#am i good? no not really but the blessing of dark curly hair this short is that uneven parts blend in

[lemondoddle]

Ough nothin quite like cutting your own hair in your dimly lit bedroom with craft scissors

[fantasywriter19]

Memorable Mother's Day

@hp-12monthsofmagic

Another submission for the "Life's a Witch" theme of the month. When I found out Mother's Day in the UK is in March, this scene wouldn't leave me alone. <3

03/13/1988 7:33 AM Boulder, Colorado, USA

Orele could swear she had never been so tired.

Her alarm had already gone off on its stand across the room but, since she woke up to find herself alone in bed, she wordlessly snapped her fingers to turn it off.

It was only a Sunday, but she had generally prided herself on being up before the two other occupants of the house. It was both a duty and curse… that she just didn’t have the energy for at that moment.

Her own mother used to always say what a blessing it was to raise her and her brother. However, Mrs. Olivia Ollivander never had a daughter spawned from a feared Dark wizard.

From the moment she could talk, Melody had been brilliant — her mental capacity a good ten paces ahead of other children her age.

Orele had originally assumed this would work in her favor, that Melody would be — for lack of a better word — more civilized than her biological father ever could have been.

How wrong she was.

It began with kindergarten, being called to the teacher’s classroom because Melody would openly state how other students had a lack of intelligence for not being able to solve their classwork as well as she could.

Orele first attributed it to the fact that five year olds were generally blunt with honesty, where they didn’t yet understand how the truth hurts sometimes, and that it could even be the case for a prodigy such as herself. So she had a small discussion with her about keeping her opinions to herself, and thought that would be the end of it.

Only it wasn’t. Melody continued, getting worse with every following week that she just couldn’t bear holding in her judgments. Orele had been called up to the elementary school at least fifty times more than her own parents had been called to Hogwarts. And that said a lot because it only happened twice.

For her current school year in second grade, Orele had been called in much less — for which she was beyond grateful — but it didn’t make the visits any less taxing. She still had to walk in every week or every other week, and deal with the messes her daughter created with just words. Words.

Even worse was trying to keep it all from her Muggle husband, who she was sure would question where ‘their daughter’ got such an extreme superiority complex.

Of course, she also wasn’t entirely sure he’d overthink it anyway. Considering the only qualities Melody took from Orele were her silvery gray eyes and fair skin… and her straight brown hair could really be attributed to either one of them despite Orele’s being curly. Other than those, her physical features shared no similarities. Her nose was too small and her chin was too short.

The differences were so noticeable — at least to her — that she felt she would have at least attempted to question it if she were in Jim’s shoes. But she wasn’t. He never said anything, and she didn’t have the affinity for Legilimency to figure it out.

Not that she was complaining about his obliviousness, however. Everything was hard, but that side of him definitely made it all simpler than it could have been. Only problem was that all of it sometimes made her wish she hadn’t decided to handle it all alone.

Oh, Tom… she pined thoughtfully, draping her arm over her eyes… if only things could have been different.

The sound of the door creaking open did nothing to make her get out of her slump, but the aroma of bacon, eggs and coffee did.

She sat up quickly, dropping her arm to her side only to be astounded by the sight of Melody walking in, dwarfed by the size of the platter in her arms. Jim followed directly behind her, bent over at the ready in case she was ever on the verge of dropping everything.

“Morning, Love,” he said affectionately.

“What’s all this?” she asked, staring open-mouthed between the two of them. It wasn’t often she could be surprised, and this occasion took the cake.

Jim helped Melody lift the tray onto the bed, holding onto it while she jumped up and finished the job of setting it over Orele’s lap. Orele eyed the look of concentration on her little girl’s face as she did so, mentally comparing it to Tom’s — though, admittedly, it didn’t count for much considering how mangled his appearance had become by the time she met him — Melody definitely had his face, and yet…. Orele had never seen that expression on either one of them before.

With the tray before her, she saw the amount of effort they had put into it. On the plate were two lopsided sunny-side up eggs, a small sausage patty for the nose and strips of bacon set up to look like a curved smile. In a small mug with red heart designs was a cup of coffee which — now that it was directly in front of her — had a hint of vanilla added to its scent.

Orele didn’t even realize her mouth was open, but she swiftly shut it to glance expectantly at the two of them. Her question still remained unanswered.

“Go on, Sweetheart,” Jim nudged Melody reassuringly. “Tell her your idea.”

“Idea?” Orele repeated with wide eyes.

With a shrug, Melody’s eyes were trained on the tray between them as she explained, “I’ve — uhm — been seeing you look so exhausted lately, so I did some research.”

A small smile escaped Orele at Melody’s admittance that she felt the need to look up a way to help her feel better. With the unexpected care that she’d put into planning for this morning, getting up earlier than she ever cared to, Orele’s morning was brightening up already.

“And… according to some studies, exhaustion can be cured with appreciation… so I asked dad for help.”

Jim nodded vigorously beside the bed, his grin showing just how much pride he took in Melody’s need for his assistance.

“As for the right timing, I also found out today is Mother’s Day in the UK. I figure it’s better to celebrate now — besides, May is my month.”

Orele laughed, thankful for the little joke so the burning sensation at the corners of her eyes could go away.

Spurred on by her laugh, Melody smiled and looked up at her. “So happy mother’s day.”

Reaching forward, Orele latched onto her hand, mouthing the words “thank you” when her voice failed her.

Jim sat down at the edge of the bed, “What’s the other thing we talked about, Sweetheart?”

“Oh, right,” Melody shook her head jarringly. “I’m suppose to say how much we lo —”

“— Uh uh,” Jim interrupted, “that’s not what we discussed. It’s only supposed to come from you — not ‘we.’”

“But —!”

“No. I can say it just fine on my own. This is your gift coming from you. Do it for your beautiful mother.” Jim smiled apologetically at Orele, giving a small wink. “You’d swear we have a teenager instead of a seven year old.”

Melody rolled her eyes, “Come on, I’m only two months away from turning eight. I think we’re past calling me seven.”

“Noted,” he replied humorously. “Now, no more stalling. It’s time to top your gift off with a sweet cherry.”

While Melody pouted over her failed attempt at changing the subject, Orele looked on at their gentle bickering with awe. Jim spent much of his time working, even on the weekends, so his alone time with Melody was sparse if ever. And yet, he’d managed to bond with her outside of Orele’s direct involvement or knowledge… and didn’t seem to have come across the same issues her school did.

Matters of love and relationships continued to amaze her. And she knew she was going to be shocked even further if he managed to get Melody to say three magical words to her.

“Okay, okay,” the young girl sighed, turning back to Orele with cheeks tinted pink. Rolling her lips, she opted to crawl around the tray and wrap her arms around Orele’s stomach. Burying her face in her chest, her words muffled out, “I… love you. Thank you for being here for me.”

The tears Orele thought she successfully blocked were freely escaping as she hugged Melody tightly, managing through her shock to reply, “I love you, too.”

Words couldn’t express how it all made her feel. The progress she feared she hadn’t been making just made a turn for the better. It was a good sign that all her hard efforts hadn’t been for nothing. That she could show — even just a smidge — how important love is to a child’s development — especially one who is the product of a product of a love potion.

Melody pulled back, her eyebrows furrowed in deep confusion. “Why are you crying? Is something wrong?”

“No, no,” Orele shook her head, reaching up to push a stray strand of hair from Melody’s face. “These are happy tears. I just — I don’t deserve you two. This surprise is… much like magic. Real and amazing.”

Melody rolled her eyes, “There’s no such thing as magic, mom, stop being weird.”

Orele held back the need to chuckle. So you think, child… so you think.

Jumping off the bed, Melody began walking to the door. “When you finish breakfast, we can watch whatever movies you want. I’ll go pull out your favorites.”

Smiling thoughtfully at her retreating back, Orele nearly jumped when Jim’s thumbs wiped gently at the tears plastered to her cheeks. “Thank you,” she sniffled.

He shook his head with a kind smile. “With everything you do for us, you’re the only one who needs to be thanked today. I know I’ve been working a lot lately, but I will always take a day off for my two favorite girls when they need me.”

“But you’re the one who managed to get her to say —” her retort died out at the sight of his head continuing to gently shake back and forth.

“Everything was all her idea — including that,” Jim admitted. "All I did was help make breakfast and encourage her to accomplish it, because it’s what you’ve been trying to get her to understand. It’s your hard work, so own it.”  He cupped Orele’s cheeks gently between his hands, “It’s your day now, Love. Enjoy it.”

I will while it lasts, she thought as he leaned forward to brush his lips against hers. Because she knew that even with this progress, it wasn’t yet going to stop Melody from being Melody. Not yet. She would still be outspoken at school, and Orele would still have memories to alter to keep Melody from being expelled or suspended.

And yet, her heart still soared as the day continued and Melody didn’t voice her usual complaints about the romance movies Orele loved. It was all a confirmation that she was absolutely doing the right thing for her daughter. And that was all the news she needed to know that everything would work as she needed it to when the time came.

[english8muffin]

Vogue morning routine

Y/N Y/N/L’s guide to effortless natural makeup

Summary: you are asked to do the Vogue Beauty Secrets video and your two boys decide to join the party

Word count: around 2000

Warning: none, just pure floof!

I apologize in advance if there are any spelling and/or grammar mistakes, English is not my first language (+ this is my very first fic)

HEADLINE Henry Cavill’s new girlfriend, designer Y/N Y/L/N reveals her everyday morning routine in recent Vogue video: Y/N Y/L/N shows off her secrets to the perfect fusion of European and Asian beauty.

You stood in the spacious bathroom of the hotel room, only wearing a big, fluffy, white robe, that was actually Henry’s. But since the man was in the gym, you took the opportunity to lend it and bathe yourself in his musky smell, that calmed your nerves. Last night you started panicking, thinking you would probably look stupid for the entire world to see, luckily Henry and Kal tried to calm you down with cuddles and kisses.

This was the first ‘interview’ you would do, being such a young, successful entrepreneur really caught the attention of the media. When you first started your small online shop, you never would have thought you would end up here. Five years later, with a steady income, the job you always wished for and the man you had a crush on since the first time you laid eyes on him. Being a creative, it really made your heart soar with happiness, seeing all your products, your babies, in new homes where they would make others happy.

You were really proud of yourself. Henry was as well, and he made sure you and everybody around you knew. You were apprehensive at first, being with such a well known actor, who was also much older than you, it made you nervous of what people would say, what the media would say. You didn’t want to tarnish Henry’s image. You knew there were people with a much bigger age gap, but still, people were ruthless. So you both decided to take it slow, being careful with going out in public and social media posts.

You stand in front of the large mirror, which had a camera attached to it and open up your makeup bag. Right before you went into the bathroom, you made yourself a nice cup of tea, trying to stay calm. “Hi! I’m Y/N and today I am going to show you my everyday makeup routine,” you say with a smile, “I am not a dermatologist so please don’t take what I say too seriously.”

You grab a small white washcloth and hold it up, so it was in the frame, “First, I am going to wash my face and put on a few drops of serum,” You dampen the cloth and wipe it over your face and neck. You put a few drops in the palm of your hand and pat them into your skin. “Now I going to use my jade roller to massage the serum into my skin. It’s quite funny seeing so many people use these nowadays. In ancient China they were mostly used by the elite to keep there skin ageless. They would call jade the Stone of Heaven. It’s really helpful for the people who wake up with a puffy face like me,” you chuckle.

Somethimes you’d wake up with puffy cheeks, which led to Henry calling you his chubby bunny in the morning.

“Just a quick tip, and this is for everybody, make sure you always use SPF. I personally use SPF 30 and this one is shine control, since I tend to get an oily skin, but you can also use a regular one or a foundation with SPF in it. Believe me when I say your skin will be thankful.”

You grab the small tube of sun cream and show the amount you’ll use. You even convinced Henry to wear SPF everyday. At first he said he didn’t think it would make such a big difference, but when he realised you were going to be the one to put it on him, he was convinced about its benefits and adamant to wear it everyday. After working the thick cream into your skin, you put on some lipbalm and rummage through the pouch in front of you. When you find the product you’re looking for, you hold it up. “Now, I am going to put on a bit of concealer, this one is from Maybelline. After this, I will use a lighter shade under my eyes and on my acne scars that I have here,” you point and circle around the small cluster of scars on the sides of your cheeks.

Before blending out the concealer, you smile at the lens and put in two bright yellow hairclips, to keep your dark locks from falling into your face. “I probably should have done this at the start,” you laugh. The nerves creeping up a little. It wasn’t that you where a shy person, but knowing thousands of people will watch this, did something to you. You were always a very easygoing person, who could talk with pretty much everybody. But knowing people were going to watch you do something so intimate in a way, and would probably comment on it, scared you a little. While you would be 100% yourself, doing something as mundane as getting ready. If they didn’t like you now, then they probably won’t like you later. And that was what made you so afraid.

The bathrobe falls a bit down your shoulder, but you ignore it, since your hair fell down your shoulders in big waves. “Okay, brows. I used to block them in really dark when I was younger, but now I try to keep a light hand. I’ll use this Got 2B Glued as a brow gel afterwards. The tails of my eyebrows tend to move if I don’t use a strong enough gel. If you’re Asian you will understand the struggle.”

You quickly finish your brows, put some bronzer on your face and eyelids and take out your liquid eyeliner. “Am I the only one that acts like I’m a beauty guru whenever I do my makeup? Like, I’m just acting as if I’m used to this, right now, but to be honest, I was really nervous to do this video for Vogue,” you admit, “they will probably regret asking me,” you chuckle. You finish your eyemakeup with curling your long lashes, thanks to your mother’s genes, and add a coat of mascara.

You take in a deep breath, excited to show everyone the product you had been waiting for. “The next thing I am really proud to show you guys, because I designed the packaging. This is the new limited edition blush and highlighter palette from Dior, which they created for Lunar New Year!” You beam with pride, holding up the elegant looking palette. It had a darker toned glossy finish and the borders were the traditional Chinese looking frames, which were 3D and were surrounded by a wild variety of peonies. In the middle of the lid was your Chinese calligraphy in big golden brush stokes that said ‘year of the Ox’, the clasp was designed so it resembled an antique Chinese coin and on the side hung a jade charm.

“You can pre-order this palette now, I think they will put a link-thingy in de description. I wish you all a happy and blessed Lunar New Year, 祝农历年新年快乐牛年大吉!”

Just as you’re about to add some blush to your cheeks, the bathroom door creaks open and a curly-headed, sweaty Henry pops his head in. Fresh from the gym, and were you thankful for his new intense workout, because he was truely a sight to behold. A cheeky smile graces his handsome face when he spots you in front of the mirror, only wearing his robe, which made his grin widen.

“what are you doing in here? Are you hiding from me? Playing hide and seek is it?” he teases and rakes his large hand through the tousled curls, but just as he’s done speaking, he sees the camera behind you, and blushes. “Oh, I didn’t know you were filming, I’m sorry darling,” he smiles and gives a small wave in the direction of the camera. You led out a giggle, cheeks turning red already, if he’d keep this up, you wouldn’t need to add blush. You couldn’t focus anymore, he looked so attractive, only wearing his black gym shorts and a tight dark blue tank top. Damn that camera, otherwise you would have jumped him. Henry, thought the exact same thing. Seeing you, only wearing his robe and your hair still a bit wild from this morning’s cardio, made him hold back a moan. Those two cute, yellow clips in your hair could have fooled him, because you were anything but innocent.

Before he’s about to close the door again, he blows you a kiss. But his actions are stopped when a big bear makes his appearance. Bolting past his dad’s legs, Kal comes into the bathroom. Henry tries to catch him but misses. The black and white akita excitedly sniffs his head around the sink, trying to see what you were up to with all the stuff lying on the marble counter.

“Kal!” Henry whisper-yelled, trying to stay hidden behind the door. But you could still see his massive body crouched down behind the wood. It was rather funny, seeing the large man so panicked about getting his dog to listen. It kind of reminded you of that one video from BBC were a professor was being interviewed and his baby and nanny showed up in the background. While Henry tried to get Kal’s attention, the dog just sat next to your legs, and smiled when you pet him behind his ear. He was your good boy.

You both knew there was no other option but to keep Kal here, once he saw you do your makeup, he wanted to watch and get his ‘makeup’ done as well.

Henry also saw the look in Kal’s eyes and let out a sigh. Might as well stay with his two loves. He stood up from his position and walked to you, wrapping his sweaty but oh so save body around your figure, and placed a prolonged kiss on the exposed skin just by your shoulder. So far for taking it slow… He pressed himself thighter against your back, hiding his face in the crook of your neck and intertwined your hands, slowly rocking you two back en forth. “You look beautiful, my love,” he whispered, so only you could hear it, at least you hoped the camera wouldn’t pick that up. You let out a little giggle, like the inner schoolgirl you were whenever he was around you.

“Kal loves when Y/N does his makeup as well, don’t you boy,” Henry explains with a smile and looks down at the bear by your bare feet. Kal gives a small ruff and sweeps his tail eagerly. “Did you show them what you made,” he asked you with a wide smile, and looked straight in to the camera, “she worked really hard on that design, so I hope you all like it,” he declared proudly.

You ended up doing your makeup routine with your two boys in the background. Henry left for a few minutes to shower in the second bathroom your hotelroom had, and came back clad in a pair of light jogging trousers and a sweater. Even though you were inside, it was still a bit too chilly to walk around in short sleeves, being mid-winter and all. He just sat on the small wooden bench by the door, still in frame for everybody to enjoy and behold. His hair now damp. He was reading in a book and patiently waiting for you to get ready, occasionally looking up and laughing when you would wet your hands or Kal’s special makeup brush in the sink and pretend to do his makeup. The dog would bark excitedly and give you kisses. “Wow Kal, you look so pretty,” Henry told the big floof with the chuckle.

“Okay, this was my -somewhat- everyday makeup routine! Thank you guys for watching this chaotic mess, hope you laughed a bit, bye-bye, 再见!” How do those vlogger end their videos? Smash like and subscribe?

Behind you Henry looked up from the pages of his fantasy book and arched his brow, “Hey! No shout-out for your special guests? See you all next time!”

WOOHOO!! This is my very first fanfic, I really hope you enjoyed it. Liking, reposting and commenting would mean a lot to me! If you do repost this, please do not edit or copy my work. I worked really hard on this.

Much love, Nahmi xxx

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[maaaaaatryoshka0325]

Den Of Sins - Part 5

Bang Chan

Requested 💕

Theme: Beach wear

Description: Welcome to Den Of Sin’s, a fast rising modeling agency. You get offered the job, but your boss informs you that you need to keep your body in tip top shape, and tells you you’ll have five different body trainers to teach you. During these “trainings” you learn where the company gets its name from.

Workout: Circuit

Warnings; unprotected sex, choking, spanking, degradation, oral, fingering, thigh riding, daddy kink (bless my soul I don’t even have a daddy kink) Chan is also my dream dom

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

“Wow, Hyunjin really marked you up, huh?” Your stylists asked, noticing the marks Hyunjin had left you were still there.

It’s been quite a few days since your shoot with Hyunjin, and his marks were fading, but still noticeable.

“Don’t worry, I’ll have them covered up and you’ll be ready for Chan.” She giggled, giving you a wink.

“What’s he like?” You asked suddenly, glancing at her.

“Two words, hot and Australian.” She said with a giggle.

“Isn’t Felix Australian?” You asked.

“Yes, that’s why they’re such close friends.” She said, beckoning you to follow her.

“What’s the theme?” You asked.

“Beach wear.” She said with a big grin.

You nodded as she handed you a bikini, then a small sundress to go over it. She put your hair up in a messy bun and gave you a sun visor and sunglasses. She led you to a large room, where sand lined the floor and a ocean scene was in the background. You stepped in, your eyes getting used to the bright lights, that’s surrounded the room, then your eyes landed somewhere else. A man stood in the center of the sand filled room, his curly brown hair falling upon his eyes. He had broad shoulders, and an amazing physique. Your eyes lowered and your breath got caught in your throat, his bulge prominent in the swim shorts he wore. The tight swim shirt stuck to his chest, like it didn’t want to let go of his perfect body. Your photographer approached him and began to give him instructions, and you watched him nod as he listened closely to what your photographer had to say. Your photographer turned and looked at you, giving you a smile as he beckoned you over. You approached the two and gave a polite bow to your photographer and Chan.

“Y/N this is Chan, Chan this is Y/N.” He said, introducing the two of you.

Chan politely bowed and smiled at you, dimples poking through his cheeks. You honestly couldn’t believe how handsome he was, everything about him was attractive. His smile, his eyes, his hands, his body, his legs, everything. The photographer led you both to the center, where a volley ball net was set up.

“We’re gonna get playful shots this round, so I want you both to at least look like you’re playing.” He said. 

“Can you play volley ball?” Chan asked.

“You want to find out?” You asked playfully.

“Maybe I do.” He said, his eyes mischievous.

You smiled at him as he tossed you the volley ball.

“Ladies serve first.” He said with a polite smile.

“What a gentleman.” You said with a giggle.

You got on one side of the net, the ball in your hands. When Chan situated himself, you lightly threw the ball up and hit it with both of your hands together, sending it over. Chan moved quickly and hit it back over, his pretty hands together as it hit his hands. You jumped back and hit it back over, sending it over his head and landing on the ground. You jumped up and gave him a smile, the camera flashing and catching your victory jump.

“Alright alright, you got this one.” Chan said with a smile as he picked up the ball and tossed it back over to you.

You smiled as you threw the ball up and smacked it over the net, Chan jumping up and hitting it back over to you. You leaped and hit it over again, and Chan slid on the ground and bumped it back over the net, the ball bouncing on the ground beside your feet. You pouted as Chan stood up, a smile on his face.

“Got ya this time.” He chuckled.

“Yeah yeah.” You pouted, passing him back the ball. 

He smiled as he threw it up in the air, hitting it hard as it flew over the net. You squealed as you were just able to hit it in time, the ball flying and hitting the net.

“Yah! Are you trying to kill me?” You yelled.

He chuckled as you picked the ball up and tossed it back to him, his eyes glistening. 

“Sorry babygirl, I’ll be more gentle. Maybe.” He said with a wink.

Babygirl?

You nodded and stepped back away from the net, going to the center. Chan threw the ball up in the air again, hitting it directly to you. You jumped and hit it back to them, and the two of you kept it up for a couple minutes, until you decided to spike it, making it bounce directly off of Chan’s broad chest. A loud smacking found filled the room, and everyone fell silent. He looked down at the spot it hit then back up at you, arching a brow.

“Was that necessary?” He asked.

“I’m sorry, it was an accident.” You said, your eyes big and innocent.

You heard him chuckle, his dark eyes on you.

“Feigning innocent hm? Fine, I won’t go easy on you.” He said with a small smirk.

You knew he wasn’t just talking about the volley ball game, excitement filling your body.

“Do your worst.” You said, your eyes on him as you twirled around, purposely swinging your hips.

You could feel his eyes burning into your back, more specifically, your butt. You got yourself ready and Chan threw the ball up, hitting the ball and sending it flying over your head, landing behind you. You turned quickly, then looked back at him.

“Was that necessary?” You asked, mocking his voice.

“Keep it up babygirl, you won’t be back talking me later.” He said, his eyes narrowed on you as he stood close to the net on the opposite side.

“We’ll see.” You said, tossing the ball back to him.

He ignored the ball as he lifted the net over his head and stepped under it, his dark eyes narrowed.

“What was that?” He asked.

“Oh nothing.” You said innocently, your eyes big.

Chan lifted you up and slung you over your shoulder, making you squeal. The camera’s flashed as you both laugh. Chan lifted you up, your stomach on his chest as he looked up at you. He smiled at him as the camera flashed, then he lowered you.

“That’s the only time you’ll be looking down at me.” He growled in your ear.

“We’ll see about that.” You said with a small smirk.

He gripped your chin and pulled your lips into his own, his grip firm but not too tight. His plump lips felt soft against your own, tasting of vanilla. You smiled into the kiss, until you looked into his eyes, his eyes intimidating. You froze in place, your eyes not leaving his. He smirked at you as he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear.

“Be a good submissive bitch for me, hm?” He asked, his voice husky.

“Who said I’m a sub?” You asked, against his ear.

“Oh baby, you’d be crazy to think you could dom me.” He chuckled into your ear.

You hummed into his ear as the stylists and photographer came over.

“Alright, we’re going to do a breezy scene. Chan, shirt off. Y/N, dress off.” The photographer instructed.

You nodded and lifted the dress over your head, the top of the bikini showing off your cleavage, the bottoms making your butt pop. You pulled your hair out of the messy bun, your hair flowing down. Chan took his shirt off, his ripped body on full display. He had a well defined chest, and a body to die for. He smiled when he saw you look at his body, and you turned away with a blush. He walked by you to get to the next scene around, his lips grazing your ear.

“Like what you see babygirl?” He asked.

You blushed and pulled away from him.

“I’ve seen better.” You said with a small smirk.

His eyes narrowed as he watched you walk past him, his jaw tensing as you sent him an innocent smile. He followed you to your assigned spots, him standing directly in front of you. You put your hands on his chest and flashed the camera a smile as large fans blew against the both of you, your hair blowing. Chan’s hand was on your hip, his grip firm. He lifted you up and on his one shoulder, the camera flashing as your face flushed red. His strong shoulder kept you up as the camera continued to flash. After the flashing camera’s ended, Chan walked away to dry his wet hair, which was beautifully curly as he rubbed his hair with a towel. He had gotten the shitty end of the stick and got hit with the water, which you dodged by ducking behind his larger body.

“Great shoot today Y/N.” Your stylist said, giving you a wink. “We’ll see you next week, this workout will be.... intense.” 

You watched her walk away as Chan came up beside you, his dark eyes raking up and down your form.

“Are you ready?” He asked.

“What’s the workout today?” You asked.

“Circuit.” He answered, leading you to a clean spot.

“Am I going to be running the whole time?” You asked.

“No.” He answered. “Too much cardio will burn too much fat, and you’ll lose your boobs and your butt first.”

“Ahh, it would be a shame to lose lose those, hm?” You asked, arching a brow.

“Maybe, if you had either of them to begin with.” He said with a smirk. “But that’s what I’m here for.”

You puffed your cheeks in irritation as your cheeks burned at his insult. He turned his back towards you and got ready to show you your first workout.

“You weren’t saying that when your eyes were all over my tits and ass earlier.” You shot at him.

He whipped his head around, his jaw tight as his eyes darkened.

“I wouldn’t keep back talking if I were you babygirl.” He growled.

“Or what?” You asked, arching a brow.

You nearly yelped as he quickly reached an arm out, his fingers wrapping around your throat. You quickly shut your mouth, your eyes wide as his narrowed eye glared down at you.

“Fuck this workout shit, you need to learn your place.” He growled.

You whined when he tightened his grip as he brought you foreword by your throat. 

“Not so mouthy now, huh slut?” He asked, his lips dragging along your ear and cheek.

You whined as he smirked, pushing you back until you entered the room attached to the one you had just modeled in. It looked like a lounge room, a few living room chairs here and there, and one long couch. Chan sat on one of the chairs, bringing you down to straddle one of his thighs by your throat.

“I think you owe me a little show for the trouble you were giving me babygirl.” He purred.

You looked down at him in confusion, earning a harsh slap to your basically bare ass. You yelped as he gripped your ass tightly, moving your hips along his thigh.

“Ride my thigh.” He growled.

You whined as you began to roll your hips on his thigh, his swim shorts and your bikini bottoms making it hard to get a good feeling. Yeah it was turning you on, but it wasn’t giving you the friction your body was beginning to need. You rolled your hips and let out a loud whine when his hands squeezed your ass hard, moving your hips faster on his thigh.

“For someone who said I didn’t have much ass or tits, you sure are grabbing a handful of my ass.” You breathed out with a small smirk.

You yelped as his hand came down hard on the flesh of your ass, his eyes dark.

“You really don’t know when to keep your mouth shut, do you?” He growled, his finger digging deeply into the soft flesh of your ass.

You remained silent as his eyes roamed your neck and collar bones.

“Little slut is still marked up from Hyunjin, huh? You’re so dirty babygirl, such a bad girl.” He said, his lips attaching to the skin on your left collar bone. 

His plump lips left wet kisses as he sucked harshly on your skin, marking both sides of your collar bones as he continued to guide your hips on his thigh. You whined when he pulled away, a small smirk on his face.

“What’s wrong babygirl?” He asked.

“I need more.” You whined.

“Oh, I know.” He purred. “I just don’t think you deserve to be taken care of.”

You whined at his words, your hips rolling lazily on his thigh. His eyes were dark as he lifted you off his thigh, dropping you onto the floor on your knees.

“If you’re a good girl and suck me off right, I’ll think of giving you what you want.” He said.

You quickly worked the top of his swim shorts down, his length springing up. Chan had the most perfect length you had ever laid eyes on. He was big, and his girth was almost too much for you to look at. He had a large vein running along it, following along his dick and the delicious curve it had. His tip was a pretty pink collar, pre cum slightly lining his slit.

“Are you going to wait all night, or do you not want to cum?” He asked, his eyes narrowed on you.

You shook your head quickly and spit on your hand, bringing it to his base. His eyes watched your hand slide up and down his length, your saliva making it easier. You brought your mouth to his tip and ran your tongue along the slit, then dragged your tongue down to the base and back up to his head.

“Just like that baby.” He purred, his fingers tangling in your hair.

You took his tip into your mouth and swirled your tongue around the head, his precum sweeter than the average guys. (Why do you think he drinks pineapple juice guys). You began to slide him down your throat, bobbing your head to take him deeper every time. You felt him grip your hair tight when you lightly ran your teeth along his length.

“You’re playing a dangerous game babygirl.” He growled.

You chuckled and sent vibrations through his length, making him bite his lip. You ran your teeth along his length again, making him grip your hair tight enough to have you whimpering.

“And here I thought you’d be good, you disappointed me babygirl.” He growled, gripping your hair tightly as he began to thrust into your mouth.

Tears brimmed your eyes from the feeling of his thrusting into the back of your throat, your nose brushing his pelvic bone every time he thrusted into your mouth. You gagged around him as he began to pick up the pace, your eyes closing tightly as you choked and gagged around him.

“Fuck.” He growled, his hand tightening on your hair.

You felt hot spurts coat your tongue as he out just enough to allow some to hit your tongue, before pulling out of your mouth with a pop and cumming on your cheeks and lips. Your eyes closed as his hot spurts covered you the skin on your face, feeling it drip down from your face and onto your chest and the floor. You opened your eyes and met his, his eyes still dark as he gripped your chin tightly.

“I think you’re in for a long night kitten.” He growled.

He grabbed a hold of your bikini top and made you get up. He pulled the back strings and it came undone, your boobs popping right out. He pushed you onto the chair, raising your legs up as he ripped the bottoms off of you. His eyes raked along your figure, his eyes resting specifically on your soaked heat.

“You’re so wet babygirl.” He said, his fingers gently dancing along your thigh. “And I have yet to touch you at all.”

You whined as he ran a finger over your slit, making him smirk.

“What do you want babygirl?” He asked.

You bit your lip, not wanting to give in to him. He chuckled as he looked up at you, his dark eyes amused.

“I already came babygirl, I can walk out right now and be completely fine.” He purred. “So I suggest you change your attitude.” You yelped as he flipped you over, your ass high as your hands gripped the back of the chair. His hands ran over the swell of your ass, before dipping down and running along your lower lips. 

“I can feel how wet you are without even having to touch that pretty pussy of yours.” He chuckled. “Don’t you have such a pretty pussy baby? Don’t you want me to touch it?”

You didn’t respond, you bit down on your lip harshly. You yelped as he slammed his hand down on your ass, landing another harsh slap right after. Tears brimmed your eyes at the stinging sensation as another whack filled the air.

“I asked you a question babygirl, and I expect to be answered.” He growled, gripping your hair with one hand and bringing your head back, his other hand on one of your asscheeks. “Or does a certain little slut not want to cum?”

You tried to control yourself, you bit down so hard on your lip, but a whimper escaped past your lips.

“What was that?” He asked.

“Please.” You whimpered. “Please touch me.”

“That’s a good girl, I knew you’d change your attitude at some point.” He purred, running his hand along the arch in your back. “Such a good submissive bitch.”

You felt one of his pretty fingers run along your soaked slit, until it came to your entrance. You yelped as he pushed two fingers into you quickly, pumping them in and out of you.

“You took two fingers quickly babygirl, you’re just so wet.” He purred. 

He curled his fingers, your own digging into the leather of the back of the chair as squelching noises filled the small room. You whimpered as he slowly slipped in a third finger, his fingers pumping in and out of your heat quickly. Your whimpers became louder as your legs began to shake. The way his fingers pushed against your gspot as they curled had your orgasm fast approaching. Just as you were about to hit, just one more thrust of his fingers, he ripped his fingers out of your heat.

“C-Chan, what-” You whimpered.

“I said I’d think of letting you get what you want.” Chan said with a smirk. “I don’t think you deserve to cum yet.” You felt him flip you back over, your legs wide open, pussy on full display for him. His eyes shone as he looked at your arousal dripping down your thighs and along your ass, a small smirk on his face.

“You have such a slutty pussy baby, are you a slut?” He purred.

You shook your head and he smirked as he lightly rolled your clit with the tip of one of his fingers. You whimpered as you bucked your hips towards his touch, just needing some kind of relief, and attention to your sensitive bundle. He pulled his finger away and you whined as he quickly swiped it back over your clit.

“Fine, fine! I’m a slut! Please, please touch me.” You begged, tears filling your eyes from the frustration.

“That’s a good girl.” He purred.

He dropped down to his knees and blew on your clit, earning a loud, pleading whine from you. He smiled as he licked a long, teasingly light strip from your entrance to your clit. You whimpered and bucked your hips into his face, making his grip your hips tightly.

“So needy.” He chuckled, pulling your clit between his lips as he began to suck on it.

You moaned loudly as you closed your eyes tight, the feeling of his lips wrapped around your clit making you more needier. Your hand flew to his hair as he sucked your clit into his mouth, making him pull away as he pushed your hands away from him.

“Did I say you could touch me kitten?” He asked.

You shook your head and put your hands at your side, gripping the leather beneath you. He chuckled as he licked up your slit again, before plunging his tongue into your soft walls. You let out a loud moan as his tongue lapped at your walls, his fingers digging into your thigh as he began to push his tongue in and out of you.

“You taste good babygirl.” He purred into your heat, sending more vibrations through you.

He buried his face between you thighs, his tongue swirling around your walls, making you begin to see stars. Your body moved on it’s own, your back arching and your hips pushing against his face.

“Are you gonna cum kitten?” He asked.

You nodded as his tongue continued to swirl around your walls. You let out a loud whine as he pulled away just as you were about to cum, tears dripping down your eyes.

“Please let me cum Chan, please.” You whimpered.

“Daddy.” He growled. “Call me daddy.”

To say you were surprised would be a lie, and honestly you expected Chan to have a daddy kin. His whole aura screamed daddy kink.

“Please daddy.” You whined.

“Please what?” He asked.

“Please fuck me, please let me cum daddy.” You whined.

“That’s a good little slut.” He purred.

He lifted your legs and put them over his shoulders as he grabbed his length and slapped it on your clit, making your body jolt from the sensitivity. Your eyes met his as he rubbed his length up and down your slit, soaking the head of his dick in your juices. He pressed his tip to your entrance, teasing your dripping hole.

“Please.” You whimpered.

“Hm?” He asked, arching a brow.

“Please fuck me daddy, please let me cum. I’ll be a good- oh fuck!” You were cut off from begging as Chan shoved his length into you, bottoming out in one go.

The stretch made you whimper loudly as he pulled out to the tip and slammed himself back in, starting a rough pace.

“Holy shit you’re so fucking tight.” He rasped, his hips pounding into you.

“Fuck, you’re so thick.” You whimpered, your eyes shut tight.

Your nails dug into his biceps as he slammed into you, his hands holding your waist tightly. His dark eyes met yours as he pounded you into the leather chair, his curly hair damp with sweat.

“Can I touch you? Fuck- please let me touch you daddy.” You begged.

“Go ahead babygirl.” He grunted out, his length bottoming out with every rough thrust.

You tangled your fingers in his soft, curly locks, lightly tugging. He groaned as his hips stuttered a bit, before picking up the pace. Your mind was going hazy, your pussy still screaming from his thick length stretching your walls full.

“You’re so fucking tight, your pussy is struggling still.” He groaned in your ear, his accent thicker, his voice deeper.

“It’s because you’re so big daddy.” You moaned. “You fill me up.”

He smirked as he latched his mouth onto your nipple, making your back arch into his face. His hips sped up, loud slapping sounds coming from his thighs colliding off of yours. Your pussy began to clench around him, making him groan.

“Are you gonna cum babygirl?” He asked, his voice husky.

“Yes, please let me cum daddy. Please, I’ve been good.” You begged, your voice shaking.

“Go ahead and cum kitten.” He rasped out.

Your whole body shook as you came around him, your thighs made a death grip around his hips as your back arched as a loud moan ripped through your throat. You felt him spill inside of you, your eyes closing as his hips stuttered as he continued to rock his hips into yours. You looked up at him as he grabbed your throat, your eyes widening as you realized he was still hard, even after cumming. Your moans became choked as he pounded into you, his jaw clenched tight.

“H-How are you still hard?” You choked out.

“Your pussy just feels so good babygirl. I can keep going and going.” He rasped.

His fingers dug into the sides of your throat as he watched his length plunge in and out of you, loving the way your pussy could hardly handle his girth, clinging to it like a vice every time he pulled out. He let go of your throat and lifted you up, your legs still over his shoulders, his hands on your ass as he thrusted up into you, bouncing you down on his length. Your eyes closed tight as he was deep inside of you, his length stretching the deepest parts of you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You whimpered. 

“Does it feel good babygirl?” He asked through clenched teeth, his eyes watching your face.

“It feels so good daddy.” You whimpered.

“Who fucked you the best baby?” He asked, gliding you up and down his length as he pounded up into you.

You let out a whimper at his words, not knowing how to answer. Chan took this as you being rebellious, and dropped you onto the arm of the couch. Your back was on the cushion, your hips in the air and rested on the arm. He shoved himself back into you, his eyes dark.

“Was it Jisung?” He asked, thrusting harshly into you. “Or Felix?”

You whimpered at his words, a choked wail leaving your lips as he slammed as deep as he could get into you.

“Or maybe Hyunjin?” He asked, pulling out to the tip and slamming back in the same way. “Or Minho? I know Minho fucked you nice and rough.”

You cried out as he grabbed your throat, his eyes dark and threatening and he pounding into you, making you take every inch of him as he kept up an unforgiving pace.

“So who was it babgirl? Who fucked you the best?” He asked, a smirk on his face.

“You! Fuck, fuck, fuck, you daddy!” You screamed out as you came around him, your body twitching as you soaked the couch and his lower half.

“Damn did you just squirt?” He asked, a smirk on his face as he looked down at your fucked out expression. “None of them made you squirt, did they?” “N-No!” You choked out, your eyes rolling back as he continued to pound into you, his fingers pressed into the sides of your neck.

The position he had you in gave you a clear view of his length plummeting in and out of you, completely ruining you. Your eyes remained on where you were both connected as he pounded you into oblivion, his chest shining with sweat, curly hair damp and hanging in his eyes.

His hips stuttered as he filled you again, and again, and again. You came more times than you could count, your body being sent into over drive. It felt so good, and hurt at the same time.

His hips slammed into yours as he held your face down into the couch, your arms limply at your sides, your shaking, twitching legs desperately trying to support you. His fingers were tangled in your hair, his one heavy hand holding your head down, the other clutching your hip tightly to slam your hips back on his own. Your asscheeks, thighs, legs, and his whole lower half were sticky from the mixture of both of your juices. Between the two times he’s gotten you to squirt, the multiple times he’s filled you, and your numerous orgasms, it was a complete mess. The room reeked of sex, filling your nose as he continued to ruin you.

Your moans and whimpers became choked and incoherent, your throat raw. Your body hurt and felt so good at the same time as he pounded you into the couch, the leather soaked in both of your juices.

“Fuck babygirl, this is the last one.” He grunted.

You felt his fingers on your clit, making you let out a glass shattering scream as he slammed into your cervix, the both of you cumming at the same time. Chan let out a loud groan as he thrusted shallowly into you. When his hips came to a halt, your lower half dropped down to the soaked couch, your whole body shaking as you let out shaky whimpers. Chan’s eyes watched as your stretched hole flowed out a mixture of your essences. You had cum all down your legs, your thighs, your ass, and your back. Chan’s whole lower half was soaked, and he smirked at his work. 

He walked away and came back with the beach towel props and cleaned you up, being extra careful of your sensitive core. He cleaned up the couch and then pulled you into him, cradling you against his strong body.

“You’re such a good girl, you know that?” He asked, his fingers gliding over your shaking body. “Such a good, good babygirl.”

He pushed your hair out of your face and stroked your hair. You buried your face into his chest as his demeanor changed into one much softer. He draped a blanket over you both as he held you to his strong chest as you began to calm down.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, those orgasms made my mind blank out.” You rasped out.

He handed you a cup of water to ease your dry throat, then set it back when you gulped it down.

“You did very good today babygirl.” He said, stroking your hair as you snuggled back into his chest. 

“That was the most intense sex I’ve ever had, besides with Minho.” You said, letting out a weak laugh.

“Oh believe me babygirl.” He said, lifting your chin so you were looking in his eyes. “We still have a long way to go before we’re finished with you.”

[pedros-mustache-main]

when your love reaches me (i)

summary: 1978 is decidedly not 2020. nor is your life ever the same when you meet a guitarist, curly haired, soft spoken, and true.

word count: 9.3k+ (i am abundantly sorry for how long this is. curl up with a snack, my dudes)

warnings: required: total suspension of disbelief. also: screwed up historical timeline, slight angst, language, innuendo, suggestive moments and blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smut (not 18+ but be mindful)

a/n: hi! a day late, but i wanted to respect the ‘out of time’ epilogue which came out yesterday as this is very much inspired by @perriwiinkle​ and her lovely fic. this is my take on a similar theme, only with brian and just three (3) parts. thank you to @deacyblues​ for your beta-ing help on this mini-series; i heart emoji you. anyways, let me know what you think. enjoy! xoxo!

in this chapter: something—be it fate or otherwise—transplants you to a place you do not belong.

it’s raining hard, thunder and lightning battling for dominance in the gray sky. you clutch your textbook to your chest and duck your head against the onslaught, feet nearly slipping on the flat stones of the sidewalk. london weather has always been unpredictable, but you’ve never seen a storm like this, never been caught in one either. it’s too far to make it back to your flat without catching pneumonia and the library feels just as far away so you push forward. the sky turns bright white followed closely by a boom of thunder, and you squeak, picking up your pace. 

across a muddy patch of grass stands union concert hall. it’s likely to be locked on a saturday evening, but it’s worth a shot. you squelch through the mud and run the remaining hundred yards to old brick building. your hands, wet with rain, scrabble against the brass doorknob, which, to your surprise, turns with ease. muttering a prayer of thanks, you wrench the door open as a gust of wind turns the rain sideways. you slip inside, breathing heavy, and fall against the door as it shuts.

silence. blessed silence.

you heave a sigh of relief and run a hand through your drenched hair.

the concert hall is empty, but the lonesome rows of chairs and desolate stage come as no surprise. with fall break around the corner, imperal college is largely devoid of students on the weekends. there’s parties to be had, memories to be made; no one wants to be cooped up on campus. you, however, don’t have that luxury. there’s too much to be done in too tight a span of time.

as the rain pounds the roof and slides down the windows, you take a seat at the back of the hall. the plastic chair creaks underneath your weight, and each time you move a soggy squish echoes about the room. your textbook—creating exhibitions: collaborations in the planning, development, and design of innovative experiences—rests open on your lap. the laminated binding curls as it dampens, but you’re soaked to the bone. there’s no avoiding the damage. if you must, you’ll pay the thirty pounds at the end of the semester to turn your rental into a purchase.

if you think about it, it really is quite sad, the way you’re sitting on your own on a saturday night, highlighter clamped between your teeth, eyes scanning the pages of your textbook with far too much interest. if you think about it, you know you should be out with your friends. this morning rachel had tried to convince you to come out after your shift at the museum, but you’d said no—again. you’ve been given a full ride in the masters of science communication program, and you’ll do nothing to jeopardize the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. rachel insists that a simple evening at a local pub is harmless, and you know she’s right, but your answer is always the same: no. it’s easier that way.

you read for awhile, highlighting the text and annotating the margins of your textbook with the thoughts or questions that flit through your mind. as you dry, the legs of your jeans turn stiff, and your hair feels frizzy with humidity. not for the first time, you wish you’d remembered the pink umbrella leaning against the coatrack in your flat.

an hour passes, maybe two. with a heavy sigh, you shut your book and meander through the rows of chairs toward the bathroom. the washroom light flickers a muted yellow when you switch it on, an incessant electronic buzz filling the room. crossing to the counter, you stare at yourself in the mirror. you look atrocious: tired bags under your eyes, streaks of mascara on your cheeks, hair unruly, clothes sodden and weighed down on your body. you’d laugh if it wasn’t so damn depressing. you look like a madwoman, like some sort of victorian nightmare. in an effort to clean yourself up, you splash cold water on your face and scrub the makeup away until your cheeks hurt. you wet your hair, run your fingers through the tangles, and attempt to dry yourself under the hand dryer. 

it’s still raining outside. there’s a single skylight in the bathroom, and when you look up, it’s a funny sensation, watching the rain slam against the window but never hit your face. you smile faintly; there’s just something about being inside when it rains. it’s similar to a warm hug or a—

a crack of lightning breaks you from your reverie. the sound goes straight to your heart, stopping it with the force of its blow. with a gasp, you clamp your hands against your ears, eyes screwed shut, and you’re suddenly six years old again, scared of a simple thunderstorm. white light pours through the skylight, drowning the room in an almost heavenly glow. thunder trips over the heels of the lightning in an effort to make itself known. the thunder is more like a roar, and you swear you can feel the foundation of the building jostle.

then all is quiet. even the sound of the rain on the roof has stopped.

you pull your hands from your ears, breathing heavy, and look around the bathroom. maybe... maybe you should call a cab or an uber. you’d rather not be stuck in the concert hall overnight, and the storm feels eerily close. 

grabbing your bag from the counter, you fumble for your phone in its depths. you come away empty-handed, but you must have left it on your chair alongside your textbook. you pull open the bathroom door and step into a crush of bodies.

your heart stutters in your chest, confusion stealing the air from your lungs.

there’s a crowd of people in the concert hall. it’s hard to move, to breathe, to think. the room is dim, lit only by orange and white lights on the stage. there’s music pounding through the room, and it sounds vaguely familiar, but you’re too stunned and confused to place it. a haze of smoke filters over the heads of onlookers; the air smells like cigarettes and sweat. where had everyone come from? how long had you been in the bathroom? surely not long enough for a band and a crowd and—

a thought strikes you: this is not the union concert hall you were just sat in seeking shelter from a bad storm.

a hand circles your arm, and you startle, head twisting to the left. “you okay, love?” a voice asks. the man is short with warm-toned skin, his hair like a dark halo around his head. he stares at you in earnest, and you’re sure you’ve gone pale.

in lieu of answering, you stumble backwards, back into the bathroom. the subway-tiled walls of moments past have turned a dull green, and the hand dryer has been replaced with a paper-towel dispenser. the linoleum under your shoes is grimy, unwashed and stained. the air is heavy with cigarette smoke thanks to the women lounging around the open stalls, dripping ashes to the floor with a simple flick of the wrist. the scent clings to the inside of your nose, and you blame the tears pricking the corners of your eyes on the smell.

“excuse me,” you mutter, shouldering past a lithe woman with blown-out blonde hair. she gives you a once over, her brow furrowed, before leaving the bathroom.

at the sink, you brace your hands against the edge. the sink feels like cheap plastic, easy enough to rip from the wall. where the sturdy white countertop has gone, you aren’t sure. for the second time in one day, you splash water on your heated face.

“hey. are you okay?”

you look up and meet the doe eyes of a short girl standing behind you. her hair is bobbed at her neck, her eyes lined with a deep purple liner. her appearance is warped by the faded mirror, but you can see the way she’s looking at you, and you don’t blame her. you’re sure you look as crazy as you feel.

you straighten at the sink and shut the water off. “i’m just...” you flounder for a good excuse. your insides feel like mush, and your brain has paused, as if the loading symbol is looping over and over in place of producing any coherent thought. “do you have a phone i could borrow?”

“there’s a payphone around the corner,” she says, her words slow with apprehension. “did something happen out there? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

there’s a pounding in the back of your head, hard and steady, and you rub your temples. “i was studying and then i was here and i don’t really remember the rest.” you pause. “it’s been a long day.”

the girl’s face softens as she smiles. she moves to stand beside you and withdraws a thin tube of lipstick from her clutch. “i know what you mean. i can get pretty bogged down and feel like the time’s flown by and i’ve been asleep the at the wheel, but, god, it’s queen! they started here, you know, in this very concert hall. and now they’re back, just for us! how bloody exciting is that?” as she speaks, her irish accent grows stronger, in tandem with the excitement lighting her face.

you frown, unsure if you’ve heard her correctly. “queen? like... the band queen or queen elizabeth?”

she pauses in her lipstick application. “the band queen, silly. are you really that knackered?” with a grin, she puts the lipstick down and takes your shoulders in her hands. “you’re at a queen concert, love. it’s friday, september first, ninteen-seventy-eight. has been all day, ever since you woke up in your jammies.” she laughs, her blunt bob swaying as tilts her head to the side. “you gonna be fine?”

your first thought: no, absolutely not. 

the only answer you can give, punctuated by a weak smile: “yeah. yeah, i’m gonna be all right. thanks.”

the girl puts her makeup away and gives your shoulder a final squeeze. “i think they’ll be finishing soon, so i’m gonna pop back out so i don’t miss it. try and get some rest, yeah? you look like you could use it.”

she exits the bathroom, a song momentarily pouring through the door, and you find yourself alone in the empty room.

before you can stop yourself, you twist on your heel and lunge for the nearest toilet. you vomit, heaving what little remains in your stomach, until there is nothing left to unearth. dropping back against the stall, you duck your head between your knees. 

this is just a fever dream. maybe you got scared during the storm, hit your head, and passed out on the bathroom floor. there’s no way in hell—no way in hell—this is nineteen-seventy-eight. that’s preposterous. and sure, queen might have gotten their start at imperial college—everyone knows that—but that was eons ago. freddie mercury is dead, john deacon is retired, and brian may and roger taylor are well within their seventies. the girl must be mistaken or strung out or high or all of the above.

or maybe you are. you can’t be sure anymore.

your legs tremble beneath you as you stand. if any good has come of this, it’s that you’re dry now—suspiciously so. despite the pale sheen on your face and layer of sweat on your forehead, it’s as if you were never drenched to begin with. your cream pleated trousers have no wrinkles along the back after you spent all afternoon stuffing and unstuffing boxes on the floor. your navy top is void of the stubborn coffee stain you’d gotten this morning as you rushed into the museum ten minutes late. it’s almost as if the day never happened.

it’s almost as if the day—saturday, september fifth, twenty-twenty—is still forty-two years in the future instead of thirty minutes away from ending.

“all right, we’ve got one more for you lovelies tonight! this one’s new, so keep it a secret ‘till the record comes out, okay?”

you turn at the sound of a familiar voice amplified over a loudspeaker.

freddie mercury.

though you’ve never been a huge queen fan, you’re positive anyone with even a passing knowledge of classic rock could hear his voice and pick it out in a lineup.

heart in your throat, you sling your bag over your shoulder and squeeze out the door. the energy in the hall has heightened tenfold since you last stood in the bathroom doorway. perhaps it’s due to the fact that the concert is rapidly drawing to a close and everyone wants to drink in the last moments before it’s all over.

perhaps it’s simply because it’s queen.

as your eyes slide to the stage, you can’t help but feel a giddiness rise in your chest. your throat goes tight, eyes misty, as you weave through the crowd on auto-pilot. you’re drawn to them; who wouldn’t be? the floor shakes beneath your feet as the music surges around you. he’s magnificent—freddie. he commands the crowd with ease, and you feel at home, relaxed, like you’re watching a friend goof around. seeing him there—whole, well, happy—is nothing short of a miracle.

“aren’t they marvelous?” you turn to see the girl from the bathroom. she holds your bicep tight in her fingers. her smile is radiant, her face glowing with unbridled joy. “i’m glad you made it out for this!”

you nod dumbly, swiveling back to drink in the final moments. matthew at the coffee shop you frequent would kill for something like this. you want to text him, to rub it in his face with a good-natured wink, but he hasn’t been born yet, has he? seeing freddie mercury on stage confirms it.

you’re not in twenty-twenty anymore.

the song draws to a close, and you find yourself smiling despite the uncertainty of your current situation. you can’t help but applaud alongside the rest of the audience. someone shouts “encore” but freddie waves him off with a laugh.

“we just did a fucking encore!” he says.

they take their bows—all four of them—and then disappear backstage. a moment passes before the house lights flicker on, and the crowd begins to disperse. trash litters the floor, and the room doesn’t feel as magical as it did seconds before, but you find it hard to breathe nonetheless. try as you might, you can’t tear your eyes away from the stage.

“oh my god, wasn’t that brilliant?” bathroom-girl practically jumps up and down on her ballet-slippered feet. “i’m anna, in case you were wondering,” she says.

you hesitate. there’s too much going on around you, so many things you’ve only read about or seen in pictures: the fashion, the hair, the fucking band. you feel dizzy—dizzy with fear and excitement. it’s like you’re standing in line for a rollercoaster. you know what’s coming: the slow climb up the first hill, anticipation bubbling in your stomach before the first drop, then the madness of letting yourself plummet at incredible speeds. all you can do is laugh, just like you do on the rollercoaster.

“[y/n],” you say between fits of amusement. “sorry! i don’t know what’s gotten into me!” you press a hand to your mouth, shaking your head back and forth.

anna grins. “that was me when the concert first started.” she bends her head toward yours conspiratorially. “i nearly pissed myself when i saw john deacon walk out for the first time.”

your laughter turns to girlish giggles and holding her forearm is all you can do to keep from falling to the floor. you’re drunk, surely. drunk off what, you can’t say, but you’ve felt like this before.

“hey!” anna’s eyes go wide, and you can see the lightbulb turn on above her head. “i saw where they parked their vans. we could go have a look-see!”

your initial reaction is a resounding no. just the thought of standing mere meters away from queen makes you want to break out into hives. you’re sure to say something stupid and embarrassing or screw up some time-continuum-thing. you’ve seen enough doctor who to know not to mess about with time.

oh god, you must be really fucking crazy if this is what you’re life has come to, deciding what the right or wrong move is based on a children’s television show.

yet there’s still a sliver of your heart holding on to the hope that this is all a dream. you could wake up at any moment, still in the concert hall, yes, but where you belong and a soaked mess from the rainstorm. so, even though you know you shouldn’t, even though your heart of hearts tells you that you’re a girl out of place and far away from home, you nod and let anna drag you toward the a side-exit door.

outside, the air is chilly, but it soothes your hot skin. 

standing outside the concert hall is perhaps more strange than standing in it. you know this spot; you walk behind the building every day. if you follow the winding path toward the dormitories and then veer to the left, you’ll eventually reach your flat—or you would if this were some other time. it’s not a terribly long walk, and most of the time, you find it refreshing. but today, with the sun replaced by the moon and the evening air and anna’s nervous energy, you find yourself a mite too cold. the cold settles in your stomach, not on your body, and you catalog the area. the parking lot has been repaved, all the dips and cracks you know so well gone. the tree which overhangs a dumpster in the corner is but a small sapling, and the dumpster is nowhere to be seen. the cold in your belly spreads to your chest, and, for a moment, you forget what it is anna dragged you here for.

but then her fingers grip your wrist tightly, and you remember: queen.

“look,” she whispers. “there they are.”

you follow her eyeline to the gaggle of men descending a ramp propped beneath a set of double-doors. in the thin veil of darkness you inhabit, it’s hard to make out who is who. brian is unmistakable, what with his gangly arms and legs and tilted shoulders. freddie is easy to pick out, too; he walks with a swagger only he can pull off. everyone else is a jumble of faces obscured by the night and a cloud of cigarette smoke. they’re loud, but not rowdy, and it reminds you somewhat of a group of teenage boys out to make trouble.

“let’s go over.” anna steps forward, but you stop her with a hand on her elbow.

“no, we shouldn’t. i’m sure they’ve got security, and we really can’t just waltz up there. besides, what would we say?” you shake your head. “this is close enough, don’t you think?”

“fuck no!” her exclamation startles you, your eyebrows lifting, and she laughs. “this is likely the only time we’ll be able to meet true rockstar royalty. you can stay back if you want to, but i’m gonna go.”

“go where?”

in unison, you turn with anna on the ball of your foot. your movements are slow, hers hurried, but you both come face to face with roger taylor and you both inhale sharply. 

your first thought is foolish: he looks so young. but of course he does. he’s twenty-nine here, not seventy. half a cigarette hangs out of his mouth, and his blond hair brushes the collar of his jacket as he goes to remove the cigarette and puff a plume of smoke to the side. he wears sunglasses, despite the late hour, and if you weren’t so bloody unsettled, you’d find him attractive.

anna finds her voice first. she points her thumb over her shoulder. “well, we were gonna go and... that is, we thought we might...” she heaves a sigh, and her smile turns angelic. “you put on a great show tonight.”

roger grins, his eyes fixed on anna. “i thought i saw you in the crowd.” his voice is raspy and high and dripping with innuendo. you all know he did not see anna from behind his drum set, but that doesn’t stop her from pulling her lower lip between her teeth and batting her eyelashes. 

“oy, rog, can we get a move on, please?” 

roger frowns and slips between you and anna, his hand firm on her bicep. he shouts in the general direction of the disembodied voice. “don’t get your fucking knickers in a twist, crystal, jesus!” he rolls his eyes and looks back at anna. “sorry, he’s like a damn mother hen. i didn’t catch your name.”

“anna.” she’s breathless, ready to drip to the floor in a puddle of goo. it’s painfully obvious, and roger seems to like that. his hand rubs an untraceable pattern over her shoulder. 

“and your friend?” he doesn’t look at you when he speaks, just jerks his head in your direction.

you should be offended, but really you feel like crying. an overwhelming homesickness builds in your chest. everyone you know, every place you hold so dear, none of it is as it should be. those fleeting magical moments during the concert are quickly wearing off, and you feel yourself slipping back to the panic you’d fought in the bathroom.

“that’s [y/n].”

“would you gals like to join us for some drinks?” this time roger does look at you, his gaze soft but purposeful. he’s daring you to turn him down.

maybe it’s the homesickness. maybe it’s the idea that you can be anything, anyone, here with few personal repercussions. maybe it’s the haughty glint in roger’s eye. whatever it is, it finally gets you talking.

“lead the way,” you say, your eyebrow raised in silent challenge.

roger’s smirk widens, and he tugs anna against his side with an arm around the waist. “gladly.”

the inside of the tour bus is cramped. you suspected it might be so based on the outside, but you didn’t realize just how tight the quarters would truly be. you’re stiff, sat on a stool between two men with long brown hair and equally long faces. there’s a tremor in your leg, and you itch to steal the cigarette out of the man-on-your-left’s mouth and smoke your anxiety away. 

for anna’s part, she seems at ease, and you envy that. she’s wrapped around roger’s arm, pressed against him on the couch, and in that moment you feel a certain flare of hatred toward her. you’d always been jealous of the girls who could so effortlessly flirt and make a move and get what they want. you never had to the confidence to follow suit. sitting as you are near the back of the bus, crammed between two sullen and tired roadies, you’re reminded of secondary school lunches. a rush of discomfort heats the back of your neck, and you shift on the stool. your movement must disturb to the man next to you because he shifts, too. he leans away, twisting his neck to look at you.

“you good?” the smoke that leaves his parted lips circles around your head, stinging your eyes.

“i wish everyone would stop asking me that,” you mutter. it comes out before you can stop it, and when you realize what you’ve said, you sink down further on your stool. your hand comes to squeeze your forehead. “oh god.”

but the man just laughs. “here.” he hands you an unopened beer. it’s cold to the touch, dripping with sweat. “you look like you could use it.”

you lift it slightly in a sign of thanks before popping the tab and taking a swig. it’s cheap, and that surprises you considering it’s queen, but you drink it anyway. 

“so, who picked you up?”

your eyebrow arches, and you look at the man on your left with a mixture of shock and distain. “no one, thank you. i came on my own accord and i’ll leave in the same way.”

out of the corner of your eye, from his place on a low bench in front of you, you think you see brian turn slightly, his curls swaying with the movement. but he doesn’t face you after all, so it must have been your imagination.

“okay, okay!” the man holds his hands up in surrender, mirth etched along the lines in his face. “sorry!”

you resist the urge to huff, cross your arms, and pout like a child. you pull at your beer instead.

the man nudges you with his elbow. “chris taylor, by the way. crystal.” he points to the man on your right. “that’s ratty—pete.”

pete looks tired enough to fall out of his chair. all he can do is raise his eyebrows in greeting and drop his head back against the wall. 

“i’m [y/n].”

crystal mirrors ratty’s movements and stretches his legs out underneath the card-table. “well, i must admit that you might be one of the most level-headed lasses we’ve had in here—and we’ve had plenty of girls grace this bus.”

you aren’t sure if he’s bragging or simply making conversation, so you ignore the comment and say, “i’ve had a... strange day. it’s a lot to take in.” 

you’re not lying. really, it is a lot to take in. the tour bus is hot and sweaty, but conversation is quiet, like a background hum. it’s not what you thought it would be; nothing is.

“didn’t think you’d end up here?”

you shake your head. “absolutely not.”

crystal smiles, and you find yourself smiling back, the truth in your words humorous to you and you alone.

the bus door opens, and a flurry of sound enters the already-cramped space. crystal sits forward; ratty seems to wake up. at once, the energy is higher. you feel your heart begin to pound against your ribcage. 

freddie enters the bus in all his post-concert glory. you’d been a baby when he died, but now you sit at the back of his tour bus, watching as he laughs and jokes and lives. it makes you want to throw up all over again.

he stands in the center of the bus, hands on his hips, surveying the jumble of roadies and groupies and band members. “well?” the corner of your mouth quirks upward at the sound of his voice; you can’t help it. “have we decided where we’re crashing yet?”

“uh, yeah.” john deacon pipes up from his spot at the front of the bus. you hadn’t noticed him all night, but there he stands, leaning against the driver’s seat, a map in hand. “i think we’re gonna—”

“oh hell, we don’t need that!” roger slaps the map out of john’s hands. it crumples between his fingers, and he all but pulls anna onto his lap. she squeals in delight. “we’ve got our own personal tour guide right here. not to mention brian. he’s got to know his way about.”

“don’t forget [y/n], roger!” anna says, ever the good friend.

no, please. please, for the love of god, forget [y/n].

as one, the tour bus turns to look at you. this time bile does rise in the back of your throat. 

sitting in the back of the bus you can handle. crystal is nice, and simply being in the presence of music royalty is sure to be the peak of the rest of your life—whatever that may look like. but having them all look at you, expectantly, waiting for you to giggle or blush or say something, it’s that too much you told crystal about moments earlier. only this time, it’s so much you feel like your head might explode.

even though it feels like decades, only a few seconds have gone by since everyone began waiting for you to make a peep. so when you look at anna and say, “i’m sure you know better than me,” it doesn’t sound awkward. it sounds like a comment shared between friends. you’re thankful for that, at least.

“okay, fine.” anna claps her hands together. “what are you in the mood for, freddie?”

your eyebrow lifts at her familiarity, and beside you, crystal chuckles behind his hand. god, she’s good. you are... decidedly not.

“anything fabulous. we’ve just had a good show, if i do say so myself, and i want to have some fun before we really have to start working.”

“we are working, fred.” it’s the first thing you’ve heard brian say all evening. you can’t see his face from where you’re sitting, so his voice sounds far away. far away but ever so nice to the ears.

freddie waves his hands dismissively. “you know what i mean.”

“there’s a disco club a few blocks from here,” anna offers. “it’s not garishly disco, but it’s fun.”

there’s a pause before freddie says, “it’s late, so it’ll have to do.” he turns to brian with a grin. “do you think we should call ahead?”

twenty minutes and three phone calls later, you’re walking side-by-side with crystal and ratty, hands twitching at your sides, desperately wishing for the comfort of a pair of pockets. if you’d hazard a guess, you’d say there’s about twenty people headed for the club. you know you should feel happy, exuberant at the chance to party with queen in the 70s, but your head hurts. it really, really hurts, and you haven’t the faintest idea where you’ll spent the night. you have no money, no contacts—nothing but the clothes on your back and the half-empty purse thrown over your shoulder.

“[y/n], where are you from?” ratty asks. his questions is harmless enough, but it breaks your underarms out in an uncomfortable sweat. how can you explain that you’re from here, the very here you’re walking on, without also explaining why you have no idea where the disco club is or where the charming flower stand on the corner has gone? 

you settle on something vague, but passable. “not from around here.” the toe of your shoe kicks at a loose pebble, which skips forward, nearing the long strides of brian. 

“on holiday then?”

“something like that, yeah.” you smile to soften the blow of your unsubstantial answers, and it seems to appease.

you chat with the roadies about inconsequential things—roger’s horrible morning breath, the oil crisis and its impact on the upcoming tour, whether or not pigeons lay eggs. it’s small talk, and you ask more questions than give answers, but it relaxes the ache in your shoulders. you have to remind yourself breathe, drink in what you can while you can. you’ll be okay. 

you have to be.

the group rounds the corner like an amoeba, all uneven edges and uncertain direction. though the hour is rapidly closing in on one a.m., the road is filled. a few of the cars closest to the curb honk and frenzied arms reach out windows to wave as queen passes them by. a girl flashes her tits from the sunroof of her car; roger gives her a thumbs up.

“is it always like this?” you ask.

crystal laughs. “this is nothin’, dove. we’ve got this party planned for october in new orleans, and i am honestly a little bit afraid of what might happen.”

the club comes into view, music ebbing through the open front door. climax is written in bright yellow lightbulbs across the marquee, and someone squeezes anna’s shoulder with a laugh. the line waiting to enter is long, roped off in anticipation of your arrival. those in queue push forward as your party begins to enter. freddie signs a few autographs on the back of receipts. brain scrawls across the crest of someone’s hip with a shit-eating grin on his face.

the resounding thought that you shouldn’t be here flickers through your mind and not for the first time. you ignore it as crystal leads you into the club, a hand tucked in the small of your back. his touch is anything but sexual, and it’s a relief. he likely sees you as a lost puppy, out of her depth, and you might have to lean into that come closing time.

“do you want something to drink?” he shouts over the music and laughter and shouting. 

you nod eagerly. “yes, please!”

weaving through horde of dancers, you find a spot at a cocktail table tucked near a back corner. “boogie wonderland” plays over the louder speakers, and it grates against your headache. the disco ball in the center of the room spins and spins and spins, casting sprinkles of white light over the room. you can’t stop watching it, wondering what it would feel like to wrap yourself around the ball and stay there forever. it probably wouldn’t feel very different from how you feel right now, though your legs are planted firmly on the ground.

“lost in thought?”

you turn, expecting to see crystal with your drink, but you’re met with the incredibly tall form of brian may. you have to tip your head back to meet his eyes he’s standing so close. he must notice because he takes a fraction of a step backwards, his smile widening.

your mouth goes dry, but you manage a shaky nod. “yeah, i guess.” you blink and run your eyes over his face. like roger, he’s painfully young. his curls are dark and full, his skin smooth. he’s handsome, ridiculously so, and despite what some may believe, you think he knows it too.

“you’ve been awful quiet tonight.” he leans against the table with ease. the edge, which reaches your chest, seems to dig into his hip, and he adjusts himself to a more comfortable stance. “most girls are chatty.”

“that’s what crystal said.”

brian chuckles under his breath. “yeah, crystal would know.” he glances over his shoulder then looks back at you. “[y/n], right?”

you’re surprised he remembered or overheard or asked someone before walking over. it’s a simple thing, but just hearing your name grounds you. you don’t care who says it; it reminds you that you are, in fact, still human. and it doesn’t hurt that brian’s voice is like butter. it could put anyone at ease.

for the first time that evening, you feel a lightness in your chest as you smirk and meet his gaze. “brian, right?”

at this, he throws his head back to laugh. his reaction brings a blush to your face, and you duck your head, uncertain where your burst of flirty energy has come from. moments ago, you’d been yearning for the comfort of a good bed and solid night’s rest. now, you could stand in this dark corner and look at brian, hear him laugh, until you fall asleep standing.

when he’s calmed, brian looks at you again. there’s a shift in his stare, one you can’t quite place. “what do you do, [y/n]?”

this time, you decide to answer honestly. “i’m a student, most of the time,” you say. “but eventually i’ll be a curator for museums.”

his eyebrows lift. “a curator? that’s bloody brilliant.” 

you shrug. “i like history and photography and design. it’s kind of the perfect blend.” glancing at your empty hands, you fumble for your words then meet his eyes through the underside of your lashes. “a little birdie told me you’re pretty smart yourself.”

he tilts his head in a noncommittal manner, and you swear you can see a tinge of color rise along the top of his exposed chest. “i suppose.”

“what is your specialty again? besides the guitar, of course.”

“astrophysics with a concentration in interplanetary dust.” before you can make a quip about how much interplanetary dust is actually around to study, he leans close. he has to bend at the waist to lower his mouth to the shell of your ear, and when he speaks, it’s hardly above a whisper. “i’m good at other things, too, you know? besides space and the guitar.”

you draw back slightly, enough look into his eyes. his pupils are dark, overpowering the hazel tint of his irises. if you move an inch, your lips will brush his mouth; you stay still, your eyes darting back and forth between his.

you feel utterly ridiculous for a fraction of a second. he’s brian may, first of all, and you are decidedly not worthy of his attentions. but more than that, this isn’t your home, your time. the thought makes you cringe. 

fucking hell, you don’t belong here.

his long fingers skim your waist. the touch is feather-light, a mere whisper, but it pulls you from your thoughts.

“what are you thinking?” he breathes.

“not much.” it’s a half-truth; you can barely focus on your existential crisis with his fingertips working along your skin as they are. he’s brazen enough to dip underneath the hem of your shirt just enough to touch the skin of your hip. you bite your tongue. “wondering where you got the nerve to be so cheeky all of a sudden.”

he withdrawals his hand as if he’s been bitten by fire, cheeks gone red as flame. “sorry, sorry,” he stammers. “i just thought that—”

you know you shouldn’t, that it will only lead to trouble, but you do it anyway.

you grab his wrist and squeeze tight. “i’m only joking, brian.” your grip relaxes as you grin. “come dance with me.”

he huffs a sigh of relief, shaking his head. “damn, you really—”

you interrupt him again, your feet moving on their own accord toward the dance floor. there’s this strange desire in you—a desire to forget—and he seems willing enough to be the one to help you lose track of your troubles. “come dance with me.”

“i don’t really know how,” he admits, though his smile is wide, showing off his teeth.

“me neither! we can look like idiots together.”

somewhat reluctantly, brian follows you onto the dance floor. the music is louder here, the song changed to something you don’t recognize. you weren’t lying when you said dancing wasn’t your forte. in primary school, you’d stepped on the toes of every boy in your music class during the week of mandatory dance lessons. things haven’t changed much since then as you promptly land your foot on brian’s seconds into the song.

you gasp and clamp your hands over your mouth in an effort to obscure your laughter. “shit, i’m sorry!”

“it’s fine!” he yells, straining to make his voice heard over the thrumming of the music. “the clogs, they’re kinda like a protective shell.”

swaying to the beat, your hands slide along his forearms. “oh yeah? what do they protect you from?” 

“klutzy girls like you.”

looking back on the moment years later, you wonder if that’s when you fell in love with him first, on the dance floor, his gangly body unaccustomed to fluid movement. he makes you laugh with his two left feet, and you forget, like you’d hoped, that you do not belong in his arms. as the music ebbs and flows like the tide, you follow it, swinging, swaying, twirling in whatever way you can. you’re sweaty, and he’s sweaty, but you’re both smiling. at some point, you bump into anna who bumps into roger who bumps into freddie and then it’s some version of disco mosh pit, arms and elbows and feet tangled together. you’re laughing—truly laughing for what feels like the first time in ages—and, if you could, you’d stay in that moment forever.

the music slows. you breathe hard, nodding as anna whispers something in your ear about leaving with roger. you aren’t sure if you’ll see her again, aren’t sure if it matters, but you’re thankful for her nonetheless. hers was the first kind face you met, and for that, you can never repay her.

a pair of arms wrap around your middle, pulling you tight against a lean chest, dipping you side to side as the music trills in the background. he mumbles against the skin of your neck. “rog’s leaving with anna.”

you nod and curl your fingernails around his forearms. “i know.”

“is it too presumptuous of me to ask if you’ll do the same? not leave with him, i mean. leave with me.”

you could say something about his proposal being too forward after only a handful of hours together, but you don’t. you feel dizzy from dancing, dizzy with a sense of freedom. normally, you’d never follow a guy home after just meeting. it’s never been in your nature, despite the times you wished it were. tonight, though, you feel like you can do anything.

and if that means letting brian may take you back to his hotel where he’ll likely screw the daylights out of you, so be it.

you twist slightly in his arms, enough to look up at him. you repeat your words of earlier. there’s no hint of a challenge in your voice this time, only desire. “lead the way.” 

by the time you reach the door of brian’s hotel room, you’re fumbling with what buttons on his shirt are actually buttoned. his lips are pressed against yours, and you can feel his smile on your teeth as you struggle to both kick the door open with your heel and work the last two buttons.

“you know,” you mumble against his mouth. “you’d make it a lot easier for me if you just don’t button any of them. you’re halfway there, anyway.”

“so i’ve been told,” he replies, his own fingers pushing the three buttons of your blouse through the small holes.  

the comment gives you pause. your hands still on the warm skin of his shoulders, and you pull back. his eyelids are heavy, his lips parted and plump. you don’t know what it is about his words that make you stop. maybe it’s the idea of him in a similar situation with another girl. of course, you know you aren’t the first concert-goer he’s dragged home; you aren’t that much of an idiot. still, the thought niggles at the back of your brain.

his hands slide away from your shirt to cup your face, and he bends down to kiss you softly. this kiss is different from the ones he’d given you in the lift—hungry and demanding—and in the hallway—earnest and consuming. he’s gentle, painfully so, and tears spring to your eyes. you’ve never been kissed like this, not so tenderly. it makes your heart stop.

“just you and me, [y/n],” he whispers when he breaks the touch. “just you and me.”

you nod and finish pushing the white shirt off his shoulders. 

he doesn’t fuck you. he truly makes love to you, worshipping your body until you both are spent and sweaty, sheets tangled around your limbs. when he collapses beside you with a soft groan, you feel the overwhelming urge to cry. it’s embarrassing, really. but it’s been such a long day, and you’re tired—tired and happy and warm. you throw your arm over your eyes to keep from showing your emotion. you absolutely refuse to be the girl who cries after having sex with brian may.

you feel the bedsheets rustle as he props himself up on his elbow. his fingernail skims along your collarbone. “you’re so... divine.”

you drop your arm to stare at him, heart thumping in your chest. his eyes flick up to meet yours. he smiles and looks at you as if he’s known you his whole life, not seven hours. there’s nothing you can say that will capture how you feel in this moment, so you simply grab him by the neck and pull him down for a bruising kiss. 

later, when you’re drifting off to sleep, one of his sleep shirts swallowing you, his chest against your back, one leg pushed between both of yours, you wonder if you’ll wake up in the morning and find it was all a dream. it certainly would make for a good story once you make it home to your flat. even so, if it isn’t a dream, the part of you that so desperately yearned for home hours earlier is slipping away. 

you could stay here, like this, if he let you. 

shaking your head, you burrow against him. such silly thoughts. even if you have to stay here, out of place, for the rest of your life, this night was a one-time thing. you must know that. so, you’ll cherish his arms around you while you can and commit everything to memory. 

come morning, you find yourself still in nineteen-seventy-eight and deliciously sore. you’re embarrassed to say you smile at the revelation of both situations.

stretching your arms over your head as your eyes flutter open, you groan with your stretch. after your eyes have adjusted to the bright morning light streaming through the open curtains, you look around the room and find brian sitting at the small table in the middle of the kitchenette. he has the hotel phone cradled against his shoulder and ear and looks delightfully sleep-muddled. you slip from bed, uncertain how you should act.

will he send you away now that the night is gone? you wouldn’t blame him. your fingers twist the hem of his shirt as you sway from foot to foot at the base of the bed.

he looks up and waves you over. a good sign, at least.

bare feet padding against the carpet, you cross to his side, but don’t reach out to smooth the unruly curls on his head as you wish you could. the thought crosses your mind that you are painfully in love with him already, and it doesn’t even phase you. it just makes you laugh to yourself.

“what do you want for breakfast?”

you blink. “sorry?”

“breakfast? what do you want?”

“i don’t really care. anything,” you say with a shrug. at his pointed look, you concede with a roll of your eyes. “fine. a waffle.”

he adds a waffle to the order, thanks the person on the other end, then puts the phone down. he’s quick to grab your waist and pull you to his lap, his lips attaching to a sensitive spot on your neck. you giggle and swat his shoulder.

“i thought you wouldn’t be so keen about me come morning,” you admit, keeping your tone playful as you pull back to brush the hair from his face.

his forehead crinkles. “why wouldn’t i be?”

you shrug. “we barely know each other. plus, i’m [y/n] [y/l/n] and you’re brian may. not exactly an obvious match.”

he’s quiet a moment, eyes searching yours, before he says, “what do you think about plato’s allegory of the cave?”

you choke on a laugh. “i’m sorry?”

“you know, plato’s cave—what do you think about it?”

he’s being serious, something that absolutely stuns you into answering honestly. you settle on his knee, arms twisted around his neck, as you consider your response. “well, i mean, i think it’s a good metaphor.” you pause. “it makes me think of people and their cell phones.”

“cell phones?”

shaking your head, you backtrack. “i mean, just technology in general. when it comes to technology, we never really know what we’re getting, do we, usually until it’s too late. i know it wasn’t his intention, but the cave makes me think of that. the way technology can so easily take control and we’re powerless to stop it.”

your words hang in the air for a long while. then he dips forward and claims your mouth with his. you shuffle in his lap, surprised, a soft oh parting your lips. he kisses you with that same hunger you’d felt in the lift the previous evening. when he draws back, he presses his forehead to yours.

“come with me,” he breathes.

you still completely, hands dropping from his neck to his arms. the clock on the desk in the corner ticks, loud and annoying. “what?”

“come with me.” he draws back to run a hand over the hair framing your face. “on tour. we leave next month.”

“you’re insane, brian.”

he shakes his head. “no, i’m not.” his words are resolute, anything but unsure.

“we’ve only just met and i don’t think you know what—”

“i know what i’m saying, [y/n].” his hands move to hold your face. “come with me. i’m crazy about you. say what you will about the timing, but i don’t care. you’re smart and funny and beautiful and i want to get to know you more, but i’m leaving. i’d kill to have you by my side.”

“brian...”

your head is spinning, your throat gone dry. someone knocks on the door in the hall—room service—but he keeps talking.

“it’s north america first, then europe, then asia. it’s long, i know, but you don’t have to stay the whole time. i couldn’t ask you to leave your studies like that. you can leave any time you want.”

“brian,” you say again, this time more forcefully, yet he continues.

“i just think that... after last night... fuck, i really like you, [y/n], and i’d hate to see some other guy swoop in while i’m gone.”

he stops at last, breathing heavy, his wiry frame practically trembling with anxiety. you smooth your hands down his neck and across his shoulders, smiling softly. and maybe you’re just as crazy as he is because you lean in, kiss his lips, and say, “okay, i’ll come with you.”

you don’t think twice. don’t have to, really.

he grins, his fingers squeezing your thighs. “really?”

you nod. “really. but only so long as we can go to a disco every now and again. i think john would like that.”

he laughs and delves his fingers in your hair, kissing you hard. you forget about the breakfast waiting in the hall. it doesn’t matter.

a month and a half later, you’re stood outside the record company’s london office, thumbing through your hastily-acquired, perhaps-not-totally-legal passport. crystal had gotten it for you. there being no record of your birth, you aren’t sure how he managed it, but you don’t ask any questions.

the last month and a half have been a whirlwind, to say the least.

you’ve been, largely, happy. any chance you get is spent by brian’s side, and he seems just as eager to pass his free hours with you. you were able to snag a job at a corner diner to make some money for basic necessities—a change of clothes, for starters—and anna, also invited on the tour, gave you free reign of her pull-out sofa without asking for an explanation. 

but despite spending more time in brian’s hotel room than anna’s living room, and despite the blissed-out evenings and comfortable mornings and long chats and shared moments of quiet, despite everything that makes you happy here, you still know it’s not right. it’s not where you belong.

so as you’re standing outside the record company, heavy suitcases at your feet, roadies and groupies alike milling about, you can’t help but feel on edge. it’s that same feeling you had the first night you arrived: your heart is in your throat, your chest tight. 

maybe it’s the clothes: the tight, flared jeans, white prairie blouse, chunky tan heels. it’s cute, but it’s not you. not yet, anyway.

maybe it’s the hair: you’d had to get it cut earlier in the month, anna dragging you to a salon after claiming your hair was too dowdy. when you look in the mirror now, you feel like farrah fawcett, and that’s not totally bad, but it’s taken some getting used to.

maybe it’s the lack of technology: you’re so used to your phone being attached to your palm, or your car keys jingling in your purse, or your earbuds falling out of said purse at inopportune times. now, you just have a bag with a book in it and a few pieces of really uncomfortable makeup. 

all of it serves as a reminder that this is not home.

“ready to go?”

you look up from your passport and squint as the sun hits your eyes. brian stands in front of you, and he moves to block the sunlight. you laugh. “you’re like my own personal sunblocker.” 

“it’s a gift and a curse.” dropping a duffle bag, he bends to unzip it and pull out a box wrapped in plain brown paper. “here, i got you something.”

you frown. “brian, that’s not necessary.”

he pushes the box toward you. “just hush and take it.”

with a sigh, you take the box from his hands. over your shoulder, gerry stickells, tour manager, calls for everyone to load the bus with their belongings. the flight to dallas doesn’t leave for several hours, but he likes to be punctual, and the band plus thirty-odd crew and three or four extra girls makes for a hard group to wrangle at once. you don’t envy him his job.

brian leans a little closer, dropping his voice as he watches gerry herd stragglers toward the bus doors. “open it before he comes to shout at us.”

“fine, but you still shouldn’t have gotten me anything.” 

you rip the paper from the box then slide your nail under the edge. pushing back the cardboard folds, you find a camera nestled amongst sleeves of tissue paper. it’s a small camera, the name canon etched along the silver rim. a thin leather strap is curled around the black casing. 

“brian,” you breathe. you meet his eyes, which shine and sparkle and send a thrill to your chest. “this is too much.”

“when we met you said you liked photography. i figured there might be things you’d like to take pictures of while we’re gone.”

cradling the box against your chest, you rise to your toes to press a firm kiss to his mouth. your fingers wind in the hair at the back of his neck, and his hands come to rest on your sides. as has become custom, you feel his smile on your mouth.

“does that mean you like it?” he murmurs. 

drawing back, you nod. your cheeks hurt your smile is so wide. “yes, of course! thank you!”

gerry’s voice interrupts brian’s response, and you turn to see him, red in the face, pointing to the running vehicle. “hey, you can do that on the bus! get a move on!”

by the time you find your seat on the bus, the tour is already running behind schedule. gerry blames brian, who only shrugs in apology. there’s a brief speech of general safety and schedule from gerry then one of excitement and giddiness from freddie. then the bus rolls out of the parking lot.

you’re nestled on brian’s lap, his arms around your stomach, a game of scrabble on the table in front of you. to your right, john pulls at a cigarette.

“fred, we haven’t even left the country. i don’t want to be sick of this game before tomorrow.”

freddie sticks his tongue out. he places a letter square down and rubs his hands together. “ha! that’s... sixteen points. deaky, write it down!”

brian shifts to glance over your shoulder. “no, that’s not a word, fred.”

“of course it is!” he points to you. “[y/n], please tell him it’s a word.”

instead, you smile and take a picture of him, consternation on his face, finger pointed in the direction of the camera. he groans and rolls his eyes, dropping back against his chair. brian snuggles you close, his breath ghosting over your neck. 

as the bus heads for the airport and the game of scrabble continues, crystal leaning over your seat to add his two-cents, you lean back and sigh. there’s a warmth in your chest, in your heart, that you haven’t felt in a long time. you intertwine your fingers with brian’s and squeeze his knuckles.

maybe... maybe this where you belong after all.

~*~*~*

taglist: @bhmay​ @grigorlee​ @teenagepeterpan​

[darthstitch]

Say Something

(Or I finally grab my ailing old laptop and decide to write a longer version of the prompt: “Thorin keeps telling Bilbo how much he adores him in Khuzdul and Bilbo does’t know”)

1.  Dwalin has had a long time to get used to Durin-caused bullshit.  

Yes, he’s aware he’s ALSO a Durin.  But his Amad was descended from the ruling family of the Broadbeams and he likes to think that he and Balin got the common sense and intelligence that ancient Dwarrow house was known for.  Because Mahal only knew that the Durins didn’t have it.  At all.  

Case in point: Thorin falling furry arse over boots for that Hobbit.  

So all right, Thorin showed uncommon good sense in that respect.  Bilbo Baggins was a fine cook and the cookies would make any intelligent, self-respecting Dwarf fall on his knees and propose marriage on the spot.  

(Okay, Dwalin didn’t, but that was because he took one look at his King and the Hobbit and just knew....) 

But did Thorin have to go about the whole business like a complete clotpole?

Hence:  

“Mahal’s balls, Thorin, REALLY?” So all right, he was sorry that he’d spewed ale all over poor Kili but the lad should really be better at ducking at dodging at this point.  

Thorin’s suspiciously red ears were the real answer but his King had to snarl, “Shut it, Dwalin!” 

There had been an argument.  Something something Elrond, pointy-ears, not trusting them, better manners.... whatever.  Master Baggins was apparently not the meek and mild little creature they had all taken him for and it was quite amusing to watch the wee one stand up to their grumpy stormcloud King.  

Who apparently found it appropriate to blurt out, in Khuzdul:  “Why are you so confoundedly irritatingly ridiculously ADORABLE, Hobbit?!!” 

Master Baggins had no idea what was actually being said, but the Hobbit simply assumed, based from the surly tone, that Thorin was being Disagreeable and Rude.  So he simply put his nose up in the air and responded with:  “Bless and confound you too, Master Dwarf!”  Then followed this up with a magnificently dramatic exit.  

He did not see Thorin turn all the way red, nor the way Dwalin reached out to grab him by his collar because his royal Durin cousin was suddenly wobbly at the knees.  Look, Thorin was an idiot, but he was still Dwalin’s king AND idiot.  Durin-caused bullshit, right?

Also, Bilbo did not see or hear Fili grumpily handing a bag of coins to Kili. 

All Kili  said in response was:  “Told you so, Fee. Absolute goober.” 

2.   About that bet - Fili and Kili were not stupid.  

Yes, they were young.  And occasionally made some silly decisions.  But that came with the territory and a little silliness added some fun and excitement to one’s life.  

But yes, the brothers both observed their uncle falling for their Hobbit.  

The nature of the bet was HOW Thorin would go about wooing the Hobbit. 

Fili was of the opinion that Thorin would behave in a manner befitting his status as a King and of the House of Durin.  In short, Thorin Oakenshield would be every brooding, swoon-worthy, romantic hero in those Dwarrow romances that their Amad adored and that Fili claimed he never read (nope nope nope - never - what are you talking about).

Kili knew better.  He knew his Uncle Thorin would be a complete and utter walnut.  A total goober over their Hobbit. 

And yes, Bilbo had become “their” Hobbit in very short order.  The sons of Dis knew how to recognize a true treasure when they found it.   So it was easy for them to adopt Bilbo Baggins as part of their family and had no problem telling him so. 

Bilbo’s smile, the hugs he bestowed on “you dear, dear lads” and the extra portions of stew with mushrooms that they got for dinner that night, confirmed that it was the right decision.  Also, who knew that mushrooms could be so amazingly delicious? 

Bilbo giggled, “I’ll make hobbits of you lads yet.  Or since you’re still dwarves, hmm... maybe dwobbits would be better?”

“Dwobbits?!!” was the exclamation of nearly every member of the company. Because of course they were listening in, the nosy buggers.  

“Dwobbits,” Ori said thoughtfully.  “Has a nice ring to it.”  And of course, this immediately went into his journal. 

“Dwobbits... that would explain much about the Line of Durin,” Balin mused.  He twinkled at Thorin, whose ears were once again, that tell-tale shade of red.  The erstwhile King of Erebor looked rather gobsmacked, as a matter of fact.  “It has been said that Durin’s beloved was not a Dwarf...” 

“Maybe all that hair that should’ve been on your face has gone to your feet, Kili, let me check...” 

“Oi! Leave off, Fili!”

“If Mahal and Yavanna would bless us with dwobbits, I would pray that they would all have your beautiful curly hair and your adorable, kissable nose...” Thorin muttered absently in Khuzdul, not seeing the collective facepalming and coin-purse exchanging of the Dwarves close enough to hear him.  

Bilbo, not understanding of course, frowned at Thorin, even as he absently separated the squabbling boys, gently cuffing them by the ears.  “It’s a bit rude to be nattering about in a language one can’t understand.”

“No, Master Hobbit, I’m simply coming up with some suitable way to explain to my sister how I’ve finally tricked some poor unsuspecting soul into adopting this pair of scamps.” 

“Oi!”

Bilbo calmly handed Thorin his own stew - with a generous helping of mushrooms - and said, “I’m sure you’ll manage, Your Dwobbit Majesty.”  

Bilbo was going to learn Khuzdul eventually.  In fact, he was fairly sure that “Irak’Adadith” meant “Hobbit.”  Yavanna knew that Kili and Fili used the word to refer to him often enough.  

Also, he was quite proud that he DID get all three royal Durins to enjoy mushrooms.  

3.  Nori and Gloin were sensible Dwarves and thus, they mostly contented themselves by running the various betting pools that had sprung up over the romance (yes, Mahal damn it, it WAS a romance and an EPIC one at that) of their King and Hobbit.  

Hilariously, it was Bifur who kept winning most of the bets.  It was almost as if the axe in his head granted him some sort of seer-related powers, enough to rival even Oin’s.  

And yes, Oin was Gloin’s secret weapon as the canny old healer employed his gifts of selective hearing to gather all the needed information.  

“Thorin Oakenshield, WHAT did you just call me?  Bunnanunê? If that means ‘halfling’ - might I remind you, I am a HOBBIT and NOT half of anything, you confounded Dwarf!”

“My tiny treasure, eh?” Oin muttered.  “He’s getting creative with the endearments.”

“Reminds me of my darling mizim and how I wooed her...” Gloin mused. 

“Gloin, EVERYTHING reminds you of your darling wife,” said Nori. 

“And so what if it does -- !”

Bifur interrupted the argument with a smug grin and a clear request for money.  Yes, he won the bet again.  

4.   At this point, Bofur decided to start making toys for any future royal dwobbits.  Bifur was quite, quite sure that Bilbo and Thorin would end up having a tiny, dark-haired and blue-eyed dwobbit at some point.  Maybe there was something to the stories about Hobbits springing up from cabbage patches.  Maybe Bifur really was developing Seer abilities.  

In any case, “Uncle Bofur” would be happy to spoil any dwobbits with toys, while also aiding and abetting in mischief.   

5.  Look, Bombur did his part in all these shenanigans.  He and Bilbo traded recipes throughout the journey and he was definitely NOT imagining the pink in Bilbo’s cheeks when Bombur gleefully disclosed Thorin’s favorite foods.  

He also wasn’t above nudging the odds favorably when Bilbo invariably came up with something new and delicious that Thorin would enjoy.  And yes, he was right there when Thorin inadvertently blurted out an utterly twitterpated marriage proposal to Bilbo that the Hobbit had mistaken for a “thank you.”  

“You’re welcome,” Bilbo had said with a sunny smile.  He wasn’t quite sure why Dwalin was suddenly at Thorin’s side at that point, but he did give them both second helpings of dinner.  

He did chalk up Dwalin’s hand on Thorin’s collar as some sort of Dwarvish shenanigans (really, Dwalin and Thorin sometimes gave Fili and Kili a run for their money when it came to ridiculous mischief).  

Bombur just beamed as he caught the money bags coming his way.  He was actually second runner up to Bifur when it came to the betting.  

6.  There was an ongoing argument between Dori and Balin.  

Balin was of the opinion that Khuzdul was still their sacred, Mahal-given language, and as such, could not be shared with non-Dwarves.  

Dori was of the opinion that Bilbo was a true Dwarf-friend and for Mahal’s sake, SOMEBODY had to do something regarding the truly pathetic pining of their King over his Hobbit.  Yes, it was romantic and adorable but really!

Somebody had to take Bilbo aside and get him to realize what Thorin was really saying, so that their poor king could be put out of his misery.  

And anyway, the Consort-to-Be of the King Under the Mountain should really learn Khuzdul.  

Of course, Balin was merely stalling, because he loved a good argument and he was storing up all these wonderful, wonderful points because he was a good adviser and wanted to aid Thorin in giving any old, conservative, useless, greedy nobles collective apoplexy.  

He also knew that he could count on Dori in throwing any potential threats to Bilbo off the Mountain.  

7.  All right, Ori had enough of this insanity.  

Really, he was as avid a Storyteller as Bilbo was and he simply couldn’t end this tale of fighting dragons, regaining Erebor, tricking woodland Elves etc. etc. with:  “And our King Under the Mountain was a complete and utter walnut who let his Hobbit go back to his Shire without ever letting him know how much he was loved.  The End.”  

Yeah, nope!

So Ori waited and watched for his opportunity and Mahal deigned to bless his efforts.  

They were all currently engaged in the tedious work that scribes and historians generally left out of the tales, but were still important in rebuilding Erebor.  The scene was thus - Ori and Bilbo and Thorin Oakenshield and a pile of paperwork that needed to be worked on.   

It was most peculiar how Bilbo turned pink as he watched Thorin Oakenshield pull out a pair of spectacles from his pocket and put them on.  

“Is there something on my face, ghivashel?”

Oh.  OH.  

“Well, yes, there is.  Something.  On your face.”  Bilbo flailed.  

“Surely you’ve seen glasses before, amrâlimê,” Thorin teased.  

“It is STILL not polite that you keep calling me all these absurd things that you refuse to translate,” Bilbo retorted.  

And at that point, Ori was absolutely DONE.  “I think I would like a pot of tea.  Bilbo?”  

Bilbo eagerly took the offered “out” and all but pulled Ori out of the room, both of them ignoring Thorin, who was definitely not pouting.  Bilbo did assure the King Under the Mountain that he and Ori would return with tea for him as well.  The not-pout was erased with a brilliant smile.  Bilbo waved weakly at him even as it was Ori’s turn to drag him away.  

As soon as they were safely out of earshot, Bilbo slumped against Ori.  “Glasses, Ori.  GLASSES.”

“I know, Bilbo.” 

“How does he still look so MAJESTIC and HANDSOME in GLASSES?  This is most unnecessary, Ori.  This is RIDICULOUS.  And why am I telling you all this?  I’ve gone and lost my mind, that’s it.  Mad Baggins, Mad Bilbo Baggins...” 

“There, there, Bilbo.  If it helps, he feels EXACTLY the same way about you.”  

“Don’t be ridiculous - he’s your King and -- “

“ Amrâlimê means ‘my love,’ Bilbo.” 

“What.” 

“Ghivashel means ‘treasure of all treasures.’  They’re endearments.  Words of love.  Every last one of them.” 

“WHAT.”

Ori smiled.  And anyone else who would have seen the smile on the quiet little Scribe of Thorin Oakenshield’s Company would have called it bright as the sun and terrible as the sea.  

“I’m going to teach you Khuzdul, Bilbo Baggins.”

8.  There was something comforting in confessing his love using his mother-tongue.  

Thorin Oakenshield was quite resigned to the fact that he had lost any hope of gaining his One’s affections after the whole debacle with the Arkenstone and the dragon sickness.  Yes, apologies were made and yes, the friendship had been mended.  

And yet, Thorin was too shamed, too angry at himself to even ask for more.  Bilbo had his home in the Shire, his books, his armchair and the memories of his family.  There was an acorn in his hobbit’s pockets that deserved to be planted at Bag End.  

Bilbo deserved all that, his own happily ever after.  Thorin could never be part of that.  He didn’t deserve it.  

“I wish you would stay with me forever,”  Thorin said one day, as he and Bilbo sat together by the hearth in the King’s own private rooms.  He smiled as he shaped the words in his language and prepared to give Bilbo some excuse, a chance to banter and tease.  

“I want to stay with you forever,” Bilbo suddenly said in near-perfect Khuzdul.  “But you have to tell me why, Thorin Oakenshield.” 

Oh, Mahal.  Mahal have mercy on him.  

“Please say something... ghivashel.  Amrâlimê.”  His darling Hobbit had turned this enchanting shade of pink and suddenly, Thorin found his words, the right words, at long last.  

“Because you’ve had my heart all along, Bilbo Baggins.”  

Also, kisses had to be done here.  Because hearing those words from his Hobbit’s lips meant kisses, kisses that were eagerly returned, that had Hobbit hands twining in his hair and Thorin murmured a heartfelt apology as he saw tears gather in Bilbo’s eyes.  

“I love you too, you confounded, ridiculous Dwarf.”

9.   Bilbo eventually learned that Fili and Kili had been calling him “Little Uncle” the entire time.  He laughed, he cried and then gave the boys extra helpings of pie for dessert. 

A certain Dwobbit with curly dark hair and big blue eyes would always love the stuffed plush dragon that his Uncle Bofur made for him.  Yep, Bifur won the betting pool again.  

No, Fili and Kili absolutely did NOT have furry feet.  But yes, they were proud to be Dwobbits of the Line of Durin.  

Gloin had to be reminded that the Line of Durin tended to find their Ones in the most unconventional ways.  This was the only logical explanation as to why his darling Gimli would eventually end up married to Thranduil’s son, Mahal save them all.  

Many, many generations later, it was said among the Dwarves of Erebor that leaving knitted things and flowers at the feet of the statue of Ori, the Scribe of Thorin Oakenshield’s famed Company, would lead to blessings and luck in love.  

- end - 

#thorin you walnut is the best goddamn tag i’ve ever found - you guys are AMAZING

[bittybattybunny]

One order of Sweet apple tea please!

Coming on up~!!!

Amaris giggled some as they were led to a room with lots of windows. A tall man with the same curly dark hair as the little girl was looking out the window.

“Papa!” she ran over as she had more tears falling.

“There’s my girl!” he knelt to hug her and picked her up with a frown, “what’s this?” he wiped her eyes with his hand, “sweetheart what’s the matter?”

“She’s been throwing a fit all morning.” Sena explained, “Mother’s passing is still fresh.”

“Ah.. Your highness.” Fenrir gave a short bow, “you’ve grown since I last saw you.” he chuckled, “I’m sure….” he got a sad look, “Diana was a wonderful woman and mother.” he kissed the girl’s forehead as he rocked her. She held onto him with a pout.

“Papa why can’t you come live with Senny and me? Why do I have to live here? The air is gross and people keep staring…” she whined and buried her face against him.

“My pup, I’m human. I can’t live in the fairy kingdom. Besides I have a wife and another daughter here.” he chuckled, “you have a sister, would you like to meet her?” he frowned when she shook her head and sniffled. He gave a sigh and looked at Sena who shrugged.

“She should be no different than a human child to raise. I even made sure.” the fae man tapped an earring on the girl’s ear, “this will keep her magic locked up until she’s 16 and a magic instructor can guide her. I know a few fae who’ve offered to tutor her.” the fairy king boasted, “So just send word and I’ll send them!”

“How should I go about that? I don’t know if my old communication still stands. It took me a year to send that letter. I really wanted Ammy at the wedding…” Fenrir frowned as his daughter finally stopped crying as much. She rested her cheek tiredly on his shoulder.

“Just a drop of your blood in a pool of water while the moon reflects on the surface should work. Or Ammy can create a gate.” Sena explained, “if she can get a circle of plants around her she can trigger it into a gate to the Horizon.”

“Mmhm! I’m good at it!” she grinned.

“Yes. quite.” Sena shook his head, “Oh and a servant will be bringing her clothing and her toys later today. I figured it’d be easier if I escorted her myself to make sure she was as placid as she can be.” the fairy king gave her a kiss on her cheek, “If she wants, I am free on full moons to be visited at the castle.”

“I’ll visit!” she nodded assuredly, “I gotta!” she moved to hug her brother one more time before he pulled away. His wings spread as he tapped his feet down and his hair turned silver blue.

“I know my princess, but try to enjoy living with your father. Blessed me!” the king smiled before he vanished.

Amaris sighed heavily.

“Tired? Should I show you your room?” he asked carrying her. A few servants looked at the queen’s husband as he walked.

She was quiet and just held to him tightly.

“Ammy. Sweetie.. I know this isn’t fun for you but…” he sighed, “Let’s go see Vanessa. She should be in the yard.”

“Is that my step mommy or my step sister?” she asked with a quiet voice, “Papa I won’t ever ever call this lady mama. No one but mama is my mama!” 

“I know sweetie… but I’m sure you’ll like her!” he headed into the courtyard. Beneath a large white and bony tree the queen was sitting, working on an embroidery hoop. She gave a smile but froze when she locked eyes on the little girl.

“Is this your precious daughter?” she asked moving to stand as Fenrir set Amaris down. She hid behind his leg, “we finally meet.” she smiled sweetly and moved over. Amaris growled a bit at her.

“Ammy sweetie please.” Fenrir sighed.

[neo-culture-mafia]

그림자

last chapter

"'sup bitches." Hyuck called, walking in the front door with groceries in hand.

"Duckie, I have told you 9 separate times to not greet like that." I spun around in the swivel chair, "it's rude." I reasoned and he took his sunglasses off his face, holding them in the same hand as his motorcycle keys. "Whoops?...I guess." He chuckled, strutting over to where I sat at the living room desk.

I turned back around to look at the paperwork spanning across the wood surface. "What's this, sunflower?" He asked grabbing the first paper he could grab. He flicked his brown curls from his vision to have a good look at what was taking place in black ink.

"Money flipping?" He asked me, with a cocked eyebrow and an unamused look. "Yep. Just for a little while," I winked and snatched the paper back. I sighed, setting it back down on the desk, "just until we have enough for an apartment in the city."

He groaned and walked down the hall to the kitchen. "We have everything we need here." He called as I knew he was emptying the contents of the grocery bags into the respectful places they belonged.

I leaned my arm on the desk, laying my head in my hand and staring at the Polaroids above the desk. Some were of us: me, Mark and Hyuck, and some of the rest of the boys...now just a distant memory is what they felt like.

483 days...483 days since we last saw each other. On that damn night. That dreadful night that me and Mark were turned away and shunned like we were dogs.

Then we traveled back to Seoul to find Duckie. After he was missing for 3 weeks, I ran into him by chance in an alley. We actually had gotten in a first fight till his hood fell back and I was met with the melanin enriched skin that made my eyes weep.

I told him to leave, go back, that he was welcomed there. But, he didn't want to leave me or Mark. We lived in the shit shack eating nothing but crackers and water for a couple months, sometimes we opted for sleep as our daily meal.

Until Mark came home with money. He had gotten that damn tunnel door open by the grace of a higher-being: filled with cash to the brim.

Us 3 bought a 2 bedroom farm house in the somewhat country where we were best friends with our retired neighbors; their thoughts and whispers of us being in a 3-way relationship being the talk of the small farming town. We didn't care. We knew what we were doing here and what we needed to do in the future.

"Oh honey. I'm home." Donghyuck called through the house and a door opened to a wet Mark who was towel drying his hair in nothing but sweatpants. "Did you get me the stuff?" He asked all serious, and I looked down the dim hallway to see Mark's blonde hair being tossled by his towel.

Hyuck gave him a flat face, a hand on his hip and another holding him up on the counter. "Yes, Mark. I got you your 'stuff'." He rolled his eyes, going away and returning with a big ass watermelon.

"Yesss," Mark took it and automatically held it to his ear, knocking on it like it was a heavy wood door. "you picked a good one." Mark looked lovingly at the fruit in his arms as if it was a child.

I laughed as I looked at my wacky friend. "Why can't you be obsessed with something usual. Like beer, or poker."

The curly headed boy asked as he walked back down the hall towards me. Taking his thick jacket off and throwing it over the arm of the couch; sitting down he unlaced and unzipped his boots, throwing them by the door.

You watched the conversation play out like a terrible teen-sitcom. "Cause I'd rather die by watermelon overdose than alcohol intoxication-" Mark was cut off as he walked slowly to the front room where Hyuck and I sat. "Yeah yeah yeah. Too many big words for this early in the morning." Hyuck put his arm over his eyes and laid back.

Mark looked at me and we both looked at the clock. "Sweetie, its 3 in the afternoon." I giggled and he whined. "It's so early." He said and stood up.

"I'm getting changed and I'm gonna chill." He said looking at Mark who still clutched his watermelon to his bare chest, damp towel thrown over his shoulder.

"And?" Mark asked. "Why do I care?" He asked and the younger boy just shrugged. "Also...your night for dinner." Mark reminded him and Hyuck whined louder, running down the hall and smacking into our bedroom door.

"Donghyuck!" I jumped up, wanting to check if he was okay. He just kept on whining as he opened our door and went in, closing it.

You could still hear his shrieks as he was probably running around getting changed into comfier clothes.

"Then there were two." Mark sighed as he set his watermelon on the kitchen window, and plopping onto the long couch on the opposite side of the living room.

"I need to redo your hair soon." I said getting up and laying on the ground next to his couch. "I might let it grow up to a ponytail." I sat up quickly. "Uh. No you're not." My voice was harsh and he laughed.

"Girl you need to chill. I was joking." He chuckled, stretching and yawning.

Something that Jaemin used to say to me atleast once an hour. My smile faltered and I became more solemn.

"Do you miss them?" I asked and he just stared at me for a moment. "Who?" Was all he said and I knew that he knew exactly who he was talking about but it still hurt a little bit.

"Your boys." I said and a faint smile was broadcasted over his facial features as he stared into what seemed like distant space but was really just the dark TV.

"Of course." He exasperated and he looked back at my face who was just searching for reassurance that this path was the right one to take.

"But I am so thankful for the two of you, right here, right now." He smiled and my heart was put at ease.

"Alright I'm back. I sensed you guys missed me so I returned. Just for you guys!" Hyuck said as he sat down next to me and leaned back on his arms for support. "Oh yeah. 'Cause we were literally dying without your presence." I said sarcastically and he shrugged.

"Exactly. That's what I just said." He said as serious as possible and me and Mark laughed. "Oh you think you're so funny." Donghyuck said picking me up and pulling me on his lap, his hands reaching for my sides and tickling.

My shrieks and laughs radiated through the house as Mark watched on in admiration. He felt blessed that he made it this far. He also never failed to tell us atleast once a week. We were all each other's life and support systems.

Once hyuck stopped his evil act, I just laid there across his lap trying to resteady my breath.

"What's for dinner?" I looked up at him and he shrugged. "I haven't really looked to be completely honest." He said yawning.

"Well let's go see and then we can make it, eat, clean, and then chill for a while." I said getting up and putting my hand out for him to take.

He groaned but obliged at my request.

He was in some shorts and a basic hoodie. The scarring on his legs reminding us all of a dark period. A painful time that sometimes still follows us.

I have a scar on my back from that night. I don't remember anything of the tunnels but the burning pain in my calves, wanting to stop sprinting through the dark and lonely concrete jungle.

Him and I stood infront of the cupboards in silence.

I suddenly felt so tired and out of it. Like a heavy weight was on my chest and it wouldn't budge.

"Oooo. Spaghetti." He said stretching and reaching the noodles and sauce on the top shelf. I shrugged as he looked at me for my reaction to his suggestion.

"You okay?" He asked and I could only shrug and try to give a convincing smile.

"Yeah. Just thinking about stuff." I shrugged once more and he understood.

"Can you help me with dinner?" He asked and of course I agreed, wanting to get my mind off the looming darkness in the corners of the house.

"Alright. We need 2 pots and then you can figure out some sides we can have with it." He said and I was already grabbing the 2 pots.

I set them on the stove top and he began doing his own thing. I rummaged through the cabinets and fridge before feasting my eyes on what seemed like the perfect pairing.

"Salad?"

~~~~~~~~~

Trying to sleep that night was rough. It was just tough and not even the usual cuddly nature of the sleeping Hyuck next to me could lull me into dream land.

The dark feeling still followed me through dinner and to bed.

I tried staring at the wall but even then the small cracks started freaking me out. I turned towards Hyuck who's curly dark hair framed his face perfectly.

Don't get us wrong. We're not a thing. We're just close. Once we found each other again he has stuck to my side in hopes of fulfilling what he thought he didn't in the first place- protection.

I don't mind. We've always been close and now we've just gotten closer. Was sharing a bedroom in our plans?...no...but we didn't want to put up with Mark and his farting so he was blessed with having his own room.

We're just making do with what we have.

My finger lightly traced shapes on his arm tattoos, trying to pass time and get myself to sleep.

I groaned and his eyes opened. "What's wrong?" He asked looking at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

3:29 AM

He turned back to make sure I was okay. He sat up on his arm and just looked at me for a moment. "Are you hurt?" Was all he asked and I shook my head no. I wouldn't know how to explain the hurt I was feeling anyway.

"I just need water." I said getting up and crawling to the end of the bed. "Be back in 5 minutes please." He said grabbing his phone. I mumbled my recognition and opened our door.

I strided down the hall and grabbed a water bottle. I walked into the hall where the corridor meets living room. Hyuck's phone lit one end of the hall in our bedroom while the other was illuminated by the moon light.

1 sip.

I breathed and looked out the front window at the old couples house across from ours.

2 sips.

I can hear my heart beat as I try to drown it out with gulps of water.

3 sips.

I have a sudden urge to sprint up and down our street to try and rid the shakiness of my body.

4 sips.

I'm not even cold but my anxiety makes my bones sound like wooden spoons and my body go cold with shivers.

And that's when I see it.

The shadow.

It moved on the front porch.

"I'm going crazy." I spoke in a monotone.

"What?" I heard Hyuck call out, now sitting up in the bed.

The shadow came closer to the door, an arm raised, as if it was going to bash in the glass.

"That's not real." I said louder, my water bottle now dropped from my cold hand.

I heard a thud and a swear along with an opening door.

"Mark. Up, now." And a pair of feet come closer down the dark hallway.

The shadow just seemed frozen now as Hyuck stood right by me.

"What is that?" He muttered and Mark now was coming closer, trying to see tiredly through his glasses.

The arm went back and forth a couple of times. "Hyuck go get your gun." Mark said lowly but I wanted to fight this thing head on.

I walked straight to the door before any of their hands could grab me. I threw the door open as my heart felt like it was going to beat right out of my chest.

I was met with bleached blonde hair, a blood splattered face, a cold stare, and a muscly build that held ink and a face of an old someone I used to know.

"Jeno?" I choked out, wanting to vomit as my body went numb from shock. This wasn't real. I was dreaming. This wasn't happening.

I held my hands out towards his face, moving ever so slowly until his own hands held my own.

The boys behind me became silent as I knew one of them held a gun, still on edge for this too good to be true situation.

I threw myself at him and just held onto his muscular frame. His arms held me tight in a grip that I used to miss.

The metallic smell on him made my nose scrunch up in disgust but I was just too wrapped into the moment to care.

My body was yanked back forcefully and I was thrown back into the living room at the feet of a shell shocked Mark who could nothing but stare forward.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I thought Donghyuck was losing it as he cocked his gun and held it at the face of his once brother.

"Duckie what are you doing?" I asked getting up and grabbing at his arm.

Jeno just did nothing but stare down the metal barrel in front of his face, his hands being raised next to his head.

"I did a sweep of the surrounding place and it's sketc-" another body came walking up our porch.

The tall boy still seemed lanky but had glasses this time. His hair was now a lighter brown and it seemed like he had grown another 4 inches in the span of a year.

"Jisung?" I muttered and he was still met another gun barrel.

This time from Mark who had shoved me back again.

"Please don't shoot." Jisung pleaded, scared setting into his features.

"We need help. Please." Jisung begged but Jeno still held his stare with Hyuck.

"Everyone is gone." Jisung pleaded.

"Please." He whispered, his eyes were threatening to spill.

[aurodontdoit]

Sabo x Reader Fanfic: Chapter 1:

"Get her!"

"Don't let that little witch get away!"

Running through the streets, and into the forest, away from trouble I went. At that moment, I was being chased by some brats from Goa Kingdom that were looking to teach me a lesson for hitting a noble's son for grabbing me so roughly, it was absolutely seen as an ill tempered thing of a lady to do… but I also used my magic to give him an atomic wedgie.

My name is Y/n, I'm a 12 years old witch, and I am afraid.

"Shit…" I muttered under my breath as I had been met with a dead end. 

As the boys closed in on me, I prepared for my death by praying that I go to a good place when I die. 

"Time for us to teach you a lesson, witch!" 

I gulped before covering my face with my hands as the last thing I see is the glistening metal of the dagger above my head, illuminating in the light of the midday sun, mocking me, reminding me that my time is now-

"Hey you bastards! What do you think you're doing on our turf!?!" A voice called causing the boys to turn their attention to who called them and away from my quivering form. 

"Oh thank the maker…" 

"Who the hell are you!?!" The malcontented noble child barked at two boys standing on a rock. 

"Answer our question first, and we'll answer yours, jerk!" A freckled Raven haired boy who looked no older than 10 sneered. 

"He's either crazy, brave, or stupid…"

The Noble child roughly grabbed me by my hair before putting a knife to my throat, causing the two boys standing on a rock to frown even more 

"See, this girl hit my little brother, so me and my buddies are teaching her a lesson." He smirked. 

I squeaked at the feeling of the cold sharp blade on my neck, keeping quiet, I looked to the two boys, pleading for help. 

The other boy standing on the rock had short curly blonde hair wearing a tophat with goggles, blue shorts and a dark blue peacoat, with a tattered cravat on his neck. His eyes widened as he saw me, before his gaze softened and he nodded before turning to my assailant and getting into a defensive stance. 

"Let's see, she has a pretty face, some smooth skin begging to be touched… how about I mark up that face of yours? That oughta teach you, you witch!" He moved his blade, getting ready to cut me, but once again, a miracle happened. The Raven haired boy knocked the Noble brat out with his metal pipe. 

"Keep your hands off of her! You brute!!" The other boy roared as he began knocking the noble guys goons out one by one with one swing of his metal pipe. 

Once the borish jerks were rendered incapacitated, the two boys began to walk away. The Raven haired one looked over his shoulder. 

"...you coming or not?" He called. 

I didn't even blink before nodding in agreement, and so I began to follow them back. 

"... Umm thank you for helping me." I spoke softly. 

The blonde boy smiled at me "no problem! You're not hurt are you?" He asked. 

I shook my head "no… I'm okay."

"So why did they call you a witch?" 

"Pardon?" 

The Raven haired boy sighed in annoyance 

"Why did they call you a witch?" He spoke slowly. 

"Because I hit a boy for grabbing me too roughly… he kept pulling my hair so I hit him with a book." I explained.

"Well, that's not a very good reason to call you a witch." The blonde concluded. 

I wanted to tell them about the atomic wedgie I gave him, but I figured it was a one way ticket to getting burned at the stake. 

"So who are you?" The freckled boy asked. 

"My name is Y/n, to whom do I owe my thanks?" I introduced myself in a soft voice, cursing my formal speech. 

"I'm Sabo, Y/n… Nice to meet you." He smiled. 

"And I'm Ace. Try to keep your ass outta trouble, got it?" He smirked. 

I nodded and smiled. 

"So where do you live?" Sabo asked. 

"G-Grey Terminal… with my family." 

"Wait then why were nobles chasing you?" Ace asked. 

I flinched and trembled "I was running away from my aunt… she uses me as a stand-in daughter in an effort to raise her social status. A noble with a cute daughter is much more desirable to be wed to another noble… I felt like a horse up for auction." I huffed while puffing out my cheeks, causing Sabo to chuckle and pat my back comfortingly. 

"You're in a safe place now, Y/n, So don't worry, your aunt won't find you." He smiled. I noticed he was missing a tooth. 

"This boy… does he understand me?" 

I felt a slight heat rise to my cheeks at the sight of his adorable smile. 

"So what about you guys? You live around here too?" I asked. 

"Yeah. We live at Mount Colubo." Ace replied. 

"Oh with Curly Dadan?" I asked curiously

"Wait how did you know?" Sabo asked as they both turned their attention to me.

"My mom is an herbalist, so she brings herbs and poultices to Dadan… sometimes, she'll send my little sibling, Rhi." I answered. 

"My mom told me about her, but I never knew she had sons." I admitted causing the boys to laugh

"We're not her kids! She just takes care of us, and we live with her!" Ace laughed. 

"So she is like a foster mom?" I asked, perplexed.

"Kinda. We'll explain later. Come on, we should probably get you home before it's dark." Sabo smiled softly while wiping a tear from his eye from laughing too hard. 

As we walked back, we talked and laughed like we were all close friends. Every now and then I'd catch Sabo glancing at me as I laughed or smiled at something Ace said. When I'd catch him, he'd blush and look away, only causing me to giggle softly at his adorable actions. I truly didn't want this day to end, but sadly, every rose has its thorn. Once I got back to my place, I noticed how Sabo looked a little melancholy. 

"Thanks again for helping me, guys. I really appreciate it." I smiled warmly at them. 

Sabo blushed and grinned while Ace hid his blush by looking away

"Don't mention it, Y/n… it's not like we care… just don't be stupid, and get yourself into trouble again. We're not always gonna help, y'know." Ace looked away trying to conceal his blush. 

I smiled and giggled before hugging them. 

"Blessed be, you two." I prayed softly before pulling away. The two boys flinched, but slowly returned the hug. Once we parted, I went back inside, and off to bed, hoping to see them again someday as I stared at the moon.

My name is Y/n, I am a 12 year old witch, and I have made new friends.

[devolympian]

Argo, chapter 4

Argo, chapter 4

Interesting thing to note for when you have what most people consider familial obligations and appointments to meet at a specific time, more often than not, you have the responsibility of waking at a designated time of day. Usually at the ripe healthy time of say, oh I don’t know, 5:15 A.M.

With this set responsibility and a need to earn a living inorder to drive a consumer centric economy with which one needs to survive in it is best to get the recommended amount of sleep 

So, between the multiple rounds of personal gaming tournaments, mountains of junk food and soda, and completely being unwilling to actually go to bed, I can proudly say none of us did that as about three hours after we had all decided to crowd into Skyes bed a loud beeping noise filled the room.

“Well shit” I happily state in an enthusiastic tone as my sleep deprived eyes look up at her ceiling.

“I’ll get it” said an even more sleepless voice to the left of my body, as Skye began to sit up and lean over a still unconscious Clair and I.

She promptly fell on top of us, her massive curly mess of blonde hair practically working as a second blanket that covered the three of us.

“Blondie” I questioned as her green eyes slowly began to close, “you gonna get that one or?”

“Five more minutes.”

And with those words Skye began to softly snore, her chest on top of mine, as she used my shoulder for a pillow.

Clair made sure to do her part by not waking up to the alarm clock and unconsciously wrapping her arms around me and Skye and pulling us into her naked body. 

Yes, Clairabell sleeps naked and it’s perfectly okay that she does so.

With a slight shrug I was perfectly content with letting the alarm clock run its course as I fell back to sleep sandwiched between these too. But, naturally, I remembered that I had a prior engagement to visit some family members who don’t particularly like being stood up.

Shimmying myself upwards I managed to slither out from in between the girls and did my best to step over Clair as she and Skye cuddled under the blanket seemingly unaware that I had left the pile.

Tapping the alarm I went about and started my day.

First thing’s first I made my way to the restroom; stepping over the various soda cans, wrappers, and half finished snacks we had decorated Skyes floor with the night prior (ooh cheetoh, nom), I was determined to perform the most important act of the day which everyone must do regardless of their social political views on it. The brushing of teeth and a warm shower.

Not saying you’re wrong if you don’t do this daily, just saying you need a therapist and time in a mental institute.

Now, let me take this moment to inform you about Skyes bathroom. It is ridiculous, not only because no one needs a personal restroom in their bedroom, but also because of the fact that the place was almost as big as her actual room with a tub that could easily fit three people, yes we’ve tested it, but also a large closet which is now overflowing with various dresses and cute outfits all of which were hand made.

None of these details are important to the story, I feel you should know, they are just my personal thoughts which I felt like sharing.

Anywho, after a nice shower, and making my mouth not smell like ass with the tooth brush I left here, which everyone needs to use TWICE a day, I wrapped the one of Skyes soft pink towels around my hips and headed on over to her dresser.

Now, I think what you’re wondering right now is “Alex, why the hell are you going through your best friend's clothes?” And even if you weren’t I will tell you any ways.

Ever since I was a wee lad Skyes room has been basically my second room, hell I think I’ve slept in her bed more than my own over the years. This was all well and good when we were little and innocent and we could basically fit into each other's clothes, but when this thing called puberty attacked us that started to change.

I got taller, my arms and legs got longer, I started shooting lightning, I got a six pack, a strong jaw, started getting hit on by older women and men even though I was like 12. You know, normal stuff like that.

Skye, on the other hand, went in kind of the opposite direction with her growing less in height and more in boob, and hip. She also gets hit on by older women and men so at least we -    have that experience in common.

In short, I had to start bringing over clothes whenever I stayed the night and sense I stay here a lot, a few of my outfits have more or less made their home in the dresser she keeps her TV and video games on. Granted, we do end up wearing eachothers clothes from time to time, but that’s besides the point.

Pushing our plates from last night to the side and setting the controllers we used back where they went I dropped my towel to the ground and started shifting through the drawer in the search for the allusive boxer shorts.

“Ooh” a tired voice called out, “that’s a nice sight to wake up to.”

I tilted my head in the direction of the bed to see Clair sitting up, her violet eyes still not fully open as she smiled at me.

“Good morning dear” I said, “sleep well, dreams of rainbows and kittens maybe?”

“More like blood, fire, death, all the fun stuff.”

“You and I have very different dreams. . . why am I only noticing that now?”

Clairabell giggled a little, then took a look around the bedroom with her expression changing to slight shock at what she saw.

“Wow, we really made a mess last night.”

“Yes well mortal kombat and super mario bros will do that.”

“Especially if someone spends the game trolling me and Skye!”

“What else was I supposed to do, not hit you with the turtle shell?”

With a sigh. Clair placed the tip of her thumb between her sharp canine teeth and bit down until I could see a bit of blood trickle out.

“Alright gals” she said, holding her hand out infront of her, “be dears and clean this mess up.”

The small amount of blood coming from her thumb quickly started to sizzle and bubbles soon began coming from it.

Every one of the bubbles quickly grew in size, changing color to a dark reddish brown before sprouting bat wings and ears. Each one had a cute cat-like face and little fangs poking out from their adorable smiling mouths.

Soon, Clair had at least ten little blood bats hovering around Skyes room, before they began picking up the mess we had made last night.

Also, I managed to find a pair of my boxers, so this was a huge win for everybody involved.

After stretching a little, Clair stood out of Skyes bed, making sure that the blanket stayed on our blond friend, before picking up her clothes from last night.

“Can’t sleep” I asked as I attempted to hunt down a pair of pants?

“Just thought I might as well wake up” she happily answered as she tossed her dirty laundry into Skyes clothing basket, “don’t want to make you feel lonely now do we?”

“Don’t worry, I know how to entertain myself whenever I’m naked and alone.”

“That’s what every girlfriend wants to hear.”

Just as I had, Clair went into the restroom to get ready for the day ahead.

She brushed her teeth, and I still can’t find a goddamn pair of pants.

“How long do you need to be on Olympus for?” I heard her call out as I slowly lost my mind from lack of lower body wear.

“Probably until ten or twelve hours. I might need to beg for forgiveness if the old man decides to snag a booty call and leaves me to deal with his wife.”

“Your dad’s gross.”

“I know that’s why I have two, but apparently neither of them can bless me with a pair of jeans.”

“Don’t you keep pants in that weird pocket thingy you have?”

“. . .”

Reaching my hand into the air I went ahead and opened the aforementioned pocket thingy, which was a small rip in space which works as a nice little storage space to keep stuff in. To most people it would look as though my hand disappeared into space, and they would be kind of right, one wrong move and my hand is gone. I can get it back, but it takes a while and requires more than two people.

Feeling my way past the treasure, bones, holy grails, and my new little worm buddy I found myself touching what felt like pants and pulled them out.

They were torn a little in the knees and a bit stained but worked for the day.

“Found my pants.”

“I am so proud of you.”

I chuckled a little and prepared to get these things on. But, before I could even slip a leg in, a still naked Clair had managed to get in front of me, wrapped her arms over my shoulder and leaned herself into a kiss.

Naturally, I did what every sane person would do when a naked woman throws herself at them. I grabbed her waist and pulled her close, our naked chest pressing against each other as she forced her tongue passed my lips and we went and explored each other's mouths.

The kiss lasted a good bit of time and I soon found myself pushing Clair against Skyes dresser, my hands sliding down her well toned body as she hooked her thumbs around the elastic band of the boxers I had put on just a moment ago and started pulling them off again.

Eventually we broke the kiss and Clair gave me a smug smile on top of her flushed face.

“Sure you have to go right now?”

With a slight smirk I lifted her onto the top of the dresser, her long legs instantly wrapping around my hips as I leaned in and whispered into her ear.

“I absolutely need to go right now.”

She gave me an annoyed groan before pushing me a little and angrily jumping off the dress as I pulled out a shirt from it.

“Oh come on” I said, laughing a little, “we can’t exactly hook up in Skyes room.”

“She’s sleeping.”

“Her parents are in the room across the hall.”

“I’ll be quiet.”

“I won’t. You know I’m a moaner.”

I wonder if Clairabell glaring angrily at me was a sign that I had annoyed her enough. Naw, I can be more annoying.

After slipping the pants on I popped the shirt I had grabbed over my head.

“That’s Skyes shirt” Clair pointed out as I slid the black tank top on, even though it was rather tight fitting. It had a cute little cartoon panda head smiling on the chest as its cheeks glowed a rosey pink.

“Yes'' I assured her as I fished out a pair of socks and slipped on my boots, “it is most definitely Skyes shirt.”

Clair sighed and patted a sleeping Skye head.

“I’m so sorry for your clothes Skee-skee.”

I watched as Skye slept peacefully next to Clairs lap and felt a slight lump build in my throat.

“Hey” I said without really thinking, “make sure you guys talk, okay?”

Clairabell gave me a confused look; one of her fangs slightly poking out of her upper lip while she tilted her head questioningly.

“Huh? We talk all the time though.”

“Yeah, but. . .”

I thought for a bit, trying to figure out the best words to use to bring up the subject.

“Just, maybe ask her how she’s feeling or something.”

“How does she feel?”

She looked down at blondie again.

“Tired. She’s tired.”

I chuckled and sighed, pushing my uneasy feeling away.

“Yep, that makes sense. Can you open the window for me?”

“Babe, there’s a door.”

“And?”

“. . . good point.”

Upon Clairs instruction a blood bat floated over and pulled Skyes window open for me letting the fresh morning air into the room.

“Thanks,” I said before taking a running start and flinging myself over Skyes bed and out a second story window.

With a loud crash I found myself laying ontop of multiple thorny bushes, the branches digging into my body as I tried to adjust to the aching in my back.

“Perfect landing” I groaned as I got ready to sit up.

“Oh yes, great job” a woman's voice said, “now please get off my plants.”

I turned my head to see two women standing over me. 

The one on the left, who was giving a very annoyed glare, looked like a lighter skinned Skye with bright yellow eyes and had her golden blonde hair tied up into a long ponytail. As was usual for her at this time of the morning, her red tank top and tanned shorts were covered in dirt and mud and black gardening gloves adorned her hands.

The one on the right was dressed up in a white toga like dress with summer lilies braided into her dark hair and she wore a diamond encrusted gold necklace around her throat. Also, her dark green colored eyes had the look of someone who had just watched her son throw himself from a second story window and land on the bushes she had helped her friend plant.

“Morning” I happily said to them before Skyes mom flicked her wrist and the bush, in response to said wrist flicking, jumped up a little and shoved me off of it before settling back into the soil.

“You’re in a chipper mood today” mom said as she helped pull me off the ground.”

“Oh who wouldn’t be when their job entails possible death and dismemberment?”

“Him and the girls practically stayed up the entire night” Skyes mom informed mine, “I swear that Clairabell screams louder than a banshee.”

Moms eyes grew wide as she gave me a once over before looking back at Skyes mom.

“They were playing video games” she assured, having finally realised what she had said.

“Oh thank the gods” my mom said, letting out a sigh of relief.

“In all fairness, Clairabell and I can multitask” I happily informed both of them.

“Alexander, shut up, you are 18, I do not need grandchildren from you yet!”

I laughed at my mom's discomfort, before noticing that a little girl with red hair had wandered up next to her. She was dressed similarly to mom but her dress was a light blue color and the only gold she had on was a pair of golden sandals and a few ringlets on her wrist.

“There’s my girl” our mom happily said, kneeling down to greet my sister, “all ready to go Fiona?”

With half awake eyes Fiona nodded with assurance, doing her best to stay awake. She promptly fell forward having to be caught by our mom.

“Oh sweetheart” mom said, giving Fiona a worried look, “maybe you should stay here.”

“No thank you.”

“She can stay here for the day” Skyes mom stated, “she can take a nap in Luke and Ninas room.”

“That should be fine” mom happily answered before turning back to the little red head, “how about playing with Luke and Nina today?”

“I will later” Fiona stubbornly stated, “I wanna go.”

“Fiona, you can’t be falling asleep though.”

“I won’t, I promise!”

“Honestly” I interjected, “she should be fine coming along. Unless she’s sick or something.”

Lifting her up  by her armpits I held my little sister up in the air.

“You ain’t getting sick on me are ya?”

“No,” Fiona said with a smile.

“Ain’t gonna throw up?”

With this question I tossed the seven year old up into the air, making her laugh like, well like a seven year old.

“Yeah she’s good” I assured our mother, as I still held Fiona.

“ . . .Is Skye ever this stubborn” my mom asked Skyes mom?

“I’m glad she’s not,” she answered, putting her gardening tools away, “makes it easier when I tell her to get rid of things like that.”

She pointed to the pegasus made of water which Skye had created last night in the arcade bathroom.

Like a good healthy horsey, Raindrop had grown in size and was now bigger than your average horse.  

“What” I protested, “you can’t have her get rid of Raindrop! It’s a sweet fragile creature who just wants your love, and understanding, and it just ate a squirrel.”

The clear blue pegasus glared at us as a fluffy brown tail hung from its mouth. 

It slowly backed away out of sight, never breaking eye contact with me specifically. Guess I have a new friend.

“See you later Trinna” mom said, taking Fiona from me and protectively holding her.

And with that, Skyes mom went over to put her tools away and mine started hurrying us over to our house.

“Do you two have everything,” mom asked as she pulled her keys out from her dress pocket.

“Yep” Fiona and I assured her at the same time.

She gives us a smile and a nod before turning to the door into our home and sliding a small golden key inside of the lock.

With a twist of the knob our front door opened up to a brightly lit bridge filled with people, either walking or riding in horse drawn carriages, dressed similarly to mom and Fiona. Far into the distance, at the end of the bridge, was a city built on top of several mountains, the rising sun illuminating the white marble buildings against a still mostly dark sky.

“Woow” I cheered, stretching my arms over my head, “fun trip, honestly the ride up is always the best part.”

“Alex” mom said, closing the door behind us, “what did I say about being a smartass?”

“Go ahead but don’t do it when we’re about to see family.”

“Exactly, and what are we about to do?”

“Visit people you hate?”

Mom lowered her eyes at me, giving me an irritated look.

“I’ll be good in front of grandma” I promised, crossing my fingers behind my back.

With a sigh, my mom locked the door we went through, causing it to sink into the ground and vanish.

“You ain't slick boy.”

I shrugged, perfectly content with my underwhelming slickness, before placing my fingers in my mouth.

Blowing into them, a loud whistle echoed out and the ground beneath us began to shake as a large hole filled with black mud spilled open. Never mind the fact that we were currently on a bridge thousands of miles in the air so a hole like that should just lead down into, well, death.

Speaking of death.

From the black mud, bone white hands started to rise from its murky depths, and latched onto the marble pavement of the bridge. Slowly, four skeletons pulled themselves out, black mud dripping down their skulls and off the dusty dark blue suits they all wore.

Each one had “eyes” of green fire and looked almost identical to each other, with the only difference being a colored rose each wore in the pocket of their suit. Red, yellow, black, and white.

These were my skeletons. Expertly trained, well mannered, professional, cold blooded, and above all else dependable. . . was not what they were.

As the yellow rose stumbled out behind white rose it fell forward, knocking into the latter.

Naturally, White rose raised it’s boney hand and slapped yellow in the face, the rattling of their teeth being loud enough for everyone to hear.

Steadying its skull, yellow turned to white, their flaming eyes lighting up with a dark green as they clutched their coworkers arm and tore it off.

White looked down at its empty sleeve hanging limply to its side while yellow pointed at them with their missing arm, the bouncing flames in its eye sockets indicating that they were laughing.

The flames in whites skull promptly erupted, smoke billowing out of them, as they tackled yellow to the ground.

Smoke and dust covered the ground as white and yellow punched and tore at each other, the latter using the former's arm to slap them in the face. Black rose stumbled forward, attempting to separate them only to be met with a flame shooting up and catching onto their new tie which instantly lit up and was reduced to ash.

Enraged at this insult to not only themselves but also high fashion Black leaped onto the two other skeletons. Red followed suit by elbow dropping all three and joining the pile as they all slapped, bit, hit, and spanked each other.

“. . . Alex, seriously” mom stated, “are you sure you don’t want new servants?”

“Naw” I answered, happily watching these boneheads wrestle, “these guys are perfect.”

Clapping my hands the hole began to bubble again, the bridge shaking even more, as a horse drawn carriage shot out of it like a bullet from the chamber and tore through the four skeletons who all fell to the ground in pieces.

The Carriage was a dark black color, large and round in shape, it looked like something a goth Cinderella would ride inorder to get to the ball and marry a guy she danced with once who only remembered her because he had a thing for feet. There was a bright gold trim on the sides that glowed brightly against the night sky. The wheels were also a gold color with human skulls adorned on the rims and green flames sparking up here and there.

 Attached to the carriage was a horse with pitch black fur with a tail and main glowing with bright green fire. It's onix black eyes surveyed its surroundings making sure there was no enemy nearby as it stomped the marble ground with its strong hooves, small flames lighting up under them as it did so.

“Horsey” Fiona yelled happily as she waved at my helpful stead.

“Hey there Mare,” I said, walking up to her, “how are you doing girl?”

As I reached out to give her a pet on the neck, Mare angrily recoiled and gave me a loud snort. 

“What? No, I didn’t forget about you.”

She neyad loudly, shaking her head from side to side.

“Of course I call you when I need a ride. You’re my horse.”

Stamping the ground, Mare continued to argue, angrily naying and shaking her main.

“Oh that is not fair! It is not my fault that you decided to wreck the neighbors lawn and eat their cat!”

She chattered her teeth and huffed again.

“Look if we had a stable I would absolutely keep you in the backyard but-.”

Mare interjected with a loud inhuman yell as she reared up on her hind legs.

“Oh you don’t bring my bike into this! He is a good boy!”

She landed and shook her head violently.

“Yes it’s a he!”

“Alex” mom said, the now reformed skeletons helping her and Fiona into the carriage, “I know you want her to stay at the house, but it’s not happening. Can we please go?”

“Yeah sure” I answered her.

As she entered the carriage I reached into my little pocket space and pulled out a nice orange carrot for Mare.

“Sorry girl, we’ll convince her somehow.”

She neighed understandingly before happily taking the root vegetable from my hands.

“To the stadium” I yelled at Red as he readied the reins, yellow sitting next to him with treats and a whip in hand. Black and White clung to the back, White still glaring at Yellow with murderous intent, as I swung myself into the inside of it.

As soon as the door was shut we were off, Yellow cracking their whip in the air as Red made sure Mare stayed on course. 

Unlike the black of the carriages outer shell, the seating was a velvet red with enough room to fit six people. The soft upholstery was comfortable and warm to the touch with cushions that made sure you could relax even during the bumpiest of rides.

Naturally, Fiona almost immediately fell asleep, her head resting comfortably on moms lap.

“Hey, she stayed awake longer than usual.”

“Honestly I’m surprised by that” mom said, brushing Fionas hair to the side, “she never gets enough sleep when we have to come up here. I wish she’d stay at home some times, it’s not healthy for a little girl to be up this early.”

“You know that would just cause gran to start whining.”

“If your grandmother really wants to see her she can suck it up and come visit the house.”

“Oh come now, you don’t expect her to live the disgraceful life of staying in a five bedroom, three bath, basement and attic house do you?”

“Well, in all fairness, she’d probably make the neighbors hate us more than they already do.”

We both chuckled a little at Grandmas expense, knowing she probably wouldn’t enjoy hearing this stuff in person. She can be kind of sensitive and natural disaster causing.

Leaning against the door I rested my head on  the window and watched as we rolled past the people walking along the bridge, none of them batting an eye at the carriage driven by four skeletons and drawn by a hell horse. In all fairness compared to the massive skyscrapers in the mountain, the rulers of the city control nature itself, and the fact we can all  breathe despite the altitude, probably making our little vihicall about as interesting as an ant carrying food ten times its size. A neat site but nothing mind blowing.

Granted, ants are pretty mind blowing if you put into perspective how they basically work to create a suitable environment for their colony with everyone having their assigned roles thus allowing them to work as fulfilling members of ant society. 

That being said, this type of government is very totalitarian all things considered so there must be a widespread outbreak of ant uprisings which most likely are quilled by the ants in black suits. You can say they’re not real, but we all know they’re out there.

“So” mom said, interrupting my deep and meaningful inner monologue about ants and ant related conspiracy, “should we talk about what’s been bothering you?”

I sighed and sat up in my seat.

“Oh you know, normal stuff.”

“Define normal for you?”

“Giant monsters, universal travel, blood sucking girlfriend who wants my socially awkward best friend to move into a dorm with her while she’s too scared to say no, oh and a new rpg came out that I am just dying to play.”

“Aw, is my little boy having girl trouble?”

“What can I say, I’m just a modern day Casanova. On a related note, my Italian is getting better.”

Mom rolled her eyes, a smile still on her face as she let out a chuckle.

“Well Giacomo, care to tell your loving mother about your, um, socially awkward blood sucking best girlfriend issue?”

“Blood sucking girlfriend and socially awkward best friend” I corrected, “also, one can summon horses.”

She blinked a bit then sighed.

“I really should have set you up on more play dates with normal kids when you were little.”

“Aw, but if you did that you wouldn’t have met Skyes mom.”

“I don’t mind Skye, reminds me of your dad, kind of. The blood sucking girlfriend is the one I have issues with.”

“Oh Clair isn’t that bad. Plus, if I remember right, you’re partially the one who arranged for me and her dating.”

Mom shrugged at my statement.

“It was either that or have her daddy demand your head on a spike. Now, talk.”

“Dang, knew you weren’t gonna let the issue go.”

I rubbed my neck, feeling a little awkward talking about my friends with my mom. She had more on her plate to deal with other than my personal drama. But, I guess I don’t feel that bad.

“Clairabell has been looking into her and Skye going to college together, and I’m pretty sure Skye doesn’t want to go. But, neither of them are talking about it so, yeah, not really sure what to do.”

Yep, even to me that sounds like a dumb problem that could be easily solved if we all just sat and talked it out. And, based on the look mom was giving me, she probably felt the same.

“Ok” she eventually said, “and in what way is that your problem?”

“Huh?”

“Alex, that has nothing to do with you. They’re both big girls, they can work out their problems.”

I blinked in surprise.

“Well, I mean, they’re my friends, so. . .”

“So what?”

“So, I want to help them.”

She shook her head disapprovingly at my response, her dark brown hair bouncing a little as she did.

“Alexander, I get that you love them, but their problems are not yours to solve, so you don’t need to worry about it.”

“I, I guess. But-”

“No buts.”

She narrowed her eyes a little, making it clear that this wasn’t a subject we were going to argue on.

“You have work, and your sister, and your own issues to deal with.”

I felt my stomach slowly drop more and more as she spoke and reminded me of how stupid my worries were.

She was right after all, Skye not telling Clairabell how she felt, and Clairabell not wanting to listen, those were not my problems.

But, still. . .

I went back to looking out the chariot window, watching as the pavement of the bridge slid by as we drove in silence.

Well, we did for a few minutes, then I felt mom poke me repeatedly on the cheek.

“Oi” she said with each poke, “oi, oi, oi!”

I smiled and looked up, finding my mom leaning forward with a bag of gold coins dangling from her fingertips.

She gave me a warm smile and dropped the coins into my lap.

“Quit pouting, you’re gonna make me feel like a bad mom.”

“Aw, you’re not a bad mom” I responded, opening the bag and eyeing the coin, “I’m just really good at making people feel guilty. This is chocolate isn’t it?”

“Boy, you get paid a fortune a year, you don’t need real gold.”

“I ain’t complaining.”

I smiled and started unwrapping a coin to enjoy the snack, before handing a few back to mom.

“Here” I said, dropping them into her hand, “Fiona loves these too.”

“Yeah, that’s why I got her her own bag. These are yours.”

“Then I guess we’ll call it an offering to a good mom.”

She let out an amused laugh.

“Gods, why is my youngest son so cheesy?”

“No idea” I told her, chomping down on the delectable coin, “I personally blame it on Television and video games for giving good moral lessons.”

She sighed, but still smiled.

“You are such a dork.

Mom went back to watching Fiona sleep and we rode into the city in silence for a bit.

“Honestly” she eventually said, “I’m glad you’re such a good kid, but it wouldn’t hurt you to worry about yourself more.”

“Yeah” I responded, understanding what she meant, if only a little bit.

I pulled out another chocolate coin and sat it in between my cupped pointer finger and thumb before flicking my thumb up and giving the coin a good flip and catching it in my palm.

“Hey, maybe I should act like the old man more?”

I gave mom a wide smile at this statement and she responded by rolling her eyes.

“Alex” she said, “if you start acting like the old man just remember that I dictate your living arrangements.”

“Aw” I teased, trying to lighten the tension, “not a fan of selfish people?”

“Being selfish is fine. He’s just a disrespectful asshole. Never cared for those.”

“If that were true you would have thrown me out years ago.”

“You’re just disrespectful. The assholeness is currently being debated.”

“Aw, that’s the nicest compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

“Oh shut up Alex.”

Despite her words she had a smile on her face.

Eventually, we pulled into the city.

The street lights illuminated our way as we walked through the busy streets filled with people of all races and sizes and other worldly species in togas. Despite how early it was the city was still bustling and busy as if it were early afternoon.

Shops filled with exautic items lined the streets next to fancy restaurants and stores filled with fancy clothes that normal people could never hope to own. As we went deeper in, the clothing people wore became more elaborate and extravagant almost as if they were trying to make themselves match the streets paved with literal gold.

“Did dad say they could use his gold?”

“No and I am still trying to get them to give it back. Honestly, their taste is just tacky.”

“I feel I need to point out that we decorate our house with bones and diamonds.”

“Alex, that is a theme. It might be tacky, but it makes sense. This is just a bunch of people showing off how rich they are. Besides, Pluton is in charge of decorating.”

“Way to blame your son for the way the house looks Ma.”

“I blame all my children for everything. Didn’t you figure that out already?”

“I was in denial.”

We joked around a little more as we eventually rode deeper into the city.

It was a nice summer morning even here, with birds of all kinds singing joyful tunes and plants you wouldn’t normally see together decorating the parks and sidewalks.

Mount Olympus, the rich neighborhood to end all rich neighborhoods. 

While we continued our stroll, I was content to rest against the side of the cart, daydreaming until we arrived at grandmas. At least, until, the chariot pulled to a sudden stop with a jerky motion and Mare let out a loud whine.

“Oi” Mom yelled, slapping the roof, “why’d we stop?”

In response Red poked his head in, by holding it in his hand and putting it through the open window.

His teeth chattered and he let out a gargling hiss to inform us of why we had stopped.

Mom sighed and slouched in her seat, Fiona still in her lap.

“Then just kill them.”

“Mom, no.”

“Alex, they started it.”

“Yeah but we can’t just murder all of our problems.”

“You sure” she said, hopefully jokingly, “the old man seems to solve a lot of his problems that way. Of course, it does make your fathers work stack up so I’m a little pissed about that.”

“How about I go deal with them?” I said, opening the door, “give daddy less paperwork?”

“Carefull, they might cause you to develop some humility.”

“No worries about that happening. I’ll be done in like, I don’t know, two, three minutes. Meet you at grandmas. Oh, I missed the step. . .”

She groaned with annoyance as her handsome, awesome, super smart son fell out of the carriage and onto the dirt of Olympus.

“Way to jump to the rescue there superman” she chimed.

I chuckled a little as I layed on the ground, before turning my head to the right and spotting the roadblocks that stood in Mares way.

“Hi” I happily said to the tall man wearing a dark blue tank top. He had a rather annoyed look on his soft face, with his ocean green eyes glaring at me and his large, muscular, arms crossed over his chest.

His dark blue hair was slicked back and had a slight gleam to it while a few scales decorated his broad shoulders and a gold belt encrusted with gems of all shapes and sizes held his gray and white camouflage pants up.

By his side were two rather younger men who looked to be either twins or clones of each other. My personal experience has told me to bet on the latter, but you can never be too sure.

They both wore back basketball shorts and red shirts to go along with their messy strawberry blonde hair. Only way to tell that they weren’t completely identical were their eyes; both of which glowed unatrually like the brights of a car, but while the one on the left had shining baby blues, the gent on the left glared at me with dark red irises. Not blood red, more like a wine red.

Just like with the big bad in the middle, I noticed a few fish-like scales running along their necks and half way down their arms. 

“Yo” the blue hair in the middle yelled at me, “are you going to get off the ground or what?”

“Naw” I responded, still sprawled on the ground, “the road feels good on my back.”

“Get off the ground Alex” Mom demanded from the carriage.

“So what can I do for you?” I asked while standing up, “directions, a ride maybe?”

“All we require is your head on a spike” the blue haired one responded. He took a boxer's pose and silver metal slowly started molding around his hands, appearing from nowhere I could see, until he was wearing two silver gauntlets with spiked knuckles.

“Sorry, can’t exactly do that seeing how I currently need my head. Mind me asking why you would want it though mate?”

“Hey” red eyes shouted, “he ain’t your mate guy!”

“Well then I ain’t your guy friend!”

“He ain’t your friend buddy,” the blue eyed one shouted at me.

“Well then I’m not his buddy mate!”

“He’s not your mate guy!”

“Then I’m not his guy friend!”

“I’m leaving now” mom stated, closing the carriage door, “meet us at grandmas okay?”

“Ok mom” I responded, waving them off.

“I’m not your mom dude” Blue eyes shouted.

“He’s not your dude pal” Red eyes shouted back.

“Seth, Joey” blue hair said, his head in his hand, “please stop.”

The three stepped out of the way, blue hair forcing Seth and Joey to bow their heads as mom passed in the sable steed drawn carriage before they took their spots in front of me again.

“Now, draw your weapon!”

Blue hair took his stance once more, their eyes narrowed at me.

“. . .Why?”

“Be-because I’m challenging you.”

“Ok but why are you challenging me?”

“Because!”

“Because why?”

“Because, shut up, draw your blade!”

“Blade as in vampire character?”

“Vampire? Your sword!”

“But I don’t use a sword.”

“Then your spear!”

“I don’t wanna draw my spear, honestly, I’m not the best artest.”

Blue hair looked ready to leap at me and scream at the top of their lungs while strangling my handsome neck.

I’m having a lot of fun.

He takes a deep breath and slowly calms down.

“Okay” they said, “please, please, get any weapons you might own, hold it in your hands, and fight me with them.”

“Ohhh! Ok, why didn’t you just say so?”

I could literally hear the last straw on blue hairs, patients breaking as they once more took a boxers pose, their eyes narrowed at me.

“My name is Markis, Muto, Reads, son of Poesidon and Pirate queen of the Caribbean Martha Reads!”

Yep, saw that one coming.

Guess good ol uncky Poesidon is still upset that I stabbed him in the face for unspecified reasons oh so long ago (last Tuesday).

“Alright Mark ma boy” I told him holding my arms up to the sky, “guess we can have a quick play date.”

Slowly, a leather strap materialized on my right arm and a thunderous roar echoed out as dark clouds gathered above us. 

Splitting through the black clouds a golden shield slammed into my arm and attached to the leather strap with a click.

I felt electricity flow out of my body and into the metal of my golden shield that was the size of my body, the aegis.

“My name’s Zee” I told Mark, adjusting aegis to be in front of me, “bastard of Zeus, and. . .”

I held my other hand towards the ground, palm opened, feeling the dirt beneath give way.

In a flash a black and gold two pronged spear emerged and pushed against my palm as I wrapped my fingers around it.

Casually, I pointed my bident at Mark to show him I was ready.

“Son of Hades.”

[ren1327]

Pretty Boy Ch.2

“Jiiiiiiii~!”

Kenji got to his knees as a tiny two year old girl with her curly black hair in two high pigtails crashed into him, grinning and laughing excitedly.

“Hey, Carmen!” He said, lifting her up and throwing her up as he stood, catching her effortlessly. She squealed happily and hugged him around the neck.

“Ji!” She yelled in his ear and he tickled her.

“What’s up, KK?” Her nanny, or manny, Dave said.

“Nothing much. Saw a new face.”

“Aw, come on, Man. That last girl was like, a super loud crier.” Dave said. “Why not be single for a bit?”

“And deny the world this?” He asked, framing his face.

“Well, look alive. Your Pops did not look happy.” Dave said, taking Carmen, who was sucking her thumb.

“Oh boy, must the time of the week that ends in ‘day’.” Kenji said with a huff, kissing Carmen’s cheek and handing her to the man.

“He was asking me if you were involved with someone.” Dave grimaced.

“Why?”

Dave shrugged and took the little girl to her back yard playground.

Kenji looked around his mansion. It was grand and decorated with fine art and furniture bolted down incase Carmen played around it. He grew up in white and stark environment he had to tip toe around. Now it was bathed in warm reds and blushy pinks with white decorations and vases to keep the space open and balanced.

He remembered how scared he was to dirty spaces and see the maids glare down at him, threatening to tell his father. They never told Kosei about the good things he did.

Then, at age five, his father had dressed him a suit and told him he was getting married that night. He had met her, a short chubby Latina woman with big green eyes and a heart shaped face famed by deep chocolate brown curls.

Candy had been shocked and openly yelled at Kosei in the hall. His father looked shocked when she scooped up Kenji, still in her expensive wedding dress and sat him on her lap the rest of the night. She fed him from her own plate, asking him about things he liked. She didn’t frown when he got messy, but instead laughed and wiped his face herself. He saw his father watch them in wonder, as if such actions were foreign to him.

By the way they never met or spoke of his grandparents, perhaps.

The following weeks with his new mother were the biggest transformation of his life.

The old staff were removed and new, younger (and nicer) staff brought in. They smiled politely at him, offered him snacks and drinks, and even played with him when Candy was out or had to accompany his father. Dave and Roxy were his favorites. His nanny and body guard always liked being around him.

Candy would scoop him up when she got home. She would hug him, kiss his head, cook for him badly, take him with her on shopping trips or out for lunch. He had never had a mother figure and loved her as much as someone could love a parent.

Then it all stopped.

He was told she had an accident and laid in bed for months. He could hear her sobbing and wailing almost every night. His father was crushed and always seemed angry, and Kenji had no idea why.

“She lost it.” A maid had whispered to her co-worker. “That was the whole reason they got married.”

“I wonder if they’ll stay together.” The other said. “I hope so.”

Roxy had heard them and went to lecture them, giving Kenji the moment he needed to sprint on his little legs to Candy.

Kenji had ran into his parent’s room, hearing his father’s angry shouts from his office as he crawled up the bed and clutched Candy’s arm tight, begging her not to leave him.

Her red rimmed eyes had widened, and she sat up as Kosei barged in to get Kenji. She held out a hand and he stopped. Candy wiped his tears away and calmed her husband, holding him tight against her chest.

As Kenji sobbed into her chest, he felt his father hug both of them.

And if he felt warm tears on the top of his head, he never mentioned it.

Years passed and his father dove into his work while Candy went to college and started her new business. They had dinner together a few nights a week and Kenji desperately wanted what they had; the soft touches, softer looks, kisses in the corner and loving words.

So, he dated. And dated. And dated.

He soon got a reputation as a playboy, much to his father’s annoyance.

So maybe he dated some of his business partner’s kids.

It never bothered his father in the grand scheme of things.

Even when he had told him he was dating a boy, his father paused for a moment before patting his back and telling him to be safe.

He walked to his father’s office and knocked twice before walking in, seeing his father behind his desk with Candy in one of the plush seats in front of the dark wooden desk. She smiled at him, her eyes worried.

“Dad? Mom?” He asked. “What’s going on.”

 *

 Kosei Kon looked at his son.

His first born who he had blamed for the death of his first wife. Who he had neglected up to when he got a call from an young Puerto Rican shop clerk. And when he learned he was going to have another child, he married her as soon as possible. Then she was told about Kenji and focused on him.

Kosei watched her be more of a parent in one night then he had been in the first six years of his life.

And it hurt.

Then they lost the baby and Kenji sobbed as if Candy would leave them.

From that moment on, they became a family.

He still was busy most days and nights, but took time to see and talk to his son. He learned much about him, but still feared the same parental intimacy Candy had built with him.

And now he had hurt him again.

He remembered the night ten years ago after a day of meditating and looking over the contracts.

Tokyo, in his hotel room with one of his best friends, Simon Masrani.

They had drinks together and talked about anything and everything over three bottles of wine.

“My son…” Simon had sobbed suddenly. “He’s so damn cute, Kosei! He bumped into a chair and told it sorry!”

He took another gulp of the warm spiced wine before taking out his phone and pulling up a picture of the young, skinny brown haired child hugging a woman who looked exactly like him. Their hands were cupped to make a lopsided heart at the camera with the text ‘Miss you!’.

Simon stared at it for a moment.

“I love him so much!” He cooed, pressing a warm bearded cheek to the phone.

“Children are a blessing. My son is gaining more romantic attention among his classmates.” Kosei said, chest puffing with pride.

“He’s dating?! He’s only thirteen, yes?” Simon had asked, refilling his glass.

“Yes. I don’t know how to calm his wild heart.” Kosei said. “But I cannot cage him, lest he fight back and act more reckless.”

“I bet my Ben would like him.” Simon said.

Kosei gave him a look.

“I found him kissing a classmate, or the other way around. It wasn’t serious, but he told me he liked boys and asked…Oh, Kosei. He asked if I still wanted to be his father.” He said, tears falling again.

“And you said?”

“That I loved who I wanted, how I wanted. He should love whoever makes him happy.” He said, eyes serious. “My son should have anything that makes him happy.”

“Agreed.” Kosei said. “I only wish I could help Kenji like that. Not like my parents did. Marrying me to a complete stranger for money and status. Yumiko was a good woman, but there was no love in our home…”

“Wait.” Simon said. “What if we…What if our boys married?!”

“Simon?”

“Think about it!” Simon said. “Our sons get to know each other and then fall in love and marry!”

He stood and swayed, Kosei placing a hand on the small of his back to hold him up. Simon laughed and kept talking.

“We would do it right! Let them get to know each other and fall in love naturally! Make sure they like each other, and it develops! Like a flower.”

Kosei laughed. “Sure.” He said sarcastically.

“Let’s get it in writing!” Simon said as Kosei took another drink.

 *

 “Marriage contract?!” Kenji yelled.

“I am sorry, my son.” Kosei said. “We will work to get it nulled. But I’d really like for you to at least meet Simon’s son.”

“Dad…You didn’t like your first marriage.” Kenji said, standing.

“I know. I know.” Kosei said and stood to hold his son’s shoulders. “However, I think it would be best to get to know him at least. If both of you prefer not to marry, perhaps you can find friendship.”

“You really want me to go through with this?”

“I want you to try at least.” Kosei said. “Before the marriage date comes.”

Kenji looked at the ground, then nodded.

“Okay. But…how? When?”

“There’s a party this weekend at Simon’s home for Benjamin Lockwood. I would like you to attend with Candy and I. Carmen will be staying with her grandparents. What we discussed cannot leave this room, Kenji.” Kosei said.

Candy nodded. “We don’t need a fuss. And we can talk more with Simon on what to do from there.”

She stood and hugged Kenji.

 *

 “A what?!” Brooklynn yelled from her kitchen, running out with three cans of soda.

Brooklynn took a pen out from its place in her bun, taking out a notebook. “Tell me everything!”

“I can’t.” Kenji said. “Not if it’s going to be your next exclusive!”

“Why?” Brooklynn whined. “This is so interesting. Is it a culture thing? Like from those mangas?”

“First of all, because I don’t want my Dad or the other family to get any bad publicity. Two, it was more like two best friends having a bad drunken idea. And three, I thought you hated shojo manga.”

“Some are…cute.” She said.

Kenji blew out the side of his mouth and sank heavily on her sofa.

“I don’t even know who this kid is.” He said.

“I’m not gonna lie, not a lot of people know about Masrani’s wife and stepson. It’s like he blacked out all their information.” Brooklynn said. “And I’ve looked for years!”

She looked up and pouted. “Kenji…”

“No. My mom and Dad said not to blab, so I’m not telling you more than this.”

She huffed and sat on the sofa next to her boyfriend.

“So does this mean Kenji the heart breaker is done?” Darius asked.

Kenji shrugged. “I don’t know. I love my Dad, but I won’t marry someone just to make him happy. I want to find the one!”

“Too bad you looked mostly at pretty social climbers and gold diggers looking to get their fifteen minutes. Face it, Kenji. This might be the best option at this point.” Brooklynn said.

“And you are?”

“Your friends, you jerk!” Brooklynn yelled. “I have my own building empire and my hot smarty-pants boyfriend is working under the most famous paleontologist!”

“Aw, you think I’m smart?” Darius asked with a grin.

Brooklynn sighed. “I wish we could go with you to Masrani’s party.”

Darius hummed. “Well, there’s going to be a pop up refreshment bar in the garden area for younger guests. Sammy’s going to be manning it and could use some help.”

Brooklynn squealed as Kenji smiled, wondering if that cute green eyed barista would be there.

[shannygoatgruff]

Talk to Me

Stay Safe, Stay Home Writing Challenge - Prompt #16 (Call me if you need anything)

Genre: Romance

Pairing: Modern Ivar x OC

Warning: Language, sexual innuendo, insecurity

Rating: M

Chapter 1 || Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Sitting in Terminal 19, Ivar wasn’t sure how he was going to make it through this entire vacation without killing Hvitserk. 

From the car to their current spot, they argued, non-stop. First, Ivar didn’t want Hvitserk's with his leg braces through airport security. Then, they argued because Hvitserk wanted Ivar to use a wheelchair because it was faster. But, Ivar didn’t want to use a wheelchair; he could walk. He had his braces had brought both of his forearm crutches. It would take him a bit longer, but he could get to the terminal on his own. After calling Ivar a spoiled dick-wad, Hvitserk then insisted that they use the airport shuttle service to get to the terminal. He thought it was only fair since he was the one that had to lug around their carry-on bags. Ivar just called Hvitserk a lazy asshole as he listened to his brother curse at him as they walked to the terminal. 

As soon as they sat down Hvitserk wanted to get food. All Ivar did was ask why they didn’t stop on their way to the terminal? He was hungry, too, but now he was tired and needed to rest. This particular disagreement turned into an actual slap boxing match where Hvitserk got the last sucker punch in on Ivar’s bicep and ran away from where they were sitting.

Telling his older brother that he wished he'd get herpes, Ivar pulled out his vibrating phone. “Hallo, for Ivar.”

Just hearing his deep, yet gentle voice with that Norse accent, did something to her every time. She couldn’t tell Norweigan from Swedish from Icelandic from Dutch – it was all Scandinavian to her. The accent was just sexy as hell. “Hey.” Cash bit her lip, as she folded her legs under her on the floor at the Munich International Airport. “I made it to Munich. My next flight leaves in 2 hours.”  

“I’m sorry,” Ivar put his hand over his phone and spoke in Norweigan to Hvitserk before drawing back his fist in order to hit his brother if he didn’t get away from him. “Did you have a good flight?” He was relieved that she did. “I just made it to the airport. My flight is leaving in about 1 hour. It should take me about 2 hour, 20 minutes to reach Vienna.”   

“So, we’re going to see each other in a few hours, huh?” Cash could feel her stomach drop at the thought. Part of her wanted to go up to that ticket counter and change her return flight ticket. She wanted to hop on the first thing heading back to Baltimore. But another part of her, the part that wanted to see if this thing, whatever it was, could really be something.  

Ubbe is right. I have to tell her.  “Yeah, just a few hours. Do you know what time you want to meet tonight? Our hotels are just a few streets away.”  

“Um, I don’t have any idea how long it will take me to get through Customs when I get to Vienna.” She picked at the lent on her PINK sweatpants and thought. “Plus, I’ve been traveling overnight and haven’t slept at all. I’m exhausted – I may try to take a quick nap.”

“Okay.” Ivar was a little disappointed because he wanted to see her right away, but it at least bought him a little time. “But, you know if you sleep when you get in, you will never adjust to the local time. It is best to stay awake through it all. Besides, I make a really comfy pillow.” He held his breath for a second, trying to find the words to tell her about his condition. Instead, different words came tumbling out of his mouth, “I cannot wait to see your face.”

She chuckled nervously at that statement. Oh, that. Did he have to bring that up again? The last time they talked about exchanging photos, she ended up sending him a bunch of avatars. It wasn’t that she was afraid to show him what she looked like, but what if her mother was right and he ended up being some sort of homicidal maniac? She didn’t want to give him a photo to post on the wall of his creepy den of debauchery to jerk off to.  

What if he didn't like the things about her that she was already insecure about? She was short – only 5’3” and skinny. No matter what she tried, she couldn’t gain weight where it counted. She wasn’t sure what happened but the chests, hips, and butts that all of the women on her mother’s side of the family were blessed with, those genes skipped her completely. Her neck was too thin and it made her head look big. And though she loved her curly hair, it was big, too. Not that easily tamed curly hair that looked good on commercials, either. We’re talking totally unruly big curls on a short, skinny girl, with a big head, big curly hair. 

There were probably only like 3 black people in all of Norway, to begin with. What if Ivar didn’t appreciate all of her melanin? She was sure he knew she was black from her avatar, but they had never really talked about their races or ethnicities before. “I still don’t know what you look either. But, I think it makes meeting a complete stranger in a different country much more romantic when you don’t know who you’re looking for, don’t you?”

Over the last six months, he had been the one reluctantly to video chat with her. He was so afraid that she would see his braces or crutches. It was just better if they kept it to calls and messages. Plus, there was something really exciting about getting to know her and having her like him without the pity. God knows he had enough pity dates courtesy of his older brothers. “Not so much for me. I’m thinking, maybe we should exchange photos now.” He looked over his shoulder to make sure Hvitserk wasn’t nearby. “I want to look at you while I am on the plane.” 

This was only ever supposed to be an online friendship. All Cash did was reply to a comment he’d left on a YouTube vlog they both subscribed to. Somehow that turned into them emailing and chatting. Then that turned into texting and talking on the phone, and late nights and giggling in the dark. The next thing she knew, six months later, she was flying to Vienna to meet him. “Does it make sense that I’m nervous for you to see me?”

 “Why? I already think you are beautiful.” He said quietly.

Oh lord, I’m gonna fuck this boy.  She rubbed her brows and shook her head at the thought. Cash had tried so hard not to get caught up, but there was such sincerity in his voice. “Okay. I’m going to send you three pictures. No matter what you think, don’t say anything. That way, if I’m not your type, then there are no hard feelings. We can just have a great time and hang out as friends.”

“You know that is not going to happen. You are so much more than my friend." He hoped he could still be this smooth in person, "But, I’ll play along. I will send you some pictures too and you will not comment, either.”

“Okay, I’ll call you back in a few minutes. I have to look through my phone to find somewhere I don’t look crazy.”  

It took Ivar about 30 seconds to choose the pictures to send to her. Most of them were from the chest up or showed him sitting, so he was pretty confident that she wouldn't notice his affliction. He hit the send button and anxiously awaited her pictures in return.

When her phone pinged she closed her eyes. Did she want to open them?  Okay, he is not going to look like Eric Northman, so don’t be disappointed.  Why she had it in her mind that he was going to be some 6’6” blond vampire-Adonis like Alexander Skarsgård, was beyond her. 

But, didn’t all Scandinavian men have that look to them? Sexy, long, lanky, blonds, with sad blue eyes that were slightly darker around the sockets and looked like they moonlighted as vampires. That’s what secretly hoped that Ivar looked like. A sexy blond vampire – she could be Tara and he could Eric…Girl, get yourself together. This is not True Blood.  She shouldn’t have binge-watched the show on her flight.

When she opened her eyes, her breath caught in her throat. He didn’t look like Alexander Skarsgård, but this tasty morsel here… 

Wait, what was she thinking? The only thing she could think to do was forward the pictures to her bestie, Glenn, with the following message:

Biiiiitch...Call Catfish immediately!  This can’t be Ivar!!!!!

She didn’t care that it was 4am back home.  This was an emergency.

 As she waited for Glenn to respond, she found herself almost regretting having sent him real pictures of herself. Now he knew what she looked like. If he was catfishing her, he was going to have a field day. But, if he wasn’t, then he was going to be mighty disappointed.  

Their beauty ratios didn’t match. She had this theory on the attractiveness of couples and had broken them down into ratios of beauty: high:high; low:low; high:low; equally yoked. The only couples that could stand the test of time were those that were equally yoked. 

Two extremely beautiful people were destined to fail, (ie. Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt.) One would think that Nick & Priyanka Jonas would have taken the hint from their former beautiful couple predecessors. Cash gave them a good 10 years before they would crash and burn. They were just too pretty. Mirrors were destined to turn themselves inside out when they walked by. The world just wasn’t ready for all that sexy. 

On the flip side of that coin, two extremely unattractive people wouldn’t last long, either. Take her cousin Maq and his wife Crystal, for example. One day, they would both wake up and be sickened, because they would take a good look at one another and realize that might doom the world by having a baby. If they had a child with their collective genes, the planets might malign...stars might blink out of existence. It could be the end of the world as Cash knew it.

Then you had the high:low ratio couples. Those were the people where one person was really attractive and the other was, not so much…a la Jay-Z and Beyoncé. Yeah, they made cute kids, but Cash was sure one of them (and she was sure it wasn’t Beyoncé) probably always felt like the ugly duckling in that relationship.

If this was truly Ivar, they weren’t equally yoked. She wasn’t as jaw-droppingly sexy as he was. Granted, she thought she was pretty damn cute, but not like him. She wouldn’t put them on them Jay-Z: Beyoncé scale, but the scales of beauty were slightly tipped in his favor.  

What the fuck was she thinking? Here she had just flown to another continent to meet a guy she didn’t know from Adam, only to be set up by him pretending to be someone else. There was no way on God’s green earth that this sexy specimen of man was the guy she had been talking to for the last six months. If it was, he either had a girlfriend, 2 wives in 3 countries, 35 children, was a sadist, serial killer, drunk, drug addict, or he was on the run from Interpol, or all of the above. Cash’s life didn’t work that way.   

Men like him didn’t happen to her. Not without all the fine print. 

When Ivar’s phone chimed, he couldn’t hit the icon fast enough to see the photos Cash had sent him. He had wondered for so long what she looked like, no matter what it was she was going to be beautiful. He was sure of it. Even if Hvitserk liked to joke that she was probably looked like Floki in drag.

“What is that dumb look on your face?” Hvitserk handed Ivar his sandwich wrap and coffee, before sitting down to peel back the wrapper on his own food. He eyed his brother suspiciously when he shook his head.

Without making a sound, he snatched the phone out of the younger man’s hand and looked at the screen. “Wow…who is…Is this who you’re going to meet?” Hvitserk’s smile was huge and his chest swelled with pride for his little brother. “Well done,” his voice raising an octave in his approval. He couldn’t resist nudging Ivar with his elbow a few times. “You are finally gonna get laid,” he laughed, taking a big bite of his wrap ignoring the bits of lettuce falling on his lap.

Why was Hvitserk on this trip? More importantly, why couldn’t Ivar have been born an only child? There was no way he was going to get to know Cash better or get any alone time with her with him around. Ivar thought about killing him, but then he would have to explain it to his remaining brothers at home. “I have had sex before, Hvitserk.”

“Yeah, but if you haven’t done it in over 3 years, I think you go back to being a virgin,” Hvitserk responded with a mouth full of food. “I think I read that somewhere.” Hvitserk shook his wrap in Ivar’s direction, as he tried to recall the statistics.  

Hvitserk wasn’t going to go into what Ubbe had told him about Ivar’s ill-fated sex life. Ivar’s confession to Ubbe was supposed to be in confidence. But of course with Ubbe and Hvitserk being best friends, naturally, Ubbe shared their youngest brother’s woes, and then Hvitserk told Björn. So now they all knew about Ivar’s impotence.

Poor Ivar, they’d all thought. They all knew that when he tried to lose his virginity as a teenager, he was too nervous to "rise to the occasion". So, when the moment did finally happen, with his last girlfriend that they all lovingly (hated) referred to as, ‘that stuck up bitch’ Freydis, he was unable to reach a climax. And what did his ever so beautiful and loving (bitch) girlfriend, Freydis, do to try to help him in his situation? She stopped having sex with him, that’s what.  

Ivar had begged Ubbe to take him to the urologist, fearing that his disease was the cause of him not being able to sæd, or whatever the term was for it in English. But, the doctor told him that stress and anxiety were most likely the causes of his impotence and he needed to relax – maybe consider seeing a therapist. But, he wasn’t crazy – he didn’t need a shrink.  

What he needed was to get rid of his mounting case of blue balls that had him on edge 24/7.

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[alistairmoonshine]

My Best Was Not Good Enough

TITLE:  My Best Was Not Good Enough

AUTHOR/ARTIST: @alistairmoonshine

PROMPT DAY #: Day #4 Hurt/comfort

SUMMARY: "If Life could give me one blessing it would be to take you out of it," Those words would ring through Jaskier's mind for over a year as he tried to learn and deal with a life away from Geralt.

WORD COUNT (if applicable): 9316

BOOKS/NETFLIX/2002 SHOW/VIDEO GAME: Netflix

TRIGGERS/WARNINGS: Jaskier gets drunk, he kinda almost dies? Not really sure if that would be triggering or anything. Also this is 19 pages so it isn’t short

RATING: E

ADDITIONAL NOTES: @geraskierweek

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands,” those words echoed through Jaskier’s mind as he felt himself tear up as he tried to choke back the sobs. He sniffed and fidgetted,

“Yes, well I’ll… I’ll get the rest of the story from someone else,” Jaskier murmured back and gave one last look at Geralt before he was turning and walking away and down the path. Once out of sight, Jaskier felt his body wrack with sobs and he fell to his knees crying in loud choking sobs. He cried so hard he felt bile rise and he vomited onto the ground as his body wretched loudly.

How could this have happened? 22 years… 22 fucking years he spent following Geralt in the most dangerous of places. 22 years of singing the praises of a man who was so unlovable and yet he had tried to change the view of every single person on the continent. Granted, that didn’t always happen but he had noticed the changes over the years. People were less likely to kick Geralt out of town. Sometimes they came to him willingly with problems. Maybe not ones he could always fix but they sure came to him. All because Jaskier sang Geralt's praises.

What did Geralt do to thank him? He yelled at him and made Jaskier feel as if he was nothing but a burden on Geralt. First, the man had said he was a horrible traveling companion and now this? It was almost too much. At that thought, Jaskier stood and took a deep breath as he tried to tamp down any feelings of remorse. No, only anger would blaze within his heart now. Not after what Geralt had done. Oh no…

Geralt had heard the sobs and the retching but he didn’t move from his spot. It was too painful to have Jaskier near. He cared for the bard and had always done so, but it was better if they were separated. Witchers don’t make emotional connections. That was what he was taught and he had made one with Jaskier even if it was only friendship. Geralt cocked his head when he heard the retching stop and the sound of Jaskier stumbling to his feet as he sighed and sniffed up the last of his tears. That made Geralt relax slightly, ‘Good,’ he thought to himself. ‘Now he can move on from this,’ that was all what Geralt wanted of course. For Jaskier to move on and live a happy normal life. Not one full of heartache and pain. Not one where you didn’t know if you would eat or sleep in a comfy bed. Jaskier deserved oh so much more than a witcher’s life could give him.

~ ~ ~

A year had passed and Geralt had finally found Ciri. They were on their way to the broken down ruins of Kaer Morhen. It would have to do if Geralt was going to train Ciri to become just like him. She was young, and impressionable but also fierce and her scream seemed to wrack anyone within a mile radius. Thankfully, he had only experienced that scream once in the six months they had been together.

“Are we almost there yet?” Her trill of a voice rung out on the large gelding she rode next to Geralt who grunted lightly and looked towards her,

“Almost.” He said softly as he patted Roach gently on the nethers. “A week’s more ride. I got word to Vesemir and he will be there to meet us,” Geralt stated and Ciri groaned ever so loudly as she leaned against the black horse.

“A week? You know we would have made it a lot sooner if you would have just followed a straight and narrow path there. You keep weaving us in the forests and small back waters towns to kill imaginary beasts.”

“They aren’t always imaginary. I killed two werewolves and a griffin within the last month,” he said as he picked up the coin pouch and shook it at her lightly, “you wouldn’t be eating or have new clothes if it wasn’t for me killing,”

“You could do for some new clothes,” she replied snottily as she turned away from him and stiffened up. Geralt rolled his eyes again at her and kicked Roach closer before he grabbed her reins and pulled the gelding so they were face to face,

“Take notes. If you are to defeat Nilfgaard and come back as the rightful queen of Cintra you will be doing exactly what I am doing,” he hissed lightly, “you will become strong, your magic will be honed in and you will learn to control it much better. Cirilla you are a powerful and fierce little girl. You just lack the common skills. Calanthe can take most of that blame but we will right it, got it?” Ciri sneered and kicked to try and get away as she made a face at Geralt,

“Don’t take my grandmother’s name in vain you… you…” She didn’t know what to say so she huffed and turned away from Geralt who let go with a sigh.

“Don’t come crawling into my bedroll when you are freezing at night then,” though his words held no malice or truth. He actually loved having the small 13 year old curled against his chest and sometimes she would wrap her hand around his shirt or knot it in locks of silver for a bit of comfort as they slept and huddled close to keep warm. 13 was the age of marriage but Geralt did not see Ciri in that way at all. No, this was his adopted daughter almost.

She was young, and innocent and Geralt had 90 years on her. So, he would comfort the young teen and try to teach her the best that he could. Even if it was only for a little bit after all.

~ ~ ~

The year was a blur to Jaskier. He spent most of his time drunk off his ass and singing bawdy tunes in lively taverns. The man was bedding anything and anyone he possibly could get his hands on. Sometimes that meant a romp in a nice bed or against a wall in an alleyway. Jaskier didn’t care. Why would he? He was 41 years old and his whole life was spent following an ungrateful man who only wanted him out of his life. So, of course Jaskier was out of the witcher’s life now; for good.

“‘Ey! Oi!” Someone called as Jaskier strummed his lute singing about some fair maden, “you there troubadour sing that one about that witcher an’ the coin!” Someone called and Jaskier made a face at the drunk man as he slowed his strumming,

“I’m sorry I don’t sing that one anymore. There are plenty of bards who are still singing the praises of the white wolf. I am not one of them!” He said as he went back to strumming loudly and humming as he did so. He felt the first smack of something and looked down groaning at seeing the bread. It had been the man requesting he sing toss a coin to your witcher and he glared as another piece hit him, “oi fuck off!” He screamed and dropped the lute. It clang and he cursed himself. It was the beautiful lute Filavandrel had bequeathed to him on his first adventure with Geralt. Hell, it was the lute he actually composed toss a coin to your witcher on!

“Toss a coin toss a coin!” Shouts started and he groaned and started up the very familiar yet heart wrenching melody.

“When a humble bard… Graced a ride along with Geralt of Rivia… Along came this… Song…” He crooned and the crowd quieted. He got back into the groove and started to sing loudly as he danced along the floor. Soon, everyone was laughing and singing along with the chorus and throwing coins at the bard who would gladly collect those at the end of this song. Then, maybe he could drown himself into some more liquor and women? Who knew what the night would bring him!

Once the song ended, he quickly collected the coin and filled his purse up before he put his lute away and settled at a chair, “wine!” He called and there was a loud whoop as the barmaid quickly brought him the wine. He grinned with his ever charming smile and leaned forward, “thank you,” he murmured and placed an extra coin in her hand as he looked up at her with wide blue eyes. She turned bright red and giggled faintly. The girl was probably half his age but what did he care? He didn’t look anywhere near 41 (no one could figure that out either) and on top of that, he was handsome if he said so himself.

She skittered off as he sat back with the glass and took a long swig of it as he sighed. The warmth of the red wine tingled down his chest and into his stomach. Oh it would not take long for him to get drunk off of this. Maybe he could seduce that pretty little barmaid into his bed?

Jaskier pushed the long grown out locks away from his face. The mousy brown hair almost curly at his cheeks. It was a lot longer than he liked but he had no need nor want to cut his hair. In fact, his own face now matched his chest. It was covered in a thick layer of curly dark brown hair. He hadn’t ever let himself become unshaven and yet here he was looking rugged and dark not the baby faced troubadour that had followed Geralt to the end of the world and back again.

Jaskier had put on a bit of weight as well. Not much, just from all the alcohol he consumed on a daily basis had given him that gut. He didn’t care, why would he? People still fell at his feet to fuck and be fucked by the great Jaskier! Even without Geralt, he still was able to bed just about anyone and it wasn’t often he was threatened with death. That was a nice change. He literally could walk in to a town and fuck anyone without anyone so much as batting an eye; if he was careful that was. Can’t go fucking the alderman’s wife after all. Jaskier snickered at that idea and held up his empty mug for more.

The beautiful barmaid was quick to refill and he put another coin in her hand and let his fingers linger. She was a bright red and she grinned at him shyly, “I have a room. Maybe we could… get to know each other better? I will gladly serenade you with any song you wish my love,” he almost purred and she giggled even louder,

“Oh… oh that does sound amazing. My shift ends in a few hours. Maybe then?” Jaskier hummed and leaned forward again his breath ghosting over an ear,

“Room 206.” he said calmly as he sat back and she flounced off again as he drank his wine and adjusted what was growing in his pants. Oh, tonight was going to be quite fun after all.

~ ~ ~

Geralt woke to a piercing scream and sat up from the camp they had made. Ciri lay next to him but had screamed herself awake. This was quite normal and he sighed as he gathered the teen up and pulled her into his bedroom. “Shh… Sh…” He wasn’t the best at comforting but she didn’t seem to care. Hands dug into his shirt and twisted frantically as she tried to find purchase of some sort,

“I saw him.. The man with the bird hat,” she admitted softly and sniffled, “he killed you and he, he took me!” She cried as her body shook.

“He isn’t here,” Geralt stated bluntly as he rubbed his rough and calloused hands along her face and cheeks and up into her scalp lightly scratching and rubbing to try and calm the frantic child down, “no one can hurt you. Roach is on watch,” he nodded to the mare who just sighed and huffed at them as she paced tied to her spot. “Do you want to sleep with me?” He asked and Ciri gave a light nod as she settled down with Geralt who slowly leaned back and let her lay upon his chest.

Her breathing slowly went shallow out and she was fast asleep again. Geralt was wide awake though, his eyes wide as he looked up at the top of the tent; listening to the horses breath and the way Ciri murmured in her sleep as she wrung his shirt between rather strong fingers. He smiled and rubbed down her lower back in comforting circles as he too fell back into a deep sleep.

~ ~ ~

The next morning, neither talked about the nightmares or dreams. Neither talked about Ciri almost begging to sleep in Geralt’s bedroll as if she was a little girl. Geralt would never deny her nor would he ever bring it up to embarrass her. She had been through so much in a years time that it would not be fair to her. “We will be stopping at the next town,” he explained to her as they finished packing and mounting up onto their horses, “they may have a contract and we can actually have a bath and eat a proper meal yeah?” Ciri nodded,

“Mmm, anything besides rabbit and venison,” she said with a happy nod as they trotted along the woods. Geralt just gave her a light smile as he followed right next to her.

“Come on Roach,” he said quietly to the horse who neighed in response as he rubbed her side gently. Ciri smiled at him and silently sped up knowing Geralt would follow whatever pace she kept.

It was the end of the day when they finally entered the small and quaint town. People went silent when they saw the golden eyed witcher and the girl with the piercing green eyes and almost white blond hair as she rode proudly on her horse as if she was already a queen. Geralt loved that the most about her. She had no fear nor did she show any weakness. She truly was Queen Calanthe’s grandchild.

They stopped in front of the one inn, and he got down helping Ciri off her own horse. He left her standing in front of the inn with their bags as he went to stable the two horses. He paid a few coins to the stable hand to make sure they got a good rub down before he came back and picked up one. Ciri grabbed the other.

Geralt opened the door to the inn and felt the silence drop over them as if it was a blanket. He cleared his throat and nodded to the bar and Ciri nodded as she went to go to the bar and cheerily asked for a meal and some ale for Geralt. Geralt searched and soon found a dark corner and settled knowing Ciri would find him shortly. She came back holding two large bowls looking quite proud of herself.

“They will be bringing you ale soon and milk for me!” She said happily as she sat the stew down with the crusty bread. He hummed and happily took a bite of the bread before he dug into the stew. Geralt could hear the talk pick back up as everything seemed to go to normal as a scared looking barmaid came to his side and sat down the ale,

“Here you are, sir witcher. It is our best,” she bowed her head and cleared her throat, “M-may I ask if you are Geralt of Rivia? The white wolf?��� Geralt sat down his spoon loudly and looked up at her as Ciri made a face and continued to eat,

“Why?” He hissed and she turned bright red and jumped back,

“N-no trouble I promise ye’ sir!” She cried and bit her lip as she worried it through her teeth. “You see, there is a bard in town… J-jaskier?” She said softly, “Well, he got caught up with the wrong woman and got her pregnant you see,” she explained, “it was the sheriff's daughter,” the girl said quickly, “they plan to… to hang him tomorrow.” She looked at him and his eyes were wide as he stared at her.

“Where is he?” Geralt asked and she gulped,

“H-he’s locked away right now. I don’t know what you could do for him.” she said softly as she looked to Ciri who was staring between Geralt and then to the barmaid curiously. “I just thought you would like to know. He cries your name when he's sleeping.” at that, she flounced away and Geralt groaned,

“Jaskier… I’ve heard you mumble that name in your sleep.” Ciri said softly, “that is that bard that used to sing that song?” Geralt glared at her slightly as she turned bright red, “just curious don’t look at me like that. I am not the only one who has nightmares Geralt of Rivia!” She snapped and went back to her food.

Geralt picked up his own spoon and continued to eat, but his thoughts were on Jaskier. He had to save the stupid bard from himself again! Granted, it had been a year since he had to save Jaskier from some cuckold who was out to cut off his cock. Geralt sighed a bit and stood as he walked to the counter. He made small talk and pushed a few coins and pointed towards Cirilla. The barmaid that had talked to him had nodded and he walked back.

“You will be going to a room.” He stated quietly, “you will take a bath and you will wait for my return. I will be back before day break got it?” Ciri’s eyes went wide,

“Don’t leave me!” She cried and stood, hugging him. Geralt cursed as this was not helping his image. No, why would a big scary witcher; the Butcher of Blaviken let a small girl hug him?

“This is no different if I were to go off to kill something.” Geralt murmured and kissed the top of her head lovingly, “stay sharp, you have the dagger I gave you yeah?” She nodded and looked up at him with tear filled green eyes, “no later than dawn.” Geralt repeated as she pulled away and sniffled,

“Please don’t leave me.” she said softly, “Come back please? I don’t wanna be alone again..” Geralt sighed and hugged her tightly again,

“Never would I leave my child surprise, got it?” She smiled up at him and nodded happily. Geralt pulled away as the barmaid walked over with a key,

“Come little one. I will draw you a warm bath okay?” She nodded and picked up her pack as Geralt grabbed his. She followed the barmaid out of the room and up the stairs to the room Geralt had rented for her.

Geralt sighed as he glared at everyone there as if to say ‘you touch her you die,’ and everyone got the hint well as he started out of the inn. He had to make his way to the jail to save Jaskier. That was all that was on his mind. Save Jaskier, get Ciri, and get the fuck out of this small town before his own head was on the chopping block!

~ ~ ~

Jaskier groaned as he sat in his own filth and leaned against the hard and cold stone wall. He had been locked up for a week now after he had supposedly gotten that cute little 22 year old pregnant. It wasn’t his fault she was so damned good and when he tried to pull out she stopped him! What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t exactly stop an orgasm as it started. Jaskier banged his head back harder and groaned at the delicious pain.

Jaskier had no hope of rescue. No, who would come for him? His family had no idea where he was. He was too far from Oxenfurt for anyone who actually cared to hear of this, and Geralt? Who knew where the fuck the witcher was and if he actually cared? If Geralt had heard of this he would probably just say it was a good thing and good riddance to the bard.

That made his heart ache again as he tried not to cry. No, he was not drunk enough for these feelings. Jaskier sighed as he despaired to the idea of dying here, alone and sad. That was it for him, death.

~ ~ ~

Geralt found the jail easily enough and tried to bully his way in, “just let me see him,” he hissed, “Why are you killing him hmm? What did he do?” The guard sneered,

“He impregnated the wrong girl! He knocked ‘er up and left ‘er!”

“Well, we all know bards aren’t the smartest or the most loyal to who they bed,” he snapped lightly as he stepped closer, “that is no reason to kill him. There must be a mage or witch you can get a potion to rid her of such issues?” The man looked at him with wide eyes but tried not to be bullied as he stepped even closer,

“Does it look like we ‘ave a mage?” He sneered, “we barely ‘ave an inn! Now get along or we will be tossin ya in there to die along side the bard!” Geralt sighed and slowly formed the sign for Axii and let the sign touch his mind,

“You will give me the keys and I will let the bard out. There will be no violence and we will leave here immediately.” He said softly as he saw the sign take over the man’s mind. The man blinked and started to look for the keys on himself before he said,

“‘Ay sir witcher, don’t have no keys,” he mumbled and Geralt felt himself curse as he also started to look over the man. For sure, he had no keys. Geralt pushed past him and went into the small office and started to dig. No, no keys here either!

“Who the fuck doesn’t give the guard keys!?” He nearly screamed at the guard and kicked his knee out as the man fell with a cry. “Fuck,” he cursed and started to think. He would just have to wait until they were ready to execute him. Yes, he would lay in waiting with Ciri ready to ride out the minute he grabbed Jaskier. That would have to work. “Fine,” he hissed and let the sign go as he quickly left the man in pain on the ground screaming from a possible broken knee.

~ ~ ~

Geralt made his way back to the inn and Ciri had already bathed and was in a new set of clothes. When he entered, she was cowering but when she saw it was him; she flung herself and he wrapped his arms around her as he caught her. “See? I’m back,” he soothed as she looked up,

“Where is the bard?” She asked curiously and Geralt sighed,

“The damned guard didn’t have a key. We are going to go to bed and wake before the sun.” He explained, “we will have you on Stepper waiting with Roach and our things and I will grab him when he’s in the process of being moved to be executed alright?” Ciri nodded and curled up on the one bed. He slowly crawled in after her and fell asleep. Though, it was light because he refused to sleep past dawn.

~ ~ ~

Geralt woke with a gasp and sat up. Ciri was curled with her back against his side snoring lightly and looking so pleasant. He brushed a piece of blond hair from her face and bent to kiss her cheek as she twitched a bit, “time to wake,” he murmured in her ear. She huffed and yawned as she rolled over,

“It’s so early.” she complained but was already up and starting to gather their things. She was pretty organized and neat such as Geralt and Geralt thanked Melitele that she was.

They descended the stairs of the silent inn. It was still early enough no one was awake. Even when they went to grab the horses, the stable boys were fast asleep in piles of hay. Geralt had to shush Roach who wanted to neigh and whinny at seeing him. Stepper pranced in his spot as Ciri quickly threw the blanket and saddle up as she deftly buckled it. She had become quite efficient in the last six months with Geralt. Geralt had to stop and watch with pride.

They lead the horses out of the stables and Ciri quickly stepped onto the large horse, Stepper as Geralt tied Roach’s reins to Ciri’s saddle, “stay, Roach,” he commanded as she tried to pull away but stopped at that as Ciri soothed the chestnut mare. “Alright, I want you waiting on the outskirts of town in the tree lines.” He nodded towards the road, “south east. We will have to be quick or I will be killing when I do not wish to kill alright?” Ciri nodded silently,

“You will come for me, right?”

“Don’t be silly, you have my horse,” he tried to make it sound like a joke and Ciri thankfully got the dry humor and smiled before she kicked Stepper forward. The horse huffed but moved easily enough with Roach following not too far behind.

Geralt only had a small dagger within his belt. His two swords had been tied to Roach’s saddle for he sensed he would have no need for a sword in this fight. Geralt could almost always incapacitate a normal man with his bare hands.

The witcher moved almost as if a ghost through the silent and quiet roads of the small town. He found the jail and hid behind it as he listened. He could hear shouts and cries and laughter as it seemed they were roughing Jaskier up one last time. He winced and had to stop himself from lunging in already.

Though, he heard laughter that sounded like Jaskier as if Jaskier was laughing at the pain. He could hear the faint, “that’s all ya got!? Come on! You horses arse!” Yes, that was definitely Jaskier. Geralt cursed lightly,

“You have no self perseverance.” He said out loud. He heard a loud crack and winced. That had to have hurt for he did not hear Jaskier again.

“Damned bard, doesn’t know when te’ shut eet,” a man said in a rather thick accent. “Come we need te’ hang ‘im before that damn witcher comes back,” he hissed as he heard movement and nodded to himself. They were going to move him. Geralt could feel the warmth of the sun as it started to rise ever so slowly. A rooster crowed three times and he quirked a smirk at that.

There was a loud squeak Geralt recognized as an unoiled metal door. He pressed himself closely to the side of the building as he heard the door bang open and they brought out a half unconscious Jaskier. Geralt steeled himself for a fight and sneered; baring teeth as he saw the sorry state Jaskier was in.

Jaskier had shackles on his ankles and rope keeping his wrists together. His clothes were tattered and bloodied. His face was bruised and swollen with dried blood from a bloodied lip and bloody nose.

“Fuck,” he hissed quietly under his breath as one man held the rope and another followed behind Jaskier. Geralt’s golden eyes darted and he was thankful to not see anyone else. At least if there was blood shed, it would be two no more than that.

Geralt was silent as he fell into step behind the three without so much of a sound. Geralt was big, but he could be light on his feet. He had to be when it came to killing monsters. It didn’t take much for Geralt to grab the man behind Jaskier and put him into a sleeper hold. He shushed him as the man went down quickly and quietly. He dropped the body to the ground before he looted the body. He smirked at taking the small coin pouch and found what he hoped was the keys to the shackles upon his friend’s ankles.

He fell back behind them and walked silently thankful neither turned around. Though, Jaskier soon tripped and was on the ground crying softly as Geralt stopped and looked upon him with such empathy. His own heart was slowly hurting in his chest as the second guard turned to curse at Jaskier. Though, his eyes went to Geralt standing there silently, holding a set of keys,

“You! You fucker!” He snarled as he dropped the rope and moved to attack. Geralt easily dodged the blows and moved about. He dipped below and used an elbow to jar the man to the side before he grabbed him and wrestled him down. It was quick and painless as he snapped the man’s neck with a loud crack.

Jaskier had sat up and was sitting on bare knees as he stared at Geralt through horrified blue eyes. Geralt dropped to his knees and grabbed his friend’s face between now gentle hands,

“I’m so sorry,” Geralt murmured gently as he rubbed his cheek with a thumb. Jaskier looked away defeated as Geralt continued, “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. You don’t have to forgive me but I won’t let you die,” Geralt admitted softly, “you won’t die today, I promise.” Jaskier felt a scream rip through him as he pulled away and started to sob as he brought his bound hands to his face and sobbed uncontrollably.

This was what he wanted, this feeling. He had wanted this and here Geralt was. He had saved him from dying. A weight had lifted from his shoulders as he wailed and sobbed. Geralt was unsure what to do but sit there with a hand on his shoulder. Though, he looked around and cleared his throat a bit, “Jask, more guards are coming. We need to go, now.” He hissed and used the dagger to cut the rope off. Jaskier rubbed his sore and chafed wrists as Geralt fumbled and found the right key to let his ankles out.

“Can you run? “He asked and Jaskier shrugged. At that, Geralt didn’t care as he tossed the bard over his shoulder and started for the path he had told Ciri to wait on. Jaskier didn’t argue or complain as they made it quickly to the horses. “When I say run, I mean it.” he said to Ciri who nodded and held onto the reins tightly. Geralt untied Roach and tossed a limp Jaskier up onto Roach.

He climbed up and held Jaskier against his chest as he felt an arrow whiz past his head. “Run!” He screamed and Ciri easily kicked Stepper into running. The reason the horse was fondly called stepper was because when he wanted to go, he went.

Roach was no slouch and followed behind just as quickly as Geralt used one hand to steer and one hand to hold onto the limp bard. They rode like that until they were far enough that no one had followed. “Woah woah!” He called and Ciri reined back. Stepper reared but she held fast as he soon settled. Roach just huffed as she slowed to a stop. “We need to assess the damage.. Jask can you walk?” Jaskier nodded and slowly climbed from the horse, albeit a little unsteady.

Geralt got off the horse and rummaged until he found a few healing salves, “can I bandage you?” Geralt asked and Jaskier said nothing as he nodded ever so faintly and closed his eyes. He was silent as Geralt started to rub the healing salve over his body. The aches were leaving and the bruises would heal. Blood was wiped off of his sore face and Geralt cursed under his breath at how badly Jaskier had been beaten.

Once he was mostly clean, Geralt pulled out a pair of his own clothes, “until we can get you more.” he said nodding to the troubadour’s torn clothes. Jaskier was numb as he finished undoing the buttons and didn’t seem to care that a girl was watching with curious eyes as he stripped to underwear. He shakily pulled on the black tunic. It was rough but it smelt of Geralt and Jaskier sighed as he took a deep breath and almost fell right there just from that scent. Geralt helped him into the trousers and buttoned them. They were only a few centimeters too short and the shirt was large and loose due to Geralt being built a lot more. The pants stayed up though and that was nice.

“Alright, we are going to ride until dark and set up camp.” he murmured softly, “you can ride Roach with me. Is that okay?” Jaskier just numbly nodded as Geralt climbed back onto the mare and pulled Jaskier behind him. Jaskier quickly wrapped lithe arms around his friend’s waist and laid his head against Geralt’s back. Geralt gave a faint smile and Ciri smiled to,

“Nice to meet you. He used to dream about you,” she said and Geralt gave her a look, “what I would wake up and you would be mumbling his name and saying sorry and you messed up,” she shrugged innocently and Jaskier looked at Geralt quietly with curious eyes.

“We can talk when we settle down,” he said softly and Jaskier just nodded as they started to ride again. It was best to get as far away as possible just in case they wanted to pursue the three.

~ ~ ~ It was almost dark when Geralt finally called for a stop. They were next to a spring fed river and with it being so hot during the days he knew it would be quite warm still, “alright we will make camp here. Ciri, can you set a trap?” She nodded and jumped off Stepper, tying him off with deft hands before she grabbed the supplies from her pack and started to trudge the woods for a perfect place for a trap. Geralt got off Roach and helped a still quiet and limp Jaskier.

Geralt found a log and heaved it to a spot and pointed. Jaskier sat with no qualms as Geralt started to gather up twigs and leaves for kindling. It wasn’t long before he had a fire started and Ciri had came back to announce her trap was set. She started to help set up camp as she always did. Though, green eyes kept looking at the older man that seemed as if he was a shell of a man now.

“Geralt? He doesn’t look so good,” she finally murmured into his ear and Geralt sighed,

“I think it is shock. I will try to bring him around. Get the tent ready I am going to take him to bathe. No peeking,” he teased and she snorted,

“We’ve bathed together plenty of times!” She said and he chuckled as he grabbed two towels from one pack and pulled Jaskier up ever so gently,

“Let’s go take a bath…” Jaskier just hummed and followed easily behind Geralt to the river. Jaskier let Geralt undress him before Geralt slowly stripped and pushed Jaskier into the warm waters. Geralt sighed, “not a bath bath but it's better than nothing…” He said softly and Jaskier just hummed and started to wash without prompting. That made Geralt feel better as he too started to clean himself off with the grime of the traveling. He hadn’t gotten to bathe like Ciri did at the inn.

Once they were clean, Geralt pulled Jaskier out and dried the man off before he put more healing salve all over the scraps, cuts and bumps he had. He cursed under his breath at how marred that once smooth skin was in just a year. Jaskier dressed as Geralt dried himself off and pulled his own clothes back on.

When they entered the campsite, Ciri was skinning two rather large rabbits and grinned up at Geralt, “I’ve gotten good!” She chirped and looked to Jaskier and cocked her head faintly to the side, “you hungry?” She asked Jaskier who looked at her and then back at Geralt and Geralt gave a nod as he plopped down next to her,

“Starving,” he said hoarsely and she grinned at his first word being to her. Geralt smiled as he took one of the rabbits to finish skinning before they both were spit roasted and thrown onto the blazing fire.

They all sat in relative silence as the rabbits cooked. When they were done, Geralt filleted pieces and handed them out on crude plates he had procured in the last six months of traveling with the young girl. When Ciri got hers, she moved to go into the tent to give Jaskier and Geralt alone time, claiming tiredness. Though, Geralt knew better.

“Jaskier…” He murmured faintly as Jaskier picked at the rabbit eating it slowly, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to do or to say.” He said softly, “you mean so much to me and I was stupid. I was stupid to force you to leave me.” Jaskier twitched and looked up behind lidded blue eyes,

“I...I just wanted to do my best for you,” Jaskier said softly. “I wanted to be your companion, your friend, maybe even your lover.” Jaskier felt his cheeks rise in heat as he cleared his throat, “you hurt me so bad,” he choked faintly,

“I wanted to do my best and yet my best wasn't good enough was it, Geralt?” He asked and Geralt felt his heart thud loudly and rapidly.

“I-it was good enough. I promise you Jaskier.” Geralt replied gently as he moved so they were sitting closer. Jaskier was leaning his back against the log and Geralt fell to the ground next to him. He let his leg touch Jaskier’s and Jaskier did not pull or shrink away. “I was so hurt by Yen, and I took it out on you. I didn’t want you to suffer anymore traveling with me,” Geralt said softly, “but I can see now you were suffering without me.” Jaskier snorted as he sat the plate down of uneaten rabbit.

“I suffered more without you than I did with you,” he said softly as Geralt hummed and nodded,

“I realise that now. I also realise I can have a companion and care for them as well as protect them,” he nodded his head towards the tent where he could tell Ciri was leaning and listening.

“I loved you, Geralt,” Jaskier finally admitted, “I fell madly in love with you. Why would I give you my twenties and my thirties?” He asked as he stared at Geralt, “why I followed you everywhere and anywhere? You took my love and stomped it out on that damned mountain you know that?” Geralt huffed lightly and nodded,

“I know that now and I was wrong, can you ever forgive me?” Geralt had sat down his half uneaten plate and moved a hand to Jaskier’s knee. He was thankful Jaskier did not pull away but soon his own hand was shakily grasping Geralt’s as he grasped it tightly; lacing their fingers together. Geralt smiled and brought the hand up to kiss it gently, “I can’t promise to be the best but I can promise to love you fiercely. I want you to come with us; come to Kaer Morhen please?” Jaskier’s lip twitched and he nodded as he leaned closer to Geralt,

“Of course you and your child surprise?” He asked as he looked over and winked at the girl who tried to hide from the two men’s eyes. Geralt nodded and Jaskier took that moment to turn and quickly bring Geralt’s lips to his own. Geralt was surprised but happily tossed his arms around Jaskier and gave back just as good as Jaskier had given. Their tongues meshed and they kissed tenderly next to the fire light. Jaskier moaned and straddled Geralt’s lap and ground down as Geralt ground up but he pulled away and panted, “not here, not now.” he said as he looked up at his bard’s disappointed face, “we have a 13 year old girl listening and watching. I rather our first time be in a nice big bed.” He said truthfully and Jaskier nodded but pouted as he settled to just sitting in his lap and he huffed a sigh,

“Okay I can live with that.” he said softly and then cursed, “my things! My lute!” he cried, “oh they still have them! What will we do!?” Geralt groaned softly,

“I can go back.. Just me.” he said as he looked at Jaskier and to Ciri. “you two keep riding for the next town. Ciri do you mind riding double with Jask?”

“No,” he meek call came from the tent,

“Good I will leave at daybreak and meet you in the next town over. Ciri are you okay with that?”

Ciri poked her head out and looked at the two men, “he won’t leave me will he?” She asked nodding to Jaskier, “and you will come back right?” Jaskier looked at her fondly and smiled,

“My dear, I won’t leave you at all. I have wanted to meet you for so many years,” he cooed and slowly crawled off of Geralt’s lap and moved to her and pulled her into a tight hug. Ciri relaxed mostly because the scent she smelt was all Geralt and it was her comfort. She nodded against his chest as Geralt moved closer and wrapped them both into his arms.

“I won’t leave either of you. Now, let’s sleep so you two can get on the road and I can head back.” he grumbled faintly and Jaskier grinned,

“Can I share your bed roll?” He asked and Geralt rolled his eyes,

“If she doesn’t beat you to it,” Jaskier gasped loudly,

“Is my place in your heart being replaced by such a sweet girl!? Oh what will I do!?” Geralt just grunted,

“Not like that. Shes… shes like my daughter,” he admitted and Ciri flushed before she dove into her own bed roll. Thankfully, Geralt’s was big enough for the two adult men and they easily fell into a deep sleep.

~ ~ ~

Geralt and Roach were gone before the other two had stirred. He had left a large coin purse so they could purchase a room. Ciri woke against an unfamiliar chest and gasped as she sat up but then noticed it was the sleeping troubadour and slowly settled against him until he woke with a yawn and smiled as he stroked her hair, “morning princess.” he chirped and she smiled happily,

“We should head out that is what Geralt would want,” she said quietly and he nodded,

“Of course, come let’s pack up shall we?” They made quick work of the campsite and were soon both on Stepper and riding for the main path to get to the next town over.

~ ~ ~

Jaskier had gotten them a single room with two beds so they could wait for Geralt. They expected him to be only a day but one turned to two and then three. Every day, Ciri became more and more distraught, “what if he doesn’t come back? “She cried on the third night as she wiped her eyes, “he left us he won’t come back!” She was now wailing and Jaskier had pulled her into his arms and settled on the bed trying to comfort the teen against his chest.

“Now, now there! He just probably got held up, maybe he got a contract?” He asked gently. “Why don’t we go down stairs and get something to eat? He should be here any time I promise you. He wouldn’t leave us.” at least, that was what Jaskier was trying to rationalize as well. Would he? Did Geralt think he would be better suited to care for Ciri?

Jaskier was able to prod the younger girl down the stairs and he quickly called for ale, milk, and food. They settled in a dark and quiet corner and started to eat and drink. Ciri still looked miserable as Jaskier tried to comfort her.

The door swung open and everyone stopped as the gold eyed witcher stepped inside. He looked bloodied and his eyes were blown. Everywhere he looked, everyone shrunk away quickly. Jaskier saw this and grinned as he stood, but Ciri was already flying at him and clinging to him as the man dropped the bags and lute to the floor. “You did come back!” She cried and he sighed softly and kissed her head,

“Got held up. Food.” he said roughly to the bar keep who nodded as Geralt fished the items off the floor and walked, holding Ciri to the table with the bard. “Got your things.” he grunted softly and Jaskier smiled gently,

“Thank you.” he murmured softly, “see? Told you princess!” he teased the girl who smiled and sat back down. Geralt sat next to Jaskier as a plate of food and a mug of ale was brought to him. He took a big swig and dug in as if he hadn’t eaten in days.

Once Geralt was done, he asked for a second room for Cirilla so he could bathe and maybe talk to Jaskier alone without the 13 year old eavesdropping. She fought the idea of having to sleep in a room by herself, but thankfully it was right across the street and Geralt promised if she got scared she could crawl into bed with him and possibly Jaskier.

She acquiesced and they made their ways to the respective rooms. Once Ciri was in her room, and their door had shut, Jaskier had his hands all over Geralt. “Are you hurt? Do you need to be rubbed down? Anything I can stitch?” The bard asked gently and Geralt shook his head as he put strong hands on his friend’s shoulders.

“Just a bath,” he rasped quietly and Jaskier nodded. Geralt pulled away and quickly went to the tub. The water was cold so he lit it with igni and slowly undressed before he slipped into it. The water smelt of roses and chamomile and he knew that Jaskier and Ciri probably had bathed in it before. He didn’t care too much. A bath was what he needed.

Jaskier dropped to his knees and put his hands on his friend’s shoulders and massaged lovingly before he leaned closely, “we missed you… I missed you,” he admitted and Geralt huffed and leaned back a bit,

“I got caught up with the guards. It wasn’t pretty let’s put it that way. Got some nice coin out of it,” he smirked lightly,

“Geralt! You did not become a brigand and steal from them!?”

“Not like they were going to use it,” Geralt grumbled lightly. “We can rest here for the night and start on for Kaer Morhen tomorrow alright?” Jaskier nodded at that and sighed as he started to help wash Geralt’s back gently. Geralt happily leaned forward and moaned softly at the touches. Jaskier felt his face heat up and he cleared his throat gently,

“Geralt.. I have a confession,” he said softly as he pulled his hands away, “you may tell me to leave or send me on my way again but I can’t hold back any longer. I’m not a young man anymore as you know…” Geralt looked over at him over his shoulder and waved a hand for him to continue, “my point being is: I am in love with you. I always have been. Something about you drew me to you and I was never able to get away,” he said softly and sighed a bit. Geralt just sat there in stunned silence as he watched Jaskier, “S-say something please,” Jaskier almost pleaded as he felt his chest tighten at the idea of Geralt rejecting him again.

Geralt turned in the tub and surged up. His lips crashed against Jaskier’s and they shared a rough kiss that was all teeth and moans. Jaskier groaned as he was pressed against the floor next to the tub with a very naked and very soaking wet Geralt on top of him. Geralt lessened the kiss and it became gentle and loving as he ran strong hands up and down the bard’s body.

When it almost became too much, he pulled away and panted slightly as he looked down at the bard who looked as if he was shocked. “Bed,” Geralt murmured softly and Jaskier nodded and scrambled for the bed quickly. The tunic he wore that was Geralt’s came off and he undid the pants but did not pull them off. His boots got kicked to the side as Geralt stood and shook out the wet hair. He walked silently to the bed, still naked before the bed dipped with his weight.

He dropped down next to Jaskier and pulled Jaskier to his naked chest as he laid down. Jaskier leaned against it before he was pulled up again for another rough and loving kiss. Jaskier moaned quietly as he pressed himself against Geralt. Geralt pulled away and murmured against kiss swollen lips, “I am so sorry Jask. I never meant to make you feel that way. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Oh you silly Witcher… I already have,” Jaskier stated and grinned as he dived back in for another heartwarming kiss. Geralt flipped them so Jaskier was beneath him. Strong hands were running all over his body and Jaskier was sighing happily into the ministrations.

One hand soon cupped between his legs and Jaskier flushed as he felt a surge of arousal hit straight at home. The hand massaged and rubbed until Jaskier was grinding back and moaning loudly for more. Geralt soon ripped the pair of trousers off and down his body and smirked at the naked form of his now lover.

“Lovely,” he breathed and Jaskier flushed as he tried to hide almost in embarrassment. Geralt pinned the arms away and bent to kiss him again as he rubbed his own growing erection against Jaskier’s. Jaskier gasped and moaned softly at that as Geralt ground down and groaned against his lips.

“Jaskier, I want you to fuck me,” Jaskier’s eyes flew open and he almost sat up but bumped against Geralt and fell back,

“W-what?” He asked loudly, “F-fuck you? You?” Jaskier stared at the well muscled chest, the lovely patches of fur that ran down and all those damn scars. The fact his cock was rather large and pulsing against his thigh and he gulped. Granted, Jaskier was unsure if he could take something so large. It had been years since he had bottomed. “Are you sure?” Geralt nodded and rolled over and laid down, legs open,

“Very,” he breathed softly as he smiled up at Jaskier, “please?” Jaskier groaned and nodded as he quickly bent down to take what he could of the thick piece of meat into his mouth. Geralt just moaned softly and let Jaskier work his magic.

Jaskier was incredibly skilled with his tongue and it made Geralt drip with precum as he felt the man bobbing his head roughly up and down. Geralt placed one hand in his hair to help steady and let Jaskier work. It wasn’t long before Geralt was pulling Jaskier off his cock and panting, “gonna cum if you keep this up. Rather cum around your cock.” Jaskier moaned at that and nodded,

“Oil?” He asked and Geralt groaned as he rolled off the bed and dove into his pack. Soon, he pulled out a small tin with some salve that was great for sore muscles. This would do perfectly. Geralt crawled back onto the bed and laid out on his back, legs open. Jaskier fought with the tin for a minute before he finally got it open. He grinned nervously but soon was scooping some and covering his fingers in the thick substance.

One finger went between his lover’s legs and down his crack. Geralt tensed slightly but soon relaxed when said finger started to massage his hole slowly. Geralt groaned and bit his knuckle lightly as to not be too loud. Jaskier massaged and worked the tender hole until it was finally pliable. At that, he pressed his finger into the first knuckle. There was little to no resistance so it was easy to press it all the way in.

Jaskier moved said finger in and out slowly watching Geralt for any signs of pain. There was nothing but signs of pleasure as Geralt actually moaned and panted out loud as he pressed back against the finger. Jaskier groaned and pressed in a second. Geralt hissed but it was a hiss of pleasure not pain. Jaskier slowly scissored the two fingers and kept working him open before Geralt swatted at his hand, “I’m ready damnit. I don’t need as prepping as normal people.” Jaskier nodded and pulled his fingers out before using the last of the salve to slick his hard cock. He pulled back his foreskin and moaned softly as he slowly settled over Geralt’s hips.

This would be a first, Jaskier had never bedded someone quite larger than himself. Granted, they were almost the same height but Geralt easily out weighed him and was much wider than Jaskier’s own form. Jaskier took a deep breath and slowly pressed forward and his cock breached the round and puckered hole easily. Geralt gasped and keened as his head threw back. Wisps of white framed his face and Jaskier had to bite his lip to keep from shouting ‘fuck’ into the air.

Geralt leaned up and caught Jaskier into another kiss as Jaskier started a slow and steady pace. His hips rocked in and out of Geralt and Geralt just moaned against the lips before he broke away to look at him with lust filled eyes, “you can fuck me as hard as you like, bard. You won’t injure me.” That made Jaskier groan loudly before his hips shot forward harder and he started a brutal pace.

Geralt fell back against the bed and moaned loudly as he felt Jaskier speed up. Jaskier grabbed the witcher’s legs and was able to put them on his shoulders and almost bent the witcher in half as he fucked down into his willing body. Geralt was a mess, crying out and moaning and encouraging the bard on before Geralt was fisting his own cock.

Three hard fists and he was screaming his orgasm as large white ropes shot out and covered his chest, hand and stomach. Jaskier moaned at the site and felt his own body stutter before he was shaking and cumming deep within Geralt; moaning as he released.

When he was finally done, he let down his lover’s legs and slowly pulled out with a groan. His cock was softening and overly sensitive now. Geralt’s was limp and still pulsing as cum oozed and pooled in his navel. Jaskier lay down and rest his head against the witcher’s chest and shoulder as he relaxed. “That was amazing,” he murmured and Geralt put an arm around him and hummed,

“Hmm, yes yes it was.” He said softly and smiled down at Jaskier. “So, will you stay with us in Kaer Morhen?” He questioned softly,

“For sex like that? Of course!” He laughed softly and Geralt chuckled as he rubbed soothing circles against his lower back,

“Good. I need you.” Geralt murmured and Jaskier flushed slightly,

“And I need you.”

[snapback-gravity-falls]

My Light-Skinned Biracial Experience

Sometimes it’s draining when you really think about it. I’m (at the base) black and white. Light skin, brown eyes, curly hair that’s mostly brown. Ambiguously neutral in my race as far as most are concerned. This is my experience as someone who is biracial.

>>*someone touches/gently pulls my hair not thinking it’s attached and gets caught* “Do you curl your hair?” Do I look like I have the time/energy/patience to make my entire head have curls the size of my pinkie? No. I don’t. It’s real, it’s attached. I just add water and let it do what it wants.

>> Lotion is either super important or the last thing on our minds. Being light means ashiness isn’t something we have to deal with quite as often as our dark-skinned counterparts, but believe me when you scratch your arm or leg and see ash, it’s over. Suddenly we’re moisturizing and making sure no one can write “dry” on our skin (yes, it’s happened, my family is the least ashy you will see outside of our stubborn little kids and folks with skin conditions). We have lotion at hand pretty much 24/7 just in case.

>> Sunscreen is optional. I often forego sunscreen because I’ve been blessed to tan instead of burn. I’ve honestly only burned once on my nose, cheeks and shoulders because of an unexpectedly long day outside while it was cloudy (way more dangerous than a sunny day in my opinion).

>> “What are you?” I got to the point I straight up tell people to guess. It helps me figure out what kind of person they are. Some people get it right, some respond with things that I can understand like Puerto Rican or- in a couple of instances- Egyptian; others think Mexican which they have completely different features so I know they don’t bother with anyone and just make assumptions. I tell them after and then a light bulb seems to go off in their heads.

>> We know each other on sight. We’ve gotten pretty good at spotting each other for what we are. We don’t even have to question anything other than if they might be from the Caribbean. Very rarely have I been proven wrong about someone not being mixed or someone being mixed that I didn’t expect (usually passing mixed folks).

>> Finding hair products is a pain. Some of our hair has white texture, some black, some are more curly, some less. Regardless, finding something that can tame our hair the way we want is difficult. I have several hair care products. I’ve experimented with a lot of them and some work better than others, but each of our hair is unique and some products that work for one of us does not work for the next of us.

>> Our hair has a mind of it’s own and it’s longer than you think. Some days it curls short so people think we got a hair cut, sometimes it’s looser curls that make them longer. Humidity has a lot to do with what I hair does- high humidity means no straightening hair and there is a lot more poof, dry air means it stays straight longer and we need to put more moisturizers in our hair to keep it from drying out. My hair usually curls to my shoulders or sometimes tightens to my jawline. Either way, when you pull it or straighten it, it goes down to my mid-back.

>> Someone starts speaking Spanish to me immediately. Considering I’m mistaken for Puerto Rican often, I have no problem with it, it’s just awkward to nip that in the bud on someone who’s on a roll.

>> You act so black/white OR you don’t act black/white. I was raised exposed to both cultures, so yes, what do you expect? I’ll show aspects of both and I’ll adjust for who I’m around. That’s how humans work. We don’t show every aspect of ourselves with every person and at every place. Which leads to the next one.

>> Not knowing where to stand. Am I black enough? White enough? Do I identify as black? White? Both? Neither? Which side do I connect with most? I grew up wanting so bad to be one or the other and sometimes still struggle with that. I would listen to stories from my white relatives and wish for the experiences they had with going hunting and having big family dinners and loving certain music. I would hang out with my black relatives and want my silky curls to be done up in braids and my skin to darken. Even though I was happy with my big mixed family and didn’t want to change them for anything, I wondered what it would be like to be one or the other. With time I’ve found I connect to the black half of my family more than the white half. I don’t love the white half any less, but that’s my truth.

>> Having to pick which one you are on documents. I remember taking the state test for the next grade and asking my teacher in elementary school what I put down. They said “put what your father is” and so I’ve been black in the system ever since. I cannot tell you how excited I was the first time I filled out a document and it said I could choose multiple. I finally got to put pretty much my whole identity on a piece of paper.

>> Basically the middleman for explaining the cultures of each to the other. I’ve had to explain why black and white people do certain things to white and black people more times than I care to count. With recent events, I’ve had to explain what black lives matter means and why we as a people are so angry. I remember distinctly saying as a child in ignorance “I’ve got the best of both worlds” and my father having to break it to me that no one would ever look at me and think I’m white. Having to be explained the oppression we’ve faced and still face as a people. With that new knowledge I came to fear for the lives of one half of my family more than the other because of the systematic oppression.

>> Being acutely aware of the problems black people face. To any who think mixed people- including those who can pass as white- aren’t effected by systematic racism you’re living in ignorance. We fear for the lives of the black people in our family just as much as the others in our family. We are not ignorant despite “not being black enough.” We- if we’re black on paperwork- are looked at as completely black until we’re face to face with a possible employer; if we’re white on paper I imagine possible employers are shocked and possibly feel betrayed that they aren’t “actually white.”

[sumeshi-t]

the idea of making hc’s of children is sosososo cute. i’ll follow ur steps chloe @akaashit-baeji lolol this is gonna be really self-indulgent buuut my excuse is that it’s my birthday so here it goes... i'm writing the last half of this with a hangover and a bad case of dysmenorrhea... sucks 2 be me

Oikawa Teru (及川 輝)

his name “輝“ means “bright”, and this boi lives up to it because, let’s face it, he’s gonna be like his dad. he embodies this “brightness”, in a way that he’s smart, and he makes sure he and his team’s (or whichever team he’s going to be in) will shine on the court

wavy/curly hair and a victim of my and his dad’s astigmatism. always has this cheeky smile, and he gets my brimming energy so he’s really approachable and charming

very good with words; it’s like he always knows what to say

when he plays he also wears contact lenses

but don’t be fooled. in their generation, it’s him who has to put iwaizumi’s son in check. he knows everything about his teammates too, he knows more than what he lets on (which sometimes, they find creepy, but they all know he means well)

anyway, unlike his dad, he doesn’t really mind having geniuses around. instead, he watches them very closely; something like “mutualism”. he knows what he lacks and he knows he can learn from them too, vice versa.

is into horror games. in his free time, he and his sister take turns playing. and they decide it by seeing who can last the longest without flinching/screaming. he’s annoyed because his sister’s better at it 

has fans, ngl. i mean look at him. however, the female fans especially, are pretty on guard. he’s approachable, but anytime they see him with his sister... they back out. he doesn’t mind, he loves his sister and it actually amuses him. he’s the same when it comes to the boys who hang around her too!

basically protective siblings who are always there for eo

is very neat. can’t concentrate when something is out of place. he keeps his nails short, has a somewhat flowery scent. yes, he uses female perfumes because he despises strong smells.

bug-catching was his childhood hobby just like mine’s was. used to sneak beetles in iwaizumi’s son’s backpack back then

he will never admit it but he actually asks his sister for fashion tips because his taste sucks ass so bad

basically his major problem or issue in life is getting compared to his father (he’s also a setter). he hates that so much, being hidden in the shadow of his dad, and when people just recognize him for being oikawa tooru’s son.

something he and ushijima’s child relate to so strongly. they’re friendly rivals; might end up being teammates in their career hmm

so when he’s the one stressed, he skips practice for a day just so he could recollect his thoughts. usually stays in the library to read books he picked up based on the titles; might either open up to iwa or his sister later on, it depends. then when he’s okay, he doubles the amount of training

Oikawa Rie (及川 麗恵) it’s /ri-ye/ oki

so the kanjis are: "麗" meaning, beautiful and "恵" is blessed. tooru thought of this name obviously

also has curly hair like mine. has that tiny mole below her eye just like i do. actually has lots of moles over her body; one time she fell asleep on the couch her brother drew connecting lines between the moles on her arm and called them constellations. it was nice she thought but still, the next day, teru had to wear a band-aid over his nose bridge.

she’s just a year younger. is less “vibrant” than her brother, a bit more serious. has a resting bitch face and she’s not even sorry about it and i love her for that

she’s actually relieved she looks like that, or else she knows the girls in her class would flock to her just to get in her brother’s pants. usually brushes them off with “ask him, not me” or “do you think that’s any of my concern?” 

her tongue her words damn never get to this baby girl’s bad side she’s gonna burn you alive. like fr when she’s angry, oh she’s gonna show you that she’s angry. but tbh she's very sweet, leaves little notes or little gifts to her friends every now and then

she just doesn’t want her brother’s heart to be broken (she’s heard stories from her mom about her dad’s many hs exes), and she knows teru’s struggles

therefore

doesn’t really like volleyball that much. it’s because she didn’t get to grow up with her dad around, she felt like it separated her from him. she’s not mad at him though. she’s very supportive of him and her brother.

used to play vb though when they were kids. but that’s all it was for her

she’s the team’s honorary manager lol the occasional “i brought you guys sumn” or “something-kun, a girl from my class says she likes you so do your best” etc

the team’s lil sister how bout that

despite being tolerant of horror games, this girl is vvvv squeamish. she cries at the sight of internal organs or blood. biology lab was the worst time of her life 

when she dug up my hs videos she was shook to discover i once did theater. and thus begins her interest in theater too

and??? baby girl is actually???? really really good???? 

the girls she used to shut down nicknamed her “prima”, short for “prima donna” she hates it. hates it more when her closest theater buddy was the one who spread that around

immediately went to the gym to spike some balls from her brother. baby girl was crying because she was just so pissed.

she was given ice cream and sweets afterwards. ugh it’s so cute idk she’s baby to the team skksksk they protecc

in that upcoming play, her first ever performance, the whole team got front row seats and howled when she came on during curtain call; it was vvv sweet and memorable even if the guys were kinda reprimanded afterwards lmao

which is why, in return, boiis also have a hard time approaching her because damn??? the vb team as your knights???? excuse me??? 

oh have i mentioned she has a sweet tooth? mygod. she has a stash of sweets in her room. teru has had to sneak some away because she might get tooth aches or diabetes

her pastel nail polish is arranged by shade, her body clock is fucked up lmao she hates the mornings; has succulents by her window which she names after various characters from books/plays etc she’s for sure gonna be a theater actress tho

asks help from iwa’s son for math. even her brother’s 0% help. teru is smart but a terrible teacher. she’s an above-average student and that’s all that matters for her. she can leave the spotlight to her brother because she only craves one type of spotlight

Miya Seiichi (宮 聖一) and Miya Seiji (宮 聖二)

their names literally mean “聖” sacred then “一” is one, and “二” is two

atsumu thought it was funny. when they were kids, seiichi’s nickname was “juan” and seiji’s was “tutu” (i gave them the nicknames)

when the twins discovered the meaning behind the nicknames, they hated it. especially seiji, he despises it vvv much

so when they were hs, seiichi = chi, seiji = ji for the people they're close with

as we can see here, the twins unfortunately got my curls. seiichi likes his hair as is. he doesn’t like the thought of dyeing his hair just to be differentiated from his twin. in fact he enjoys twin jokes, enjoys tripping people up about it. seiji on the other hand, grew tired of his brother’s jokes and by the time hs started, he sacrifices his soft hair. 

between the two, seiji is the one who has my ugly eyesight. add to the fact that he reads a lot (once he starts he can’t put it down. so he reads in the dark, in a moving car etc)

the piercings was a thing that happened between them, and their cousins (which were also twins wtf)–it was a 2v2 vb thing and they lost

surprisingly, the cousins weren't pleased bc atsumu didn't scold them for getting piercings (but for playing half-heartedly). seiichi wanted the piercings tho tbh it was the perfect excuse. ngl, seiji also wanted them.

first let's talk abt seiichi, aside from the fact he also got my mole (he feels it makes him look cuter tho)

seiichi's into vb, but not a setter. he's the ace. may or may not push through with it as a career. he hasn't decided yet. is actually a bit sad that seiji didn't join the vb club in hs, he wanted them to be like his dad and uncle.

seiichi doesn't have any uh, quirks like shutting the whole cheer squad up like his dad does. but he usually dribbles the ball five times before any serve (this is something i did before) and he likes the 'ooooh hey' thing the crowd does when he goes for a serve

his side of the room doesn't have much stuff going on except workout equipment. he follows what exercise plan i give him as da PT mom that i am, and he is very strict with his diet and with what he eats–he's close to not needing a calorie counter anymore; but not a picky eater. he loves his uncle's cooking very much and he is jealous he can't cook even if he tries

he can do beatboxing, he learned it through youtube lmao his spotify playlists are da bombest; he learns a lot in youtube tho in his free time. his current interest is magic tricks and french (he thinks he can use it to woo that girl from class 4)

he hates insects, and hates mess. he has had to scold his twin about it that it escalated to them having this imaginary line in the middle of the room

anyway, he's straightforward. but not rude. he just doesn't like any pretenses so he says what he thinks or feels is right. may or may not have led to some misunderstandings, but he owns up to his mistakes if he crossed a line

next, seiji

even if he looks like a nerd with his glasses tbh he is not he actually hates studying. you can love reading without having to love studying right? he's that dude

the only time that he regrets dyeing his hair was when he realizes couldn't change identities so his brother could take his exam for him

his side of the room is littered with his sketches, notes from books, pencils everywhere – he drew a bunch of ants one time on a paper and made it look like they're real ass ants and placed it on seiichi's pillow

to solve this problem, atsumu has planned to give him a tablet for his next birthday

quits vb in hs because he kinda lost interest? he still finds it fun but he doesn't wanna be put under the pressure that his dad and uncle left for them lmao

he's in art clubs tho

he designs banners/posters for the team anyway. they use his strategic mind from the shit he's read for any plays and stuff so when he's not drawing, he's thinking

he might look like he has no emotions, but tbh he is more emotional and empathetic than his brother. he cries easily over the simplest things, like those grandparents vids, or rescuing animals and stuff

and thats why he doesn't let people in too much bc he knows he'll be hurt (dw seiichi knows this vvv well, and even if they do have arguments, he loves his lil bro and helps him about this)

has once begged to have a cat at home–seiichi didn't want bc he knows his twin is gonna leave him for clean up lmao

he can cook period.

he's gonna either be an architect or an animator, still hasn't decided.

his music taste sucks lmao. his youtube recents are filled with cooking stuff; in constant conversation with his uncle abt cooking lol it be cute sometimes atsumu is jealous bc he feels his son is closer to his brother than with him

he is forgetful that's why his stuff is messy lol he keeps misplacing stuff, sometimes it's literally in front of him and he's just 'where????'

but remembers dates well, remembers plays well. he's good at nitpicking tiny nearly insignificant details. just anything outside studying? he's good. dw he passes his classes but he hates giving effort for that shit lololol

[queennicoleinboots]

Office Woes, part 1 (Michael the Great Arc Angel POV)

It was yet another day amidst a pandemic of the Coronavirus and spiritual warfare. It was my appointed task from Ahayah, the true creator of this world and all worlds, that I was to protect and serve the people of Gwinnett County, Georgia. I also was appointed to protect the people of Walton and Clarke Counties by Xara Nahara Campinelli. I am honored to be Michael the Great Arc Angel.

Once again, I spent my morning flying over people who had no concept of how to drive. They were going the wrong way through the intersections, shoving their cell phones in their butts while driving, and playing rap sounds. Rap is not a form of music. It offends me and Ahayah. When I hear it, I burn the source of the sound with laser eye beams. If I hear the "Ooh shit! You Got Coronavirus" song one more time, I plan to stomp on the vehicle where the car is coming from and of course spare the life of the son of a bitch who played that song.

In other news, a goat in a suit and tie was jacking off while he drove. He looked like Paul the Goat, the same goat who helped with quality control of produce in Kroger later that day.

At least Gwinnett County drivers weren't as terrible as those in Conyers, GA. It was truly the city of apes. Every time I fly over that city, my Intelligent Quotient drains from my mind and soul. I have to walk tall among the apes because my large angel wings don't work there. I question my angelic nature when I am there. I am the man on the fence who shrugs his shoulders. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. So I acted like an ape until I could fly again. I'm still in therapy with Ahayah about that issue. I go twice a month.

I arrived at the office in my majestic splendor. The cops and I saluted each other as I walked in the building. Goats, humans, arc angels, and bears were processing paperwork and bitching at the pigs who did dispatch. I had to process the paperwork, call Paw Patrol, a series of small dogs who were good at life, if any social services were required, and sing if any babies or mothers were upset at or around each other. My baritone voice calms down the general populace.

"Good morning! Good morning!" Ned, a short goat with glasses, brown curly hair, and a white shirt with a pocket protector, shouted. He bleated.

"Good morning. What's the situation?" I asked as I walked with strength to my desk.

"Gwinnet County hasn't burned to the ground yet. Melissa is late for work. La Bamba in Walton County is running a special of five tacos for five dollars. Ricky Valens hasn't been brought back to life to sing 'La Bamba.' Satan still thinks he is going to win the spiritual war going on outside. And BLM hasn't been summoned yet. CERN is still at large opening portals to hell. Edward Snowden is alive and in prison. We still have no access to the Vatican's telescope on Mount Graham in Arizona," Ned took a deep breath before continuing. "And the son of a bitch delivery boy from Grub Hub spilled my drink on the desk."

"Very good. I authorize a pardon for Melissa's lateness. She is at a meeting with Ahayah. I think it's about female stuff," I spoke, but then shouted. "WHY THE FUCK HASN'T RICHY VALENS been brought back to life? He is supposed to sing a cover of 'Earth Angel' at NOON!!!"

"I'm sorry. The pigs at Dispatch are fucking up the resurrection spell!" Ned shouted.

"AAAAHHHH!!!! Ahayah, guide me! I need the voice of Richy Valens! I need to practice singing so that the 'Earth Angel' can bless Georgia," I shouted.

All of a sudden, I heard "Oooooooh Donna!" come out of my mouth in Richy Valen's voice. I sang "Donna" to calm the pigs at Dispatch and to the children who needed Child Protective Services.

Melissa the Great Arc Angel flew through the door. Her brown hair flowed in the air as she descended into the office. Her blue eyes showed fury in them. "Sorry I'm late. I would have been later if Richy Valens wasn't singing. Thank you, Richy Valens," she said in a strong voice as she went to her desk. "When are we going to lunch? La Bamba is running a special on five tacos for five dollars, and I'm ready to get my dance on?"

"No problem. This beats working for the Angel of Death for seven years. Those stories are still great to tell at parties. Unfortunately, I had to steal the soul of a Richy Valens fan one time. Did I mention that I was the one who stole the soul of Courtney Love? Her music was okay, but she needed to stay off the drugs," I said as I printed documents for the pigs at Dispatch to deal with. I would hate to be those sons and daughters of possible bitches. "Also, I think lunch will be after the singing of 'Earth Angel.'"

Melissa the Great Arc Angel laughed loudly. "I took the soul of Kurt Cobain. I was singing Nirvana songs for weeks afterward. I'd like to talk about it at lunch," she said as she sent faxes to the Gwinnett County Fire Department. She added a snarky office chuckle.

"Good riddance. Eddie Vedder has a much better voice. I'd rather hear those stories," I said. "Why couldn't you take his soul?"

"Excuse me! Ahayah required him to live!" Melissa the Great Arc Angel said vehemently. "Would you like to talk about our back story to the new hires?" Her blue eyes and smile sparkled.

"True. But still, Kurt Cobain? How about the son of a bitch who is the lead singer if Smashing Pumpkins. That mother fucker is talented," I said. "Also! Back stories are NEVER to be discussed with new hires! George Lucas specifically made that a rule! Those are strictly for the break room!" I slammed my fist on my desk.

"Billy needed to tell his life story on the Joe Rogan show, and NOT to the new hires on set. Sorry, Michael. He and I both have the same question. Is making music really something that has to involve signing your life away to these record labels?" Melissa the Great Arc Angel asked.

"He had no idea what he got himself into until it was too late," I said before the printer jammed. I looked at it before I said, "You son of a bitch I don't have time for this shit!"

The printer was jamming up and malfunctioning.

"Yes, you asshole, you already printed this page," I said to the printer.

The printer then started printing in Spanish.

"Do any of the pigs in this office read Spanish?!" I asked. I understood Spanish, but it wasn't my job to deal with these notes.

The pigs were oinking up a storm as they called the police, firemen, rent-a-cops, sanitation workers, other dispatch offices, and churches.

I sighed. I took the notes to the pigs. Fuck it. They can figure it out.

A female pig linked and looked at the notes. "Ay caca! Otra vez de los hijos! Mama y papa estupidos hijos de las putas!" She started swearing in Spanish at Child Protective Services. Those kids were forced to wear clown suits and make videos to entertain the country clubs in Gwinnett County. I was hot with rage.

"THOSE BASTARDS HAVE PLENTY OF ENTERTAINMENT!!! CHILD CLOWNS ARE NOT ACCEPTABLE!" I shouted. The son of a bitch printer was still jammed.

What I read next was astounding. And I quote:

"An irate woman called the sheriff's department, the fire department, CNN, Fox News, and Todd from Myspace.com. She reported that Publix had moved the 'Whole Golden Kernel' corn 30 feet down the aisle from where it had been for over 20 years. The whole customer base was an outrage and wanted to beat the store owner's ass."

I screamed. "WHY THE FUCK DID THEY MOVE THE CORN????!!!" I shouted. I was so angry at all of this bullshit that I ripped the printer out of the wall and started beating the hell out of it with the sword.

"WHY THE FUCK WEREN'T THE POLICE CALLED FIVE MINUTES AGO?!" a bitchy pig from Dispatch asked.

"Michael the Great Arc Angel is beating the hell out of the printer!" Ned answered the bitchy pig.

"WHY THE FUCK IS HE DOING THAT?!" she asked.

"I DON'T KNOW! LET ME ASK!" Ned shouted. "MICHAEL THE GREAT ARC ANGEL, WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU BEATING THE PRINTER?!"

"I'M FIXING IT!!!" I shouted. "Goddamn mudder fudder..." I spoke in tongues at the printer as the reel ended up on the other side of the office. The black ink covered the dark green carpet which had ugly pink spots. The ink improved the carpet.

Miraculously, I fixed the printer and had it in working condition. Now that's what I call Imformation Technology! Orders were backed up, so the papers sprouted wings and flew to their respective desks. Everyone in the office was swearing as they tried to file paperwork. The pigs and bears were using the extra copies of the documents to wipe their asses.

Gabriel the Great Arc Angel burned his extra copies to relieve stress and anxiety. He also hired Peter Griffin for midday beer runs.

A call came in.

"Hello!" I shouted.

"Excuse me, sir. Are you sexually frustrated?" the caller asked.

I sighed and transferred that call to the pigs.

I was filing paperwork and checking E-mails before another call came in. "HELLO!!!" I shouted.

"Hello. Guiseppe would like to speak to you regarding business with the Mafia, Atlanta Chapter!" a guido sang to me.

"GODDAMMIT I TOLD YOU TO NEVER CALL ME ON THIS LINE!!!!" I shouted as I stood up and shot death lasers through my eyes at the wall in my cubicle that permanent permanent burn marks. The roof became temporarily detached from the building.

Ned came in and threw a cup of coffee at me before he galloped out of the office for a break.

I caught the coffee and drank it as I stared at that burn mark. The Guido transferred me to over to the Atlanta Mafia. The leader was a bear who was growling at me.

I growled in fluent bear and explained that there was a restraining order in place, and that those Italian bears were not to contact me. I faxed the documents proving that my loans were forgiven by Ahayah.

"SORRY! I WON'T BOTHER YOU AGAIN! THANK YOU!" the leader bear shouted as he hung up.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH BASTARD!!!" Melissa the Great Arc Angel screamed. "Send the fax to the Gwinnett County Medical Center you son of a bitch! PEOPLE'S LIVES ARE AT STAKE!!!" She was beating the desk near the fax machine.

I sighed, took a deep breath, and did what any responsible Great Arc Angel would do: rip the fax machine out of the wall and bang it against the top of my head several times over.

A black pig who looked like Mr. T just stared at me and asked, "What the fuck are you doing now?!"

"FIXING THE FAX MACHINE!" I shouted before the phone rang in my office.

Everyone else was too busy cussing at whatever to answer my phone. One exceptionally large male pig even screamed, "YES I AM SEXUALLY FRUSTRATED! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT???!!!" So I walked over to my phone while I was still beating the fax machine against my head. Melissa the Great Arc Angel was singing "Part of that World" in Ariel from The Little Mermaid to someone on her phone line.

I answered the phone and started screaming and continued to beat the fax machine against the top of my head.

There was a pause at the other end of the line before a goat bleated.

I bleated, "I'm sorry we haven't faxed over the instructions to the EMTs at the Gwinnett County Medical Center. Our fax machine needs fixed."

He bleated, "That's some bullshit. A man is liberally being suffocated by COVID-19!"

I bleated, "Couldn't I just text the instructions over?" I was all the while beating the fax machine on my head.

He bleated, "I wish. Group texts never work. OH SHIT THE SONG IS PLAYING!"

I beat the fax machine to the rhythm of the "Ooh shit You Got Coronavirus!" song. I even added a dance as I finished beating the fax machine against my head. The damn thing was fixed, so I plugged it back into the wall near Melissa the Great Arc Angel. She was now singing "Poor Unfortunate Souls" in Ursula's voice. I think she was talking about everyone on Earth.

I bleated, "I'll be right over!" I then hung up the phone and flew the fuck out of the office at the speed of Superman. I used to be Superman until an orange female cat named Kissy meowed a great meow and called upon the Heavens in Swamp Business. Ahayah appointed me to answer the call of Kissy Anne Campinelli and gave me the title Great Arc Angel.

As I flew out of the office, a pterodactyl flew in and started screaming her head off. A goat spilled coffee and bleated swear words. That was a typical day at the office. My wings beat against the wind and rain outside. I sighed and flew over cars that were hydroplaning.

One of the cars was playing DarthSydePhineas nerd rap, and as much as I hate rap most of the time, this mother fucker is talented. I can see why Xara and Count Colonel Mac listen to this guy. I wanted to get on the ground and dance, but I had a life to save at the Gwinnett County Medical Center.

Some dumbass in a piece of shit sedan ran a red light in the middle of this storm. He was playing "Yeah!" by DarthSydePhil as he was speeding on the stream road: https://youtu.be/aZ7iZrpB2Lc

"No. Fuck this guy," I said as I sounded like DarthSydePhineas and swooped from the sky and lifted this guy off the road.

He screamed like the little bitch ass bitch he was.

I screamed back. "That's what I think of you. You damn near ran into that 2000 Toyota Tacoma who was rightfully trying to turn left. You're a bitch," I said.

"Am I going to hell?" the bitchass young kid driver asked.

"Not necessarily. It isn't my choice," I said as I flew his ass to the Gwinnett County Medical Center.

"I Spawn, I Die!" by DarthSydePhineas started playing from his radio. I agreed with the lyrics of the song: https://youtu.be/gVq03wz6DeA

"Where are you taking me?" the bitch ass bitch asked.

"To Gwinnett Medical Center. I have lives to save there. I am required to sing "Earth Angel" by Harry Waters, Jr. and Marvin Berry," I said.

"Who the fuck are they?" he asked. DarthSydePhineas was now talking bullshit about Fall Guys, a new video game in which everyone looks like a minion from Despicable Me.

"Musicians," I said before I threw that piece of shit sedan into the heavens. DarthSydePhineas's voice was fading away as his car flew the fuck into the sky. The last thing I heard DarthSydePhineas say "Oh shit. I got screwed!!!"

I descended into the Emergency Room and sang in my full baritone voice "Earth Angel" to an elderly couple that was close to death. It was then noon.

"Earth angel, Earth angel, will you be mine?

My darling dear, love you all the time.

I'm just a fool, a fool in love with you.

Earth angel, Earth angel, the one I adore

Love you for ever, and ever more.

I'm just a fool, a fool in love with you.

I fell for you, and I knew

The vision of your love's loveliness.

I hope and I pray, that some day

I'll be the vision of your hap, happiness.

Earth angel, Earth angel, please be mine.

My darling dear, love you all the time.

I'm just a fool, a fool in love with you.

I fell for you, and I knew

The vision of your love's loveliness.

I hope and I pray, that some day

I'll be the vision, the vision of your happiness.

Oh, oh, oh, Earth angel, Earth angel, please be mine.

My darling dear, love you for all time.

I'm just a fool, a fool in love with you."

The elderly couple ascended to heaven. Everyone was emotionally moved by this Code 1 situation, in which sirens and lights were sounding on cop cars around us.

The goat bleated and cried. "Thank you, Michael the Great Arc Angel," he said. "We are distraught. Can you sing songs to calm our nerves so that we can deal with living with this miserable world?"

A goat doctor announced, "They died from Covid-19. We get $8,000 from the federal government, but this situation is still sad."

I sang "Amazing Grace," "We Shall Overcome," "Like A Shepherd Who Feeds His Flock," "One Bread One Body," and "Ave Maria."

After my last note in "Ave Maria," a disgruntled pig called me.

"What code?" I sang in my booming baritone voice.

"CODE 1! A grass monster is attacking Dunkin Donuts in Snellville!" the pig screamed before he snorted and hung up.

I flew out of the Gwinnett County Medical Center and to Dunkin Donuts. A church choir was singing in the sidewalk. I sang a few notes before I damn near ran into Aladdin and Jasmine on the magical flying carpet. I sang a few notes before saying, "This fly zone is for government officials only!"

The grass monster was eating the donuts as he terrorized the customers of Dunkin Donuts.

I flew down in splendor as I flapped my large white wings for effect. My eyes were blue with rage. I stared at the grass monster. "Did you pay for those donuts?" I asked.

"YES! They fucked my order up. They forgot to add the corn to my cornbread donuts. Sons of bitches!!" the grass monster yelled as he ate the top of the restaurant.

"THOSE BASTARDS!" I shouted. "Did you kill anyone?"

"Not yet. Most of those assholes ran out of the building. Fuck them," the grass monster said as he ate the building.

"Good. Fuck them indeed. Anyway, I am heading to a better restaurant for lunch, care to join?" I asked.

"Hell yes. Where?" the grass monster asked.

"La Bamba," I answered.

"Ooooh. I love Mexican!" the grass Monster shouted.

"Let us go!" I shouted as I picked him up and flew out of there. What was left of the Dunkin Donuts building somehow became on fire. It was time for my lunch break. I didn't give a fuck. That Dunkin Donuts was horrible anyway.

We flew up so high in the sky that no one saw us. The grass monster was shouting with joy as we flew in the sky. Our descent was a bit rough. Aladdin and Jasmine were flying in the correct zone on their magic carpet.

"Excuse me! We're trying to get to La Bamba!" I shouted.

"Oh God! We always eat there! I'm trying to find a decent Middle Eastern Cuisine!" Jasmine shouted.

"Dilja Cafe Lounge in Decatur, GA," the grass monster said as we continued our descent into Loganville, GA.

"Thank you! Some asshole grass monster devoured the one we used to go to!" Aladdin called.

"The building tasted better than the food!" the grass monster called back.

We descended in the Loganville Crossing parking lot near La Bamba a few minutes later. I put the grass monster down before I brushed myself off.

He went in the restaurant. After flapping my wings to ensure no grass blades were on me, I walked in the restaurant.

Richy Valens was brought back to life. He was singing "La Bamba" in La Bamba! I hope to Goodness no one was going to say "La Bamba in La Bamba!" PeeWee Herman would be all over that.

Richy Valens's face was deep-faked on Melissa's body. Deep faking is a technology in which someone else's face can be programmed on your body. It's basic, really. I deep-faked Illidan's face on Grom Hellscream's face so many times when I played World of Warcraft, a popular multiplayer massive online roleplaying game.

I ordered the five tacos for five dollar special. The grass monster ordered the loaded nachos. He ate like crazy.

Richy Valens then returned to Heaven after he sang the song using Melissa the Great Arc Angel's body. Her face had returned.

"I'm starving!" she shouted as she stole one of my tacos.

"I PAID A DOLLAR FOR THAT!!!!" I shouted. The roof accidentally flew up from the restaurant. It then returned to its normal state.

"Sorry," she said as she finished her taco and ordered 50 tacos for $50. She WAS hungry.

"You will pay me back by not MENTIONING a back story on this restaurant," I said.

"I wasn't-" Melissa the Great Arc Angel started to say.