#I know the thing in the bathroom is supposedly a blunt or whatever but it just looks like a tampon to me I'M SORRY

[trojan-rabbit]

He's doing fine. Just fine. Great, actually. Why do you ask?

[collecting-stories]

Streetlight - JJ Maybank

Request: Could you do a reader x jj where she’s a shy bookworm kook with no friends, jj is doing some work at her house and she finds him intimidating, he’s curious about her. He sees her getting picked on somewhere by some other kooks and he protects her somehow and comforts her. I dunno something like that, your so good at writing I know you can make this so much better that how I explained it ahah

Outer Banks Masterlist

☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎

The compromise was one night out doing normal teenage things to reassure your parents that you had friends and weren’t missing out on all the fun summer stuff people were supposedly doing this time of year and you could have the Grove Press first edition unrevised version of On The Road that someone was selling on ebay. It was a necessity, a collectible item that you would treasure for the rest of your life and it would look amazing in the glass cabinet that you’d gotten from ikea at the beginning of the year.  

“One party and you can have the book.”  

“I hate kook parties,” you tried to reason, eyes drifting passed your dad to the boy cutting your lawn. It was stupid and never in a million lightyears would anything ever happen but you had the smallest, tiniest, barely there crush on JJ Maybank, the pogue your dad hired to do odd jobs all summer. Clean the pool, mow the lawn, wash the cars, wash the boat, service the boat, service the cars, whatever he needed done JJ did it. For an extremely good deal, your dad definitely paid better than most. But you’d gotten used to seeing JJ around all summer. You hadn’t spoken to him but you knew of him and his friends. They threw epic parties.  

“It’ll be fun.” Your dad replied.  

The mower cut and JJ stopped to wipe his face on the shirt he’d taken off and hung over the handle of the mower. When he looked over your eyes went wide and you turned your attention back to your dad to pretend you weren’t just staring.  

“It won’t be fun but fine.” You agreed. It was the only way to get that book and you wanted that book. The agreement was in place and your dad, satisfied with your decision to give into his compromise, switched gears from hassling you to focusing on lunch. He’d been claiming for the passed three days that he was in the mood for something pizza related but now he was debating between frozen pepperoni or frozen plain.  

“Thoughts?” He asked, standing in front of the fridge, holding the two pizza boxes in hand.  

You shrugged, “I don’t know, whatever you want?” You were working your way through a Whole Foods fruit salad and trying to organize your planner for the upcoming school year despite it only being the beginning of August.  

Your dad nodded, laying them both down on the counter and turning the oven on to preheat before walking over to the French doors that lead out to the backyard.  

“What are you doing?”

“Getting a second opinion.” He replied. He opened the door and shouted for JJ over the hum of the motor. When it finally cut out JJ turned to look at him, slightly startled.  

“Yeah?”

“I’ve got some pizza for lunch, you want some?”

“Uh sure, is that okay?”

“Of course, I’m offering it.” Your dad replied, “should be a few more minutes, finish up and come on in.” He let the door close behind him as he walked back into the kitchen. You had turned in your seat to watch and you followed your dad’s movements back to the oven to put the pizzas in. “What? You complain about ‘kooks’, you don’t like those kids either.”  

“No. I didn’t say anything.”

“He seems like a nice kid.”

“I’m sure he is.”

“He’s obviously not sitting at home alone all summer either.”  

“I’m not sure what you want from me.” You replied, “don’t get in trouble but also you don’t have enough friends so find some’.”  

“I just think you’re a great kid and people don’t get to see that. They think you’re snobby and rude when you don’t talk to them.”

“I’m not.” You insisted. You didn’t have a problem with JJ or his friends. It wasn’t that you didn’t talk to them because you thought you were above them. You just didn’t like talking to people.

“They don’t know that.”

“What happened to not catering to other people and their perception of me?”  

“An important rule…one you’ve clearly mastered sitting here doing arts & crafts while other kids your age have jobs or go hang out with friends.” He pointed out.  

“It’s my day planner. Sue me for wanting it to look nice.” You huffed.  

The door opened and both of you looked over as JJ came in. You turned back around quickly and refocused your attention on copying out the class schedule you’d been emailed that morning to avoid looking at a shirtless JJ as your dad pointed him toward the bathroom to clean up for lunch.  

“Schedule in being more sociable.” He teased.  

“You’re so funny.”  

JJ came back into the room and you sucked in a breath, already feeling like you were starting to clam up with him so close to you. Especially when he sat down beside you at the island. You pushed the plastic container of fruit more toward him, avoiding eye contact as you spoke.  

“Fruit?” Not the most astounding of questions but you couldn’t help it, he always made you nervous.

-

The kook party was as awful as you had imagined it being in your head. People you suffered through at school crowded in the first floor of someone’s house while music blared through surround-sound speakers. The party overflowed to the pool and you managed to find a quiet spot away from everyone, sitting on a lounger reading by the light of a tiki torch that was a hazard without the gathering of rowdy, drunk, teens. Not everyone was a kook, you’d spotted JJ and his friends almost instantly, obviously here because of Sarah and Kiara but you ignored all of them in favour of finishing the book you’d been working your way through for the last week and a half. An biographical look at the life of JD Salinger through the eyes of his daughter, you’d been more than thrilled when you managed it find it at the little bookshop on the island. Better than having to go to the mainland and suffer through the idiots that worked at the only Barnes & Noble in a 25 mile radius. You’d been making headway too when the book was pulled out of your hands and someone yanked you out of your seat.  

“Hey! Give me that back!” You tried to pull away from the person holding you but you couldn’t get loose. As you struggled Scarlett flipped through the first couple of pages in the book, pretending to read it.  

“What is this dumb trash anyway? Dreamcatcher?” She laughed.  

“Just give it back Scarlett!” You insisted, pulling against her boyfriend once more. Other kooks had gotten wind of what was happening and stopped to watch.  

“You shouldn’t bring books anyway…accidents are bound to happen.” She said, grabbing a few pages in her hands and ripping them out, watching as they fell to the ground.  

“Stop! Seriously, please stop.” You nearly cried as she continued to rip pieces of the book out.  

A small break in the crowd had JJ pushing through with his friends to see what the commotion was. If he was being honest he didn’t know you very well despite working for your dad all summer. He had seen you around and you’d always been polite to him but never quite friendly. Kiara had told him you were shy though, and that you hated stuff like parties or crowds. This was torture already but now you were standing at the poolside, Scarlett’s boyfriend holding your arms so you couldn’t get away as Scarlett tossed the book into the pool.  

“No! Fuck, are you kidding me!” You yanked against Scarlett’s boyfriend and he laughed.  

“You wanna go in too?” He taunted, “go get it.” And he shoved you forward, both of them laughing as you tripped and fell into the pool.  

JJ ran over without thinking, pulling off his shirt and jumping in the water. He grabbed your waist, helping you to the side of the pool as you sputtered out breaths, too upset by the whole ordeal that you hadn’t been able to focus on actually swimming. Kiara and John B helped you out of the pool while Sarah grabbed a towel for you, wrapping it around your shoulders as you sat on the edge with your legs still in the water.  

Despite the warmth of the summer night you were shaking from the sudden chill that came from being wet. JJ pulled himself up on the concrete beside you, pulling his boots off and tossing them behind him before placing a hand on your back, rubbing up and down.  

“Are you okay?” Sarah asked, kneeling down beside you.  

You nodded, “I’ll be fine. Thanks, but I should go.”  

As you started to stand up JJ stood too, grabbing his t-shirt and boots, casting one last look at the unsalvageable book Scarlett had tossed into the pool. “Let me walk you back?”  

“You don’t have to, you should stay and enjoy the party.”  

“I don’t want you walking home alone. It’s already pretty late.” He reasoned. It was already dark and your house was three blocks away. Not a bad walk but you were still soaked from the pool and wouldn’t hate the company, even if you did get tongue tied whenever JJ was around.  

“Okay.”  

You kept the towel around your shoulders as JJ led you away from the party, Scarlett shouting after you about your taste in pogues and Sarah telling her off. You were too in your head to say much even as you got away from the party and the blaring music and the crowded rooms. Walking through the streets with JJ, both of you barefoot and carrying your shoes. Soaked still from the pool, he had his shirt draped over one shoulder.  

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” JJ asked, glanced over at you.  

“You having to dive in and get me out of the pool and walk me home. I ruined your night.”  

He shrugged, “not really a fan of kook parties anyway, Sarah wanted to go so…”  

You watched as he pulled a tin out of his pocket, rattling it for a moment before opening it up and smiling, holding it so you could see the blunts rolled up in colourful paper, a lighter and juul wedged in next to them. “Are they dry?”

“Yeah, this thing is waterproof. Bought it last year cause I always forget to empty my pockets when I surf.”  

“Well I’m sure all the fish are happy. Probably trippin’ out.”  

JJ laughed at the joke as he picked out a blunt and lit it up, “you want some?”

“No, I don’t smoke.”  

“Do you care if I do?”

You shook your head. You were almost home anyway, then he could leave. Or were you supposed to ask him to stick around? Offer him some clothes from your dad and dry his wet shorts since he’d been nice enough to dive into the pool after you.  

“So…you and Scarlett aren’t exactly friends huh?”

“I’m not exactly friends with a lot of people, Scarlett is just one of many.” You replied. “I was only there tonight cause my dad made me go…he says I need to socialise more.”

“You don’t really go out much.”  

“I obviously have a good reason.” You said, looking down at your wet clothes.  

“Not everyone’s like Scarlett.” He replied, blowing out smoke as he talked. “We’re going on the boat tomorrow, you should come.”  

“Maybe.”  

“I’d like it if you did.” He admitted, shrugging his shoulders in attempted indifference.  

“Okay, but I’ll think I’ll stick to not swimming, if it’s all the same to you.”  

-

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Anaticula Pt 14

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4 - Pt 5 - Pt 6 - Pt 7 - Pt 8 - Pt 9 - Pt 10 - Pt 11 - Pt 12 - Pt 13 -

Dinner was filled with a cross table argument with Ron in his aim to get you to play him just one more game of chess in his claim he could finally beat you with how he had been practicing. Through your relenting move to sit by Neville across from him Draco took Harry’s side with a wide grin, “I got a letter from uncle Sirius, he filled out the papers. Oh, and he found that permission slip of yours. Sent it in as well.”

“Ooh, goodie. Thought he’d forgotten all about that slip.” Turning your head at Draco’s turn to talk to Hermione you asked Neville, “How did you like Sprout’s?”

His face lit up and he shared his lessons and all the notes he shared with her before Hermione shared her day at your asking, including the odd lesson Quirrell had given, far more restrained than yours had been.

They all shared their favorite courses of the day until you stood at the ache in your stomach saying, “Gotta head down to start on some homework.” Hermione popped up joining you along with the twins and Percy to do the same while Neville accepted Ron’s challenge. But in your departure the boys grouped up sharing their next plan.

.

Choir practice at 10 went smoothly, even in bringing Trevor to his first practice he had followed you to. An eerie chill filled the air as you stopped halfway to your dorm in the moonlit hall wondering at the silence around you soon broken by footsteps not belonging to you in a rapid pace. Turning around you eyed Percy hurrying towards you with a comforted wave washing over his panicked expression. Panting softly he said, “I hoped I’d find you here.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, I was on my rounds and I heard Ron out in the corridor.”

“What would he be doing out?”

Percy shrugged, “But I could have sworn I heard Harry earlier and then Ron was out too. They won’t listen to me.”

You nodded saying, “Let’s get them and drag them back again from whatever they’re plotting.”

.

Through a maze of halls Percy said, “This is where I heard them.”

You nodded and reached into your back pocket drawing out your folded map, giving it a gentle tap with your wand you whispered, “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

Percy raised a brow then leaned over your shoulder eyeing the enchanted map, “So that’s how you lot get around so well for the turners. I’ve tried making maps before.”

You chuckled easing the folds open until you saw them, “Just a few doors over.” By you he hurried checking the map that no teachers were around to catch him off his rounds seeing your names hurrying towards the other duo standing still.

Hastily you let yourselves into the room and closed the door behind you eyeing the startled pair in front of the mirror. Percy huffed and said, “Your curfew was hours ago. Now back to bed before I have to inform Professor McGonagall.”

Ron pointed at the mirror, “Perce, you have to see this, I’m Head Boy and just won the Quidditch Cup!”

Percy’s brow rose and he let out another huff moving by Ron to stare at the mirror, “No. I am clearly Head Boy. And the House Cup…? What is this?”

Moving closer you eyed the inscription around the rim reading, ‘erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi’ then you looked to Percy saying, “It looks enchanted to show you what you desire most.”

Harry pointed at it, “All I see are my parents.”

Lowering your eyes to him you sighed resting your hands on his shoulders, “You should not be out of bed. There are a million different things that could hurt you if you bumped into them.”

Ron chortled, “What, like your basilisk?”

You locked your eyes on him, “There are far worse hexed items in this castle, hexes that could kill in an instant if not countered correctly. Now, bed.”

Harry, “But we have to know what Snape did with Quirrell!”

Ron nodded, “Ya! We saw Snape shoving him into a wall, mumbling real low like and we had to hide in here or he’d have seen us sneaking after him.”

“You need to get to bed.”

Harry, “But Snape..!”

“Harry, there are things you don’t understand-..”

He stopped his foot, “Like what?! Like how Snape has done nothing but be rude to our entire class and pick on you, Fred and George with no proof while clearly targeting Quirrell! I saw him slip something into his orange juice-!”

“Harry!” You sighed and he stopped talking as you lowered to his level, “Quirrell went on sabbatical over the summer-.”

Ron chuckled, “Ya, ran into a vampire in the Black Woods.”

“He found someone much worse than that in those woods.” Their grins fell, “Harry, Quirrell isn’t himself, he hexed most of our class today. Snape and the other Professors are trying to keep an eye on him until a cure can be found. And I need you to promise me you won’t go after him alone again.”

Harry, “What would he do? We’re just kids.”

“Yes and we were toddlers when Riddle tortured and killed my Mum and then killed your parents before trying to use the Killing Curse on us.” His lips parted at your bluntness, “Harry, it doesn’t matter that you’re a child, you meddling is a threat, and trust me what Quirrell found won’t care who meddles, he will kill you.”

Ron, “You’re serious?”

“Yes. The war was never won, it just stopped when Riddle supposedly died. Now his followers, they’re still out there, waiting for a sign to start up again, and we have to learn to protect ourselves.”

Percy, “And that is exactly why you two should focus more on your studies, we won’t always be around to help you.”

“And you shouldn’t start on racking up detentions. I got into one fight my first year and I’m in the Choir for seven years.” Making Ron’s brow inch up.

Percy, “And as for Snape, he’s a strict teacher with a rough personality. Always has been, even more so with his best students. He expects a lot from us and pushes us to achieve greater.”

“Besides, our dads really tormented him in school. He grew up with our mums. So he’s just trying to see who you’re more like. Did the same with me.”

Ron drew in a breath then asked, “Can we at least see what it shows you?”

Stepping in front of it you eyed the blank mirror the boys all grouped around you, all open mouthed seeing a glowing ball of silver light in your place, “Apparently, I want to be a, glowing ball…” shaking your head you said, “I need to go to bed.”

Ron, “That’s so weird.”

Harry, “Perhaps it’s like an energy thing. You want to be well rested..?”

You shrugged glancing back at it, now seeing you as the glowing ball surrounded by the two stoic tall blonde men on either side of you turning their heads to look at you resting their hands on your shoulders. Furrowing your brows you turned away and focused on taking the boys back up to Gryffindor Tower.

.

Staring up at the Fat Lady Portrait you caught her eyes looking you over at Harry’s saying the password. She swung open and you grinned at Ron asking, “Could you take Trevor up?”

Ron nodded, “Sure,” Accepting the toad into his palm from your jacket pocket, “No doubt Neville is waiting up for him. Night.” He looked you both over as Harry did in your turn to trot down the steps again, both starting up a hushed conversation when the portrait closed behind them.

Percy after the first flight said, “You do realize they didn’t give you their word.”

You nodded, “At least they didn’t lie.”

Chortling to himself he replied, “True. No doubt we will have many sleepless nights this year.”

You giggled softly, “Not to mention what trouble they will get into in the years to come.”

In a glance at you he grinned saying, “It is hard to imagine us giving Mum such trouble.”

A soft gasp left you, “Oh we wouldn’t dare! She would skin us alive! The occasional explosion, sure, we were kids-,”

He nodded, “Not to mention that time I turned the garage into a rainforest, but that was a simple fix.”

“Easily mended.” He chuckled at your spreading grin, “Even though I was the worst of the lot. Month in Azkaban, facing off against Fudge.”

“Stealing a Dragon, harboring a Basilisk. Still, not that terrible, only one fight in school, not bad.”

You giggled again, “It’s surprising that I’m hated by the Minister of Magic, had to spend time in Azkaban and still it’s not that bad.”

“I doubt Fudge hates you.” He stole a glance at you and chuckled saying, “Just your family.” Making you giggle again turning for the last flight of stairs.

“Did you read about Gringotts?”

He nodded, “No doubt they cannot grant them another dragon. It would break all the codices to hand them another creature to blind and chain up, Dragon or other deadly creature. It would be too cruel. If they want another one they would have to steal one.”

A door opening in the distance had you draw out your map again, only to see it was The Fat Friar and the Grey Lady on their nightly rounds calming you both at the chance to pass unseen through the front hall to turn down for another final set of stairs leading to the dungeons where your dorms were. A tight hug was stolen outside yours and Percy mumbled into your shoulder, “Night sis. Don’t forget your meditations.”

“I won’t. Careful round the portrait of Kiwis.” Making him grin and pull back heading for the final portion of his rounds as you passed through the hidden door that swung open after giving the proper knock to the right barrel lid.

Between the singing dangling plants and plushy couches around the copper edged tables, the round windows exposing the moonlit dandelions and grass swaying in a soft breeze contrasting the fire from the lit fireplace under the portrait of your founder greeting you as you passed with a kind nod before looking back to the seventh year continuing their debate over their favorite animated plants.

In your dorm a change of clothes met you in the bathroom with a fresh towel beside it under your comb to wash off your long day. After a shower you wound your hair back into a long crooked braid and grumbled your way onto your bed as the twins grinned from theirs while Cedric sprawled out across the stools by the heater editing his ideas for his column due at the next lunch.

Cedric, “Nice practice?”

Plopping onto your bed you groaned out, “Harry and Ron snuck out of their dorm after Snape.”

Twins, “Oh come on-..” Shaking their heads.

“Ya, they found this mirror when they hid, shows you what you most desire.”

Cedric, “That sounds cool.”

You rolled onto your side looking at them in your lean over the edge of your bed, “My big desire, I was a silver ball of light.”

The twins laughed as Cedric’s brows furrowed in asking, “Why?”

You shrugged, “Not a clue. Then I turned to leave and those blondes were on either side of silver glowing ball of whatever I was.”

Fred, “You got them boys back again?”

“Ya, had to say that the teachers have been looking after Quirrell cuz he’s not himself.”

George, “That’s not gonna help them behave you know.”

Groaning you turned and plopped onto your back, “I know.”

The twins chuckled and said, “Alright, onto our meditations.”

Cedric sighed standing up to move to his bed leaving his notebook on his table, “I’ll surely dream something for my column up-, I hope.”

“You can stay up.”

He shook his head, “Nah. Besides, Kettleburn said it would be a full class so we should rest up.” Laying across his bed after tugging off his sweater to close his eyes joining in on your group meditation at their insistence to help you strengthen your defense in your sleep hopefully at not having to do this alone.

…

All around odd dreams on talking shoes and mumbling potatoes left you in a confused haze to change for the day. At the sight of the bright yellow cacti flowering outside your window you opted for shorts and a muggle band shirt Regulus had bought you years prior with a walrus and a submarine. The boys around you tugged on their own shorts and varied t shirts in similar shades to yours they straightened one handed through brushing their teeth around you in their giggle inducing habit of sharing your mirror each day. Boots were tugged on with Puff coats resting on the straps of your bags.

Around your table after the walk up to the great hall you eyed the jumble of students in varying stages of exhaustion as those in the tower dorms were complaining about the heat and blustery night that your below ground level dorm had protected you from. A hearty breakfast brought on another set of herbs to cross off the list through your furrowed and focused gaze at the letter you had received from Bill off on a treasure hunting job.

Detailing an odd snake his team had managed to capture he sent to your home with a house elf that K should have set up in a habitat perfect for it. The main interest was the odd hum it gave off and its shimmering scales and color changing eyes that set one of his team into a trance until Bill repeated a calming phrase you would use for your agitated snakes halting its behavior enough to capture it.

Cedric, “Your dad?”

“No. Bill found me a snake. Apparently it can put people in trances.”

George, “Which breed?”

You shrugged, “I’ll have to check on it late to be certain. I can think of five breeds already, all of them absurdly rare. Must have startled it something awful.” Folding the letter you eased it into your bag focusing on your meal through Cedric’s listing off possible topics for him to write on lasting through your walk out towards the groupings of Winged Horse breeds you were to observe and care for on this class.

Kettleburn, “Among the positives for owning a Winged Horse their owners are required by law to frequently cast Disillusionment Charms on them regularly.”

Loudly a roar sounded causing your class to jump and your eyes to turn to the shifting Forbidden Forest at the sound of racing hooves. Around you the other students joined the shifting horses inching away from the forest as the Professor stretched out his arm to guide you all in his move to draw his wand. Within a few moments the furious Chimera broke through the line of trees roaring again in full charge for you all making you inch closer whispering, “Professor…”

In a glance back a you he nodded his head and you inched closer to his back only to watch the Chimera roar at the students causing them to inch back before her eyes locked on yours with her mind tapping yours. Steadily she moved closer to you, halfway circling you to press its head into your back nudging you towards the forest as Kettleburn asked, “What does she want?”

You shrugged in the steps she forced you through, “She just keeps saying come help.”

He nodded eyeing the twins through Cedric easing his camera out of his bag to steal a picture of her guiding you with her head to her side. With your lips parted you rested your hands on her back and hopped up to swing your leg over, timidly eyeing her through her back tensing at your hands gripping her mane before she took off. Kettleburn looked at the twins who nodded and shifted to phoenixes to race after you at the point of his wand in your race away.

Left behind Cedric grinned eying the pictures capturing your mounting her back and her racing off mumbling, “First ever Chimera steed!” The students around him nodded in agreement while Kettleburn stole one last glance after you, spotting Hagrid in his own path after you on the back of his tan Hippogriff outside his hut in hopes of aiding you.

Through the dark forest you wondered where she was leading you to until you spotted the Centaurs breaking apart from a fallen horse body in the center of them they were watching over. With lips parted at her stopping you climbed down hurrying over to the body of the panting and whining Unicorn with a bloody gash on its neck teary eyed at its painful gasps for air you knelt in the silver pool around its chest. Above you Bane eyed the Chimera tentatively wondering why she allowed you to mount her until he watched a tear fall from your eye landing on the gash that started to heal through the boys transforming back again. “We found her like this. She was attacked last night.”

Firenze among them stated, “It is the cruelest thing, to harm such a pure creature.”

The head of the Unicorn raised to peer up at you as it whined again still weak from blood loss. Bane continued, “It was a hooded figure.”

Twins gritted out, “Riddle.” Drawing the eyes of the herd to them.

Bane, “You know who did this?!”

“One of our Professors is possessed.”

Firenze, “Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something so pure and defenseless to save yourself, you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips.”

Hagrid landed and gasped seeing the Unicorn, dismounting himself to inch closer bowing his head, “Bane, Firenze,”

Bane, “One among your kind is possessed?!”

“We’re working on that.”

Twins, “We’ll make certain this never happens again.”

Bane eyed the boys carefully and inhaled deeply then let it go as you summoned a tray of vials from your office in the chamber, “Hagrid, I’ll need an apple, or an orange.”

He nodded, “They prefer oranges.” Drawing his wand to summon one in his palm he peeled in scooting closer to your side as you raised the right vial and settled her head into your lap smoothing your free hand over her neck. “Venom can help this?”

“Hopscotch venom,”

He drew in a breath, “Yes, makes them gush blood.”

Bane, “She does not need to bleed more.”

You raised your eyes after adding a trio of drops to a slice, “No, it triples the body’s blood supply. We use it on blood loss victims. It only harms those without wounds.”

Bane nodded watching as you lowered your hand saying, “Please eat this.” A simple plea he translated to her she complied to, slowly chewing then swallowing the slice as your hand smoothed across her neck to the drop of more tears down your cheeks onto her fur twitching her muscles where they fell. Solidifying the conclusion you were no mere witch calming the Centaurs impression of the Chimera, a beast among their ranks sworn never to take a master or rider among the mortals no matter their rank.

In a deep inhale it was as if a flame lit inside the Unicorn, her light doubling in her shift to lay on her belly, folding her legs under her to eagerly eye the rest of the orange you split to offer her without the venom with a soft grin. “Now, you just rest up, eat plenty alright sweetheart?”

The bright sparkling blue eyes of hers fell on yours as you stroked her neck again through the relaxed grins of the Centaur herd at her return closer to health. Firenze shifted in his place asking, “She is healed now?”

“Still a bit weak no doubt, nothing a bit of rest could mend.”

Bane nodded, “We will have to double our watches,” he sighed deeply, “And contain their herd.”

George wet his lips, “Jaqi, that patch of forest on your grounds.”

Fred nodded, “Worst we have is that screeching owl family.”

“Well, past that screaming toad.”

Bane, “You have grounds that can protect them?”

Locking your eyes on his you said, “My family’s lands, we have a bit of forest they could remain in until we handle the possession.”

The herd shifted a few feet away and held conference as you zapped the container of vials back to your office inside the Chamber of Secrets and wiped your cheeks and glanced up to Hagrid who gave you a supportive nod. Turning back to you Bane stated, “We will gather the herd, though five among our herd will go with them to ensure their safety.” A group of them raced off sounding horns to summon the glowing herd off hiding after the attack.

You nodded, “Of course. Whatever you need.”

Fred, “Opal will be glad for the new voices.”

Bane, “Opal?”

“Opal is a blinded Opaleye Dragon I rescued. I swear she won’t hurt any of you.”

Bane shook his head, “We are aware of that creature. Firenze spotted her with you a few times in your travels across our lands. She is a kind soul and well fed. We would be grateful for her added protection.”

It didn’t take long for the first to arrive, bright white with younger silver mares, both horned and hornless showing their age. The first group of golden foals arrived with more pure white Unicorns behind them. Shakily you rose to your feet and inhaled snapping your fingers to summon your doorway that led into your own forest Firenze was the first to enter and inspect with another Centaur.

Turning around they gave the all clear guiding the Unicorns through the doorway with a final pair of Centaurs to help the injured mare through after her soft thanks to you. Bane kept watch over you at their vanishing through the door that shut and then vanished once you gave the signal, steadily he said, “We will await word on their health and happiness.”

“I can summon the door to you daily, if you wish so you could check yourself.”

He shook his head, “Best the cursed one have no tether to them. We will leave him to you. You have bested a Basilisk, Dragon and Chimera, we will trust you in this.” You nodded and he said, “We have grounds to patrol.” Nodding his head in a farewell before he took off guiding his kin with him.

Turning around you rubbed your face, “Oh this is terrible.”

Hagrid moved closer to rub your back, “Don’t you go blaming yourself. We can’t protect all the beasts on the grounds at all times. Besides, now you’ve got them tucked away,” his head turned to the twins, “Wait, did you say Riddle?”

They nodded and you said, “Yes, Tom Riddle.” Making his lips part, “He’s possessed Quirrell.”

Hagrid scoffed, “No wonder he keeps asking bout Fluffy.”

You peered up at him, “How is Fluffy? Last we saw she was knee high.”

His grin tripled and he shared her size in the walk back to the class as the Chimera and Hippogriff had strolled off chatting with one another. Just in time for the final portion of the class you exited the forest making your way to the excited Professor who asked, “Everything alright?”

You nodded and the twins said with you answered, “A Unicorn was attacked.”

He gasped and moved closer, lowly asking, “What happened?”

“It was bled, had a gash on its neck. We managed to mend it. Still needs rest but she should be tip top tomorrow.”

Again he nodded then asked, “What attacked it?”

You shrugged saying, “The person was cloaked.”

Kettleburn, “Per-,” he gasped then asked even softer, “You don’t think it was Quirrell? He usually stays away from the forest but lately, he’s been asking all these questions…”

“For now at least, he won’t be able to find them again.”

Kettleburn nodded, “Good. I’ll be adding extra guard charms to our herds. Even some Gnomes if I have to.” Making you grin as he nodded his head, “Now, let’s give you a crash course.” Turning to guide you to the eldest of the herd already turned to watch your approach from the forest with a pleased expression to find you safely returned again after having heard the horns.

At the hour mark you were released and Cedric hurried to your side asking for all the details he copied down with an enchanted quill. From how the Chimera fur felt down to the full details on the attacked Unicorn along with the herd of Centaurs and their reaction to one of the innocent creatures being attacked at all for the first time ever.

..

A first draft of the story was finalized and tucked away by the time you entered your double DA class and a copy of the pictures tucked into your bag to send off to Newt in a response to his latest letter. Thankfully this lesson was much more subdued as it was focused entirely on vampires, discovering and fending them off.

History of Magic was next with a much more relaxed Professor Binns seeing you all safely through his door to sit for a short exam on the chapter he had given you to read through the day prior.

Herbology bled into Arithmacy you once again used your turner to get to freeing you into a two hour break that broke into lunch. The long break aiding in the inspection of your new snake as well as the list of ways to expose Riddle in hopes of guessing the best way to do so. A vision or daydream or even a single prickle in the back of your mind at one of them would have been helpful but you got nothing at all leaving you overly eager to eat and try to think of anything but this.

Lunch freed you into a stop to the outer courtyard to help Neville collect some trimmings from a shimmering bush while Draco shared all about this book he found in the library on the mishaps of transfiguring humans he found quite amusing and helpful for his lessons with McGonagall. Behind him Hermione flipped through the book he brought out rocking her crossed legs under the tall bench she was seated on through Harry’s first Quidditch practice.

Pt 15

[i-write-shakespeare-not-disney]

Just a Beat of Your Wings- A Klance Soulmate AU

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15685173

Trigger warnings for domestic abuse and implied abuse.

Looking in the mirror felt hollow. The feathers with streaks of red and black ruffled, looking sticky and tattered because of the rain. It was weird to think that everyone had these, that everyone’s look different. Being unable to see the wings of others always made Keith feel like a freak when he stared in the mirror. Sure, he was meant to see someone else’s one day, but… when?

He was twenty years old, a junior in college, and he was watching everyone find their soulmate. Meanwhile Keith’s wings slowly began to curl around him a little more like he could hide in them. Of course he couldn’t- no one else could see his wings.

Still it was a little comforting when his wings fluttered around him to help him feel a little less alone.

Keith braced himself then expanded his wings, letting each side dart out quickly, shaking off most of the water. He grabbed the oil he used to keep his wings from smelling damp and gently slathered it onto each silky feathered wing. They were a little damp still, but Keith knew they’d dry quickly. He allowed them to flutter slightly, lifting him off the ground if he didn’t pay attention.

Supposedly, a person’s wings reflected who they were. Keith knew his wings looked scary. Red and black? The only thing that would’ve made them seem more eerie or demonic would’ve been if they weren’t feathered wings, and instead remained a leathery-membrane wing like a bat’s.

He wasn’t sure what that said about him. The wings hadn’t always been black. And they hadn’t always been red.

Keith distinctly remembered his wings were a softer shade of pink when he was young. And when his father died, they began to take on a shade of gray. Then, altogether, his wings began to darken. They became more red than pink, the gray became specks of black. When he’d been taken in by Shiro, his wings began to lighten again.

Then he found out Shiro was sick. And the wings darkened, this time with more black, like someone had spilled ink all over them. Now, they were a deep blood-red with voids of black. They were menacing. They reminded Keith each day that he was tired. That he was guarded.

A knock on his door brought him out of his thoughts. He opened the door and saw Shiro, smiling tiredly and he heard the flutter of wings getting rid of rain. He always wondered what Shiro’s wings looked like.

“Where’s Adam?” Keith asked, letting him in.

“He’s getting our luggage. You sure you don’t mind us here? We can still get a hotel.”

“No, of course I don’t mind. I’ve been missing the company.” Shiro smiled at that and hugged him tightly. Keith could feel the feathers of his wings tickling his fingers. “Have you guys eaten?” Shiro nodded and sat down on the couch.

A few moments later, there was a knock on the door and Keith opened to let Adam in. There was a flutter of wings and a sprinkle of rain drops as he fanned his wings out before coming in, a duffel bag in each hand.

“Hey, Keith! How’ve you been?” he greeted, immediately dropping the bags and hugging Keith. “God, we’ve missed you!” Keith laughed and hugged him back before untangling himself.

Adam was an affectionate guy once he got used to you, and while Keith appreciated that, he also didn’t like getting touched too much or too often. Which Shiro usually had to remind him of.

Keith really had missed them, and he loved Shiro and Adam; they were his family. But after a couple hours he remembered why he had to get away from them with his own apartment to begin with. It was no secret that Shiro and Adam were soul mates. As soon as they’d met, Keith had seen the wonder and relief on their faces. The nervous way they began talking to each other, knowing they belonged together, but not knowing anything about each other.

Keith believed in love and soulmates because of them. Because of how well they fit together, and how happy they were. But it also made him feel lonely.

The way they touched so nonchalantly had something so intimate about it, Keith always felt the need to look away, feeling like he was intruding. Even if it was just a two second whisper or a quick tuck of a hair strand, Keith felt like he was looking at something too private for him.

It reminded him again and again that he didn’t have his soulmate. That he had no idea how to find them. His wings began to curl in around him, providing the ghost of the comfort he wanted and didn’t have.

“We should go to the mall tomorrow,” Shiro suggested. “We can eat at that place in the food court you like.”

Keith smiled, knowing that Shiro could read him like an open book, knowing he was trying to make him feel better, feel included.

“Yeah! Sure. We can do that,” he answered. “You guys can take my bedroom, I’ll sleep here on the couch. Just no freaky shit, or your washing the sheets.” Shiro and Adam simultaneously turned the same shade of red despite their different complexions and Keith couldn’t help but laugh.

---

The next day, the three of them watched movies on the television for most of the morning. They asked Keith about his classes and how he was faring. They asked about his friends- Keith reminded them that they were more like acquaintances. They asked about how he felt living on his own.

Keith tried to be lighthearted about it, insisting that he enjoyed his time alone and liked the space he had to think and breathe, which was true… he just left out the part where sometimes he felt so lonely and forgotten that he would end up watching TV numbly all day.

It wasn’t that Keith didn’t like people. He didn’t mind them, really. It was just hard to build friendships. Keith was blunt, he was straightforward, he was honest, and that didn’t tend to fare well with others. It was easier to keep to himself, easier to just be on his own.

Somehow, Keith managed to embellish enough to the point where Adam and Shiro looked genuinely happy for him. Maybe even a little relieved.

Around lunchtime, the three of them went to the mall downtown. Keith had never been comfortable there with the varying stores of fancy brand names that he couldn’t even try to walk into because there was no way he could ever afford anything. It was slightly intimidating seeing other people walking around with several bags in hands, and Keith wondered how much spending went into shopping sometimes.

Still, this was the only mall that had Keith’s favorite kimchi stew. Keith expanded his wings a bit to get a little bit of a space bubble as people passed by. He got a few annoyed looks when people bumped their wings with his, but Keith didn’t care. He just wanted to get his food and enjoy his time with his family.

While they ate, Keith found himself slowly forgetting about school and people and loneliness. He was just happy being with his brother. He was happy joking with them and laughing about the most inconsequential things.

Keith kind of hated his laugh. It was loud and he knew it was a little annoying. It was embarrassing. But he loved being made to laugh, and he couldn’t help it with Shiro and Adam. Especially when Adam started doing his impression of Shiro, much to the latter’s dismay. Instead of holding back, he allowed himself to laugh without reserve and let himself enjoy that.

He heard a clatter and nearly everyone in the seating area turned to look. Keith only saw a dark, heavyset guy staring wide-eyed at nothing in particular before smiling awkwardly and picking up a few trays. Keith frowned and looked away, not wanting to be part of the many people staring and making the guy feel more uncomfortable.

“Alright, I’m gonna head to the bathroom. Do mind going to pay, Keith? I’ll give you my card.” Shiro pulled out his wallet and Keith took it. “Be right back.”

Shiro left and Adam stood up with the bag of what little leftovers they were taking back as Keith left to go to the counter and pay the bill. By the time he was getting back, Shiro and Adam were waiting by a kiosk. Keith pulled out his phone to check the time, and when he looked up again, there was a girl with large glasses looking at him uncertainly, hesitating in her steps like she was deciding whether or not to go near Keith.

Shiro and Adam noticed Keith’s confusion and looked over at the girl who huffed and walked toward him, stuffing her hands in the pocket of her hoodie. “Uh. Hi. Um. My friend… I think-”

“Can I help you?” Keith muttered, feeling his wings beginning to creep around him uncomfortably, wanting to hide.

The girl’s nose scrunched and she scoffed. “There’s no way Lance- whatever. My friend-”

“Pidge!” The heavyset guy from earlier came up beside him, looking panicked. “It’s a no-go.”

“Wha- really? I’m already here!”

Keith furrowed his eyebrows and considered expanding his wings to get the strangers away. “Um. I’m gonna… go now.” He walked away from the two as quickly as he could, and rejoined Shiro and Adam.

“What was that?” Adam asked.

“I don’t have a clue.”

“Weird. Well, I want to stop by Starbucks before we go,” Shiro said. “And Adam wanted to stop at the Disney store for a gift for his niece.”

“Alright,” Keith said with a shrug. They stopped at a large Starbucks kiosk before they went in search of the Disney store. None of them were familiar with this mall, so it took a while before they realized they were on the wrong floor and found the Disney store.

It looked incredibly crowded, so Keith told the pair that he’d wait outside for them. As they went in, Keith leaned on the railing and looked down at the floor below. It was pretty fascinating to watch people walking along. Keith tried to imagine all the different wings folded in tightly to everyone’s backs. He wondered what colors there were, what textures, what types. He didn’t think it was fair that so many people were so diverse and Keith would never be able to see it.

His eyes skimmed the crowds and he was getting so hypnotized by the movement, he was starting to fall asleep, leaning against his hand.

And then he saw someone walking out of a store talking animatedly with their entire body. Their hands, their face, their wings.

Keith froze and stared, wondering if he was mistaking it. But no. They were there, large wings with tattered feathers in different shades of blue folded in neatly to his back, fluttering and twitching slightly as the person spoke. They expanded a little, enough for Keith to see how damaged the wings were. The wings were about 50% deplumed, and what feathers there remained looked frayed. The membrane looked scabbed and bruised.

Keith noticed the girl with the glasses and the guy from the restaurant beside him, both of them talking to him with uncertain expressions.

There was no way Keith was going to be able to wait on Shiro and Adam to get back. He didn’t even trust himself to be fast enough to make it to the escalators. So he did the next best thing- he jumped over the railing.

His wings expanded to help him land gently, though he did startle enough people that others began to look over. Including the boy with the wings and his friends.

His eyes widened, and Keith saw him begin to retreat. The other guy grabbed his arm and tried to stop him. The girl started gesturing frantically, and Keith started walking. He brought his wings in tightly and began rushing past people, his eyes locked on the boy with frightened eyes and fluttering, damaged wings.

As he got closer, he slowed, not wanting to frighten the boy any more.

“Lance, buddy, come on. This is a great thing!” the other guy said.

The girl frowned and looked at Keith. “He’s… he’s nervous,” she explained.

Keith looked back at the boy- Lance- and took in the tattered wings. Of course. Wings were a reflection of self. If his wings were that damaged, it meant Lance had been treated that way maybe for a long time or maybe just that badly. Keith took a step back. He could feel his wings pulsing, urging him to get closer, to meet his soulmate.

“I won’t hurt you,” Keith whispered.

“Lance, just talk to him,” the guy said.

“Y-You can see my wings,” Lance whispered. Keith felt a shock go through his body at the sound of his soulmate’s voice. He nodded slowly. Lance gulped and stood a little taller. His posture suggested confidence, but the look in his eyes suggested the opposite. His wings spreading slightly. “They’re not very nice, are they?”

Keith took in the patches of feathers in all shades of blue and the scraped leathery membrane. He took in the bright blue of the boy’s eyes, the dark skin, the soft brown of his hair, the gentle curve of his nose and sharp edge of his jaw.

He was beautiful. He was frightened and wary, and his wings were damaged in a way that hurt Keith more than anything had before, but he was beautiful.

“You’ve been hurt,” Keith noted.

Lance scoffed and spread his wings out further, showing Keith a few tears in the membrane, and Keith noted how one wing rested a little crookedly near the top bone. Something fierce and protective surged through Keith, even though he didn’t know this guy. “You think?”

“Um… you two should talk,” the girl said. Keith thought he recalled her name was Pidge. “Lance, me and Hunk will be over here, okay?” Lance frowned, but he nodded.

Lance tucked his wings back in and crossed his arms. Keith took a hesitant step forward. “Your feathers are blue,” Keith noted.

“Yours have black,” Lance responded. “What’s your name?”

“Keith.” Lance hummed and looked him up and down. “Do you… want to sit down?” Keith gestured at a bench and waited for Lance to nod before he sat down. Lance sat too, but he kept a fair amount of space between them. “So… we’re soulmates.”

“I’m sorry you have such a fucked up soulmate,” Lance whispered.

Keith frowned and shook his head. “You know what your wings tell me?” he asked. Lance rolled his eyes. “They tell me that you’re strong. Because you took all that hurt and you’re still here.” Lance looked over at him, and Keith felt a little breathless with the way those eyes bore into him. “They tell me that you have a beautiful soul.”

Lance’s mouth twitch slightly, like he wanted to smile. “You’re a smooth talker, Keith.”

“No, I’m really not,” Keith said, letting his wings curl around himself a bit. “I’m horrible. I have no clue how to talk to people. I’m known to be abrasive and awkward. It just… feels easy to talk to you.” Keith gulped and tried to meet Lance’s eyes. “I’ve looked for you for a long time. I thought I’d never find you.”

Lance stared back at him with wide eyes and then looked away. “My wings don’t… disgust you?”

“No!” Keith insisted. “Lance-” Suddenly his phone started ringing, making Lance jump slightly. Keith apologized and answered. “Hello?”

“Keith, where the hell did you go? I thought you were waiting outside?” Shiro said in his ear.

Keith scratched his head and chuckled. “Um… yeah. Sorry. Funny story, I’ll um… explain in a bit. Stay by the store, I’ll be there in a bit.” He hung up and stared at his screen for a moment. “I… have to go. Can I see you again?” he asked hesitantly.

Lance it his lip. Keith knew Lance could feel the pulsing of their wings. They were drawn together, they were… meant to be together. “Yeah,” he finally answered. Keith smiled and held out his phone. Lance was careful not to touch his fingers as he took it and put in his number.

When Keith got the phone back, he pressed call and Lance frowned as his phone started ringing. He raised an eyebrow at Keith. “Just making sure it’s not a fake number.” Lance rolled his eyes, but he smiled and watched Keith as he stood. “I’ll text you, okay?” Lance nodded. He walked past Hunk and Pidge who were waiting anxiously, watching the interaction, fluttering about like only soulmates could. He waved awkwardly at them and tried not to feel watched as he walked away.

He made it back to the Disney store with a dopey smile on his face. Adam looked at Keith over his glasses and raised an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”

“I saw his wings,” Keith said softly. Shiro and Adam gaped at him, but Keith could only look down where Lance was now standing with his friends, his frayed wings beating weakly.

---

“Explain this again,” Shiro insisted. “You were just… standing there, you saw him… and you jumped?”

Keith sighed and tossed his phone up, catching it as it came down. “Yup.”

“But you’re not with him,” Adam noted.

“Obviously.”

Something- or rather someone- hit his stomach and Keith yelped. “Keith! This is a big deal! You just met your soulmate! Why aren’t you freaking out more?” Shiro exclaimed.

“Why aren’t you with him?” Adam added. “When Shiro and I found each other, we didn’t want to part the whole day.” Keith snorted, remembering perfectly well how enraptured the two had been right off the bat. “Keith!”

Keith sighed and shrugged, looking at his phone. He had yet to text Lance, but he also didn’t want to bug him. “He’s… hesitant.” Adam raised an eyebrow. Rubbing the back of his neck, Keith said, “Lance’s wings… were really messed up. He’s been hurt a lot. He was scared to even let me sit with him. So no, I wasn’t going to force him to stay around me.”

Shiro and Adam shared a look then returned their attention to him. Keith hated when they did that. It was such a couple-y thing to do, the whole sharing an entire conversation with a glimpse. He didn’t want to go into detail with Lance’s wings. He felt like that was only for him to know about. Not because he was embarrassed, but because Lance obviously felt self-conscious about his wings.

“How… do you feel?” Shiro asked.

“Um… normal, I think. Stuck, I guess. I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do now. I barely know him, I just know I’m meant to be with him. It doesn’t feel like enough to start a relationship from.”

Adam sat beside him and gestured to his cell phone. “You got his number right? Why don’t you just… text him. See if he’ll go to coffee with you tonight. Get to know him.” Keith hesitated, staring at the blank screen of his phone. Adam put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Keith, I promise it’s not as scary as you think. Once you’re there, talking to him, it’ll just flow.”

Keith took a deep breath and nodded. He unlocked his phone and went to Lance’s contact to begin a message.

Hey, it’s Keith. I was wondering if you wanted to get some coffee and talk later tonight? Or whatever you wanna do.

He sent it before he could second guess it and began to hide himself in his wings with each passing second. It seemed like everyone was holding their breaths, waiting for the buzz of the phone to indicate a response.

Suddenly, the buzz came, along with his screen lighting up from the incoming message. Keith struggled to unlock his phone with shaky fingers.

I don’t like coffee much. But I like ice cream. Baskin Robins on Bentley Rd @ 7?

Adam smiled widely. “Looks like you’ve got a date with your soulmate!”

---

Keith waited outside the Baskin Robins. He didn’t want to go inside and be stood up, and it would be easier to walk away if he didn’t go inside to begin with.

He began to panic about fifteen past seven. Then he saw a pair of red Converse come to a stop in front of him. He looked up and stood when he saw Lance. Again, his wings started pulsing, trying to urge Keith closer, but he fought it off.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” Lance bit his lip and stuffed his hands in an army green jacket he was wearing. “Sorry I’m late. I was… getting cold feet.”

“That’s okay,” Keith said. He was here. His soulmate was here. “Let’s go inside.” They walked in and stared at the ice cream uncertainly, a fair amount of space between them before they ordered and sat down with their respective ice cream.

Lance had gotten blackberry cheesecake. Keith went for the daiquiri ice.

“You like that flavor?” Lance asked, watching Keith scoop a large amount into his mouth. Keith nodded and Lance furrowed his eyebrows as he chuckled. “So…. You’re not gonna ask about the….” He trailed off, but the soft, arrhythmic beat of his wings spoke for him.

Keith skimmed them over again and then settled his gaze on Lance’s eyes. “I mean, I’m curious. I’m worried. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me something you don’t want to tell me about.” Lance hummed and took a spoonful of ice cream. “Can I ask one thing, though?” Lance raised an eyebrow. “Are you safe? Going home and everything, are you… safe now?”

Lance laughed shortly through his nose. “Yeah. I’m safe.” Keith nodded. “Do you know the symbolism behind red?” Keith hesitated, wondering if this was a trick question. Red was relatively easy to decode. “It symbolizes fire, rage, anger, passion, love, seduction, danger.”

“Very extreme opposite symbolism for one color,” Keith muttered, his wings rustling anxiously.

Lance nodded and poked at his ice cream. “So where do you fall? Why are your wings such a concentrated red? Are you full of passionate love or… raging violence?”

Keith winced and stared at the table, his wings curling around him unconsciously. “Um. I’m not sure, really. I think they kind of go hand in hand.” Lance narrowed his eyes and stared at Keith expectantly. “I just mean- for example, I got into a lot of fights in school. But they were usually because someone was using something against me. My family, my past, my talents. I’ve told you, I come off as abrasive, but if you get me to talk about something I’m really into, then I’ll talk for hours about it. I don’t love a lot of people, but the people I do love, I love them with everything I have. And I’m willing to do anything to protect them.”

Lance thought that over for a moment, the two of them falling into silence. Then, after a while, Lance nodded. “I guess that makes sense. So who are those few people you love, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Keith smiled and took a breath. “The first person I ever loved was my dad. He died when I was eight.” Lance hummed and Keith noticed his eyes dart to his wings. Keith knew he was looking at the black splatters on his wings. “Then I loved the agent that took my case in the foster care system. She was always making sure I was okay, and she made sure she was absolutely certain I was safe in a foster home before putting me in one. It wasn’t like on TV where I bounced around with bad families or anything. And I think it was thanks to her and how much she cared.” Lance’s posture began to relax a little. The stiffness in his spine and mostly his wings began to fade.

“After that, I found Shiro. He took me in. Adopted me permanently when I was fourteen. He’s like my older brother, and… I’d do anything for him.” Keith furrowed his eyebrows and stared at the table, feeling a knot in his throat. “He’s sick. Something that’s making his muscles deteriorate slowly. We’ve been trying to just live normally, but… I’m terrified of losing him.”

“He’s all the family you’ve got, isn’t he?” Lance asked, his voice heavy with understanding and compassion.

Keith cleared his throat and ruffled his hair anxiously. “Well, I have Adam. But he’s Shiro’s soulmate, and I don’t really know what either of us would do if Shiro…. But Adam’s great. He’s the other person I came to love. He’s really funny, and he makes Shiro really happy.” Before Lance could ask more about his family or about Shiro and his illness, Keith directed the conversation to him. “What about you? The people you love?”

Lance smiled. It was a bright, honest smile full of affection. His entire face softened at the question. “I love a lot of people. I love Hunk and Pidge. They’re my best friends, and I don’t know where I’d be without them. I love my siblings. Veronica, Marco, Luis. Marco’s oldest, then Vero, then Luis, then me. I have a bunch of memories with each of them, and I just… they really are the best siblings I could’ve asked for. I love my mom so much. She’s so strong. And my step-dad. Because he didn’t hesitate to take us all in and he’s always treated us like his own. I love my abuelita. She’s the sweetest, most generous person you could ever meet.” Lance chuckled. “I love my kindergarten teacher. I still catch up with her sometimes. And my dog. She’s a sweetheart. My godmother is amazing. She lives back in Cuba, but when I was younger, I’d visit and she’d always, always make sure to see me when we arrived and right before we came back.”

Keith smiled as Lance talked, captivated by the affection in his voice as he spoke. It did make Keith wonder why his wings were the way they were if he was evidently so happy with his life and the people in it. He loved a big family, and it was clear that family loved him back. Still, Keith didn’t want to ask if Lance wasn’t divulging in the information. Instead, he took what he was given and used it to figure Lance out.

Adam had been right. Once he was there, it was easy to just keep talking. He found out Lance loved soccer- he used to play it, but now he just loved watching it- and dancing. He loved food, but his favorite thing was dessert. He found out a lot of little things about Lance from what they talked about to what Keith managed to observe. Like how his bent wing tended to twitch randomly, but if Lance was really into what he was talking about, both wings would twitch along with the rapid movement of his hands. Or the fact that he was always moving his leg or his foot.

He learned his favorite shows, his sense of humor, how he’d met Pidge and Hunk, had gotten into a debate about whether pineapple belonged on pizza, over personal hygiene and haircuts, and found out that Lance liked to use face masks. He claimed that it started when his sister bribed him into a spa day with her because she wanted to vent without being the only one wearing green goop on her face, but something told Keith it hadn’t taken much convincing to get Lance to do it.

Keith tried his best in keeping his laughter contained; he didn’t want to embarrass himself. Lance was good at making him laugh. He was good at impressions and funny voices as well as funny faces. It was funny how quickly Keith had gotten so comfortable around him.

The entire time, his wings were pulsing, beating gently, the feather ruffling and smoothing down every now and then. They reacted to Lance.

“Are you surprised?” Keith asked after they’d lapped back into a comfortable silence for a while. Lance tilted his head. “That I’m your soulmate.”

Lance thought that over and shrugged. “I… don’t know yet. I’ll let you know when I figure that out. You?”

Keith smiled and looked down at his empty cup. “No, but… because I never thought about it. I never let myself. I was always looking for you, but I didn’t want to make myself think of what I was looking for because I was scared I’d miss out on you.” Keith shrugged. “Part of me was scared I’d never find you.”

When he looked up, he was surprised to see a worried look on Lance’s face. Everything had been going perfectly well. Had he said something wrong?

“It’s… getting late. I should get home. My mom doesn’t sleep until I get home.” Lance stood up, and Keith followed after, insisting on walking him to his car.

They left the shop and Keith followed him to a black Ford truck, but that was about as much as he knew about cars. “Um, hey,” Keith said, hoping to stop him before he got in. Lance turned to him with that same worried look. His battered wings rustled in the breeze, spreading a bit before tucking back in quickly. “I had a great time talking to you. Besides Shiro and Adam, I think that’s the longest conversation I’ve ever held with someone.” Lance smiled and shifted on his feet. “Um… I’d really like to see you again-”

“Keith, I….” Lance sighed and rubbed his face with one hand. His body started tensing again, and he kept glancing around like he was scared. “I know we’re s-soulmates and all, and I had a good time too. But….” He shut his eyes and grimaced before he opened his eyes and took a breath. “Right now… I don’t think I’m in a space where I can… be in a relationship. Or go on dates. I… Part of me is just ready to bolt, and that’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to me. I don’t want to force myself into this just because I know we’re supposed to be together. I-I’m not ready to-”

“Whoa, Lance, hey,” Keith interrupted, trying to be as gentle as possible because he could see Lance’s wings straining to spread. He held his hands up in a placating gesture and smiled. “I get it. It’s okay. I don’t want you to feel forced, so if you don’t want to go on dates or be in a relationship, that’s okay. I can wait for when you feel ready.”

Lance’s eyebrows bunched together like he was in pain or maybe just frustrated. “That’s the thing. I don’t know when I’ll be ready….”

“Oh,” Keith said, understanding what he was saying. He nodded and shrugged. “That’s alright. But I looked for you for a long time, so… do you think it’s okay if we’re friends? We can hang out with groups, or… y’know pay for our own stuff if we hang out alone.” Keith gave him a sad smile. “I do want you to be part of my life now that I found you. If that’s okay.”

Lance stared at him, eyebrows furrowed, eyes darting back and forth between Keith’s. “You’re not… mad?”

Keith scoffed. “No. I’m kind of relieve you clarified that now instead of… you know dragging it out.” He shrugged. “And I won’t be mad if you don’t want to be friends either. A little sad maybe, but… I won’t be angry.”

Lance’s lips parted and then he began to smile. “Well, if you’re gonna be sad, I don’t want to say no,” he said playfully. Keith smiled. “Friends sounds good. Me and my friends usually go bowling on Saturdays, so… if you want to join us that’d be cool. You can bring Shiro and Adam too.”

Keith smiled and nodded. Lance chuckled and unlocked his car. Keith started to step back so he could turn on the engine and leave, but he stopped when Lance turned to him and said, “The answer’s yes. I’m very surprised you’re my soulmate.”

Keith furrowed his eyebrows, wondering what had made him decide so suddenly, and why he was surprised, but Lance was already in his truck and ready to drive away.

---

Sure enough, by the following Saturday, Keith went bowling for the first time. Pidge’s brother and Hunk’s cousin came as well, so it didn’t feel like a weird triple-date thing. It felt like a group of friends, and Keith could tell it helped settle Lance.

He became a little more outspoken than he was one-on-one. He was loud, and he made countless jokes, and he didn’t seem so coiled up and anxious. He seemed relaxed. He greeted Shiro and Adam with an easy, “I heard a lot about you both, it’s great to meet you.” And the couple immediately took a liking to him. They found him “charismatic.”

After that, Saturday bowling became a routine. They’d eat chili-fries and mozzarella sticks and drank bottomless sodas. Then whoever lost at bowling paid for the food at the winning team’s food joint of choice. There were times when Pidge’s brother or Hunk’s cousin wouldn’t go. Shiro and Adam couldn’t come each weekend because they only visited every couple of weeks.

But each weekend, Keith joined the group, and they also seemed to have taken a liking to him. They didn’t expect him to talk a lot, but they still managed to include him in conversations.

One Saturday, a few months later with summer around the corner, Keith was driving back from having dropped Pidge then Hunk off at their houses. It was easier to carpool, and he and Pidge had won that day’s game of bowling.

As he neared Lance’s house, Keith put his car in park and looked over at him. “Can I ask you something?” Lance looked at him with bright, innocent eyes, curious and friendly. Keith hesitated, knowing that this could easily set their friendship back or maybe bring them closer. “I said I wanted to wait for you to feel comfortable talking to me about your wings. And I stand by that,” he said quickly noticing the way Lance began receding into himself. “I’m not asking you to tell me now. I just… wanted to know if you’ve thought about it. If I can expect a day in which you do tell me.”

“What does it matter?” Lance asked. “If you’re not disgusted by them and if we’re soulmates anyway, why do you need to know why they look the way they do?”

Keith tried to meet his eyes, and when he finally did he offered him a smile. “Because I want to understand you, Lance. I want to know what I can do to help you feel comfortable and what not to do so I don’t fuck this up. If you don’t want to tell me yet, that’s okay. But do you think you’d be able to one day?”

Lance stared at him for a moment and then slowly nodded. “I think so. But not tonight.”

Keith nodded in understanding and fought the urge to grab his hand. He knew Lance didn’t like being touched. At least not by Keith. Hunk and Pidge could hug and tug and nudge and grab him as they pleased and Lance didn’t mind it. But he always flinched if Keith got too close, or he’d ask Keith if he didn’t mind stepping back a bit. If it was a particularly good day, Lance would instead ask if it was okay he was sitting so close and their shoulders would touch.

“Okay. That’s all I wanted to know.” Lance smiled slightly and opened the door. “Sleep well,” Keith said before Lance shut the door.

“You too, Keith.”

Keith smiled and waited for him to get into his house before he drove away.

Halfway through the week, once Keith had gotten out of his classes, he got a text from Lance.

Are you free tonight?

Keith stared at the text uncertainly because Lance didn’t usually ask to hang out during the week out of the blue. If they met up during the week, Lance would mention it on Saturday so Keith could plan for it. An impromptu meetup was… new.

Yea, why?

I wanna take you somewhere. I’ll pick you up when I get off work.

Keith couldn’t help the anxiety that gripped him. He kept bouncing back and forth between the best ideas- like Lance picking him up for a surprise first date that would end with them sharing their first kiss- or the worst- like Lance panicking after the last thing Keith asked and now he was going to cut him out of his life. He didn’t know what to expect, and he was getting slightly nauseous.

He ended up calling Shiro in hopes of him being able to calm Keith down. Which he did, at least while they talked. Adam, ever the voice of reason, assured him it should be a good sign especially since they’d be riding together and not separately.

Then Lance messaged him he was on his way, and all the nervousness came crashing back, making it hard to focus or stop pacing.

When Lance arrived, Keith went out to greet him and got into the car. He couldn’t help but notice Lance’s rigid posture or the awkwardness of their small talk as they drove.

After a while, they came across an open field with a jogging path. “Come on,” Lance said, getting out of the car. Keith frowned and followed. They walked beside each other and Keith let Lance guide him down the jogging path until they came along the outskirts of some trees. Lance walked around them with Keith following behind.

Then they came across a bayou large enough to be confused for a lake. Cattails and moss and lilyponds covered the water that was probably not safe to swim in. But Lance didn’t make a move for the water. He just plopped down on the dirt and wrapped his arms around his knees. Keith did the same, angled to face him and managing enough distance so their wings wouldn’t touch.

“How’d you find this place?” Keith asked.

“I came here with someone. We were just running around the field, but we got curious and decided to explore. I thought it was beautiful here. She thought it was gross and we left.”

“She?”

“Girlfriend,” Lance said. “Back when I was… maybe sixteen? Fifteen?” Keith nodded in understanding, but he didn’t really understand it. What was the point of dating someone you knew you weren’t going to end up with? “I’ve been thinking about what you said Saturday. Telling you about my wings.”

“You don’t have to, I don’t want you to feel pressured-”

“No, I don’t. I just… feel like it’s okay to do it now. You’ve been really patient, and really respectful about my boundaries, and… I really appreciate that.” Keith managed a smile and then looked out where the sun was setting. “My wings used to be white. Really soft and feathery. My mom liked to pet them so I could go to sleep when I was a little kid. She couldn’t see them, but she liked to feel them.”

“White… is innocence, right? Purity. We all had white when we were kids.”

Lance nodded. “Yeah. But I think mine stayed white for longer. I’d keep getting asked what color my wings turned into and I’d say ‘They’re still white.’ And everyone would look at me funny, like they were supposed to change already.” Lance took a breath and ran a hand through his hair. Keith saw his wings twitch anxiously. They stayed quiet for a second, Keith waiting patiently for Lance to feel ready to keep talking. “The first time I remember getting hurt… the day my wings started to change….” Another breath. “I was six I think. Veronica was fourteen. Marco was eighteen, so he wasn’t there. And Luis was… eight? Yeah, he’s two years older.” Lance sniffed. “Veronica had been out with friends, I think for the first time. My parents told her to come home at ten, but… something happened and she got home a lot later. My dad didn’t like being disobeyed, and he was… scary. That’s how I remember thinking of him.

“He’d fight with my mom a lot, but Veronica and Marco always kept me and Luis from seeing it, trying to distract us. But I always wished I could defend my mom. I was so certain… that if my dad saw us being afraid of him he’d stop.” His wings flapped weakly. Keith looked at him, but Lance was looking out at the lake. “Vero came home and I was supposed to be asleep, but I was watching the clock. I heard him using that voice. That calm, angry voice. And then I heard him yell and I heard my sister cry and my mom yelling for him to calm down. I heard- I don’t know if you’ve ever heard a belt being whizzed through the air, but it sounds like a whip almost.” Keith shuddered. “I heard that. Then I heard the impact at the same time I heard my sister shriek. Then again and again.”

Lance was holding back tears at this point. The memories were hard for him. Keith could hear it in the tremor of his voice. And with what little he knew about Lance, he had an idea of where this was going.

“I couldn’t take it. Hearing my big sister screaming and crying like that, begging my dad to stop. She’d always protected me, she played with me, she taught me how to play video games. I was her favorite, even more than Luis, and she was always….” Lance let out a shaky breath and sniffed, forcing himself to stay together. “I had to protect her this time.

“I ran out of my room and saw my mom crying, hiding her face. I saw my dad bringing down the belt on my sister. Vero was crouched on the ground against the wall, shielding herself as best she could. And I just moved. I spread my wings around her and hugged her. The belt hit my wings instead. Maybe it made him angrier that I interfered. I thought he’d stop, but… he just hit me harder.

“Veronica kept trying to push me away, she kept asking me what I was doing, and my when my mom saw me, she tried to pull my dad away.”

“You were six when that happened?” Keith whispered. Lance nodded.

He pulled at his wings and gestured to the engrained scars, long healed but still visible. “I was bleeding for a while. Veronica never stopped hugging me as my mom tried to heal me. She wouldn’t stop crying either. Ever since then, she would call me her hero.” Lance smiled. “’Donde esta mi heroe? Como le fue en la escuela a mi heroe?’ Where’s my hero, how was school for my little hero. She still does it sometimes.”

Lance wiped at his eyes and began poking at the dirt beneath him. “After that, I became a target for my dad. He’d hit me, or he’d hit my mom or sister, knowing I’d intervene. Marco had left the house as soon as he could, so he couldn’t stop me. Luis preferred to hide in closets or under the bed. Eventually, he just came for me when he pleased.” Lance shrugged. “Before I knew it, my wings were a midnight blue. Indigo, I think is the right color. When I turned seven, my dad left my mom. Veronica began taking care of us so she could work full time. My abuelita came to live with us for a while, but she couldn’t do much in terms of cleaning. She liked to bake though. And she always made us scarves and hats for the winter.”

Lance shook his head, and this time tears started to streak down his cheeks. “She had moved in with my grandpa. He wasn’t a very good guy. I try to just focus on the good things with my abuelita. Then they got deported when I was almost eleven. We didn’t have the money to visit as often as when I’d been younger, so…. My abuelita passed away when I was eleven and we couldn’t make it to the funeral. I think what I hated most about everything was that… I felt guilty because I was… relieved they weren’t living with us anymore.”

Keith frowned and looked at Lance in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Lance took a deep breath and his face crumpled as more tears fell down his cheeks. “I was so… relieved to be rid of my grandpa. I missed my abuelita, I was heartbroken when she got sick and when she passed away, but… I never wanted to see my grandfather again. I never got to say goodbye, but I also never had to see him and I never knew how to handle that mix of emotions. My wings took on a weird purplish color mixing with-” Lance pointed at a clump of feathers. “that blue. The purple faded and eventually this was left.”

There was a part of Keith that wanted to ask why Lance had felt so differently about each of his grandparents. But something in his core, something in his wings told him Lance would’ve explained if he wanted to. So Keith didn’t press. Instead, Lance continued to explain, telling Keith about the people he’d dated in hopes of finding someone who would care for him without feeling like they had to see his wings to be happy. He didn’t want them to see his wings. But each one left because everyone was in search of their soulmate. And each one left Lance’s heart a little more broken.

“I mean, it’s not all bad. Like I said, I love my friends, and they’re amazing people.” Keith nodded in agreement. Hunk and Pidge were really great. “And when my stepdad came into the picture, everything was better. My mom said that she had been able to see my dad’s wings at first, but that eventually she couldn’t anymore. And when he’d left, she thought she was supposed to be alone. But she saw someone’s wings again and… it was my stepdad. And he’s done nothing but treat her like a queen. And he’s cared for all of us, even Marco even though he was an adult already.”

“I thought we only had one soulmate,” Keith said.

Lance shrugged. “I think people’s souls can change. And that changes your soulmate. That’s why I wasn’t really… looking for you.” He shrugged again and rested his head on his knees. “So… that’s all the damage. And this is where I am now.”

Keith nodded and looked at Lance’s wings. “What do all these shades of blue symbolize? You said you knew the meaning of the red in mine. What about yours?”

Lance touched the few feathers he had lightly. “Some of them, like the indigo, I think that was sincerity and justice. Blue overall is stability and loyalty. The different shades vary between suffering, mourning, or hope and compassion.” Lance shrugged. “I think if they weren’t so damaged, if they had all their feathers, then they’d be a whole palette of blues. They could have looked so nice.” Lance traced a patch of his wings that had no feathers and remained a rough section of tender looking muscle.

Keith felt his wings trying to spread to encase Lance. He had an urge to shield and protect him. Keith wanted to hold him and show Lance that he could be safe with him. He thought maybe Lance noticed it too, because he raised an eyebrow in question and maybe a challenge.

A challenge Keith wanted to accept.

He pulled himself up on his knees and scooted closer to Lance who watched him with caution. The sun had long since left them encased in moonlight and cricket chirps. Keith held up a hand near Lance’s face and whispered, “Do you mind if I touch your face?” Lance kept his eyes steady on him before he leaned forward a bit, just enough until his cheek brushed with the tips of Keith’s fingers. “I need you to say yes or no,” Keith said softly.

“I don’t mind,” Lance answered.

Keith bit his lip and let his palm spread along Lance’s cheek, his thumb swiping back and forth. “I was right,” he said. “When I said that your wings told me you were strong.” Keith though of everything he’d been told. Of the times Lance had been beaten and bruised and hurt and broken. Of how it reflected on his wings, but it didn’t make him any less handsome, any less magnificent. “I’m so lucky to have such an incredible soulmate,” Keith murmured, hoping his voice held the sincerity he needed it to hold.

Lance shut his eyes and sighed, pressing into the hand on his face. “This feels nice,” he said in a low voice.

“Lance,” Keith said softly. Lance opened his eyes, sapphire gems boring into Keith’s soul in a way that made it hard to breathe. “I want you to know that I will never hurt you. And I will do everything in my power to never hurt you for as long as you’re in my life. I know you’re scared to let me in too much, but I want you to know you have nothing to fear from me. I’m temperamental, and I can be stubborn, but I hope you know that will never mean you’d be in danger around me.” Lance stared at him, not saying a word. He looked a little unsure, a little hopeful and afraid at the same time. Keith smiled and stroked his cheek again. “Relax. I’m not asking you to date me. I’m happy being your friend, and I’m happy you trusted me enough to tell me all of this.”

Lance gulped and shrugged, his wings expanding slightly. Keith’s mirrored them. “What if I wanted to ask you… to date me?” he whispered. Keith chuckled nervously and looked at Lance uncertainly. “I mean it.”

“Then ask me,” Keith said.

Lance smiled and bit his lip. “Do you… want to be my boyfriend?”

Keith smiled and nodded. “Yeah. I do. Very much.” Lance laughed and suddenly, Keith felt his arms wrap around him as Lance pulled him into a hug. They fell back against the ground in a fit of laughter and lightness. Keith laid on his side, Lance’s arm serving as a pillow. After getting approval, he had taken to stroking Lance’s wing gently where it was pressed under them as a cushion. One of Keith’s wings was brought in tightly, but the other spread out widely, beating gently in time with Lance’s free wing.

---

After that wonderful day at the bayou-lake, Keith and Lance hung out more often during the week. Away from the friendship outings on Saturdays, they went to movies or carpooled for fast food. One day, Lance told Keith his family wanted to meet him, and they were going to have a cookout anyway.

Keith went, feeling a little nervous about meeting so many people. But Lance’s family was excited to meet him, and they were a very touchy family, hugging him with ease and giving him wide smiles.

Veronica was the one most intrigued by Keith, and she asked him tons of questions. Lance’s mother was a sweet looking woman and she showed him pictures of Lance when he was younger. The days he played on a soccer team, the time he won an attendance award at school, his first day of high school. Lance claimed embarrassment, but he didn’t try to pry Keith away. They just sat together, hand in hand, looking at the photo albums and reminiscing.

That day, they shared their first kiss. It was something incredible that shook Keith to his very core. The feathers of his wings rustled, and the pulsing in them became a pull that was too strong to resist. Their wings wrapped around each other of their own accord and it created a sense of vulnerable invincibility in Keith. He felt a wave of strength that he’d never felt before and he never wanted Lance’s lips to leave his own.

What surprised them was that when they opened their eyes, Lance’s eyes had been glowing and Lance said Keith’s were as well. Their wings finally parted and the residual shock from the experience mellowed out into a feeling of serenity.

It was easy to be with Lance. It was easy to talk to him and turn to him when he needed it. Keith didn’t feel afraid to let his guard down, to show all the emotions he felt when things went awry. Lance was so good with him, so good at maneuvering him. It just made sense. And when things went well and there was a cause for celebration, Lance was easily excitable and it made Keith feel like the most important person in the world.

Lance had come around to being comfortable enough to let Keith touch him without having to ask, and Keith often had his hand in Lance’s if he wasn’t stroking the damaged wings idly.

One day, well into Keith final year in college, Keith and Lance were huddled together on Keith’s couch watching reruns of Christmas movies on TV.

“Can I tell you something?” Lance yawned, pulling the blanket they had draped over them in a little tighter. Keith hummed and glanced up at him from where he was laying on his chest. “I saw you before you saw me.” Keith frowned and sat up, confused. “That day we met at the mall,” Lance clarified. “I saw you first. And I ran off, hiding from you.”

Keith scoffed and crossed his arms. “What are you talking about? Why?”

Lance took his hands and smiled. “I was getting food. And I heard the happiest laugh I’d ever heard in my life.” Keith groaned and felt his cheeks warm. “So I turned around and I saw you. I saw your wings. And I ran off without even explaining to Pidge and Hunk. I just… bolted.”

Keith grimaced and looked at his wings. “Yeah. These things are scary. I mean, they’re the most menacing color combination-”

“Not because of the color, you idiot,” Lance chided playfully. “It was the fact that I could see them at all that terrified me. It meant you’d be able to see mine. Pidge tried to convince me to just talk to you, but they had no idea how bad my wings were. They knew I was self-conscious about them, but I never really explained what they looked like. I had hoped I’d never find you.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t like you because of your wings?” Keith asked, holding Lance’s hand tightly.

Lance shook his head. “I thought maybe… you’d end up hurting me. A lot of people came into my life and caused so much pain. I was certain my soulmate would do the same.” Keith looked at Lance sadly and sighed. “I don’t know if you remember, but… you asked me if I was surprised that you were soulmate. And I said yes.” Keith nodded, recalling the first time they hung out. “I was surprised because your personality was completely different than I expected. I guess I thought I’d end up with someone who would treat me like the people I’d been running away from. But you didn’t do that. You were so good to me from the start.”

Keith smiled and leaned in to kiss him lightly on the lips. “I never want you to feel that fear again,” he whispered.

Lance hummed and kissed him back, nipping lightly at his lower lip. “Okay, alright, so…. A lighter subject. I have a question for you and it’ll probably freak you out.” Keith frowned and pulled back, looking at Lance nervously. “See you’re already scared!”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Come on, what’s the question?”

“Would you… ever want kids?”

Keith froze, staring at Lance in shock. He had no idea what he expected, but he knew it wasn’t that. “Kids?” he repeated. Lance nodded. “Um. I never thought about it. I don’t know if I have what it takes to be a dad.” He looked at Lance pushed his hair back. Lance’s eyes fluttered at the touch. “But if I’m gonna be with you? Then yeah. I think we could raise some awesome kids.”

Lance smiled and bit his lip. “Cool. Because I’ve always wanted kids. But we can talk about that later. Way, way later.”

Keith laughed and nodded. “Okay, my turn for a scary question.” Lance arched an eyebrow. “Would you ever want to get married?”

Lance rolled his eyes. “If I want kids, then duh! Come on, that’s not scary.”

“Wow, okay. Alright, alright, let me try again.” Lance huffed and looked at Keith with a teasing smile. Keith bit his lip nervously and touched Lance’s cheek. He swallowed and looked into Lance’s eyes. “Do you love me?”

Lance’s expression dropped.

Keith wasn’t sure if he should move away or not, especially since Lance had decided to freeze, which meant keeping a hold of his grip on Keith’s sides. Keith looked into Lance’s eyes and tried not to panic at the way he was staring back at him.

“You can say no,” Keith reminded him gently.

“I…. I- I mean you’re my soulmate.”

“Yeah,” Keith said with a smile. “Which is why it’s okay if you don’t love me yet.”

Lance’s eyebrow knit together and he kept stammering, shushing Keith’s reassurances that he didn’t have to say yes. “Keith, I- wow. Um…. I’ve loved a lot of people. But I’ve never known what it was to love someone romantically.” Keith nodded, understanding. Lance stared at him quietly. “Do you love me?”

Keith hesitated for a second before he nodded. “I know I want my future with you. I know I feel comfortable with you. Seeing you makes me happy and being near you makes me happy. I want to make you happy every day, and I want to be whatever you need me to be. I still can’t believe that I was lucky enough to have a soulmate so amazingly selfless and wonderful. Someone who would become my stability. I know I want to experience everything with you. And I understand if you’re scared, I get that. Which is why I’m telling you it’s okay if you don’t love me yet. Because I know you will someday.”

Lance leaned forward and cupped Keith’s face, kissing him lightly. On his forehead, on his eyelids, on his nose. His lips brushed against Keith’s and in a soft breath, he said, “I do love you.” Keith opened his eyes, doubt coating his features. “I want all of that too. I feel all of that. I was terrified of letting you close to me, or bringing you into my life, but now I can’t imagine my life without you. My wings didn’t scare you away. You stayed, and you made me see them as more than damage. You made them sound beautiful. You make me feel strong when I feel like I’m too broken. And you make me feel loved. Every day. And maybe I won’t show it as much as you want me to every day, but I love you, I do.”

Keith nodded, suddenly desperate to kiss him again. He pressed his lips to Lance’s, pulling him closer and letting that feeling of what he knew now was pure, unadulterated love. Their wings pulled towards each other like magnets.

Only this time, they both an electric shot course through the point of contact to the very tips of their wings. They fell apart and Keith tried to shake off the shock. Lance on the other hand doubled over and groaned.

“Lance? Lance!”

He staggered, trying to stand. Keith went to try and help him up, but a bright shimmering from his wings made him freeze. Lance let out a shout of pain that made Keith want to cover his ears. Then the scream faded into a gasp. Lance breathed heavily as his wings continued to shimmer, spreading until they were fully expanded. The light faded away and Keith gaped, frozen to his spot.

Lance was breathing heavily, struggling to stand. Keith hurried over and helped him up, checking him for any injuries. “Lance. Your wings.”

Lance spread his wings tentatively. What had one been a pair of torn, bruised, scarred, nearly featherless wings was now a beautiful, large pair of multicolored wings with soft new feathers that shone silky and smooth. Shades of red and blue melded into purple. No more bent wing, no more tattered membrane, no more proof of the damage that had followed Lance for so long.

“Are you okay?” Keith asked, looking at him worriedly.

“Y-yeah,” he said breathlessly. “What… why did this happen?”

“I don’t know,” Keith admitted. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry.”

Lance looked at him and smiled. “Hurt me? Keith I think… I think you helped heal me.” His wings began to beat steadily, gently in the confines of the apartment. “Could I get another kiss?”

Keith smiled and threw his arms around him as he pulled him into a kiss, his own wings beating in rhythm with his soulmate’s.

[connorpilmanwriting]

short horror: step

My father was an addict and an abuser. An unquenchable well of addiction and violence ran so deeply to the core of him that the foundation was cracked long before I came along. She’ll never admit it, but I know my mother hoped my birth would calm him down. Though, it didn’t. And she’ll never admit it, but I know she resents some part of me for that. But she loves me more than she resents me and would never put such an unreasonable weight on her own child. She wanted what was best for me, despite her shortcomings. My father, however, wasn’t as reasonable a person.

Around one-thirty in the morning on a weekend in early October I heard pounding on the front door of our new apartment. My mother was working the graveyard shift. They’d been separated for seven months. It couldn’t have been anyone else at this hour, rapping on the door with such force. He’d handled marriage and fatherhood poorly, and forced bachelorhood wasn’t treating him well either. Without my mother to reign him in during his sudden and random bouts of lucidity, my father had slipped off whatever edge he thought he was skirting and was now at the bottom of his own lonely well.

It was a prison of his own making. Drinking, drugs, abuse. Choices rippling into other choices. That’s what I was thinking when I opened the door, phone in hand. My father usually recoiled at the sight, since communication meant exposure; he was essentially black mold to my mother’s sunlight. But not today. Whatever coursed through his veins gave him more courage than he ever had sober. I barely opened the door when he charged with force, knocking me into the wall parallel to the entrance.

“Get up,” he said, waltzing past me and into the apartment. “We’re going on a trip.”

“Where?”

“Disneyland. Get packing.”

His words weren’t slurred. The syllables didn’t sound strung together with tar like they so frequently did. He was clearly on something, though I couldn’t tell what. I didn’t want to get close enough to look at his pupils. Whatever it was gave him an extra edge, instead of dulling his preexisting one. He was as cognitive as he could be while still under the influence. This was my father at his most dangerous.

In the brief moment I was given to pack, I grabbed the first clean items I could find. Extra underwear, a bra, a flannel and some jeans were all thrown into an empty garbage bag. He started yelling when I stopped in the bathroom for toothpaste and tampons. He even took my phone. With the clothes on my back and a garbage bag filled with the barest necessities in the bed of his old pickup, we sped off into the dark of night.

He blared music, old cassettes that were already outdated by the time he was my age. Bygone country and swing punctuated our drive into the black autumn wilderness that started just south of town. I knew about these woods. If I went missing here, I wouldn’t be the first. Maybe that’s how they’ll get him after I’m gone. That was the closest thing to hope I felt as the dark of rural night pulled us into its gaping maw.

Once civilization was well out of our rearview, my father pulled onto a path so decrepit and hidden I jumped thinking he was veering us into the tree line. A near unrecognizable dirt road lead us deeper into the forest for far too long. “I used to bring girls out here. Back before you. Before your mom. I’d sneak off on school nights to see girls with nothing more than a six-pack, this class ring, and my baby blues. They did the work for me.”

Whatever boyish charm he supposedly had was long gone, pillaged by years of self abuse. Now he looked 15 years older than he was and smelled like a broken air conditioner that ran on cigarettes and cheap booze.

“But now,” he started. “Now, I just…I don’t know. She wasn’t supposed to get pregnant so young. I thought I had a few more years left of something more alive.”

It stung to hear, but only for a moment, like the half second before you react to your hand getting too close to an open flame. If I truly cared what he had to say, it might’ve actually stayed with me. But the words were already fading when we pulled up to a secluded patch of empty grass nestled deep in the woods.

“Set up the tents,” he barked as he poked at the fire pit with matches and sticks.

I did as he said. I worked quickly and quietly to assemble two single-person tents. I was surprised he even brought tents. Some part of me just assumed he was going to kill me here and now. The night’s still young, I thought to myself.

Once I was finished, my father had gotten a fire going and was slumped in a folding chair in front of it. His feet were propped up on an old stereo playing his outdated cassettes. Whatever uppers he was on must’ve run out since he was nursing a bottle of brown liquor, his trademark. I sat on the cool ground, opposite side of the fire, glaring at him through the flames.

“Why are we out here?” I eventually asked, fed up with silence.

He stared into the fire for a long time. Seemed like minutes.

“Your mom got a restraining order on me. I just wanted to spend time with you…”

“You’ve never wanted to spend time with me,” I muttered.

He heard this and leapt over the flame, towering over me. He kicked up his foot, hitting my shoulder with the flat heel of his boot. I was on my back when he stepped closer, further towering over me.

“You don’t know,” he said with a long paused before spitting, “Get more wood.”

I struggled to my feet and stumbled off, tears welling in my eyes. A numbness had kept me composed up to this point. It was wearing off and the panic of logical fear was seeping in. I was stumbling through black brush, uncaring of my direction or destination. I just needed to get away, I thought to myself. I’d never felt so doomed.

Two big red eyes in the brush, glinting in nothing more than moonlight, seemed to glow brighter than everything else. Normally, I would’ve been afraid. I would’ve ran or tried to make myself bigger or something, anything. But now I just stood there, pondering what would be quicker: death at the hands of my father or at the hands of a wild animal? Fear was back in the city. Despair was the only thing out here in the woods.

“Just do it,” I said to the eyes as if they understood, “Just get it over it over with.”

I took a step closer and it remained unflinching. I could hear something akin to whimpering as I approached. When the gap between us became less than ten feet, it huffed slightly and retreated with impossible speed. I sighed, disappointed.

The ground was wet from a cool rain earlier in the day but I nonetheless filled my arms with as much tinder and firewood as I could find. I should’ve known better.

“What the fuck is any of this?” he spat, every syllable soaked in booze.

“It rained, this is the best I could find.”

Wrong words. Wrong wood. Wrong everything. I barely evaded the bottle he threw at my head. It shattered against a nearby tree. In an effort to dodge the incoming projectile, I inadvertently dropped my collected firewood into the still-burning hearth, smothering most of the flame in damp logs and twigs. I don’t know if he was still mad at my words or if ruining his fire had refreshed his rage, either way he charged at me like he did at the apartment. This time there was no door between us to dampen the force.

This is how it ends, I thought.

I rushed to his truck, hoping for the measly snub nose he often kept in his glove compartment. And there it was. In my hand. Despite its paltry size, the dense metal it was built  from made it heavy in my palm. The grip was faded. The whole thing was coated in a sooty grime. It simultaneously seemed overused and untouched. I pulled the hammer back with my thumb and swung around to aim at my father.

Logic, for the first time all night, made an appearance in the form of a flashing realization in my father’s eyes. He was standing at the rear of his truck, watching me. I hated him. I hated every inch of his being. Everyone I knew hated him. Who cared if I did him in? Would the police even notice? He had a rap sheet so long and slimy his death would be a relief to the justice system.

“Stay away from me.”

“Or what? You’ll shoot me?” he laughed, spit dribbling from the corner of his crooked mouth.

“Yeah.” I could feel the tears in my eyes. “I will.”

“Sure thing, kiddo.” He smiled. “And if you don’t, you’re gonna wish you did.”

It was a single step he took towards me. That was all it took. I couldn’t see clearly through the tears but I pulled the trigger nonetheless. He didn’t deserve precision. He deserved as blunt and as slow a death as this snub nose could give him. I closed my eyes when I pulled the trigger. The sound startled me. I kept them shut, expecting to shortly be floored by my father. But he never reached me.

I opened my eyes and he was laying on the ground. His eyes were wet now, tears shared between father and daughter. He was still there, still alive. The bullet laid him out. A red patch was forming on his abdomen. He tried speaking but only wheezed and coughed. Good. You don’t deserve any finals words, you piece of fucking shit. Then I became angry.  Angry he wasn’t suffering more and angry he wasn’t already dead.

A few steps and I was towering over him. I pointed the barrel at his head. I was so angry. The things he’d done and said, my whole life. The amount of blood, sweat, and tears spilled because of this leech. My mother and I will be physically and mentally scarred for the rest of our lives because this… filth. What did he think all this abuse would amount to? My father must’ve thought he was luckier than I was fed up. His mistake. I pulled the trigger.

I stood there for… a while. Only the rustling of a nearby large animal was able to pull me back to reality. Something big lurked nearby, drawn by the blood, no doubt. So I fired another shot, startling whatever was in the shadows. And then I started thinking.

I had till morning to sort this out. If the cops ask why I didn’t come sooner, I was in shock. And I was, after all. Shocked that I was finally free of this wretched fucking man. But after more thought, I realized I didn’t want to deal with the cops. I wanted him to stay in these woods, baggage and all. He didn’t get the right to haunt me further. It ended here and today.

So I took a shovel from his truck bed and started digging. The dirt was cold and hard but I didn’t stop digging, not for hours. Once it was wide enough and deep enough, I kicked him into the small pit. Then I filled the hole, not just with dirt but everything he had with him. Everything I didn’t need to get back into town. His hands were the last thing I saw, the fading moon catching one last glint before being hidden way under the topsoil.

When I was done, I was too tired to move or do much of anything. I found half a bottle of whiskey under the passenger seat and sipped it until my cheeks became flushed and I found myself comfortably disoriented enough to sleep.

As I wrapped myself in blankets inside my tent, another approaching animal crept into campsite. I was too drunk and too emotionally drained to care. It was probably more interested in the freshly-spilt blood. I stayed still so I could listen to this bear or big cat dig at the ground. Eventually the sound of cold dirt was replaced by strange cloth shifting. Not moving, not digging. Like it was taking off a particularly difficult jacket or something.

Eventually that particular noise ceased, replaced by the sound of animalistic devouring that echoed off the trees. The last thing I remember before slipping off into drunken sleep was sinew wetly crunching just feet away from me. Good riddance, I thought as I drifted off for the night.

∆∆∆

I woke with the most intense fight-or-flight response I’d ever experienced in my life. Somebody was here, and they were making breakfast. I gripped the snub nose that had foolishly rested under my pillow throughout the night. Slowly, as slowly as I’d done anything in my life, I unzipped the tent.

Startled, I fell back into my tent. For a second I didn’t recognize him but he was sitting there, in front of the fire, making breakfast. Clean shaven and freshly dressed, my father poked at sizzling bacon in a pan over the fire pit. He noticed my pratfall, and when he looked up at me I pointed the gun at him.

He set the fork back in the pan and raised his hands slowly.

“Can we talk?”

I panted, anxious this was some nightmare.

“I know last night was bad. It was the worst. I realize that. I’ve realized a lot of things. And I want to make them better. I want to make them right.”

“I killed you. Shot you. In the stomach.”

He slowly lifted his clean shirt, revealing a bandage wrapped around his abdomen.

“Fished it out with a screwdriver and a butter knife. Stings like a son of a bitch, but I deserved it.”

“I shot you in the head. I buried you.”

“You had a lot to drink last night, huh?” he asked, gesturing to the empty bottle in my tent. “I don’t blame you. I really put you through the wringer.”

“I killed you.”

“Almost. And you had every right. And that’s what I want to talk to you about.”

I said nothing so he continued.

“Last night was awful. And when you shot at me, something changed in me. I’m your dad but I treated you so terribly you literally wanted me dead. No daughter should feel that kind of anger or fear because of her parents. There is no forgiving or forgetting what I did. And if you finished me off, here and now, I wouldn’t blame you. I really wouldn’t. But I want things to change, for the better. You and your mom deserve better than me. I can’t promise much, but I can at least be there as your dad.”

I reacted at the mention of my mother.

“I called her this morning. She was really upset, obviously. But we talked, for a while. And she’s still really upset, but she’s giving me the benefit of the doubt this one time to get you home safe. Just this once, can I ask you the same?”

Gun still pointed at him, I let my father squirm for minutes as I contemplated my answer. I could still taste the whiskey in my mouth. It left a cotton feeling in my mouth.

“Thirsty?” he asked, pointing at a case of plastic water bottles at his feet.

As he knelt down, I straightened my arm aiming at him. “No.”

“Okay… So what do you say?”

“To what?”

“A second chance.”

I looked at his hand. I’d spent a long time staring at his ring as I buried him. Now it was gone.

“Where’s your class ring?”

“That old thing? I ditched it. Some things are better left in the past.”

I looked at the patch where I buried him. It had been dug up again and replanted, flatter and cleaner than I ever would’ve.

“Let’s try again. It’ll be different this time, I promise. Okay?”

The sun had just began to peek over the horizon, streaking low hanging light across the woods. Beams of early morning light broke through the trees, fragments of the incoming day illuminating our campsite. One beam in particular hit my father’s face, catching the slightest, most familiar red glint in his eye.

I set the gun down.

“Okay.”

For the first time in my memory of linear time, I trusted what my father had to say. Even if he wasn’t really my father.

[mrspookyfox]

A summary of weird things that live in my shop (long post)

As some of you might already know, I work in a kiosk, selling newspapers, candy and other assorted stuff. It's not a pathway to riches, nor a particularly exciting job, but at least is easy enough and I get to meet some nice people. There are, however, some quirks about my workplace that I'd like to share with you.

See, this locale is located in an old building, a relic from the town's Modernist period, restored and remodeled time after time. The kiosk itself has been open and working since before I was born, passing from one owner to the next along the years.

There has also been a couple of unhappy incidents in its past, but I'm not going to talk about them out of respect for the previous owners.

It seems that these kind of places with a long history behind them, where many visitors leave their impression, are prone to attracting certain kinds of phenomena. The person that worked here before me warned me about a couple of them, and I've discovered the others during the time I've spent here.

Before listing them, let me describe the place a bit; it will help you figuring out where and how each manifestation works, so bear with me for a while.

The kiosk itself, where I meet my customers, is a pretty big, square room. To the right, there is a shelf lined with magazines, a tobacco vending machine leaning against a pillar, and more shelves for school supplies, books and small toys. In the left wall you have a fridge with cold drinks, and racks crammed with bags of chips, candy, and assorted trash food. The key to a healthy lifestyle!

The front wall where the entry is located, is basically a big window, so the place is pretty well-lit during most of the day, and in the opposite wall, behind the counter, there are two doorways. One leads to the storage room, a small, cramped space where the lights only work half the time, and the other to a small office connected to the bathroom. Both are covered by those cheap curtains made of chains that hang to the floor. Those get caught everywhere and are a real pain to cross if you are carrying something big, but they are there for a reason you will see later.

Enough description! These are the... Beings that I have to deal with:

- The goblin: the previous owner told me about this one. It seems to be partially invisible most of the time, but I've managed to see his shadow a couple of times, and his hands once. It (he?) takes the shape of a child or a very small humanoid, around [1 m.] tall. He has a hole in the left hand, but it doesn't seem to affect its functionality. Other than that, you know he's around because of his muffled giggling or the effects of his pranks

The goblin usually manifests in the office, but sometimes also appears in the storage, or causes mischief in the shop at night, after I've left. He loves misplacing stuff (usually important stuff, like bills, or my keys) knocking things off their place, cutting the base of candy bags so the contents will spread everywhere when I grab them, and other assorted dickery. He's more mischievous than openly malignant, tho, and the previous tenant taught me a way to counter him: If he's being too obnoxious, toss a handful of something small (candies, paperclips, whatever you have lying around) to the floor and say something like "Count those, do something useful!" He will snatch them into his current hiding place and you will hear how they are dropped to the floor one by one, I guess because they fall through the hole in his hand as he tries to count them. After a while, he'll throw a small tantrum and remain unheard of for some days.

He also loves it when people swear, and if he's too active and there are no customers, I tend to let out a long stream of profanities as creative as I can manage. He seems to enjoy that enormously, giggling in his raspy voice, and behave for the rest of the day.

-The stuff in the bathroom: On rainy days, the bathroom is invaded by a moldy, damp smell (which is something quite mundane) and the sound of whimpers and chattering teeth coming from every drain ( which is definitely not)

-The mold woman: this is the other phenomenon that the old owner told me about, and he was absolutely TERRIFIED of her, although I haven't seen her manifest fully, so I can only count on his description.

She usually appears late, when it's dark, as a wet stain in the office wall, at face height. The stain grows slowly, but noticeably, dripping towards the floor and sprouting a blackish mold, until it starts taking the shape and dimensions of a tall, emaciated woman. If one gets close enough, a faint breathing can be heard. Supposedly, shortly after that, something will emerge from that stain, and my predecessor made me swear that I'll stay away from it at any costs. I couldn't make him tell me why. What he told me is that the thing cannot cross the chain curtains, for some reason; it is confined to the area of the office.

As I said, it appears after sunset, so most of the time I close before it even has time of manifesting fully. However, some specially busy winter days, when I had to stay later than my usual closing hours, I've sometimes heard that breathing coming from the darkened office, getting harsher. It's my cue to hurry up, close the shop, and run home without looking back.

- The tobacco lady: At first I thought this was a normal customer until I noticed that she never seems to use the door. She just pops into existence in front of the counter whenever I'm not looking. She appears as a middle aged woman with a tired expression. Her hair, teeth and clothes are the same shade of dirty yellow. She comes once or twice a week, very early in the morning, when it's still dark, and asks me to activate the tobacco machine for her. Then, she stays next to it, stroking it tenderly and moving her lips, as if whispering something. If I try to interact with her, or if somebody is about to enter and see her, she vanishes into thin air.

- Toothy : This one dwells in the storage room, and I have only caught glimpses of its face, so I don't know much about its appearance or if it has a body properly.

That face is like an abyssal creature, all eyes and teeth, and radiates a faint whiteish glow. Despite that appearance, it seems to be quite shy and curious, preferring to hide among a pile of empty boxes that I keep on the far side of the storage. Sometimes it cooes excitedly if I bring new stuff in to store.

-The moths: Some Tuesdays I arrive to the kiosk to find a perfect circle of dead moths right in front of the fridge. So now I leave the broom by the door before closing every Monday night.

-That Asshole: He has a real name, and I think I've figured it out, but I'm gonna call him That Asshole because I'm petty like that.

Like the Tobbaco Lady, he looks like a regular patron, more so in that sometimes I saw him through the window, walking down the street to enter the kiosk. However, when I asked the owners of other shops near mine (avoiding the spooky details, of course) none of them recogniced him. It seems that he only comes to visit me, so I guess he is just another of those beings linked to the kiosk.

He always takes the shape of a man, but other than that, his appearance, age, voice, or behaviour will be totally different from one visit to another, so it takes some time to recognize him for what he is. His goal is always the same, though: to get money from me.

Until now, he has never used violence to meet his goals. He poses as a homeless man asking for some coins, a salesman, a boy selling lottery... And he tries to trick me to give him money, usually a small quantity. He is a very good actor, convincing, and very, very persistent. It's almost impossible to make him leave without what he wants. And if he gets it...

If I pay him, he'll smile smugly, as if to let me know that he has tricked me, and leave. After that, if I check the cash register, any money I paid him will be back in there, and any stuff I bought from him will have become a pile of ashes. But worst of all: small wounds, like round, coin sized abrasions, will appear on my skin few minutes after his departure, usually on my hands and tights. The more money he got, the more wounds will appear. They are gone after a day, but itch like hell.

He started appearing seldomly, once a month or so, but his visits got slowly more frequent, until one week where he was coming every day, and sometimes twice a day, so the new wounds covered the old ones in my skin. Luckily, it was then when I finally found the way to outsmart him, and since then his visits are rarer, though he still tricks me from time to time.

See, he changes his shape every time he comes, but there are always some tells:

+His name will always be composed of certain syllabes rearranged differently, as if it was an acronym or an abbreviation of his true name. I'm trying to discover what that is, but for now I only know that is long as heck

+Similarly, any number that he identifies himself with (ID numbers, phone numbers, numbers printed in whatever he tries to sell) will be mostly combinations of the numbers 3, 9, and 27.

+Any knot that appears in his person (shoelaces, ties, braids, even patterns printed on his clothes) will be impossibly convoluted, even making one dizzy after looking at them for too long

+He has a slight limp on his right foot. Always. But he is very good at hiding it.

It took me a long time catching on these, but identifying him is only half the battle. Confrfronting him about his nature wont work, as he'll remain firmly in character and deny everything. However, what does work marvellously is shouting at him and chasing him off, preferibly with a blunt object at hand.

With time, I'm getting better at catching him in his games, trusting my senses to identify him without mistake.

Well... Almost. But that Avon salesman was kind enough to not sue me...

[jane-crwr-assignment]

The Husband Is Disgraceful

Staring up at the ceiling, I take another puff from her blunt. I usually don’t partake in drug use, especially right after work (I’m just bland like that). But I would literally do anything for the totally unreal woman lying beside me right now, even if it includes such casual marijuana indulgence. Or whatever.

Yes, she’s a bombshell. Yes, she’s completely spontaneous (particularly in bed).

And no, she isn’t my wife.

I glance over at her, my eyes are rewarded by a million-dollar grin. She plucks the joint from my fingers, lifting it to her lips and inhales. Dear god, why couldn’t she be the one I married. Though I literally just learned of her existence a few hours ago from our mutual place of work, I’m certain she already has my heart. Instead, I’m supposedly happily married to some other lovely woman. Together, we live in a lovely little house in a happy little picturesque neighborhood. Everything’s just lovely. I supposedly couldn’t be happier.

That’s all sarcasm. For the past seven years of my marriage, I’ve found the only thing I’ve ever looked forward to coming home after work is the evening news program. What’s even more pathetic is that that just may be the only highlight of my life of recent (weed tends to ignite epiphanies like this). You see, it’s not that my wife isn’t good to me. She’s great. It’s just that boredom tends to snake in like the plague, so cunningly you don’t even recognize it…until one day you find yourself wishing you’d never gotten married in the first place.

Anyway, the news was the highlight of my life… until this affair. And I don’t even know this woman’s name yet; when she strode up to me from her desk in the office as I was getting coffee and whispered dangerous words into my ear, I threw caution to the wind without even batting an eyelash. We ditched work early, hopped into her sleek Jaguar and somehow found ourselves here- in this high-class hotel room. So ‘high class’ I’m almost tempted to ask how much she’s paid and if I missed some sort of memo from work on an increase in our wages. Or if she has other sources of income, why does she still bother with the god forsakenly lifeless company we work for?

“So, tell me about yourself.”

Just like that, I’m snapped back to reality. She’s sitting up properly now, still flashing me that sly smirk. My heart drops. I might have to tell her about the Mrs and just imagining how awkward it’ll be after that makes me want to jump out of a window.

“Uh,” I rack my brain for anything I can use to stall. “Uh…right after I take a shower?”

Jackpot.

She arches an eyebrow quizzically, but she’s still happy. “Okay then, hun. I’ll be right here.”

I slide off the bed and scurry away (nearly tripping over my own feet), towards the en suite bathroom. “I’ll be out in a few minutes, just stay right where you are.”

“I know. I said ‘I’ll be right here’.” She nearly laughs at my profound idiocy.

I’m so nervous yet so strangely excited, I don’t reply as I shut the bathroom door behind me. As ridiculous as this sounds; I don’t ever want to go home.

[mollyshaj]

30.

Three Years Later - June 17, 2016

Mariah

Walking in my house I shook my head when I saw Damien sitting in the living room playing that video game like he always does. I swear to God you cannot get that little nigga off that thing. It’s cool though, he’s out the way when he plays that. He needs to play it in his room though, I don’t know why he gotta be in the damn living room all the time.

“Damien, is your father here?” I asked him after stepping in front of the TV. He sucked his teeth but pressed pause on his game. “Lose the attitude I’m just asking a question.”

“I know, he was in the kitchen the last time I checked. He probably went upstairs though.”

“Alright thanks,” I mushed his head playfully then went upstairs. Before I could walk down to the bedroom I shared with Tristan I stopped and opened the door to Jayce’s bedroom then walked in. “What are you doing?” I questioned when I saw her typing away on her laptop.

“Finishing my book report. This is my last assignment for this class then we’re done.” She answered. “You’re home early,” She turned and looked at me and I couldn’t help but smile at her. Jayce is so damn beautiful and she’s growing prettier every day. Shit, I feel a great sense of pride just looking at her sometimes.

“I know I let Rachel close the store down tonight. I didn’t want to be there longer than necessary.” My store Material Girl, opened two years ago and business has been booming since we opened. The only problem with my store was it kept me busy. Running the store dealing with my kids and Tristan’s big headed ass always had me on the go. I never really got the chance to just sit back and relax.

“Okay, well I have a question. It’s really a question for you and Tristan but I think it’s easier to ask you first.”

“Oh lord, what is it?” If she’s scared or hesitant to ask Tristan anything that means she either wants to go somewhere or it’s about a boy.

“You know that boy Lucas, the one that goes to my school?”

“Yeah, what about him?”

“Well he asked me out so can I go?”

“I personally don’t mind you going but Tristan isn’t going to see it that way.” To say Tristan was over protective over Jayce would be an understatement.  He really goes psychotic over her; she doesn’t even like him coming to the school because his grown ass doesn’t know how to act.

“That’s why I want you to talk to him. He only asked me to go to the party the school throws. That’s completely chaperoned and no I don’t need one of y’all to be there.”

“I’ll talk to him; I’m not making any promises though.”

“That’s good enough for me.”

“Alright did y’all eat?”

“I did earlier when I first came in from school. Tristan said you were cooking.”

“He got me fucked up, get dressed and tell Damien to get dressed to we’re going out.” I walked out of her bedroom and walked down to mine.

Tristan was lying across the bed with our daughter Chase lying on his back watching ESPN. I swear to God this nigga was determined to turn her into a tom boy. “Hey baby,” Tristan said when I walked in the room.

“Hey,” I went over to the bed and kissed him on the lips before picking Chase up and kissing her cheek. “You might wanna get up bruh; we’re going out to eat. I’m not cooking.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to that’s why, come on get your big ass up. I’m going to get her ready, you handle whatever you need to handle.” I walked out of the bedroom and went right next door to Chase’s room and put her in her crib. “You ready to look pretty baby girl?”

Our daughter Chase Amari Myers was born on September 20, 2013. She was a week late and took me through 15 hours of labor before she popped her little ass out of my body. As if birthing her wasn’t bad enough, she’s spoiled as hell. Tristan literally gives her whatever she wants, whenever she wants it. He doesn’t know the word no unless he’s talking to Damien and Jayce and even then he still doesn’t say it as much as he needs to.

Chase wasn’t the only thing that was new for us, we just moved into this big beautiful house twenty minutes away from Ebony and Kaylin last year. Granted it’s not as big as theirs, we have five bedrooms four bathrooms but I didn’t need that much space anyway. Jayce and Damien were both mad about having to switch schools but they eventually got over it.

I was going through Chase’s clothes when my phone started vibrating in my pocket so I pulled it out and looked at it. When I saw it was Ebony I answered. “What’s up Eb?”

“Not a damn thing, I’m bored as shit. What are you doing?”

“About to get Chase dressed, we’re about to go out to eat. You wanna come with us? Y’all can meet us at that Italian restaurant we always go to.”

“That’s cool with me, we’ll see you there. Thirty minutes good?”

“Yeah that’s fine. You spoke to Nicole?”

“Not since last night, you know she and Rashad are off on one of their littler voyages. The plus of not having kids I tell you.” I shook my head chuckling because she was right.

Nicole and Rashad are always taking a trip somewhere. They just went to LA in April, now they’re out in the Virgin Islands. I hate them so much sometimes, lucky bastards.

“You got that right; it’s cool though because I want to go to Paris for my honeymoon. I already told Tristan he better not try and get cheap with me, I’ll slap his ass.” I told Ebony and she laughed.

“The last thing that nigga is cheap, wait the way he proposed to you was kind of cheap. Actually it’s not kind of the shit was cheap.” She joked.

“He’s lucky I’m not an ungrateful ass bitch.” Tristan proposed to me on New Year’s Day and as much as I thought he would try and go all out to surprise me his ass got pissy drunk at Kaylin’s party and when we got home he pulled the ring out and asked me. I laughed at his ass but said yes. When he woke up he didn’t even remember asking me. That man is dumb as hell sometimes.

“You love him that’s why you’re not ungrateful but fuck that I been meaning to tell you something. Tell me why I ran into that nigga Rio the other day when I was taking Jayden to get his haircut.”

“Are you serious? I thought his crazy ass was in jail.”

“He was but he’s out now. Girl the nigga was screaming my name and shit. I just grabbed Jayden’s hand and left.”

“I told you to stop taking his ass all the way to JC to get a haircut. You should take him to the same place Kaylin goes.”

“I never had problems taking that drive though, plus he knows Dave and I know he’s not going to bullshit with my baby’s head. I don’t know, running into that nigga really freaked me out.”

“Did you tell Kaylin?”

“Hell no, you know how he is. Let him find out the nigga that was beating my ass is out of jail he’s going to lose his damn mind.”

“Well what are you going to do? Hide it?”

“I don’t know, I just saw him one time. Hopefully I won’t run into him again. Fuck him though, we’ll see you at the restaurant.”

“Alright.” I ended the call then shook my head.

Ebony was really playing with fire trying to keep running into Rio a damn secret. Rio, or Mario as the law knows him is a complete nut and he’s Ebony’s ex. She met him maybe two years after Quan first left. They weren’t together for six months before he started putting his hands on her. It got so bad that she ended up in the hospital with three broken ribs, a broken wrist and a fractured leg behind that nigga breaking in her house after he heard she was supposedly giving her number out to other niggas.

Luckily she wasn’t that damn dumb and got his ass put in jail but obviously he wasn’t locked down too long if she ran into him. I don’t understand why she’s hiding it from Kaylin, he got rid of Quan’s ass he can get rid of Rio but that’s on her. I’m going to mind my damn business.

After getting Chase dressed and ready I took her down to Jayce’s room so she could watch her while I got myself together. Once I was dressed and ready we all left and headed down to the restaurant.

We sat there for about ten minutes when Ebony finally came walking in with Kaylin and Jayden. “Hey y’all,” I got up and gave all three of them a hug. They said what’s up to everybody then sat in their seats.

“Where’s baby girl at Kay?” I asked him about Angelic. She was the sweetest little girl ever but she was hyper as hell at the same time.

“With her mother, she’s with us next weekend.” Once everybody ordered their food, Jayden and Damien were sitting next to each other talking basketball or whatever else and Jayce was on her phone doing something with Chase.

“You see that picture Nicole put on Instagram?” Ebony asked me.

“Nah, let me see.” She pulled her phone out and scrolled around for a minute before finally handed me the phone since she was right next to me. I looked at the picture and started laughing.

xbrownbeautyx

xbrownbeautyx: how is he with you if we ain’t even in the country? Bitch don’t flatter yourself my nigga don’t want you, you won’t be getting my life. Get the fuck over it.

“Oh Lord,” I shook my head. “She doesn’t throw shade she just chops your ass in the throat.”

“Kay told Rashad he better do something about that bitch.” Ebony shook her head.

“I don’t understand why she’s so pressed. They never even fucked before. These bitches be out here losing their mind for no reason.”

“For real, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with that bullshit. Y’all have some damn patience. How is everything going with his mama?”

“Court in a few weeks, we already know we’re going to win and keep full custody.” Two years ago Tristan and I ended up getting temporary custody of Damien because his mother is a complete idiot. She met some nigga and started dating him, I guess she thought it would make Tristan jealous but it didn’t. This bitch wasn’t even with him four months before she moved him in that house.

Come to find out not only was he a fuckin’ alcoholic he was a dip head. Dip is basically cigarettes and or blunts dipped in chemicals, mostly embalming fluid. Being where I’m from I’ve seen a lot of dip heads and that shit is not only fucked up its makes them crazy and violent.

Tristan and I knew nothing about her moving him in the house until one night Damien calls Tristan crying talking about that nigga was beating the shit out of his mother. I sent Chase and Jayce next door with Mc. Cicely, an old woman I was living next to while we rode over to this girl’s house.

When we got there we could hear her ass screaming from outside. Tristan busted in the house and ran to the living room and Carmen was standing there beat the fuck up, face all black and blue yelling and screaming while this nigga was beating on Damien. I’ve never seen Tristan explode like he did that night.

He pushed the man off Damien and dragged his ass outside the house and proceeded to beat him the fuck up. Usually I would rush to stop him from doing something stupid but I had to let him get them licks in because it was necessary at this point. I don’t know who, but somebody ended up calling the cops. Just as the police was pulling up Tristan picked that nigga and slammed in on the front of somebody’s car so bad the whole damn windshield shattered.

They arrested him while I stayed back and tried to figure out something with Damien and Carmen. When the ambulance came around to look at their bruises they ended up transporting everybody to the hospital. Tristan called my phone and basically told me to stay and figure out what was going on with his son, he just wanted me to call Kaylin or Rashad to come bail him out. I called both of them niggas and they went and got him.

While in the hospital I learned that not only did Damien have bruises on him from that nigga putting his hands on him that night. He had bruises that looked a few days old and the only way that was happening was if Carmen had been letting that nigga beat her son. Sure Tristan disciplines him but he doesn’t beat him like that. Damien didn’t want to talk in front of the doctors but once he was left alone with me he told me everything.

That man Carmen was with was beating on both of them the whole time he was staying there and was telling Damien if he told Tristan he was going to kill Carmen so he kept his mouth shut. The only reason he called Tristan that night was because this time the psycho pulled out a gun.

The next day when Tristan was released we were still at the hospital because they wanted to keep Damien overnight. I went and picked up Jayce and Chase and took them to Ebony’s. When we all got back to the hospital and I told Tristan everything his son told me it literally took Kaylin, Rashad and about three security guards to get him away from Carmen because he was trying to kill that bitch. If we weren’t in the hospital I probably would’ve let him.

Tristan took Damien home with us and filed for full custody the next day. He didn’t try to get her locked up he just wanted his son with us and he’s been with us ever since. Now we were going to our final court date in a couple of weeks to find out if we won. The lawyer basically guaranteed us custody but we still had to go.

To say Carmen is salty as fuck about her son being us full time would be an understatement. If she didn’t hate me before she definitely did now. Damien refuses to talk to her, he doesn’t want anything to do with her at this point and she thinks I’m the reason. As if I have mind control over her son and told him to hate her ass. The bitch is always popping shit on social media and now one of her cousins that used to talk to Rashad back in the day is starting shit with Nicole.

The bitch is playing on her phone, stalking her social media accounts being annoying and lying on her pussy. Claiming Rashad if fucking her and shit and we all know that’s a lie. I don’t even get why the bitch so pressed. Nicole and Rashad have been together for years at this point and everybody knows it so why the bitch is acting like she doesn’t know that and faking like she hurt is beyond me. I personally feel like Carmen is putting her up to it. She can’t get to me because it would be bad for her case so she wants to annoy my friend. The bitch just doesn’t know Nicole is with the shit, she’ll drag both of those bitches.

Shit was just over dramatic with Nicole and I right now as far as relationships are concerned. Luckily Ebony didn’t have crazy ex problems, she and Brandi were actually getting along. They didn’t hang out with each other or anything but they don’t have any issues or anything. They actually speak and have conversations when they see each other. My bestie is growing up for real because five years ago, Ebony would’ve still been mean to the girl.

“You know she’s going to be coming for you once the custody is official right?” Ebony asked knocking me out of my thoughts. I shrugged my shoulder before taking a sip of my drink.

“I really don’t give a flying fiery fuck; she can come at me and get her ass whooped if she wants to. I’ve been waiting to drop that whore for years.”

“She needs her ass whooped for real.”

“I know and she’ll get it. I’ll see that bitch around. Just wait.”

Nicole

“I’m not ready to leave man.” I told Rashad as we were packing our clothes. We’ve been in the St. Thomas for the past week and I was not ready to go back home.

“Me either but we gotta get back to the real world. Besides you keep going back and forth with bitches on the Gram anyway.”

“I’m not going back and forth I’m just setting the bitch straight. Posting pictures of you like you’re around her when we aint even in the country. The only reason I did it was because I know her raggedy ass friends and that thirsty ass cousin of hers be watching my damn page.”

“Just ignore her; you know I’m not fucking that bitch. You know I never fucked that bitch so fuck what they’re talking about.”

“I can’t make any promises about that. You know I don’t like lying so therefor I’m just going to say I’ll mind my business as long as the bitch stays in her lane.”

“Do you Nicole; just don’t bring that messy shit home.”

“I got you on that.” After we were done packing we left the hotel we were staying at then went straight to the airport where we had to wait about an hour before even boarding the plane.

Once we were seated in first class I looked at Rashad. “What’s the next destination?”

“I don’t know, I was going to leave that up to you. I don’t mind going to Paris again. That was a good time.”

“Yeah, but I want to go somewhere we’ve never been before. That’s the hard part.” Rashad and I take advantage of the fact that we have no kids. We were together, I love him and he loves me but we weren’t settled down like Ebony and Mariah were. There weren’t any kids running around our place and we didn’t have anything stopping us from doing whatever we wanted.

They had the houses in the suburbs and shit while Rashad and I still lived in the city. We did move out of his one bedroom condo and into a two story, four bedroom, three bathroom penthouse apartment. Hell, the only reason I wanted the extra room was because I knew our friends were going to have us on babysitting duties which neither one of us had a problem with.

“What about Rome?”

“That’s a good one, I like that idea.”

“Alright then, Rome it is. We’re going to set that shit up for August.”

“Cool. You think they had everything straight at the hotel while I was gone?”

“I didn’t get any calls but you never know. You just gotta see when you go in.” I was running The Carter Hotel in New York for Rashad, that’s how I made my money.

When I first started working there I was just looking over the employees and helping him organize everything but after a year he basically promoted me to the manager of the entire of hotel. Of course it’s some employees that had an issue with my being there but I really couldn’t give a fuck. The only reason they don’t like my ass is because Rashad and I are together plus I don’t play games at all. I run a tight ship which is why it’s making as much money as it does.

After the four hour flight back to New York I called an Uber to get us back to our place. When we got up to our apartment I went straight to the bedroom to lie down. The only thing I hate about traveling is missing my bed. Nothing felt better than being in my own shit.

“Baby, you hungry?” Rashad asked me when he came in the room.

“Yeah, you wanna order something?”

“Nah, I gotta go check on some shit so I’ll just bring you something back. I’ll only be gone for like an hour.”

“Alright, text me when you’re done doing whatever you’re going to I’ll tell you what I want then so you won’t forget and bring back some bullshit.” I smirked at him. Rashad’s memory is fucked up sometimes. He forgets the simplest shit and instead of asking about it he just takes a guess.

“I’m not going to forget but do that.” He came over and kissed me on the lips then walked out. “Love you ma!” He shouted from down the hall.

“Love you too!”

A smile came on my face while I got up to take a quick shower. Once I was good and clean I threw on one of Rashad’s old football jerseys and a pair of his boxers before sitting on my bed and calling Ebony. I didn’t really get to talk to them much while I was gone and I needed a good laugh.

“Are you finally back bitch?” Ebony asked when she answered her phone. I didn’t get a hi or anything the bitch went straight to questioning me.

“Well damn, hello to you too.”

“My bad,” She laughed. “What’s good Nic. Are you back?”

“Yeah we just got back home actually. Rashad went to go do something and get us some food so now I’m just sitting here. What are you doing?”

“I just got in the house from a photo shoot.”

“Ooh shit, what magazine this time?”

“Not for a magazine, this hair company. I forgot the name of it but their hair is the shit. Got this shit flowing all down my back. You know they send me free shit just to promote it.”

“Yeah and they pay your ass lovely. Who said you can’t make money off Instagram?”

“Dummies, shit I make stacks just for taking a picture of some damn jewelry and posting the shit.”

“What happened with that offer you got?”

“I’m not doing no damn Love & Hip Hop. I almost pissed myself when Viv told me they contacted her about me. The fuck I look like going on that shit and making a complete fool of myself.”

“Yeah they will have your ass doing some pure divine bullshit. Take it as a compliment, that means your name is out here bitch.”

“Oh please, that’s a bad thing as much as it’s a good thing. The great part is I’m making my money. The fucked up part is people think they know my life or think they know me. Calling me a damn IG model, no bitch I’m a professional model signed to an agency who just so happens to milk the shit out of that dumb ass app.” Ebony said in a serious tone.

The one thing that pisses Ebony off is trying to down play her and what she’s done. She’s been grinding hard as hell for the last few years and working her ass off. She’s graced the covers of numerous magazines and she was bent over fucking a rapper, shaking or showing her ass to do it. She did more than just post pictures with that nasty ass Flat Tummy Tea. Call her an IG model if you want to, you might get slapped.

“People are going to hate Ebony don’t let that shit get to you. You know you work your ass off fuck everybody else. Shit, you think I care about those bitches at that hotel hating on me? Talking about I don’t do my job, I’m just there because I’m fuckin’ Rashad. I had to curse one of those bitches out and fire her ass before we left.”

“What happened?” Ebony laughed again. For whatever reason this bitch thinks me going off is funny.

“First of all the bitch was already on thin ice because she’s a fuckin’ idiot and she’s always later or calling out. So because she barely comes to work her check is bullshit and she came at me about it talking about I’m jealous of her and that’s why I docked her pay and that I wouldn’t be shit if I wasn’t fuckin’ Rashad.”

“Oh hell nah, what did you say?”

“I went clean off on that hooker. I looked at her and was like I don’t know who the fuck you take me for but you really got life fucked up. I said Rashad is my man so the fuck what, that has nothing to do with how I do my job which I do quite well thank you very much bitch. Now you check looks like shit because you barely bring your dumb ass to work. The fuck you think you automatically obligated to money because your name is on the pay roll? No bitch the hours have to worked and you don’t do that so you can take that shitty ass paycheck and get the fuck out because you’re fired any way. Then I walked back to my office.”

“Wow Nic, you probably hurt the bitch feelings and everything.”

“I don’t care either, bitches really be having life fucked up. I’m about to be 30 years old I don’t have to be dealing with these dummies. I’m running out of patience my nigga.”

“Oh do not bring up age please, I’m 28.”

“So? You say that like you’re old.”

“I know but come on man my baby is 11 years old he’s almost a teenager. Angelic is 3 going on 30, that little girl is a mess.”

“You think you got it bad, Mariah is in the house with two teenagers and a toddler. I’m pretty sure Tristan is going to fuck around and get her pregnant again just wait.” I laughed.

“He probably will, when are you and Rashad going to pop one out?”

“When I have a ring on my finger and say I do, I got him until then I’m good.” It wasn’t my desire to be a baby mama. I’m good.

“I feel you; I told Kay the same thing. You know he’s asking me about a baby and shit. I told his ass I got you after we all have the same last name. If I marry him Jayden’s last name is getting changed to King just like mine.”

“Good, that’s his father they need the same last name.”

“Yeah well his father is irking my nerves with this baby shit, if we’re not arguing about that we’re arguing about some other shit.”

“Y’all are out of that honeymoon phase and real life is setting in. You’ll be fine, y’all love each other.”

“I know but damn shit is just rough right now.”

“Rough how Eb?”

“It just is, we argue all the time. Sure we have good days and when we’re good, we’re good. When shit is bad, it’s bad. If we argue I don’t even sleep in the damn room with him. I’m talking about me going to bed in the damn guest room for five nights straight in the past week Nicole.”

“The fuck happened?”

“I don’t even know but I’m over this shit man, and then I ran into Rio the other day and now he’s stalking my fuckin’ pages. I block his ass and he pops up again, this nigga is on this crazy bullshit.”

“When the fuck did he even get out?”

“I don’t know but he’s out and he’s on my ass. This nigga is really buggin’ I’m scared to go to my bookings because this bitch boy might pop up.”

“You told Kaylin?”

“Hell no if I tell him he’s not going to let me out of his sight and I don’t have time to be following his ass around when I have my own shit to handle.”

“You need to tell him, the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’ll be fine Nicole, and don’t go running your mouth to Rashad.”

“I’m not but you still need to say something. I’ll keep quiet for now but as soon as I get the feeling something is going on I’m snitching.”

“Yeah alright I hear you, I gotta go cook for these kids. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Alright, later.” I ended the call the put my phone down. Ebony is as stubborn as they come. Let Kay find out this nigga been damn near stalking her and she’s keeping it quiet. She thinks they’re into it now he’s really going to have a fit.

[spiteandalice]

Judas Touch pt. 1

So I lied about posting the other day, obviously. Please know that I’m a lying liar that lies.The second chapter to my Jai fic is almost done and if I don’t pass out in five minutes I’ll do my best to get it the fuck done. Let me start this by saying how I hate y’all even if you don’t know me. I’ve been lurking for a long while, reading all the Divergent and Boomer and whatnot fics quietly because I knew the moment I would set up a blog for this I’d fall into a deep, dark hole. NOW LOOK AT THIS SHIT.

Have an Eric oneshot because my brain hates me so, so much.

Contains smut, language and some violence.

In my few years on this planet I haven’t seen many winters that could compare to this one, the temperatures so low it feels like a punch to the chest every time you walk outside. Having all the moisture in your nose freeze up every time you breathe in is quite something to behold. It doesn’t stop me from hanging off the side of the first armored truck in our convoy, the one that found me on a routine patrol, peering through the blindingly white streets ahead at what I have called home all my life, even if it’s a miserable cavern full of loud idiots. My faction still houses the best kind of idiots because Dauntless are by far the most tolerable of the bunch. The snow actually helps to improve the city, it covers the ruins and manages to let even the usually depressing wastelands look almost pretty.

Not that I care.

There is a commotion up ahead, and I can’t help but smile at the warm welcome as a group of disheveled factionless come shambling out of a street in an attempt to attack us. I guess my reputation has suffered greatly in the past four months, but I guess being presumed dead does that to you.

They are mostly unarmed, a few are swinging pipes and other blunt objects in our direction, meaning to look threatening I guess, and I descend from my spot by the driver’s door, smiling. I take a few steps towards them, still smiling. My height alone is supposedly enough to impress, even if they don’t recognize me. 5′11 is mighty tall for a woman, and everything about my clothes is meant to accentuate that, not that I could really conceal it somehow. My black coat reaches down to my ankles and would be restricting if it wasn’t for the four slits on the sides, front and back, allowing me enough leg room to climb, run and kick. Or slowly stride towards a bunch of bumbling idiots who dare to delay my glorious return to the living. Clearly confused some of them back away, until I’m close enough to make out some of their grubby faces. One in the front bears a tattoo on his head that looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. He stares at my bruised face for a moment before his brain can process whatever info it provides to him.

“Oh shit. It’s her! It’s Mina!”

Ah, a former dauntless. It warms the spot where my heart is supposed to be that he recognizes and instantly fears me. Clever boy.

For a moment they are all silent, some exchange looks, then they start to run. I laugh, wholeheartedly enjoying their reaction, while I pull two guns from their holsters slung across my shoulders and start firing at them. Out of the fifteen only seven make it back to their rat hole. I’m obviously very rusty.

Banging my fist on the hood of the truck is the driver’s signal to continue on, we are moments away from the compound and I would like to get back inside, have a shower and reconnect with old friends.

All three of them.

There is a lot of bustling as we approach, looks like a delivery from Amity is unloaded right now and it has transformed the place into an anthill that I’m usually tempted to light on fire with a huge looking glass, but not today. I’m feeling very generous. A lot of black figures are running around carrying things, only one is standing in the middle, almost motionless. His head is turned towards us but there is not even the slightest sign of any kind of emotion visible in his rigid stance, hands folded behind his back, ever the leader. I smirk and jump off, slowly making my way towards him, limping slightly because my ankle is sprainex. When I am not more than ten feet away he barks at someone to his left, without so much as turning his head that way, and the hapless guy who dared to slow down hastily runs towards the truck to grab another crate.

“Still getting off on intimidating peasants, I see.”

“Still loving a grand entrance, I see.”

We stare at each other for a moment and if I had a heart it would possibly beat faster now and I would experience some form of joy because I am actually home. Alas, a smirk and a raised eyebrow will have to do, and it is returned in kind by my favorite dauntless. Which I would never tell him, his ego is inflated enough already.

“Looks like you just won me a lot of points, Mina.”

For Eric he sounds almost gentle, with only a minimum of sarcasm and a dash of amusement in his voice. I briefly wonder if he was affected by the news of my death at all, but I know him too well. It was probably extra terrible to land on his shit list for a couple of weeks, by breathing wrong or walking by too close.

“I leave you alone for a couple of weeks and you turn into a gambling man? What has this place come to! Are we doing group hug sessions now every Friday?”

For a moment we both go quiet and I am sure that we are supposed to hug now, or smile or break out into a little dance number. But we just stare, I for my part even enjoying it because there aren’t many people who would even dare to hold his gaze, and the same thing can be said about me. Finally he takes a few steps forward, closing the distance between us and leaning his forehead against mine for just a moment. We are both not feeling the need for any form of PDA and anything else along those lines, that is for the mushy idiots, the pussies and emotional people, which is all the same anyway. Mutual respect is the highest form of affection we are capable of and comfortable with, and that is all I need to know. 

“I am looking forward to a hot shower, some food and a few hours of sparring. Not necessarily in that order.”

He lifts an eyebrow at me and smirks. I’m still looking better put together than the majority here and I spent weeks in captivity, fighting my way through a horde of idiots and then crawling across the city before a patrol found me. There is dust in my hair, the left side of my head needs shaving and I would kill for clean underwear. Not that I normally wouldn’t.

“Code’s still the same. You might want to check in and tell everyone else you’re alive.”

With a huff of indignation I step back and glare at him, he has to ruin all my fun. I was planning on roaming the halls for a few weeks, thoroughly scaring the shit out of everyone that knows me, especially those that never liked me. Which, admittedly, are quite a few. Not as many as Eric can boast about, I have never been in a position to be able to make quite as many enemies, but I am close. Was. Am. I am back, I should remember that.

Stifling a grin he pats my shoulder and turns me toward the door behind him. As I turn a guy behind me catches a glimpse at my face, drops something and curses. I turn and start running at him with a loud wail and he, completely shocked and confused, starts running. The look of pure amusement on Eric’s face is almost worth behaving like an idiot and I allow myself a half smile before straightening my coat and heading back towards the door.

“I think I almost missed having you around.”

With a snort I walk past him, clipping him in the shoulder on the way. The only things he missed were my body and the fact that he had someone on his level around that would get his moods and his thought processes, that is all.

“Your dick missed me, I’m sure.”

He doesn’t respond to that, and as I walk through the narrow and dark corridor I can hear him barking orders at the poor saps outside and it just might be one of the sweetest things I have ever heard.

Later that night, after a very exhausting meeting with the leaders and a long and entirely unnecessary retelling of my adventures, I find myself keying in the familiar code to Eric’s place. There is a spot for me in one of the guest rooms because I have never been around for too long, but it is a long standing tradition that I spend most of my nights here. The lights are out and everything is quiet, so I make my way to the bathroom after taking off my boots and coat and placing them by the door, neatly because anything else would make it impossible for me to relax. Always be ready to leave, always have a strategy. The fact that I am willing to even take off my knives and guns around here says a lot about Eric, if there is anyone in this world that I would trust to an extent it would be him.

This is why I decide to not only take a shower, generously applying his soap twice, but also draw a hot bath afterwards because after being dead for four months I am pretty sure I’m entitled to a little smidge of luxury, and it’s his place so I’m not worried about wasting his resources, he can afford it. While the tub slowly fills I make my way around, grateful for the fact that he is such a neat person, because I could find my way to his liquor stash blindfolded. With a bottle of very good whiskey and his backup pack of cigarettes I make my way back to the bathroom, picking up a lighter and an ashtray on my way. I am naked and my hair is leaving a fine trail of water droplets all over his floors, which I’m sure will irritate him to no end. I grin and leave the door open before I submerge myself in what feels like boiling hot water, not even thinking about leaving before I have smoked half of the pack and drank at least a quarter of the bottle.

When the door opens I tense, but I know full well that the number of people who can even access his place is extremely low, yet I only relax after I heard his low grumble that is telling me he is annoyed but also vaguely amused. He must have seen the water trail I left him while he took off his boots. Like the trail of breadcrumbs in that old story, just a lot better.

“One could think you owned this place.”

There he is, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. I can’t say I’m not enjoying the sight, a few months among factionless and corpses does things to a woman’s standards, but there has only ever been one who came close to not boring me and mostly pissing me off in the good kind of way. He is currently raking his gaze up and down my body, and I’m not sure what he is thinking because I must look terrible. Battered and bruised, what I lost in weight I gained in scars. Not pretty, but we are soldiers, we are not supposed to be beautiful. Supposed to I say, because this little shit had to go against the grain.

“If I owned this place it wouldn’t be such a mess.”

The smile I bestow on him almost reaches my eyes, I can feel it, but it is also meant to provoke him. I need to test the waters, to see how, or if at all, things have changed in these few months. Maybe he found himself a nice little wife he keeps in a different apartment because being around others constantly is too much, or maybe he and Four finally acted on all that pent up tension. My smile turns into a smirk and he raises an eyebrow, his gaze still cold. Our greeting was downright emotional, but now we’re back at the beginning, cautiously staring at each other, neither of us willing to take the first step because that means exposing yourself and could be considered a weakness.

Finally I sigh and get up, letting the water cascade off my body for a moment before reaching for a black towel I put out, carefully stepping over the edge of the tub and beginning to dry myself thoroughly, right in front of him. Cold fingers suddenly dig into my hips, pulling me backwards and against him. We don’t say a single word, don’t even make a sound, but I turn around and launch myself at him so hard that he stumbles backwards and into the wall. His hands are all over my back, my hair, my ass, while I wrap my legs around him like a vise and take great pleasure in destroying his carefully made up hair.  I was the first one to openly laugh at him and survive and it was this haircut that caused my outburst. I like it, sort of, even though I don’t and it’s none of my business anyway.

We don’t kiss, we never have, it is a ferocious attack of lips and tongues and teeth, biting and sucking and licking. Even this turns into a competition, to see who could win the upper hand. Ever since we met, while he was an initiate and I had to wait another damn year, we have been at each other’s throats both literally and figuratively speaking. No matter what competition we ended up in, it was always just too close to call unless one of us decided to play dirty and distract the other in every way possible, which is always. The first time we fucked - and there is no other word to accurately describe it - we were sparring, he had me pinned, I managed to headbutt him, he tried to choke me and I kicked him in the balls - this is our kind of foreplay.

Nobody said any of this is “healthy”.

There is blood on my lips and I’m not sure if it’s his or mine, and it’s really not important either way. We will both be walking around covered in scratches and bruises tomorrow, slightly smug and knowing full well that everyone can see, everyone knows and yet nobody dares to say a thing because we are both known to be very calm and reasonable humans.

That thought makes me chuckle against his throat and he growls, the first noises we made so far.

“Something funny there?”

“Yeah, your face.”

His hand tangles in my black hair and pulls my head back, he is not in the mood for some banter on the intellectual level of five year olds, and that’s okay. This is something that developed over time, we blow off some steam, destroy a piece of furniture or two, then comes the playful part. One time he chased me around the training room for half an hour, a fact that got him into a fight with Four the next day when he was complaining about having to watch that on the surveillance footage. It wasn’t so much the fact that we were naked and clearly having a lot of sex that bothered Eric, but the fact that Four saw him laughing and tickle me into submission. It was a one time lapse of judgement on our parts that never happened again after and we keep that private.

Eric wraps a thick strand of my hair around his hand and pulls, hard, making my scalp burn. With a growl I lash out and manage to leave three welts on his cheek, right under his eye. 

 "I thought you were fucking dead, Mina.“

That growl nearly drives me insane. It’s always a back and forth, a struggle for dominance we both know we won’t win, and I for my part have no interest in that happening in the first place. I’d be bored within minutes. I’m not one of those in our faction that go around screwing everyone in sight, and neither is he, as far as I know. There is no need to be physically close to anyone, just a search for release every now and then. He understands that and that’s what makes this work. That and the fact that he knows where my buttons are, and I know his.

“Excuse me for getting jumped by ten people while your precious soldiers ran away like little babies,” I snarl, biting down on his neck, hard. He has the advantage right now because I was in the tub, he is wearing an obscene amount of fabric that is in my way. With some acrobatics I lean back to reach under me and open his belt with one hand, he does absolutely nothing to help me but watches closely, smirking. I’ll get to wiping that off his face in just a moment. The very practical standard issue tactical pants are open and pushed down within moments and I tug down the elastic of his boxer briefs just enough to free his cock, not willing to waste any more time.

Using my legs I push myself up against his body and let gravity do the rest, dropping down again and slamming down onto him. It brings him back to the living and his smirk turns into a snarl, his fingers digging into my hips again. Eric pushes himself off the wall and starts to walk out of the bathroom while I dig my nails into his shoulders, pushing myself up and letting myself fall, at a slow and intense pace.

When I look at his face I can tell that something is off, that this doesn’t work for him as it usually does. It takes a few moments to sink in, but we’re so much alike that it’s sometimes hard to remember that we don’t share all the same thoughts and whatever little emotions we allow to seep through. Eric needs to be in control at all times, he hates feeling helpless as much as I do. And I, even though I can hardly be blamed for this, made him feel exactly that. I got myself captured and killed, that’s what everyone assumed, and there was nothing he could do. Eric might not care for me in a traditional way, but we have been doing this since my initiation four years ago. In some capacity I became a part of his life and I had the audacity to take that away from him. There will be hell to pay for the factionless, but if I want this to survive he needs to feel like he put things right. So I struggle to free myself from the confinement of his arms and am rewarded with a frown. If he thinks even for a moment that I’m giving him the upper hand he won’t like it. Letting myself fall backwards with my full body weight I loosen his grip and he snarls, trying to grab my wrist but I twist my arm away from him. In a flash I’m on my feet and pretending to walk away from him, but he wraps his arm around my waist and slams me into the sink. The vanity mirror gives me a great view of him and I meet his scowl with a wicked grin. “You fucking crazy bitch.” It takes about two seconds for him to force my legs apart and slam into me, making my hips collide with the cold porcelain. Eric pounds me relentlessly and I moan, even louder when he pulls my hair, twisting my head to the side. His eyes never leave mine in the mirror, his teeth are bared and he is spitting out curses with every thrust, insulting me and cursing my entire damn existence through his teeth. My body is covered in bruises from my restraints, my captors and my escape and Eric is adding more with each snap of his hip, each hard grip. But these new ones I won’t mind. The hand gripping my hip vanishes and comes down on my ass, hard, and my hiss elicits a chuckle. It’s a menacing sound, cold and cruel, but it goes straight to my core and makes my muscles tighten. I look at my own face in the mirror, flushed and blissful under scratches and bruises, and when I look at him again I feel my walls clench down tight. One last smirk from him and I unravel with a high pitched keen that is far beyond any words. Eric stares at me, watches me coming undone before he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Pushing deep into me he stills and I feel him come inside me with a low growl. His eyes fly open and the intensity makes my knees buckle. Panting I try to pull myself up but my muscles seem to fail me after the hot bath and exercise. Eric watches me for a moment, then he picks me up and carries me to his bedroom. “Maybe I missed you a little after all.” The murderous glare he shoots my way hasn’t worked a single time in all these years, but I appreciate the effort. “Shut up and sleep, Mina.” He positively throws me onto the mattress and stalks out of the room, by the time he returns with the first aid kit everyone here has at home I’m almost asleep and pretend not to notice how he starts to treat my wounds in a way that could almost be described as gentle.

PART TWO