give up. We can still fight." Her voice is tired and desperate, heavy with emotion as she makes a last fleeting effort to protect the Keep.

You catch her scent and the sound of her erratic nervous heartbeat as she emerges from the broken gate of vines, white fog pushing to the side as she walks into the daylight. She looks rough, her face and chest dirty, her left hand coated in her own blood from a wound at her side.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Races three unfamiliar heartbeats.

Three more men rush out off the bushes and whitish thick mist, heading straight for her, she thrusts her opened palm into the air. Twisting her hand, the men fall dead one by one at her beautiful display of chaos.

Her lavender eyes trail across the battlefield, landing on you, you're speckled with the ruby red blood of dead Nilfgaardian men. A mess of red coating your lips as a trail of it wanders down your chin to your throat from when you let yourself have a little taste of Nilfgaards finest.

You slowly walk over to her side, she swallows, her throat is dry, nonetheless you lend her a hopeful smile, "You're ability to still look this good covered in dirt and blood is honestly impressive." The tiniest of smiles gives you a small sign of hope on her face, "I've cleared this area but as you've said, more are in the woods. I can still hear them, they're close."

"Thank you." Her voice is hoarse as she lowly nods, her voice becoming distant as she looks out into the wood line, "I need to find Tissaia."

-

Tagged:  @notahappytree​ @ashleyforeverareject​ @sokkasdarling​ @kmuir1​​@haleypearce @diegos-butt​ (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work) @a-girl-who-loves-disney

[goldenlaquer]

Hey, can I ask for some headcanons, please? For Gin, Toshi, Sougo and Kamui. About how they were in a fight, separated from their so and something happened like an exposion or whatever, anyway the main point is that they thought that their so have died but later they see her alive and relatively unharmed. So the headcanons of them when they thought they lost their so and when they see that she is ok. Sorry, this is so specific and long, I'm just a slut for some angst and I love your writings

Thank you for the support and sorry for the wait! I don’t know if I’m that much good at conveying angst but let’s bring on the feels! 

Gintama Headcanons: 

Hijikata Toushirou: 

Hijikata stands on top of a pile of rubble, and surveys the destruction around him. 

His hands don’t shake. His feet are firm against the ground. His shoulders are straight and rigid against the fleeting wind. Smoke escapes him in steady stream, and when he inhales in, the dust and fire of the air sticks to the walls of his lungs like sludge. 

To the men who stop to look at their vice-commander with their ugly concerns plastered on their ugly mugs: He’s fine. 

To the Gorilla who can’t stop asking him the question every ten minutes and that, he really should take a break or else at this rate, he’ll collapse: He’s fine. 

To the brat who stubbornly stays by his side like spit-up gum on the sole of his shoe: He’s fine, damn it, so go do your job and leave him alone. 

For once, Sougo doesn’t have anything clever to quip back at him. He doesn’t need to-- the silence between them speaks better than words. And Hijikata hates what it says, so he turns back to the grey landscape, eyes darting and sifting through the mangled and charred parts to see something, anything that is you. 

Nothing. 

He reaches for a cigarette, pulls it out of his pocket like second nature. The lighter is the trickier to work. The blasted thing refuses to flicker on. Oh, the cigarette falls down. Hijikata bends to pick it up. He tries again. The cigarette falls down. He stares at it. His shoe crushes it. He’s stomping down hard. Sougo is still silent, watching. Hijikata doesn’t care. 

The facade of normalcy is gone. Here he is: Taking his frustrations out on a sad little cig, like it’s the cause of all his fucking problems, like it’s going to bring you back. Harsh pants come out of his mouth, and in another series, they’d sound like something akin to sobs, but his face is dry.

“Hijikata.” He ignores Sougo. The cigarette is reduced to paper and dry leaves scuffed against concrete. “Hijikata.” He doesn’t answer.

Okita, with an eye-roll, kicks Hijikata square in the back and knocks him off the pile. 

Sougo, what the fuck? He. Is. Mourning. Hijikata has always known Sougo to be insensitive, but this is blatantly crossing several lines and he clearly doesn’t have the emotional capacity to deal with. 

But if it’s a fight that bastard wants, Hijikata will give it to him. He leaps up from the ground, ready to hand Sougo an express ticket to hell, misty eyes narrowing in anger as he looks up

and the breath is knocked out of him in a way that years of chain-smoking had miraculously failed to do 

Standing before him, white particles clinging to your clothes, hair, and eyebrows, is the damn most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. The feet move faster than he can process, and by the time his arms are around you and he’s breathing in the scent he thought he’d lost forever

“Fuck.” Because that’s the only appropriate response he can say without his voice cracking. “Don’t do that again.”

Kamui:

Loss is not a new thing. It was in the labored rise and fall of his mother’s chest, the pallidness of her white skin. The feel of his sister’s small hands, fisting in his clothes and pleadingly tugging back, her blue eyes wide and wet. It was in the looming shape of his father’s retreating back.

But there were other, worthier things to focus on. The pain in his knuckles slamming against bone and muscle. The taut stretch of his lips as he licks his wounds, tasting metal and victory. The title of ‘Universe’s Strongest’ nearly within his grasp. He didn’t have time for the weak. Didn’t have time to be weak.

Loss is not new, and yet there is something about this loss. Now, Loss is a sentient being, latching to his throat and squeezing as he grapples through the mud.

Abuto’s face is too blank and too careful. His voice is low and calm and reasoning, and he is saying things, but Kamui doesn’t listen. The words ‘she’ and ‘gone’ don’t mix, they don’t make any sense, so why should he listen? He digs and digs and digs, not hearing, he can’t, his ears and eyes are filled with the same muddy brown that must also be filling yours. Kamui works even faster, his nails splintering against the rocks embedded in the wet ground.

Hair released from its braid, trussed and caked in dirt. Pupils dilated, black swallowing blue. His face abnormally slack as he claws in frenzy, in desperation at the ground like a wild animal.

There are few things in this world Kamui can’t fight. No matter his strength, one cannot simply beat Mother Nature into submission. But there is no excuse. If he cannot save one woman from something as stupid as dirt, then what is the point? What use is his strength? He didn’t leave that tiny, rainy planet, ignoring all the things left behind with it, to become this weakling who couldn’t even manage to keep you by his side like he promised.

He’s a young brat again, helplessness coloring every pore. A damsel in distress. Someone who can’t save, but needs saving. He is no different than the baldy. Unable to keep promises. Unable to protect. Unable to do anything. Was he always this fragile? Pathetic.

Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic. The word is a punishing mantra in his mind.

Something crashes into him. It’s not near enough to make him pause in his digging, but the something is tugging on his clothes. Incoherent, muffled shouting in his ears. He doesn’t pay it any mind because mud keeps slipping back in place despite all his useless strength and you’re still trapped, waiting for him--

“KAMUI!”

He blinks in surprise, snapping from the heavy cloud covering his mind. He’s flat on the ground, staring up at you. How he got there, he doesn’t know, but you are here in front of him, covered head-to-toe in mud and crying.

He is silent, watching as you blubber concerns and curses. A curious hand reaches out to your face in wonder, carefully tracing the path that a salty tear had made down your cheek. The familiarity of your soft skin warms his numb body and a small smile emerges from his lips.

As you sit on top of him, crying not because you are scared but because he’s such a stupid idiot, he realizes that that he isn’t all alone just yet, that there’s one thing that refuses to leave him. 

Okita Sougo: 

It’s happening again. And it honestly makes him want to laugh. 

He doesn’t believe in it, karma, but when you think that you’ve gotten used to the pain of losing someone you love, his rotten, black heart has to go and get ripped out for the second time as if he forgot, as if he needed reminding that there’s no way someone like him deserves something as good as happiness. There’s no other explanation to this shit luck other than that, for the accumulation of every filthy deed he’s done with his filthy hands and every fucking sin he has committed once and twice and will most definitely commit thrice, someone has to pay for it. 

And because Karma is two bitches and a half, that someone wasn’t him. 

There it is. The laughter finally comes out as he looks at the torn fabric in his clenched fist. It comes out harsh and hollow and, if you listened hard enough, choked, but who’s checking? Not him. Not Mitsuba. And certainly not you. 

He reported it to the vice-commander himself, voice robotic, telling how he was walking front of you when it happened, how the enemy somehow managed to predict your movements and ambushed the both of you on a bridge, how he had been unable to react in time to stop the silver flash of a knife and how the world tilted, too fast and too slow, and that there was a piece of hanging rope that he managed to snag on to with one hand and when he blindly flashed out the other to grasp at you, reaching through free air and snatching at cloth, it ripped from his fingers, and you fell to the chasm below.  Deep enough, Okita said as he looked straight into Hijikata’s eyes, that death would be quick and painless.

If nothing else could go right for him, then at least for this, he hoped, even fucking prayed, that it was painless.

Hijikata doesn’t react to the report with anything unnecessary, just a stiff upper lip and an “okay” before he walks off to stand somewhere far enough, yet close enough. For all their differences, Hijikata knows. He understands losing youthful love, and that the pity that comes with it is nothing more than steaming trash. In this way and other ways that he’d sooner eat shit than to admit aloud, Okita is grateful for him.  

He stops mid mirthless chuckle to shove the hand holding what’s left of  you up to his eyes, slanting his head downwards so his bangs cover what he doesn’t want the world to know what he’s somehow still capable of. Hijikata is tactfully looking away. Over the distance, Kondo is bellowing orders to his men who keep a wide berth from the spot where their 1st Division Captain stands. This is the only opportunity he can afford to be an eighteen year old again. Sougo swallows thickly, feeling the roughness of fabric dampen against his eyelids. 

Acutely, he hears the sound of footsteps. It is slow and steady and he thinks that they belong Kondo at first but the weight of them is too light for a gorilla. Before he can process this information further, the steps halt for several long seconds before starting again, this time faster and more urgent, lurching in his direction. Hijikata mutters an astounded “shit” but  for whatever reason doesn’t move to intercept. Okita really isn’t in the mood to deal with dumbasses but the sword by his side is already unsheathed and he’s aiming his red eyes to glare at whoever the fuck--

Arms wrap around his waist. A face burrows into his chest. His knees almost give out, but his name is Okita Sougo and he has already maxed out his whiny bitch points for the next decade. Instead, he drops his sword to cup the back of your very-much-alive head, caressing the wet silk of it before threading his trembling fingers through the strands to

sharply tug you from his chest and grasp your cheeks with one hand, squeezing your expression to that of a startled fish. 

“Now,” Okita murmers, the smirk on his lips at odds with how fucking great it feels to see you again. “What should I do with you?”

Sakata Gintoki:

Before they say anything, he knows. 

He has seen that type of expression too many times to ever forget the set jaw, the horrible attempt at stilling a trembling bottom lip, the unshed tears of eyes that can’t seem to stop roving, unable to face the recipient of bad news for more than half a second, and the pallidness of knuckles straining against skin, holding onto their clothes like a lifeline. 

He knows this expression so well he can gaze down at Shinpachi and Kagura with well-placed apathy, perfectly appearing as if his lungs aren’t threatening to collapse on itself when he notices who is not there with them, and tell them in his same old way to stop sucking on their teeth and finish what they can’t seem to get out because he has an appointment at the pachinko parlor at four and if they don’t finish up this job by three-thirty he is going to dock their nonexistent pay by 80%. It hides the rising nausea and stone weight of the stomach well. 

This time, however, his casual rudeness doesn’t make them react the way he wants them to, it only makes them fold into themselves even further. 

The thing is, no matter how many times you see it and know better than to entertain it, there’s always this one glimmer of hope, so ridiculously strong that you’d gladly pray to anyone and everyone, even if you don’t really believe, because if anything is possible then it better be possible that this isn’t bad news, or that even if it is bad news then the worst of the pinched expression is just a by-product of eating food gone bad or the pain of an ingrown toenail, that it isn’t about someone dying or dead. 

But life rarely goes like that, and Gintoki lives in an extra-shittier life compared to most people. 

When you stumble across them, hair singed and smelling of gunpowder and smoke, there is something so thick and so wrong with the air, something that makes you stop from crying out in elation at seeing the people you love most. Shinpachi is fastidiously rubbing his eyes and Kagura has her face buried against Sadaharu’s fur and Gintoki

Gintoki looks alone. And you don’t think you have ever seen him look like that, so withdrawn into himself that even if he is surrounded by people, there’s nothing that can come close to him, nothing that can ease the dull bleakness of his eyes and the defeated hunch of his shoulders. He looks like a single thread worn too thin, on the verge of snapping. He looks like nothing matters anymore. Nothing. 

You dislike it. You hate it. You hate it so much, to see this man turn into something so unfamiliar and terrifying and gut out. You don’t know this Gintoki. You want the other one back, the one who wouldn’t hesitate to smear dog shit and boogers on the back of your jacket and the one who doesn’t really mind it when you take a sip of his spoiled strawberry milk. 

So when you shout out loudly, so loud that vibrates the space, that you’re here and alive and that you didn’t, couldn’t die because how could such a measly explosion off you when there were idiots waiting back home for you, to see Kagura and Shinpachi fly to you, screaming and whooping as they open their arms wide for your hug, snot running down their noses, and Gintoki snap his head up, disbelieving at first, yet searching your form with a speck of hope that brings life back to his dead eyes, and when he finds whatever he was searching for, he goes to you on steady feet, folding his arms around the group, gaze still drinking your form up as he leans across Shinpachi’s and Kagura’s heads to bump his forehead against yours, his breath sighing out something like relief-- it almost makes you cry, or maybe it does because you can feel something wet trailing down your face.

Gintoki is silent for the most part, because Kagura and Shinpachi are doing most of the talking for him, but when he does speak, it is to say: 

“Damn, there goes the life insurance money.” 

[juhakn]

Spring Had Just Ended

Words count: 7.5k

Theme: Slowburn, angst, fluff, established friendship

Pairing: Ten Lee and reader

summary: this summer is not what you expected when your childhood friend is back in town for a month break from college. the same person, the same feelings

You lost your cat.

Well, rather, she was the one who got lost but for some invalid reasons, your family blames you for the incident. May I remind you, an incident you clearly do not have anything to do with.

So here you are, with your friend Ten; whom you consider is very useless in your journey of finding the cat. I am a cat person, he states. You cock my eyebrow at him, completely disagreeing with his statement. He hops on the rocks, the wet rock that lives in the shallow river. It used to be your hiding spot-your cat, Thian loved to follow you here.

But college got you two caved in.

The both of you forgot to keep each other updated as he studies in Thailand, his home city while you're stuck here, in a town you're getting tired with. He would always nag every chance he gets about how you're wasting my intelligence over a small town that doesn't offer great majors.

"It holds a special place in my heart," is what you'd say.

Right now, you feel like dropping.

Holding your phone, you continue to follow wherever he goes-except Thailand. Maybe you shouldn't have brought him with you, maybe both of you shouldn't have decided to come back here in summer. He stops, "hey remember this?" he grins, his hand grasping a rock, carved with his initial and yours. Your lips couldn't help but lift themselves into a gentle smile, "yes I do, idiot."

"I remember you telling me a cat person should be able to attract cats within 50 miles away- which is complete bullshit by the way-and I somehow wore a fucking cat ears just to prove you I am one, in Halloween." He looks at you with an idiotic smile on his face. The same old smile that always makes your heart do laps.

"for the record, we were 13 and yes, a cat person should be able to attract cats within 50 miles away. You were just in denial like you are right now," you scoff.

You're the one who's in denial.

[23:17]

The quest in searching for your family (and yours) beloved Thian was a fail.

But somehow, Ten did end up in your house, eating dinner with your mother who keeps complaining about how he doesn't remember her anymore (because it's his first time visiting her in three years). You're fiddling with the spaghetti you're trying to find interesting.

Ten was a friend you met during high school, he moved from Thailand to your small town- something you're intrigued by. Why would someone ever fly all the way from a beautiful country that has little bits to everything to a small, secluded, town that absolutely doesn't have everything?

My parents wanted somewhere closed off, he would say, with a shrug followed by.

He wasn't your neighbour, or at least in your point of view (you think neighbours are the ones who lives beside, not in front of two houses by) he was a classmate.

You couldn't speak Thai, but Ten still would talk in his native language with you. Slowly, you would pick up some words but that was after he rushed to college. You never had a chance to show off your skill. Not that he's here...you feel off.

Ten was just like anyone else, he showed no interest in learning but is forced to. He once confessed about dropping school so he could become a performer.

In which he left you, for a dance major.

For his dream.

You once watched him dance. It was the month before he left for Thailand, chasing his dream. He let his warm hand slid into yours, gently grasping your fingers and stroking your hand with his thumb.

"I wanna show you something." And he did, he tugged you to your secret little space by the stream.

You watched him take off his shoes, switching them with his ballet ones. He had a big grin plastered on his face, "okay, I'm not that good so...please tell me how I did." As his toes pointed to the ground, he took a deep breath and twirl with passion.

He was a ballerino and you were falling.

[10:44]

"Do you think she'll come back?"

It was a question you loved to ask yourself. It was winter and you were lost. You still are, but you think you're getting back on track now that he's here.

Both of you decided to catch up with life, drove to the city and hang out in a newly opened cafe. There's no talking, but it's not awkward. Rather, it's comforting. You stop picking with your vanilla cake.

You look at your friend's eyes, oh-you could stare into those beautiful brown eyes of his for god who knows-you sigh, "I don't know Ten, I don't know." And it isn't a question, it's a dilemma.

Should you tell him how you feel or should you not?

You clench your teeth, the bitter taste on your tongue stayed. You just want to dance with him, you want to tell him, take your hand and wish he'd take it like his life depends on it. But that's okay, you think. But that's fine, you think. But that's nice, you think

But that hurts, you smile.

"Does Mrs Millers still sell her cherry ade? Man, I miss those days when we got them for free. I never understood why she didn't want to market it. She could be a millionaire for all we know." Ten huffs, his palm resting on his chin. He had always had pretty features, a button nose, big doe eyes, beautiful tanned skin and long eyelashes.

You couldn't bring yourself to think about his lips, you're scared you might jump onto his pink ones.

He looks at you and you reply with a shriek, "she doesn't sell them but she does still give us them," you pause, "free of charge."

Ten hums, eyes darting away from yours.

He looks at the pedestrians crossing the street, the woman walking her raging chihuahua and a man beside her with his golden retriever. The old grumpy man wearing a checkered patterned flat cap, thrusting his hands into his old, thorned brown leather jacket. Those girls chatting while eating ice cream in the hot summer wearing a matching strawberry dress.

You chuckle softly, the old man must love his grandchildren to death. You wonder if he even does have one.

In your small town, they don't have a cute modern cafe but an old vintage one. It's a cute, small building that has gone old, probably more than two decades. Its owner is an old lady named Michelle Suh whose husband is far below 6 feet in the ground. She's a sweet lady who'd give the two of you free sandwiches after school ended.

She has gotten old, the cafe would probably be closed by a few months.

Ten's eyes wander off to the old couple swinging their hands sweetly as they cross the street, adoring each other lovely.

"I wish that could be us..."

The cream tastes awful.

[11:15]

"Have you two lads date already?" Is the first greeting Mrs Millers asked. She doesn't hesitate to express her feelings (which you do admire), it just slips off her lips.

You choke on the carbonated cherry flavoured drink, your cheeks heating up with the same colour as the deep red cherries. Ten laughs freely, brushing off the old woman with his hands jokingly, stating, "I don't think we don't suit each other."

You look down at your shoes, they're sandals with a huge sunflower on each to add more aesthetical pleasing. Or maybe you're looking at the shattered pieces of your heart.

The old woman with a cherry apron sighs, "I was wishing you two could get married after my son." She smiles bitterly, disappointed that her favourite ship is sinking.

"Oh? Jungwoo's getting married?" Her son perks your interest, you haven't seen him for years after he went to boarding school. He's a couple of years younger but he's handsome.

You noticed how Ten's face dropped after you changed the subject to Kim Jungwoo; the high school student you had a crush on. It was a phase, you say. Mrs Millers is Jungwoo's foster mom, after his parents couldn't afford to raise him so Mrs Millers took him into her family's warm embrace.

Kim Jungwoo still keeps in contact with his biological parents. You knew because he accidentally overshares about his family issues when you found him crying by the river after school. You knew because the two of you would hang out by the river before Ten came. You knew because Jungwoo was your friend.

"Jungwoo's engagement was off last minute. He's here but he's a guy with a broken heart. The love of his life left him and he's a human." You pity both Mrs Millers who's forcing her lips to smile and Jungwoo...who's overwhelmed with sadness.

"Can I talk to him, Mrs Millers?" You raise your hand, asking for her consent. She nods weakly, "you can, but I'm not sure if he'd answer." And you understand, because he hates it when someone sees him at his weakest.

Once again, you knew because he told you when he cried on your shoulder when his dog died. Tuu, a white Samoyed, was his emotional support (besides you).

You sigh, thinking of all possibilities Jungwoo might make them happen. "It's okay if he doesn't, I just miss him...I want him to know that I'm here, always."

Ten flinches, but no one noticed.

Mrs Millers walk to her fridge and take the cold ham sandwich before giving it to you. She softly whispers, "can you please bring this to him, (Y/n)? He rarely goes out these days."

You nod.

You left Ten and Mrs Millers talking to each other, completely in their world. You take a deep breath, "I hope he's okay..." And walk upstairs, carefully, without making too many noises.

You knock on Jungwoo's door, softly asking his permission for you to enter. There's no response. Twice, nothing. Thrice, still quiet. You knock aga-

Jungwoo opens his door. He has eyebags under his red, dull eyes. His skin looks lifeless, he looks lifeless. Like a zombie who has nothing to do with life. No passion, no motivation...no Kim Jungwoo.

His lips quiver seeing you and you mind yourself to not squish the cold sandwich when hugging him as you slowly take him into your arms. He sobs into your chest and you coo, "there, there, my pretty boy...I'm here, jungwoo. I'm home." You pat his back with a steady rhythm.

You gentle sway your bodies into his room and closes the door by kicking it with your toe. You caress his soft brown locks, still cooing his sweet words.

For a solid 10 minutes, his sobs have stopped. You look down at him, your thumb lifts his chin for him to connect your eyes. He looks miserable, heartbroken.

You stroke his cheek gently with your thumb, "whoever did this to you, they don't know you deserve more. You deserve better, my love." You give him a sweet longing kiss on his forehead. One that screams "I miss you!".

"Now don't cry anymore, you look like a lost sad puppy." You playfully squish his cheeks with your hands, drawing circles on his soft cheeks. His lips inch for a smile as he looks at you.

Plopping down onto his bed, he follows by resting his head on your lap as you brush his hair. It used to be a hobby of yours when you two were still in high school. You think the habit might come back.

"They said they love me," Jungwoo starts. "And I believed them..." His voice shakes, his heart couldn't bear the past. "They left me, saying we were just never meant to be...it hurts knowing that I still love them. For 4 fucking years, (Y/n)," he halts.

"For 4 fucking years, we were in love and they ended it. I left after that. I left Paris and got lost. But I'm here." He cries.

His sobs get louder when hides himself in his palms. You sigh deeply, your shaking hands' pats his head. "I know that feeling," you whisper.

You do? Jungwoo asks. For 6 years of friendship, you never talk about your love life to him. He thought you were just aroromantic, so he never really cares.

"Yeah, I do." You answered his question.

"That feeling when you're just not meant to be and now you're regretting taking their hands into yours, regretting being there for them when they're sad, regretting loving them because-"

"-they left." Jungwoo continues bitterly. You nod out a yeah, you don't mind if he interrupts, it's Jungwoo and you're willing to drop the whole world for him. You stop playing with his hair and take a moment before continuing, "or maybe you don't regret loving them. You think they're the right person, but as soon as you do...they just left."

"You wanna think it's a mistake, a mistake that they leave. But it's just regret." You playfully Boop his cute nose and he scrunch it. It's cute, you think.

"I guess we're the mistresses who fell in love with married guys." Jungwoo pouts, and you nearly squish him to death. He's adorable and you're this close to snuggle him to death.

"Except that they're not." You emphasis. "And I was going to." He says as he rolls his eyes.

You interlock your hands with him, rubbing them against your cheek. "We make mistakes but I don't know if it was ever a mistake," Jungwoo confesses rather timidly. And you know he's lost, just like you.

Two friends lost in love.

Jungwoo laughs with a thin line of sadness lined in between his sweet voice. "I think they were the ones who made a mistake for leaving us, don't you think so?" He looks up at you, eyes wide open as he asks curiously.

You hum, "in your case, yes. How could a little pretty boy who deserves the whole world got left?" You say as you bring your hands to cradle his cheeks and squish them together. You earn a lively laugh from him and honestly, that's all you ever wanted. For a moment, the two of you stare at the sunset. Into different worlds, the two of you are still able to communicate with each other. He's on his own and vice versa. It's a quiet time where you both enjoy the silence in each other's warmth. The cold sandwich has already gotten into Jungwoo's stomach and he quote, "cold ham sandwiches are superior."

Jungwoo realises about what you said so he asked, "how about yours?"

"It was my choice."

[14:54]

Ten is intimidated by Jungwoo's height but he could never bring that up or you'll tease him till death. By the time you wave at the mother and her precious son, he drags you to his bike. Ten never liked cars, he fancies bikes more than them, you recall.

"What did you guys talk about?" He asks carefully with a straight face while helping you with the helmet. You shrug, "We just talk and cuddle. That's it."

Ten halts, but quickly hops onto his bike. You watch him throwing a small tantrum-by pressing the bike's gear, creating a very loud noise. As he drives you to your house, he whines quietly.

"Cuddles? Seriously? What is he? A toddler who needs cuddles to cheer up?"

As he drops you off, he runs off-without saying goodbyes. You throw your head back, stressed over your bottled up feelings for your hot friend. Ten is hot, you admit.

For anything, he's so hot you remember thinking about him in a suit during prom in the exam that you forgot to answer the exam paper. It was embarrassing and nice. He's unbearably hot that your coffee was overflowing all because you're too busy staring at his new haircut. He's too hot that you nearly missed a traffic light while driving because you were thinking about how good he could be with you.

And Ten still doesn't know about your feelings.

And you're getting pretty tired with all those butterflies that appear every time he texts you good mornings and goodnights. You're tired of those flips your stomach does whenever he smiles at you. You're tired of your heart running miles every damn time he laughs at your corny jokes.

You throw yourself onto your soft bed, head in the pillow, socks still on your feet, your sling bag somewhere on the carpeted floor and your necklace are still on.

Tomorrow's Monday.

And you have applied to work at the small cat book cafe with Sicheng. Sicheng is a friend of Jungwoo's you met during the middle school reunion. Sicheng never liked reading but he said that's the only job the town ever has. And you agree with the Chinese man.

Ten haven't met Sicheng yet, you think.

Why does every time you try to think about anything that doesn't remind you of his gorgeous self, you always find a way back to thinking about him? It feels like he connects your universe (which he does), and you will never get lost.

But you feel as if you're disappearing in the forest of love. It's hazy, you feel dizzy. The fuzziness inside you never left and biology can't even explain the feeling scientifically. You're mad, mad in love with Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul.

You shout into the poor pillow, letting your feelings go around messing your room instead of your brain. You are tired and you have work tomorrow.

So you sleep.

Wearing earphones, sad playlist shuffles to help you lull to a deep peaceful slumber without Ten.

[19:13]

"(Y/n), (Y/n)!"

Sicheng snaps you from your daydream. You blink, twice. You still can't get him out of your head. He's just there, running through your mind, living rent-free. He should at least pay one dollar for every time he crossed your mind and you'd still get only one dollar because he never leaves.

Sicheng doesn't know who Ten is, at least visually/physically, but he knows you like the man. Sicheng could tell from the way your eyes are reflecting love or whatever that shit is. He thinks love isn't real and you do agree...halfway.

"I'm sorry-what were you saying, Sicheng?" You ask with a sheepish smile, your hand awkward scratches the nape of your neck. Sicheng pinches in between his eyebrow, forehead creasing. "I'm suggesting, (Y/n). Stop thinking about Ten!" He glares, and you absentmindedly take note of Sicheng's cuteness when angry.

"I wasn't thinking about him!" Your voice is an octave high, so it's a lie. You can't lie anyways, Sicheng's sun in the Scorpio allows him to read your mind. You don't believe in astrology-it's all just a big coincidence. Sicheng however does study astrology along with astronomy. He hates physics for that, but he believes in magical stuff and rituals.

Sicheng is a spiritual man.

He rolls his eyes, "whatever. I'm saying if we can put up posters about your missing cat around the town." You bit your lips. Ten had already done that the second he found out Thian went missing. "Ten already spread the news around. If anything happens, they'd call him before me." You sigh, Ten is a smart guy.

"He's a nice guy."

That's the problem. He's a nice guy and you're pushing him away. You're the stupid one for not getting him, not confessing to him. He could be the one, he also could be a passerby.

You want him to be in your life, not just a passerby who watches your life from afar. Not just the star who appears only when you need him. You want him to be your love, always there even if you don't need him.

Maybe just maybe, he can be your Juliet-without the tragic death event(s).

Sicheng goes back to pet the fat orange cat on the counter whilst looking out for customers. He tends to keep away from rumours about him slacking off. He leans in against the marble counter, smirking, "you know, if you keep thinking about him, I'm afraid he might show up." Sicheng snarky comment make you feel less nervous.

"You attract what you fear," you warm him. You walk back to cleaning the windows, way too occupied with talking to your handsome co-worker. Sometimes you wonder what could you have done to be blessed with attractive people in your life. You're lucky to live in the same realm, era, area, with them. And the fact that you know them...personally, is, really wholesome.

"No wonder he's here." Sicheng comments and you nearly slip. A what feels like an electric shock makes your body slightly imbalanced from the slippery tiled floor.

"Oh, shit-" you brush off the stain on your shirt. You look around, there's no Ten.

Sicheng laughs as you feel your cheeks warming up. You grasp the dirty towel and throw it onto Sicheng. You don't aim for his face because he's so pretty it hurts...yet it ended up flying directly to his forehead.

You burst out bubbly laughs, holding your stomach while Sicheng picks up the dirty towel with disgust. Sicheng looks at you and looks back at the towel. "Now, would it harm someone if I throw this to someone?" His lips curl up into a vicious smile.

You notice and quickly run between the books. You know Sicheng wouldn't dare to throw it- he might ruin the vintage. And he loves them. Summer is when we read books with cats, he states.

As the two of you continue playing around and bickers about the towel, the bell door rings. A customer has entered. Your eyes dart to the door and your knees wobble. A very, attractive young man whom you assumed is probably a graduate is greeting a calico cat named Hana. "God...why do such men always surround themselves in our lives?" Sicheng bites his lips.

"I don't know, but he is damn hot." You whisper, eyes still glancing at the stranger. "Hey, you have Ten! Enough collecting!" Sicheng flicks your forehead and you swear you heard a loud smack. You heard a soft chuckle behind you. "You know Ten?"

You turn around, dizzy. The man has a sharp nose, a defined jaw and big eyes. His cheekbones are visible and that makes him more...hot. however, hot is not the right word to describe his attractiveness. Perhaps, gorgeous does. You stutter over your words, "Yes- yes I do know Ten!" You cringed at yourself.

The man's eyes gleam under the light of the cafe upon hearing your answer. "Do you want coffee?" Sicheng interrupts, finding excuses to get away from the eye-gouging scene. It's exaggerated, he knows. The mystery man simply nods and asks for a cup of iced Americano. Sicheng's breath hitch, "basic bitch."

He doesn't mean it in a bad way.

Sicheng sets his foot to the coffee maker. The mystery man looks back at you, his charming smile never fades. He slowly leans in and whispers, "please do something about Ten. We're getting a bit annoyed by his rants." Your eyes widen, taken aback by his sudden action. The man simply takes a step back and winks, "the name's Hendery. We'll have lots of meetings from now on."

"I'm...glad?"

"Here's your coffee!" Sicheng suddenly appears and Hendery pays for it. He points his index finger to your lips and puts it on his own before mumbling about what you think is, "secret."

Hendery walks out after he pets all the cats in the cafe (which takes him around 10 minutes because they're 10 cats). Sicheng nudges your elbow, "what was that all about?" You shake your head, "I don't know but I do know he's handsome."

Although, handsome is an understatement. Hendery is...heavenly charming. Yeah, you think he suits heavenly more. However, Ten is still on top of the list. Because ten is hot as hell.

[07:27]

Spending time with cats is never on the summer bucket list but you think it completed the summer itself. You can die happily now. Not to mention now that Ten is here, summer is a bit warm for you now. Warm because you're currently holding his hand tightly-as if you'd let him go any second, on your way to watch a play.

Few hours earlier, he had invited you to watch his friend's play, Hendery, together. At first, you didn't think plays are for you. Heck, that thought never once appear in your mind. But seeing Ten was so desperate for you to be there with him, you thought, why not? It could never harm anyone.

Your heart feels giddy and fuzzy. As soon as he shows the tickets to the security, he pulls your hand excitedly. Perhaps he's just giving his friend his support.

Joy overtook you as he continues holding your hand even during the play which makes your focus on him, not the play. Though the only thing you remember is the title of the play; "Charming Lady." It is not a traditional play, Ten whispers.

It's my original idea, he grins. You scrunch your nose in confusion, plays requires money, you remember. So how in the world-oh...

It's my original idea, he grins. You scrunch your nose in confusion, plays requires money, you remember. So how in the world—oh. Ten's a famous chef's son and yet, he still doesn't know how to cook rice...for some reason (he has his mother why would he cook?). He's rich as hell, for crying out loud. Everyone would sacrifice themselves just to be served by his family. Their speciality in cooking raised everyone's standard on one's tasting buds whether by the texture, presentation or the taste itself. You once tried their signature, pineapple crab curry, cried and you swore to never discriminate food ever again.

"This...is voluntary. You could say I just want to share my world of arts with people for free. The tickets are exclusively given for people with love for art. I did some research of them...and it's intriguing." Ten lay back on his seat, careful not to spill his coffee onto the floor.

Coffee and plays, a combination you never know you need. It goes well together. The bittersweet longing taste of espresso laces within the dramatic plots of acted out scenes. Truly, a masterpiece.

[00:58]

Charming lady is a rather cliche story, you must say.

Charming lady is based off a woman's dream of becoming a wife to a rich man and travelling the world. And sadly, the man she loves moves away without her as he finds more opportunities in other countries. She would cry herself to sleep every night, wishing-maybe God would help.

Poor soul, you think.

Just like you.

Hopelessly in love with a man you know you would never have chance with. And to every each day you wish for him to look at you, may if it's just seconds, may if it's just a short while. You hope those twinkling eyes of his would shine seeing you, but you could only hope.

You hate fate.

As the story progresses, hendery is the protagonist, the villian or whatever Ten said. Now, Hendery's role is the most crucial affect to the whole plot. He thicken the play by simply pursuing the woman-a whole cliche, likewise.

But you know how it feels.

To see someone who's in love, but not you. You're desperate, you're selfish for wanting him. But how could the little heart of yours endure such a burden in the name of love? Whether it'd be yours or his. As you grew up, you understood the villain more this developing a hatred passion towards the selfish hero(es).

You couldn't shed a tear but something break your heart there.

You know Ten will be leaving again.

His love for dancing wouldn't get him anywhere if he stays here.

After the two of you watched the theatre, Ten suggested a cafe that sells good sweets. The evening is quiet beautiful today with the clouds blushing on the horizon, the sun spreading its last shiny crown for today. You look at the menu, chose one portion of banana milk smooth and a red bean flavoured bun while Ten orders Chai Tea for himself.

"Hey! I've been calling your name for 3 minutes now!!" Ten's voice sorts your thoughts back to reality. You whisk your head to look at him and apologize. "I was way in my mind." You rub your arms softly, the cold night of summer is a hassle. You may never feel his warmth again after this.

He makes an annoyed expression, "here's your smoothie. Banana. And that's probably the only thing I hate bout you, hoe." You snicker, "it's just a smoothie, Ten! You're just getting on your own nerves!" You let out a big laugh, one that make your stomach flips.

"Ew, we're definitely not soulmates." Ten says with a disgust, his tongue poking out and his eyebrows furrowed. He takes your hand in his, grasping it lightly as if you're as fragile as a glass. Your lips reach for the cold blended beverage and slowly sips. Ten watches is disbelief, his eyes narrowed-he's not a fond of fruit, his mother said 6 years ago.

"You know, that play was a first. I really appreciate it when you said you could come. I know it's not that great to you...because you've always hated love and stuff...but seeing my best friend showing up to give support is nice." His ears are red as a cherry, you noticed. Your breath got heavier as your chest thumps vigorously against your ribcage, begging to burst out.

Honestly, you don't really mind if he views you as just a friend. You are far more happy to be on his 'my loved ones' list. If you're able to make him happy, that's all that matters.

You sigh deeply, "what can I say to my parasite? I have to give everything of mine or you'd die." You ruffle his hair, smiling from ear to ear. Ten grins, like a cat, and your heart did a back flip.

"Let's go home."

Ten shakes his head upon hearing your suggestion. "Come on, (Y/n). It's been two weeks and we ever did was going to a cafe, work and sleep. Aren't you getting bored?" The man wiggle his eyebrows playfully and you know where is this going. You laugh, "Ten, I have work tomorrow and I can't afford to sleep late today."

Tomorrow's Tuesday and by now, you've just realised how time flew so fast. It feels like it was just yesterday Ten moved to your neighbourhood. It feels like it was just yesterday the first time the two of you met. It wasn't even special or dramatic like anyone's first loves, but...it is special at least to you.

Little things pasts like the waves. So you want to cherish everything before the end of the world. You are afraid of not completing the role of yours before you die but your mother always warn; "never rush into life or death will move forward." You look up, the soft night breeze softly gust onto your cheeks. A little goodnight by them. The stars are laid across the black canvas of the so called night sky.

Ten looks up too, "who said that?" He closes his eyes for a second, enjoying his youth while he still can before adulthood reaches his time. He continues, "anyways, I was going to tell you to let's go rob your cafe."

This caught your attention—he always does nonetheless. Your eyes widen as saucers, breath hitched, cheeks flushed from the cold,"are you crazy?" You stressed. Ten shrugs his shoulders and meet you in the eye. "For the cats, (Y/n). Think of the cats!" He exclaims dramatically—and you like that about him. He always care for little things, he's attentive of others. Ten may deny all of your sweet statements of his but you know better.

"You're still not over by that?" You roll your eyes and if not, you want to show him your eyeballs fall out of the sockets then put it back in. Just to show him how "annoyed" you are.

On his fourth day of vacation—1 summer free of notifications of "new assignment posted"—you had told him about how Mrs. Suh loves the cats but not enough to let them into her house. She said it reminds her of her late husband. "No, how could they let the cats caged overnight? That's like...a devil's son."

You turn to Ten, "Oh Ten, they're fed. They also will go to walk every morning. It's not like they're dying!" Your feet starts walking to its own pace on the concrete path. The city is quiet, peace and calm. Ten follows. Just like he always does and now, to you, it's time you go on your own paths for the sake of yourselves.

"Fine, fine. I admit I'm exaggerating." He thrusts his cold hands into the pocket of his denim jacket. Ten has things for fashion. Occasionally, he designs for small companies for savings or charity. You flash a grin,"do you still want to do it?" And Ten nod enthusiastically, excited.

You think for a minute and, "race you to the cafe!" You grasp onto your banana smoothie cup firmly, it's only half full. He seems to be taken aback, nonetheless, he starts chasing, shouting, "hey, that's like 20 miles on foot!"

Breathless, still on the run, you turn,"then you better get your foot on the damn pedal!"

Does Nakata ever cares about others? The outcome is a big fat no in red. But even for cats, there are some exceptions and Ten is the exception. The Siamese cat doesn't like anyone unless it's Ten Lee. But fuck the world for having only one Lee Yongqin.

[00:13]

Ten decide to only let Nakata out to avoid getting you fired.

He gently stroke the purring cat.

Oh, to be a cat is a blessing. To be pat by a man named Ten Lee is a blessing. You look in awe, "See, Nakata? I told you you're a 'tsundere'."

The cat glares, then proceeds back to enjoy his little massage therapy. He's too tired to argue you (or he just simply loves ignoring people). You chuckle, turning to Ten. "Do you want some coffee?"

Ten shakes his head briefly. "I don't want an adrenaline rush." You shrug your shoulders, his lost. "Oh please, as if college students aren't caffeine addicts. I'm dialling the pizza." You say, phone on your hand, dialling the local pizza. When you were a kid (actually still till this day), you develop a fear of ordering. And you absolutely hate it when your mom left you alone at the cashier because apparently she forgot to grab the sugar.

You had no money and you were nervous seeing the line had shorten up.

You ring up, and order one box of pepperoni. Classic choice. Nothing goes wrong with classics. Ten sighs, sinking into the torn couch. "Seriously, I live off pizza and coffee. Kun probably hates me for that." He smirks, remembering a friend from college. "There are so many reasons to hate you, darling. Hey, isn't Kun a music major?" You smirk.

Ten once told you about Kun, his roommate. Ten is the epitome of party of life and he could never turn down alcohol for God's sake. Because God forbid him being sober. And one time, he knocked out himself and Kun had to dragged his ass back home. Kun was mostly mad that he had to be responsible for Ten (because the lecturer would ask him about Ten's whereabouts). The whole campus knows they're roommates.

Ten's famous, it's expected.

And you somehow still remember it because 1)if you were to be in love, you will make sure to remember everything. 2)he complains about how kun sounds like his mom a lot—and you could never be anymore happy knowing there is someone taking care of him. 3)kun told you too. He also figured out on how much you're in love with Ten and quoted, "it's as if he's your world—no, your entire universe." And you couldn't agree more. You and kun are secretly friends behind Ten's back.

Preferably because you two gossips about him in the chat...a lot. He said they're for blackmailing if Ten ever threatens him. But you just answer, drop a basket of fruits on the welcoming mat, monotonously.

"Yeah, he always nag how we don't take care of health. Calories and whatever. Sometimes I wonder why he just don't take nutritions."

""Yeah, he always nag how we don't take care of health. Calories and whatever." Ten huffs, watching the cat jumps off his lap and dissapear somewhere between the wooden shelves. "He sounds like Winwin. That guy always nag about people's taste in coffee. He hates it when they order iced Americano because apparently, that's basic." You say with despite, because he did judge you for just ordering iced Americano. It isn't your fault for getting overwhelmed by the sudden tick of anxiety.

That was a year ago, the night you met Sicheng. It was Christmas and he was desperate to close the cafe and barely even got the cats into the cage.

Ten rolls his eyes, "tell me about it." But in the end, he knows you have a soft spot for Sicheng (though he never really know who is this man). That man is cute and has a thing for astrology? Sign (Y/n) the fuck up. Ten is still busy catching up with other people and it's selfish of you to think he'd give up his time just for you. You wish you're his only friend but Ten's an extrovert. He greets everyone and anyone.

You decide to take a bold step forward, "how's dancing?" The topic still hurts you a bit but maybe it's time to move on. What happened already happened. He looks at you dead in the eye. "You know, why can't I just dance and drop the history in dancing? Why do we have to use our brains too? It's exhausting!" He throws his arms into the air, letting out a wail. His focus now on you, he asks, "how about you?"

The question is blurry. The answer is ambiguous. Is he asking about how are you doing? Should you answer with, "oh I'm in love with you and it hurts when you weren't here," or "oh, everything's okay, even if my heart aches like shit and I nearly died from the butterflies you gave me," and you choose neither.

Instead, you reply with, "journalism is still shitty. But Miss Dahlia is shittier. She thinks the whole world revolves around her." You say with despite lacing between your teeth. You hate her with a passion for asking you to write an essay about inspiration. To be decent, you entered journalism to write articles about true crime stories.

"Elaborate."

"Please allow me to jump out of the window and bury myself into the ground."

"Straight to hell." He offers his first bump. And gladly greet him back.

"From, hell."

The doorbell rings. The pizza has arrived. You walk towards the door and grab Ten's wallet from his coat that's hanging at the door. He scowls, loud enough for you to know. You brush it off. Ten has been loving off you so it's time he returns the favour. He signed up the friendship contract, nonverbal, and it clearly states, "always feed your best friend." You smile to the delivery man and wave goodbye.

You take steps to the carpet and put the box of pizza on the coffee table. You pull your knees near your chest, taking a warm slice of pizza to relieve your hunger. "How are things for you?" You start.

"Well, my life is cool." He replies, toneless. Your question make him pursue his lips, recalling everything he has done in life. The question is subjective yet he feels as if you're slipping through the cracks of his fingers—and he is beyond fucking scared to lose you. But he knows that's selfish of him.

"No potential lovers?" You yawn, sleepiness has been taunting you for the night. You can't afford to sleep here or you're getting fired. And Sicheng will kill you for leaving him alone dealing with impatient customers who doesn't know how to appreciate baristas that works hard to serve the best beverage. Being a barista is hard but falling in love with Ten is harder.

Ten stretch his arm, "not really, college is hectic for love. Too hectic." You could see his bruises on the legs as his jeans rolled up a bit. Dancers has them and he always said that it's fine and normal. Since dancers uses their bodies a lot, it's almost a routine for bruises to come along on the way.

"Have you ever been in love, Ten?" That caught him off guard. Not once you have asked him about love. It comes naturally to him. To him, love is something he wants to feel and share. That's the reason he chose dancing. To share people about his love for art performance by simply moving his body with the music. It's like fluid. You go wherever music takes you.

You take a deep breath. Love to you is completely selfish. You have no idea how to pursue love in any ways.

"My friends there...they're in love. They found someone to cherish romantically. They found someone to love and sometimes...I feel left out. They hang out with their partners on holidays and I can't really expect them to be free always." So you let it out. Those hidden feelings everytime you felt around your friends. You don't want to say you're desperate to be loved, rather you want someone to love.

After all, love is the reason of existence. To be a human is to feel emotions, to be hurt and to hurt, to make mistakes and be one sometimes.

Ten is silent. And you don't really mind, at all. So you continue, spilling your emotions and left no crumbs."My family keeps pestering me to find someone. You know how I am. I don't believe in love at first sight. I want a love that starts from a relationship. Trust is earned." He agrees by nodding silently. He doesn't need to say anything unless need to be.

"I wish I could live in a cottage with cats." You let out a breathless laugh, tears threatening to spill like pearl beads falling. He joins in,"oh, to live in a cottage core aesthetic," draping his arm over his forehead and clutch his chest.

"Sometimes, I wish I have someone too." You confess, looking away from him. Gazing at the stars, your cheeks flushed. You have no intention of hinting on him but hey, we live once. So fuck it.

Ten murmurs under his breath, "what if they're close?" He decides for himself. He's a grown man and Sicheng thinks—for some reason—fate holds everything and Ten thinks otherwise. As if the stars had written for him to be in love with you, then so be it. If he loves, he loves hard.

"Wha—" you don't have enough time. Ten says that a lot because he thinks you're going to drift away once again so he crashes his lips onto yours.

The kiss isn't the one you'd call a great one. However, it's the kind of kiss that would still leave butterflies in your stomach. The two of you are still new about this, he doesn't ask you to define and neither do you. The kiss sent sparks all over your body, he doesn't really know how to lead. But it's okay, kisses can wait to be perfected —with practice.

Everything is hazy and love is still unfair. Love is still a question no one could ever answer, playing with every human beings feelings. But that's okay because you can take slow steps with Ten, to define the journey. But you know he's going to be with you till the end of the world. Because he passed his awkward angsty teenage hears with you, he was there when you pulled your wisdom teeth out, he was there when you lost Thian and helped you to move on from it (hopefully the cat is fine wherever he is).

The spring ended and it's time for a new summer full of hope and sparks of potential love.

[noonmutter]

Sentence

Daily Writing Challenge 2021 Day 14: Redemption/Hollow

"You INSUFFERABLE maggot! How do you do this? HOW?!"

Terry couldn't quite muster the energy to giggle, but he made a reasonable approximation by rasping the word 'heh' a few times. It was enough to piss Slant off, anyway, and that's all he really cared about. Nothing else was fun anymore, not after... fuck, how long had they been doing this, anyway? Weeks? Months? What was time, even?

"Answer me, you shitcrust! I KNOW you aren't that clever, I've seen your brain, I've held it in my thrice-damned hands, I've rewritten parts of it!"

He couldn't laugh this time; Slant put his anima canister in some kind of clamp thing and squeezed hard, and Terry felt like he was collapsing in on himself. More pain he would never be able to truly compare to anything else. Intense, abrupt, impossible to adapt to. It made no difference, but he gasped for breath when Slant finally released him again.

"Is it still funny now? Huh? IS IT?! Maybe I'll just wring the answers out of you until you finally resemble the worthless, brainless slug you really are!"

Again, the crushing, again, the impotent gasping.

"Why!"

Crush, gasp, crush.

"Won't!"

Crush, wheeze, crush.

"You!"

Crush. Crush harder. Harder still. Unrelenting.

"BREAK?!"

Terry was distantly aware of the sound of glass cracking, and the unbearable pressure suddenly releasing, but he couldn't do anything about it. His entire being felt so weak, he was amazed he could still see or hear. He wondered, in the vague, distracted way of someone who had nearly died, whether this was what roadkill felt like.

Slant didn't do much to improve Terry's demeanor when he put his face mere inches in front of him. Expressions made the man so much uglier; far and away the worst one was the snarl he had on him right then. If he'd had the energy for it, Terry would've cracked wise about how shit Slant's teeth still looked. Weren't venthyr supposed to be pretty? Or at least classy? He was pretty sure his wife could rock the venthyr aesthetic a helluva lot better than Slant could...

...oh. right. Slant. Yelling at him. What...what was he yelling about?

"--nothing special about you at all! You're just a bloody human! Weakest things in all of Azeroth! You didn't even sling the Light like the SMART ones did, you were just a fleshbag with a gun! TELL ME WHY!!"

The former undead man's eyes were wild, practically popping out of his head, and Terry was almost positive there was froth at the corners of his painted mouth. He only stopped screaming when Terry gave signs that he was gathering his strength to speak. There was a long, expectant pause.

"Cuz I fucked yer mum."

There was no crushing like Terry had expected; he had, truly, expected to be finally killed. There was never any chance of him answering the question, not out of defiance--well, not solely out of defiance--but because he simply didn't know. He had no idea why Slant couldn't convince him that the desire to give up was his. He had no idea why he could tell, every time, that something was pushing him. It had, as far as he could figure out, been seamless. It just...never felt right.

And Slant wasn't destroying him. Slant wasn't even in front of him anymore, though Terry could hear him talking to someone nearby. And then there was the rush of shuffling feet, and the clinking of glass shards moving around. Another strange Venthyr stood up with a handful of ruined anima canister and muttered that Slant was a worthless little shit, and Terry wheezed an agreement that he was in fact a twatwaffle, and for a nanosecond, they laughed before clearing their throat and disappearing from view.

He was alone for quite some time, and as he recovered his energy, he was dimly aware that there was shouting from somewhere a ways away. Maybe still inside the building, but in another room? Or down a hallway or something? It was hard to pick out words from the noise, but he could almost swear he heard Slant begging for a second. Gods, he hoped that was real. Just give him that one little thing.

Whether it was or wasn't, he never found out. A few minutes after that animated conversation ended, a much-ruffled Slant returned to the chamber, and adjusted his collar with a vicious smile that Terry liked even less than normal. It reminded him of a schoolkid who’d been ordered by the teacher to play nice, and left immediately unattended.

"Congratulations, T-1. You win."

"...Win."

"Indeed! You are no longer my assignment. You have been deemed ...irredeemable, as it were."

"We both know you weren't tryna redeem me."

Slant flicked a bony hand negligently as though swatting a fly. "Hardly relevant. The fact of the matter is that you are irredeemable, and as such, there is no place for you in these halls."

Terry knew better than to hope. He had no idea what was about to happen, but he knew he wasn't being offered freedom, so he didn't bite at the silence Slant was trying to tempt him with. The venthyr growled briefly to himself, then beckoned toward the darkness. A great, bat-winged beast stepped forward and hefted Terry, cage and all, off the pedestal.

"You are thus condemned to the Ember Ward. Perhaps someone will be along to check on your temperament before you've been driven mad or simply burned to ash, but..." He smiled, showing every single one of his crooked, blackened teeth.

"I truly doubt it."

( @daily-writing-challenge​ )