#and he and I and the cats can follow along at a more measured pace when we're ready.

[cesium-sheep]

we already talked about it in september and it was an option then for him and the cats and I to stay here for a while while she ran out ahead with a cheap furnished studio. there is no reason that can't be an option in march if it needs to be. I probably won't really be medically stable enough to move and start all over again by june anyway.

I'm very sad and it's all very hard and all I can do is sit here and watch and try to steer her right even though she can't hear me. I just wanna get to be together with my partners and not have to move all the fucking time. that's all I want out of this. (and access to doctors who won't actively make me worse I guess.) but she has Career Aspirations that we're supposed to facilitate however we can, that might put the two of them in different places again.

[nuctoria]

Luigi’s villain’s harem…but but…

*scoots forward*

They survive the aftermath of the games, and was found by weegee.

*Scoots up close and personal* you follow @lizadale and @ionlydatesassyelves too I see.

Bowser: he only needs some medical care and he's off to another scheme again. Nobody can stop this man but he will put some safety measures when Luigi tags along or is his turn to go through his mess. The day Bowser quits is the day either Bowser Jr is old enough or he retires and the Mario games end.

King Boo: E-Gadd gave King Boo to Luigi after he was nearly threatened by Mario and Peach cause they ain't gonna risk another escape and potentially an even more ghost hunt that could lead to someone's death. King Boo is outraged and spends every second of the day trying to free himself and make Luigi's daily life a living hell full of fear. Luigi is terrified to have him so close, despite his prison, hardly sleeping the first weeks to make sure he didn't break free in the middle of the night and did something horrible. After those weeks were up, he got sick of King Boo's constant attempts to scare him and snapped back, sort of. It still surprised King Boo to see this scaredy cat actually having a backbone and teased him to get more of that sass from him, finding it amusing. Luigi played along, oblivious for awhile, until he saw how the boo was laughing at him. They unconsciously started to bond, Luigi asking to know more about boos and King Boo noticing small things about Luigi that he asked about, such us why he liked that certain type of tea or why he paces so much. His interactions with Polterpup were amusing too. This continued all the way up to King Boo's next escape.

Antasma: it's rehabilitation for him. Luigi took him in after seeing how weak he was and he couldn't bare to leave him like this when there was a risk of him dying. Plus, he felt bad, thinking he and his brother were the reason he exploded back when they battled. Antasma was having none of it and often trying to attack Luigi but was too weak and starving to do actual damage, hissing when Luigi dared to come close. Luigi started with leaving different foods in a room he didn't use often and let Antasma do as he pleased, checking up on him every few hours to make sure he was still alive. Antasma mostly slept to not loose his energy but he found it weird how Luigi never locked the door, instead keeping it open, when he slept. It was as if he was letting Antasma feed off of him. He still fed on his dreams but he was too curious about the plumbers nature to actually do any harm or evil. He started letting Luigi stay in the room he was recovering in and made small conversation with him. He did think of leaving and going back to Pi'illo Island for revenge but he always held back, knowing that if he did so he'd loose the peaceful life he had now with Luigi and it felt worse than admitting defeat, so he stayed and lived in solitude with his green savior.

Dimentio: unlike Liza's Dimentio, the one I'm thinking just snuck in the damn house and threatened Luigi to keep quiet and help him recover, which worked given the things he put Luigi and Mr L in. It. Was. Hell. for our Man in Green, but he couldn't risk disobedience, not with his and his loved ones' lives on the line at the hands of this demented jester. He just hoped he could find a way to prevent any more catastrophes before it was too late now that he could monitor Dimentio more carefully.

[dollarbin]

Shakey Sundays #16:

Buffalo Springfield's Last Time Around

Okay, does this album even qualify for a Shakey Sunday post? Young immediately disassociated himself from the record and it's hard to hear him anywhere on the album outside of the precious, handmade and somewhat juvenile I Am A Child.

Well, my cat's impressed, (note that she instinctively blocks out every person on the cover except Young, who refused to go along with the photo concept and turned his brooding guise down and away from his band mates: good kitty...) so let's give the record a spin:

The lead track, On The Way Home, is a top 30 all time Neil Young song and the Monkees fanclub arrangement of it that appears on the record, sung by the soon to be big deal Jesus freak Richie Furay (I have a dollar bin solo late 70's record by Furay called I Still Have Dreams which has yet to ever make it to my turntable; hopefully the dreams Richie still has are psychedelic and not troubling in any way; maybe the record amazing!), may not measure it up to Young's own, innumerable, live versions (I saw Young play the song solo on the Booker T tour in 93 and it absolutely floured my 17 year old soul) but it's mix tape ready and sweet as all get out.

I kinda feel like Nick Drake used this take of the song as an inspiration for the initially baffling vibe on Bryter Layter; but Drake's song is better, of course...

And I kinda dig Young's complaint about what they did to his song. Just check out the complex, passionate and freeing potential of On The Way Home through Young's solo take from that same era:

Even so, Last Time Around is worth stretching your dollar bin buck when you see it for $4-8 smackeroos. None of the songs stink, and Stephen Stills, at this early stage, sucked a whole lot less.

But, essentially, it's a Furay/Messina record; they'd go on to found Poco after this album. I told my famous brother a few weeks back that there was surely no Poco song worth listening to, ever. He countered with the following little number. Let's listen with an open mind, then snicker at his famous tastes:

The vibe here is like Graham Parsons on way too many happy pills, or Neil Young if he pretty much sucked. There will be no Poco purchases in my near future.

Furay had been hanging about with Young and our favorite villain, Stephen Stills, for a year or three, walking in their shadows and planning for a sweet future in the manly arms of Jesus. Good for him. I see he is playing tonight, as I type, at a lodge in Montana. Tickets are still available in case you want to go: it seems that he is still busy merging rock and roll with country music; surely Richie was the first person to ever have such an idea; or maybe Jesus came up with it: I can see him dueling banjos with Richie on the Sea of Galilee.

Furay sings the best notes on this record; this may be his high water mark. Take a listen to Kind Woman: the guy had some pipes; maybe I'll try singing this to my wife tomorrow morning at the breakfast table... She loves when I bust out my trembling tenor. And my 15 year old just swoons.

Everything here is thoughtful and well paced; Stephen Stills' suckiness doesn't even get in the way. Never mind: looks like Stills doesn't actually play on the track; no matter it sounds so sweet.

Everyone other than Furay was making more important music elsewhere during the recording of this album. Young was focused on his first record, and it makes sense that he let the band have I Am A Child as it would not have fit anywhere on his own debut album.

Stills, meanwhile, was making some of the best music of his dumb career in Judy Collins' 68 band: let's end this very abbreviated Shakey Sunday with a terrific Collin's track - far better than anything on Third Time Around - in which Stills is does nothing more than play the bass:

Even Stephen Stills can't sink a track this great. No offense Richie, but I'd say Jesus would be way more into this track than anything on Last Time Around.

[s0ulm8s]

boys like you (1.0)

✿ summary : alone and left in a mansion with nothing but your canvases and the dust slowly collecting on the window sills - a commission and a call from a childhood friend completely changes your life.

✿ genre : ot7 x f!reader, poly au, hybrid au, soulmate au, deer!seokjin, black panther!yoongi, great dane!hoseok, wolf!namjoon, calico cat!jimin, tiger!taehyung, bunny!jungkook

✿ warnings : mentions of death, maybe some mentions of assault, some fluff, reader is described as small (i.e smaller than jimin), slight age gap (reader is younger than jungkook)

✿ word count : 2.2K

✿ author’s note : i am inexperienced in hybrid aus, smut, and series so pls bare with me (not proofread yet)

✿ series masterlist! | 2.0

making yourself buckle down and work on the piece in front of you had proven to be more of a task than you had originally anticipated. the wide expanse of blank canvas you had stretched yourself 3 weeks ago, mocked you from the the sun room. it was only four days before you had to deliver your piece that you had really forced yourself to pick up a paint brush and do something useful.

the endless days spent alone in the vast building you now called home was doing a number on your psyche. the sheer loneliness seemed to eat away at not only your sanity but aided to your artist’s block - it was truly a gruesome cycle. locked away in an beautiful estate that you never asked for.

not only that, but working from home and having an all but nonexistent social life in a country you only permanently moved to a year prior was a fate worse than you had imagined.

you huffed, finally setting your small brush down on the easel, stepping back to assess your final draft. despite being so unmotivated and plum out of ideas, you were still proud of what you created - you had promised yourself long ago that you’d never sell a piece you abhorred, and you’d remained true to that promise thus far.

a blaring ring ripped you out of your critical trance trained on the landscape in front of you, startling you as your heartbeat quickened in pace.

“hello?” you answered, soft voice flowing through the other end as you anticipated the response from the unknown caller.

“yah! y/n! is that you?” the voice that responded was loud and excited, the baritone of it something you could never forget. a staple soundtrack from the summers you spent with your father in south korea.

“mingi? how’d you get my number?” you asked, a genuine smile flooding your face at the sound of his familiar laugh on the other end. 

of course, the two of you had stayed in brief contact since meeting as children. but as you grew, you saw less of each other. three years ago he and his boyfriend, yunho, had successfully started their own rehabilitation and adoption center for hybrids. the first year was hard, but the business quickly gained popularity and as the creator - he’d been exceptionally busy since her permanent move to south korea. they had two permanent doctors on staff, kim hongjoong and park seonghwa, along with a 24 hour staff. the workers were really exceptional, but you had only ever met their core group when the business first started. which included: choi san, jung wooyoung, choi jongho, kang yeosang, the two doctors, and of course the two owners.

“you were commissioned by a friend of mine! which is actually why i wanted to reach out.” he answered happily as your breathing evened and heartbeat finally settled.

“it’s good to hear from you, really. what can i do for you?” you asked sweetly, and mingi only briefly thought about teasing you for your soft tone and giving nature.

“would you be able to come to the adoption wing today? i’m working here all day as we’ve some new hybrids ready to find a new home. maybe in about an hour? you could join me on my rounds and we could talk. i’d like to see you, anyways. i’ve missed you.” mingi spoke professionally, but his admission made tears prick at your eyes. he almost sounded like the sixteen year old boy who had stolen your first kiss when visiting your father that summer and the memory of when things were simpler stung in your chest. your cheeks flushed. mingi smiled at your silence, knowing he had flustered his best childhood friend. you narrowed your eyes briefly, as he had tried to convince you many times in the past to adopt a hybrid of your own - but you had declined, not entirely convinced that you could provide an exceptional life for another being. because even though your knowledge on hybrids wasn't nearly as advanced as mingi’s, you still knew the basics. they weren't just animals, they were human. and there was no guarantee there. there never was with humans. you hesitate.

“y-yes. i can come by, i’ve just got to swing by and deliver my painting beforehand.” you answered as you both agreed on the meeting the time. “oh, and mingi? i’ve missed you, too.” you said genuinely as he broke into a toothy smile. it had been ages since he’d seen you, and though he knew he could blame it on his work - he didn’t know how to face you after the death of your father. he couldn’t bring himself to be there for you, to see you so broken, and he had blamed himself for that everyday. it was a relief to hear you say it. you had always been so forgiving, sometimes to a fault.

after bidding your goodbyes to the tall boy on the other side of the phone, you quickly changed clothes into something not completely ruined by the muted pigments of your paint, loaded up in your small suv, and you were off.

the delivery of your piece went smoothly, no heckling or disapproving gazes from the wealthy couple, which made your trip to TWILIGHT that much faster. you pushed open the double doors connected to the building in the right wing, clearly labeled ADOPTION. 

the smell of roses and lavender was strong in the reception area, the scent was welcoming and calming as you walked up to the front desk. 

“y/n!” the dark haired boy behind the computer called, finally rolling away from behind the screen. kang yeosang. “it’s so good to see you!” he exclaimed, eyes scanning your face as he made his way around the counter and pulled you into a soft embrace.

“likewise, yeo! it’s been a while hasn't it?” you ask rhetorically as you stare up at his daunting height.

“mmm” he hummed with a nod, releasing you. “i'll let mingi know you’re here.” he called, returning to his place behind the sleek desk, paging mingi, and then proceeding to catch up with you.

the small conversation didn’t last long before a pair of heavy footsteps drug your gaze to the wide staircase, mingi barreling down them.

you braced yourself as the giant scooped you up into a bone crushing embrace, spinning your small frame around in a circle as he let out a happy laugh. your arms snaked around the man’s neck to secure your place and return the hug.

you giggled happily as mingi finally set you down in your original place, looking down at you excitedly. had he gotten taller? impossible. maybe you had shrunk?

after an exchange of excited greetings, mingi gestured to his clipboard before finally asking, “you ready?”

you nodded softly and followed close behind as he guided you down the halls of the adoption center. he gave you the rundown of their center, showing you the wide expanse of spotless rooms sealed in by plexiglass to show the hybrids ready to be rescued. he explained that most hybrids were separated by predator, prey, species, breed, etc. but many were grouped together with their respective packs. the rooms were quite lavish, but not very homey. but what could you expect from an adoption clinic? the point was to find homes.

you passed many show exhibits, watching intently at the small dogs or tall humans sitting in the rooms patiently, playing with one another or napping quietly. you cooed at a few.

“so i asked to see you because i’d love to have your art displayed in our business.” he propositioned, leading you into an empty room as the automatic doors opened and shut behind you. you nodded, heart lurching a bit as you recalled your artist’s block. you shook the thought away as you observed the room. it was large, littered with scattered pieces of nice furniture and random toys. “ideally, i’d love to have your pieces throughout the whole establishment but this is my main concern.” he finished, gesturing to the empty space on the large wall, the one you’re faced with when first entering.

“are you wanting a mural?” you ask, voice now stable and a bit louder. 

“i'd like the piece to cover the majority of the wall, but i’d rather have it on canvas if that’s doable. in case it needs to be moved.” he explained as you nodded, taking in rough measurements of the space as mingi explained his vision for the space - effectively helping you circulate a few ideas on what you could create. you accepted his offer as he discussed payment and supplies with you, adding in an extra cost at the large measurement of the canvas you’d need custom made.

the air in the room grew a bit thick at the sound of a small beep, alerting the two of you to another door opening. your skin was now a bit hot and you suddenly became very aware of your surroundings. your fingers tingled a bit. usually a foreign feeling such as the one you were experiencing would send you into a panic, but it didn’t. if anything you felt quite calm as you looked on inquisitively at the distant thump coming toward the two of you.

“ah, it’s look like some of our hybrids are finished with their check ups.” mingi announced as you nodded lazily. he turned to you. “we usually send them into the lounge area for about an hour after routine check ups. helps them calm down.”

suddenly, you could pay no mind to mingi’s words as a black bunny rounded the corner, back foot slapping the tile exceptionally hard every so often as you smiled down at the creature happily. it stopped in it’s tracks as it’s gaze landed upon you, rearing up on it’s back legs, and tilting it’s head innocently as it examined you. 

you knelt down to greet him, the bunny immediately approaching you and sniffing your hand before accepting you and nuzzling into you closer. mingi was taken aback as he observed the usually reserved and nervous rabbit.

“hello.” you cooed, stroking the bunny effortlessly, careful to avoid his ears and tail, briefly recalling how sensitive they could be. “what’s your name?” you asked as mingi coughed.

“this is jeongguk, he’s one of our younger hyrbrids. the youngest in his pack.” he told you as you picked the bunny up and set him into your small lap. mingi almost gasped at the interaction between you and the rabbit as you pet him happily.

your trance was interrupted at the light purr and brush of a small calico next to you. you instinctively reach out to pet him, as he rubbed into your hand. “and who might you be?”

“this is jimin, the two are in a pack.” mingi attempted to explain, trying to understand the absence of jimin’s usually protective behavior and unable to tell you the full story before you asked him something he was not expecting.

“and they’re ready to be adopted?” you asked softly, not even looking up at mingi as he stuttered. the idea of adopting a hybrid didn’t seem so far-fetched now at how taken you were with the two animals in your lap. you could handle the bunny and cat, without a doubt.

“y-yes but we only adopt out entire packs together and -”

“of course, i wouldn’t dream of separating them. is there anyway i could meet them properly, as soon as i possible i think -” you interrupt. starting to gush a bit, voice hushed and excitable.

mingi cut you off, “no, y/n. you aren’t listening. they aren’t just a pack of two.” he sighed, as your gaze finally met his. “in fact they aren’t just bunny and calico, they’re pack also includes that of a wolf, black panther, deer, great dane, and tiger... their pack has been hard to adopt out as it’s so rare for such a large mix of predators and prey... but they found each other and experienced a lot together... it was only inevitable. and we can’t separate them, we refuse to. and they won’t leave one another.” he finally finished explaining as your expression fell. you let out a breath. seven hybrids. all male. and three apex predators, at that. the thought of suddenly thrusting seven knew faces - seven new men - into your home was intimidating to say the least.

you looked down at the two animals in your lap, the bunny almost looked cresfallen. gauging your reaction as his big brown eyes stared at you expectantly. as if he knew you’d reject him. mingi continued rambling on about how many adopters had expressed interest in at least one of the pack but were never willing to bring in all seven. it hurt your heart as you watched on the bunny and calico.

the estate your father had left you was empty, though. begging to be occupied. you had more than enough room and were blessed with an untouched inheritance. maybe this is what you should use it for. you had always felt too guilty to spend it. but nothing seemed more right, which was a shocking realization to someone who never thought they’d adobt a hybrid.

“could i meet them? the seven of them? i’d at least want to give them a chance... truthfully, i dont think i can leave them behind.” you admitted softly, the bunny and cat both perked up, ears raised and twitching.

“of course. i can arrange a meeting and speak with them tonight... i’ll gather their files for you to take home tonight. can you make it back in again tomorrow?” mingi asked after a deafening pause of hesitation, mouth hanging agape before coming back into reality.

“i’ll be here.”

[jaskiersvalley]

I loved your fic about witchers being afraid of moths so much. I suffer mottophobia as well and the thought that witchers feel the same is nice. So thank you!!!

Nonnie, I'm so pleased you liked that story! Phobias of any kind can be so stressful, I hope moths don't bother you all that often. While I don't have another phobia story for you, I have something a little different that I hope you enjoy.

CW: Panic attacks

It had taken Aiden several years before he broached the idea of wintering together. He knew Lambert went to Kaer Morhen each season and didn't want to be rude by inviting himself to the Wolves' den. But he also didn't want to make Lambert have to choose between seeing his family for the season and accompanying Aiden to the Caravan. Really, he need not have feared because as soon as he brought up the topic of winter, Lambert was jumping at the chance.

"Want to go to the Caravan?"

Just like that, they spent three years wintering with Cats. Lambert fit right in, helping with life on the road without a hitch, messing around, teaching tricks and learning new ones in equal measure. He cooked, did repairs and was as accepted into the Caravan as a stranger could be. It made Aiden wonder whether he missed the pack feel of his own family of Wolves.

"This year-" he said with some hesitance late one summer, "-why don't we go north? Kaer Morhen has probably missed its youngest Wolf."

If Lambert's expression was anything to go by, he didn't agree. "Does the Caravan not want me this year?"

"What?" Aiden scoffed at the notion. "No! I thought you knew they all dote on you. I just thought you might want to spend a season with your family. You met mine..." Not that he'd ever say it out loud but Aiden wanted to meet Lambert's family too, he didn't want to be a shameful secret.

The terse "fine" sounded anything but fine. However, Lambert refused to discuss it any further and, come winter, he led them north. By the time they got to the bottom of the mountain Lambert was tense, quiet and anything he said was cutting. It wasn't the Lambert Aiden knew at all. But he reasoned that maybe Lambert was nervous about bringing a Cat home. The higher up they got, the faster Lambert's heart beat. Perhaps it was the excitement of coming home after so long, at least that was what Aiden told himself. He figured once they were done with the dangerous path up to Kaer Morhen then Lambert would relax. He was wrong.

They made it into the warmth of the halls and what followed was the most uncomfortable introduction Aiden had ever endured. Lambert stopped, arms crossed over his chest as he regarded the other three.

"This is Aiden. You break him, I break your necks." With that, Lambert stomped out, bristling and grumbling under his breath. Hastily, Aiden followed after a quick wave that the three Witchers looking suitably non-plussed by it all.

What was strange was that Lambert didn't settle. He was a fountain of bitter remarks, sarcastic quips and brash aggression. Aiden couldn't make heads or tails of it. The others didn't react, didn't seem like they even wanted to try and calm the situation. In the end Aiden couldn't stand by anymore and cornered Eskel, demanding answers.

"What do you mean?" The thing was, Eskel genuinely seemed confused. "That's just Lambert for you. You've known him for years now, surely you're used to it."

But Aiden wasn't. He hadn't seen Lambert like that before, so on edge. "No," he replied in the end. "This isn't how I know him. His heart rate's high, he's callous, spikey, lashing out. That's not the Lambert I know."

The look Eskel gave him was one of strange reproach. "The mutagens didn't fully take with him, his heart's always been faster than a normal Witcher's. As for the rest, I don't know what swamp water you drink to block it out but that's Lambert in a nutshell."

It wasn't. Aiden knew Lambert, spent years listening to his steady heartbeat, relishing when they fell in sync most nights. He'd seen the kindness and patience Lambert had out on the Path and at the Caravan. There was no mocking for getting footwork wrong, no calling the other person an idiot with a scoff. Nor had Aiden ever seen Lambert pace before, a restless tracing of a path between window and door of the bedroom. The growled "don't touch me" sounded full of threat, so much like a dog trying to prove he could really hurt an opponent in an effort to stave off an actual fight. Seeing Lambert like that hurt and Aiden didn't know what had provoked the change.

Things got worse when they were making repairs to Kaer Morhen, trying to undo all the damage the sacking had done. With the parts they inhabited secure and warm, Vesemir directed their work to the dungeons, salvaging what they could. Smoke stained books and scrolls along with bottles that contained the dregs of potions were pulled from partially collapsed rooms. Lambert was exceptionally acerbic, sniping at everyone including Aiden. It was all ignored until he snapped at Vesemir, "so what's the plan here, old man? Going to open up the torture chambers again to get your rocks off?"

"Another word from you and you'll be running the Killer twice before each meal," Vesemir growled, grabbing another thick book covered in ash and rock debris.

Throwing his hands up, Lambert stormed off, muttering about how he'd rather run the Killer night and day than suffer this idiocy. Nobody seemed to care that his breath had hitched and heartrate was rocketing higher. Well, Aiden cared. Seeing as none of the others looked interested in following Lambert, he took it upon himself.

"Best to leave him," Eskel called after him. "He'll probably destroy a few training dummies in a fit of rage and then calm. Ignoring him leads to the fewest injuries for all."

Not that Aiden cared. He followed the sour scent that Lambert had been coated in all winter, maybe even before that. True to Eskel's prediction, he was in the training yard but he wasn't decimating dummies. Instead, Lambert was staring blankly off into the distance, muscles locked into a tense hunch.

"Lamb?"

His name seemed to jerk Lambert out of whatever thoughts he'd gotten lost in. Whirling, he rounded on Aiden with a snarl. Not rising to it, Aiden held a arm open and stepped closer, inviting Lambert into a cuddle. His heart broke a little when Lambert reared away, spitting with rage. "Don't touch me!"

Truthfully, Aiden didn't have to, he could see the solid lines of muscles, coiled tight. Everything about Lambert screamed to be left alone but he couldn't, not when there was something so underlyingly wrong. If Aiden didn't know any better, he'd have said that anyone else behaving like Lambert was having a silent panic attack. Maybe Aiden didn't know any better. He'd rarely heard Lambert speak of Kaer Morhen or the others, and when it did it wasn't with fondness. Around them was destruction, every stone imbued with memories of a hard life. Aiden knew that the instructors were harsh, often punishing Lambert with a cane or deprivation as he grew up. Vesemir had been one of those men and Lambert had to face his tormentor on a daily basis. They'd been digging up the dungeon where the trials had been administered, pulling what they could on how to recreate the them. Each crumbling wall was another layer of memories of the sacking, of a life Lambert hated but had no idea how to leave behind. When the misery was the only thing he knew, the only steady thing in his life, it was easier to cling to it rather than embrace the terror of the unknow.

Keeping his distance, Aiden nodded. "It's okay." It wasn't but he had no idea what else to say. They were going to have to get through winter, it was too late to head down the mountain. But as soon as it was safe, Aiden was whisking Lambert away from it. He wasn't letting him face the traumas of his past again and again. It wasn't healthy to rip open those wounds, to come face to face with living memories each time he saw Vesemir and Kaer Morhen.

When Aiden stepped in again, Lambert didn't scuttle away. Instead, he was stiff as a board in Aiden's arms, quivering with pent up emotions. Slowly, Aiden rubbed his back, tried to urge him to relax into his hold. Ever so gradually Lambert did, letting Aiden take a fair chunk of his weight as the shaking got more pronounced. Without a word, Aiden held him, gave him the quiet and the space to finally fall apart. It made him wonder whether, in years gone by, Lambert would allow himself to break apart each night in the privacy of his room. Now, with Aiden there, had he been trying to hold it all together, no space safe enough to let his emotions out? Shuddering at the thought, Aiden held Lambert tighter. Come next year, they were going to spend winter with the Caravan again. Never again was Lambert going to have to face the haunting wraiths of his past. Not if Aiden could help it.

[shadowgeist-stars]

Ren x Gakushu: Nightmares

Ren was standing in the Chairman's office, watching the man pace around him, Araki, Seo, and Koyama with practiced, measured steps. His words were almost entirely unintelligible, but his voice was just like always. The same eerie, low tenor that made his skin try to crawl off his body, like he suddenly had some kind of flesh-eating disease.

Suddenly the monster struck. A huge fleshy mass with eyes so big that they overlapped one another on its face. A mouth so wide and sharply fanged that it could swallow anyone whole and shred them apart in its jaws anyway. Before he knew it, there was an agonizing sting at the back of his head and the better part of his back. Ren was somehow thrown against the wall, pain tearing against his sternum and surrounding ligaments making it nearly impossible to breathe. The others were no different, as if they were flung just as woefully unprepared into the same MMA fight that he was in.

Then he realized all of their bodies hadn't even moved.

For all intents and purposes, their minds had been violently punted from each of their bodies, leaving them as empty shells that did nothing but chant an insatiable desire to kill E-Class. If Ren didn't have trouble breathing before, he was all but suffocating now. It only got worse when Gakushu reentered the room, only to call out to Ren and the others in horror. The mix of anger, disgust, and outright fear with which he stared at his father and his pet beast nearly wrenched his racing heart clear out of his chest.

“Gakushu, please… I'm right here…”

He forced his ghostly form to stand up. Dizziness spun his vision every which way. His shaking feet didn't feel anything close to steady as he tried to stumble toward his friend. The monster over the principal's shoulder only pounced again, painfully crushing his throat in its clawed grip as he could only face that menacing, unnatural grin. Darkness was beginning to dot his vision as it blurred with tears. He reached helplessly for his best friend with whatever vanishing strength he had left, as it all went cold and dark and --

Ren's eyes shot open with a gasp, heart pounding and breathing as if he'd just endured one of Gakushu's soccer games. He lay frozen and tense in his bed, clutching his bed covers and staring at nothing but his own bedroom floor as he slowly willed himself to calm down.

After he finally deemed himself calmed from the nightmare, (and telling himself that No, panic-brain, my blazer that I keep hung on my door is not a monster that's here to kill me) he sat up in his bed and checked the time on his alarm clock.

Only a few minutes after 3 o’clock, in the morning.

Ren grimaced to himself, running a hand through his stupid bedhead. Either Seo or Koyama would probably laugh about some kind of joke related to the time that he’s almost certain he’d rather not hear. However, he just thought it was too darn early to be up, even with something like a very graphic memory/nightmare to blame.

The principal monster from his nightmare flashed behind his eyes, in its own twisted "speak of the devil." What better way of being told by one's own brain that going back to sleep at that moment was not an option?

…Maybe a cup of tea or something warm (and uncaffeinated) would settle him down enough to help.

With a sigh, he got out of bed, pulled on a shirt, and headed to the kitchen.

He knew the house well enough that he didn't have to turn on the lights. He knew every place where the floors creaked, exactly where to stick to the walls and where to simply keep a light foot. The tiny nightlights in the halls kept it just visible enough that one didn't have to stumble around in complete darkness.

Many years ago, traversing his house at night was a game to Ren. One where his eyes sported beams of light to help him see. A game in which the dark wasn’t a monster to fear, but his playmate.

When he reached the kitchen, he breathed a soft sigh of relief. He grabbed a mug from the dish cabinet, but before he could do anything else, he noticed a light.

Light that was coming from the living room TV, partly shadowed by a figure on the couch.

Ren had a feeling he knew who that was. Guess I’m not the only one having a rough night.

With that in mind, he grabbed a second mug before pulling the jar of dried chamomile from the back of a different cabinet, fixing some tea with it.

The person on the couch didn’t respond to any noise he made, which meant one of two things: he was either quite aware of his presence and simply waiting for Ren to reveal himself, or he was out of it to the point of somehow not noticing the brunette was even there.

With someone like Gakushu Asano, there was no in-between with those two possibilities.

The moment the tea was ready, Ren poured it into the two mugs, a small voice in the back of his mind reminding him to put some sugar in Gakushu’s mug. He likes his tea sweetened a little. It’ll help him calm down more easily if he’s tense or had a nightmare, and right now he's possibly both.

He glanced at whatever he was watching on TV, which was turned down so low he couldn’t quite hear it. A documentary: his go-to for calming down from a bad dream. Crime or historic ones usually mean something relatively tame. But this one’s a nature documentary; he only goes to those things when it’s really bad.

The taller boy took a deep breath before heading over, humming a familiar tune and making sure to seek out the one floorboard he knew would creak. A word of advice from a friend, so as to not scare him once in his line of sight.

The redhead made an almost unnoticeable jolt before bright purple eyes met his. (So he really was out of it to a point he didn't know I was there, or at least hyperfixating on the TV.) He was wrapped in a throw blanket and had his legs laid across the length of the couch; he was probably planning on sleeping there if he was able to calm down enough.

“Ren… How long have you been up?” he asked, shifting around to sit properly on the sofa.

He chuckled, setting down the mugs on the coffee table until he was sitting down beside his boyfriend. “Obviously not as long as you.” His smile became a frown when he got no snarky response. “Nightmares keeping you up, too, huh?”

The shorter boy only nodded once, taking his mug when it was offered. “I hoped to be able to sleep again, after getting my mind off of it… And I didn’t expect to be discovered."

Ren hummed, sipping his own beverage. "…It was the brainwashing incident on my end… Araki saying it felt like an out-of-body experience was pretty accurate."

The ginger didn't seem too surprised. "…It was partially that exact incident for myself… and also the immediate aftermath of the pole-toppling match. I still find it hard to forget how badly Kevin and the other exchange students were injured, because of him… it was so severe that they all had to return to their home countries, once they'd recovered enough to do so."

The others didn’t hear much of that when it happened beyond when the paramedics showed up at the school. At the time, they all knew better than to ask while the wound was still fresh. Then again, it wasn’t like he would’ve been coherent enough to elaborate on the situation anyway, given how he fell asleep on the ride home.

"Least they don't have to worry about him hurting them again now…" he replied finally, "or anyone, to be honest. Especially not you." He pulled the strawberry blond boy into his side. "I think you remember well enough… how worried I was when he hit you in front of everybody."

The shorter boy’s exhale reverberated with exhaustion as his head drooped on his lover’s shoulder, followed by the sound of him emptying his mug. “Not as much as I wish I did… but at the same time more than I care to admit. It’s exhausting just thinking about it.”

The brunette smiled sadly at the sheer amount of fatigue in his tone, giving his shoulder a squeeze before finishing his own drink. "All the same, we can say that we're safe from him, and that in itself means a lot… By the way, I would've been alright with you coming over to my room after you woke up from your nightmare."

That only earned him a sleepy, yet sour look. "Why would I do that? I'm not a toddler, Ren."

The brunette snickered, using a thumb and index finger to get the other to face him. "Maybe not, but it's not childish to be afraid or need someone else, even for just a little company. Haven't you felt any better since I came out here?"

Gakushu tried to avert his face. "I suppose you could say that…"

Begrudging victory; I'll take it.

He smiled as he leaned in to kiss the shorter boy. He slipped his tongue in easily, tasting the chamomile's aftermath and practically feeling the remnants of Gakushu's tension and traces of his own nightmare disappear into the documentary's white noise. The ginger all but melted into his arms, the long and lazy kiss bearing down on his eyelids with sleep in a wave of honeyed warmth. Pulling away showed a pair of hazy purple eyes struggling to open again, on an adorable, blushing face.

“I love you, Gakushu; sweet dreams.”

The shorter boy gave a slow, cat-like blink, snuggling further against the taller boy. “Hmm… love you too… Ren…”

Ren chuckled at his slurred speech as he took Gakushu's empty mug from his hands, placing it and his own mug on the coffee table. Afterwards he turned off the TV, pulling Gakushu along as he shifted them around, until they were now both laying sideways on the couch, with a red-haired head on his chest. He managed to resituate the throw blanket over them both, draping long arms over his beloved; one settling across his waist, the other scratching his scalp in rhythmic circles.

He leaned into the crevice between the couch cushion and backrest with a contented sigh. With the weight and warmth of his boyfriend in his arms and the steady whispering breeze of breath in his ears and over his chest, the image of the former principal and the big-eyed monster was nothing more than a fading memory. They were both safe here, in this homey little bubble. Pressing a final kiss to his boyfriend's crown, he laid his own head down and closed his eyes, letting sleep carry him away on a far more welcoming cloud.

It wasn’t the first time they had such nightmares, and it may well be far from the last, but for now, they could sleep without fear, and that was enough.

[sirius]

Bite Marks (The Mandalorian x Reader) SMUT

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader

Warnings: Unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap that willy), Dom/Sub, Rough sex, Oral sex (Reader receiving), Swearing. IF YOU’RE A MINOR, KINDLY FUCK OFF 

Word Count: 3.6k? I think? Who knows at this point

A/N: Nothing sexier than Jealous!Mando, amirite? 

***

The bounty was supposed to be easy.

All five mercenaries were dudebro fuckbois with high prices on their heads and a habit of pissing off the wrong people. They were all expected to be at the same club, too, which meant that you just had to flaunt some skin and purr honeyed promises and they’d be in the palm of your hands.

The bounty was supposed to be fucking easy .

It wasn’t.

***

The Mandalorian is suspicious. He always is.

“What are the chances of all six of our targets being in one place?” He says, “Seems suspicious. Could be a trap.”

“I considered that, too,” you remark from over your shoulder, searching idly for an outfit, “That was before I realised it was a Solastice festival. Literally hundreds of thousands of people rock up to this sleeze fest. No one wants to miss out on the free booze and the orgies,” Your fingers skim across a velvet mermaid dress, “How about this?”

Mando huffs out a grunt, “I should come.”

You toss the dress aside and search for another, “Who’s going to look after the Child?”

The Mandalorian stares long and hard at the Child, who blinks owlishly back at the Mandalorian, his inky eyes filled with adoration, “I know someone.”

“You sure you can trust them?”

“She’s taken care of him before.”

You give a noncommittal hum and hold out a lacy, navy-blue dress, “What about this?”

“That’s it?”

“What? You don’t like a bit of lace—?”

“—you’re not going to argue about me coming on this bounty with you?”

“It’ll be fun,” you smirk, throwing the dress away, “Besides, I like watching you in action. You’re sexy when you fight.”

Mando tilts his head. His expression is impossible to read but you suspect he might be amused, annoyed or confused.

Beaming excitedly, you flatten a sleek, backless dress with a plunging neckline against your body, imagining how the dress will hug your curves and flaunt your cleavage. A long split down the side will give you access to the blasters and daggers strapped to your thigh holster too. It’s classy with just enough sexy to keep the imagination stirring.

The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything for a long, measured moment. Somehow, perhaps ironically — the silence seems to whisper his approval.

You untie your silk dressing robe, letting it fall to the ground and pool around your feet. The Mandolorian averts his gaze. suddenly taking a keen interest in the small plant you’ve been watering. You wish you could see his face. Is he blushing? Is he horrified? Is he aroused?

Sliding into the dress, you turn and gesture to the zip kissing the small of your back. “Do you mind?”

The Mandalorian hesitates at first. Somehow, you can almost hear the clink of his thoughts colliding, like he’s mentally solving dynamical system calculations and differential equations. Finally, he stalks toward you and you feel the hesitancy begin to thaw as his gloved fingers twitch around the zip and tug.

His ghostly, featherlight touch lingers on your skin, following the line of your spine until he reaches the thin straps sitting elegantly on the knob of your shoulders. Summoning every ounce of your ex-assassin courage, you slowly turn to face him and stare deeply into the slit in his helmet, imagining the colour of his eyes. Are they a dazzling shade of blue? Or a lovely, rare shade of teal green? Perhaps a smokey umber or steely grey? Or were they like yours; a kaleidoscope of colour always shifting and changing and never one distinct shade?

The air thickens, electricity crackles.

Suddenly, the Mandalorian nods stiffly and stumps away, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You sigh, realising that there’s more than Beskar armour hiding his thick, prickly layers. Perhaps... , you muse, in that childishly naive way that only deep affection can stir, ... Perhaps  I’ll find a way to pry it off.

***

Outside, the festival rages.

The dancing crowd of celebrants are like a splash of vibrant colour against the bland backdrop of the surrounding buildings as they flood the streets, filling the air with hoots and cheer and vivid shades of life .

You perch on the barstool, keeping an eye on both your targets and the festival. The Mandalorian is sitting at a table in the far corner, close to the exit in case the targets are as dumb as they look and decide to make a break for it.

The bartender slides yet another drink your way from a hopeful suitor. You smile and take a sip, winking at the nervous, young man stealing furtive glances at you.

“My, my...” a greasy voice says from over your shoulder, “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing in dump like this?”

You spin in your stool and smirk.

The lead dudebro of the fuckboi boy-band is trying to make a pass at you. He thinks he sounds smooth but his pick up lines are equal parts cliche and cringy and they come off polished and second-hand, like he’d heard it from a grainy, amateur porn movie and decided it was a winner.

“Hoping to find myself a handsome fella,” you purr, flashing him your most alluring smile.

Dudebro leans against the counter, reeking of smoke and sweat and virile fuckboi testosterone. He trails a lewd gaze from your eyes down past your neck, spilling indulgently between your breasts, along the sloping curve of your hips, down to the skin of your thigh peeking out from where you have one leg crossed over the other.

“How is that working out for you?”

Your lips tilt into a cat-like smirk, like a spider watching the squirming wreck of their prey struggle against the sticky fibres of a carefully designed web, “You tell me.”

“Beautiful, clever and single? Seems too good to be true.”

“Yet here we are.”

A dodgy grin hooks around Dudebros chapped lips. He slides a calloused hand along your thigh, his grip bordering on possessive.

“Here we are.”

You pause, stretching out a silence to create tension. Dudebro slides his tongue over his bottom lip.

“You should know that I give generously to women who know how to please a man,” he says, “And you look like you know a thing or two about that...”

You lean over, your lips ghosting over the shell of his ear, “Why don’t we get a room and you can see for yourself.”

Dudebro shudders. You’ve got him.

Suddenly, a blur of grey and silver charges toward dudebro, slamming his head onto the counter. Dudebro crumbles into an unconscious heap by your feet.

The Mandalorian has swooped in to save the day. What a knight in shining fucking armour.

“What the fuck was that about?” You hiss, incensed, “I nearly had him!”

The Mandalorian doesn’t answer. Instead, he’s twirling his blaster between his fingers with well-practiced movements.

The other dudebro’s jump to their feet, steeling themselves for a fight.

Chaos erupts.

***

You’re quiet on your way back to the Razor Crest.

Your blood is boiling, your throat itchy and dry from all the insults you want to scream into the dull, black, bottomless void. The Mandalorian’s anger is an icy contrast to your fire; his broad shoulders steeled and his posture hard, unforgiving, like he’s still hunting down a bounty.

Your temper spikes as you watch him pay Peli Motto, your jaw clenched and your lower belly fluttering with a confusingly irritating concoction of venomous seething and hot, syrupy desire.

“It didn’t have to end in a fucking bar brawl,” you snip, waspishly, as he closes the hatch to his ship, “Thanks to you, though, it did.”

The Mandalorian gives you his usual response: silence.

Your nostrils flare.

“Three dudebros nearly escaped. It was lucky I was able to catch them before they raced off.”

Still no response. He’s too busy scaling the ladder up to the cockpit. You stomp up to the ladder and call up to him.

“You undermined me! And for what, exactly? Because some guy was getting a little touchy feely?”

You hear the engines roar to life and feel the ship rise, hover, then launch into the air.

Fuming, you pace the length of the ship, clutching the daggers in your thigh holster  and hurling them in quick procession. They lodge themselves into the bullseye, trembling from the force of your strength.

“You’re making dents in my ship.”

Your jaw clenches, molars grinding as you storm toward the daggers and pull one of them out.

“So now you want to talk!” You snap, scathingly, wheeling around to face him.

Mando’s helmet tilts as though he were evaluating you. He takes three deliberate steps forward, forcing you take a surreptitious step back.

“I’m not exactly a conversationalist,” he states, his voice clipped and tight. He makes no effort to disguise the anger in his tone.

You ball your fingers into a fist, clenching and unclenching, “So you’re not going to explain to me why you nearly let three of our bounty’s escape?”

There is a crackle and whir from the modulator as he speaks again, low and even with an intensity that sends shivers traipsing down your spine.

“You don’t know?”

You squint at him, wondering what he’s playing at. He acted rashly and impulsively; in a way that he’s never done before, betraying his years of careful training and defying all common sense. His timing was peculiar, too, just when you had suggested finding a room...

It hits you like a blaster to the chest, “You were jealous.”

Mando takes another step forward, neatly eliminating any space you had tried to regain. Your back is pressed against the wall as he takes another step closer, closer, closer , his arm reaching out grazing against your cheek, caging you in, closer, closer, closer—

He grips the handle of your dagger and pulls it out of the wall beside your head with a strong tug. The dagger dances between his fingers as he twirls it then parts the split in your dress just enough to slide the dagger back into its holster. His fingers glide along your inner thigh and you gasp, his touch electric.

“Not exactly,” he says, “Just a little protective.”

You exhale slowly, evenly, your chest fluttering with a thousand hummingbirds, “Is there a difference?”

He pulls his gloves off and trails his fingers along the delicate skin of your inner thigh, “I suppose not.”

The tension in the air is almost sentient, alive with a frantic, crackling energy that’s hotter than a heatwave in Tatoonie. Mando’s fingers dig into the spot where dudebro fuckboi had his hand back in the bar. Slowly, slowly, his hand snakes up your thigh, grazing across your hipbone, tickling the sensitive skin...

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” you sneer, your upper lip curled.

“I guess I am,” he admits, his eyes boring holes through the visor of his helmet, “But you’re no angel, either.”

With that, he whirls you around and pushes you up against the wall, your flushed cheeks pressed up against the cool metal of his ship. You moan when he drapes a bandage across your eyes then tugs tightly at your hair. You hear him pull his helmet over his head, dropping it onto the ground with an obnoxious clang. Then he’s behind you, his voice in your ear, sultry and thick.

“You waltz around teasing me with those looks and that body of yours,” he grips your ass through the fabric of your dress, squeezing with bruising strength, “You drive me absolutely fucking crazy.”

He presses a searing kiss to your neck, teeth clamping around the flesh. You moan and arch against him, desire pulsing through your veins like velvety liquid chocolate.

“Then I saw you with our bounty, the way he eyed you, like he was undressing your right then and there,” the Mandalorian grazes his teeth along your neck, biting and nipping hard enough to draw blood, “Only I get to look at you like that. You’re mine.”

With a sudden burst of strength, the Mandalorian grips you by the waist and spins you around, pressing your back against the wall. He crashes his lips onto yours in a searing kiss, teeth scraping and tongues clashing, his mouth ruthless and bruising in the most delicious of ways. He kisses you with the hunger of a starved man, as though he’s deciding whether to savour you or swallow you whole.

The Mandalorian spills his lips down the column of your throat, biting and sucking and bruising, planting blossoming purple roses in your skin. Bite marks swell beneath his lips; a brand you’ll wear proudly for the next few days. It’s ironic how being claimed by the Mandalorian can make you feel so liberated.

He pulls away from you and clutches the zipper to your dress, tearing it from your body. You gasp, the cool air caressing your exposed skin. You feel the prickle of his eyes travelling across your body, capturing and collecting, memorising every detail.

And then he’s on you again, kissing your lips fiercely, stealing the breath from your lungs, swallowing your gasps, your moans, trapping your bottom lip between his teeth and biting. Your hands roam through his hair, tugging the roots, letting it melt between your fingers like honey.

The Mandalorian reaches behind you and rips off your bra followed by your panties, pulling an involuntary gasp from your lips.

“You’re going to have to pay for those,” you pant, “They weren’t cheap—“

You trail off into a moan as you feel the Mandalorian’s hot lips close around one of your nipples, teeth scraping and nibbling. You arch into his mouth, massaging his scalp as you play with his hair. His hand paws at your other breast, rolling the soft flesh in his palm, sending shivers throughout your body.

“Consider it payback for denting my ship,” he counters, and you hear his armour clink against the ships floor as though he were kneeling.

You’re about to ask him what he’s doing when he begins pressing butterfly kisses down your stomach, tasting the salty sweetness of your skin, tongue mapping out the canvas of your body. You moan when he bites your hipbone then travels lower, lower, until his hot breath is hovering over your slick entrance. He slings your leg over his shoulder and inhales your scent as though he were taking mental notes, cataloguing your natural fragrance with everything he knows about you, and then—

He dives in, curling his tongue over your clit, rolling the sensitive pearl of nerves as he drinks you in like sweet nectar. You moan and gasp and whimper his name, your voice hoarse as your lower belly crackles with ethereal-like energy; a nest of frayed, live wires sending currents of azure-blue electricity through your body.

Thick fingers push into you; first the index, then the middle finger, then both. Your back arches and your fingers fly into his hair, gripping hard enough to draw a groan from the back of his throat. It doesn’t take long for you to climax; you cry out his name as you shatter into oblivion, coasting a high that jolts you into hyperspace.

The Mandalorian kisses his way back up your body, and then he kisses you deeply. You slide your tongue over his lips, tasting yourself. Your head spins into a state of euphoric delirium.

“Your pleasure belongs to me,” he snarls, transforming your spine into a quivering live wire, “I’m in charge. Understood?”

“Yes, sir ,” you whisper, light as air, tone teasing.

“Good girl.”

The Mandalorian breaks away, the absence of his warmth leaving a ghosting greyness where he once stood. You shudder as you hear armour clicking and the whirr of zipper teeth being pulled apart. Then you feel his hands tug on the knot behind your head, keeping your bandage together, and the fabric falls away, returning your vision.

You blink, eyes adjusting. The Mandalorian stands before you in his armour, including his helmet. His codpiece is discarded; the lump of metal sits abandoned on the floor near your shredded clothes. You trap your bottom lip between your teeth as your gaze dips to his huge, thick cock.

“Wow,” you gasp, “You’ve been holding out on me, Mando.”

The Mandalorian steps toward you again, hooks his arms around your thighs, and hoists you up against the wall. The cold metal bites into your back, penetrating your skin and crawling down your spine. He presses his cock against your entrance.

“Maybe if you weren’t such a brat...”

Without further ado, He pins you to the wall of the Razor Crest with his long, thick girth, sinking into you with a loud groan and a roll of his hips. You cling onto the pieces of his armour and rest your head on the cool metal of his shoulder as the Mandalorian sets a pace. He rocks his hips slowly at first and you move your own hips against him, for once perfectly in sync.

“Fuck,” you curse, wrapping your thighs around his hips and pulling him further into your warm depths.

The Mandalorian snaps his hips against you, building up a fast, unrelenting pace. His movements are steady and deliberate, his grip plunging into your thighs, shooting sparks of pain and pleasure throughout your entire body. He’s silent for the most part, occasionally grunting and gasping in your ear when the muscles in your pussy contract.

“Yes,” you cry, biting into the fabric of his shoulder, “Just like that, don’t stop.”

A familiar tightness begins to curl inside your lower belly again, sloshing around with the chemical cocktail of champagne,

dopamine and serotonin. The feeling rolls and crashes within you, filling you up like seawater and sunlight and bright, glittering gold.

“Every time a man lays his hands on you, I want to cut them off,” he growls, each word punctuated with a sharp thrust, “Each eye that follows you makes me want to dig them out of the socket.”

“I never — oh — never knew you felt like — Ah, fuck yes — like that.”

“Bullshit. You knew...you’re just such a — fuck — fucking tease .”

“So what are you going to do—do about it?”

The Mandalorian groans and increases his pace, slamming his cock inside of you. He balances you with one, strong arm while the other snakes between the two of you and reaches up, up, up, his fingers wrapping around your neck, flexing gently. The added pressure makes you moan as you crest higher and higher, scaling the wobbling, tipsy-turvey ladder of a crashing crescendo—

Suddenly, the tight coil inside you snaps, spirals, sending pleasure surging through you, fluttering in your chest, pulsing through your arms and legs. Your pussy quivers around him, hugging his cock as the muscles spasm and quake with the force of your climax. The Mandalorian follows you over the edge, gritting his teeth and growling your name as he buries his twitching cock inside of you and comes, pouring his seed deep inside of you.

The air around of you smells like sweat and sex and grease and is filled with your combined pants. After a few lingering moments, the Mandalorian slides out of you and places you gently on the ground, tucking himself back into his pants. Your thighs are sticky with his dribbling cum and your head feels like it’s been crammed with fluffy cotton buds but your entire body tingles like light dancing off the ocean.

“That was—“

“Incredible...” you finish, biting your lip. The Mandalorian’s faceless mask stares down at you, but you have a sneaking suspicion that he’s gazing sheepishly at you, perhaps shy or maybe even aroused. Maybe he’s like you — an amalgamation of conflicting emotions, some old and nostalgic, some surprising and new.

***

Morning light drenches the Mandalorian’s quarters, shimmering like gold dust. You moan gently, consciousness slowly returning to you. You become aware of your surroundings, recognition settling in, delicious memories of being tied up and blindfolded while the Mandalorian worshipped your body...

The gentle caress of a warm kiss tickles your inner thigh.

You moan as the kisses dot along your thigh, climbing higher, teasing around your entrance, licking and nipping like he can’t get enough...

Your fingers fumble then clench around the bed sheets as his tongue finally laps at your clit, swirling and sliding in tantalising rhythms. You gasp and mewl, whispering words of encouragement as the Mandalorian feasts on you, plunging two fingers into your slick entrance. You begin to draw closer and closer to your climax, your toes curling as you throw your head back and moan—

A small whimper suddenly jolts you back into the present.

You sit up on your elbows and gasp, clambering to cover yourself as the Child stares up at you, distressed by the sound of your moans. His bottom lip trembles, his large eyes unusually glassy as he waddles up to you.

Beneath you, the Mandalorian shifts, and you turn away from him as he slides his helmet on.

“Hello baby,” you soothe, reaching down to scoop him up with one arm, “It’s okay, mummy’s here.”

The Child coos in delight as he snuggles into your embrace. You gently turn on your side to face the Mandalorian — who is now wearing his helmet — and place the Child between your bodies. He stares up at both of you and beams; his smile could light up a thousands suns.

When the Child begins to doze, you gaze up at the Mandalorian through your lashes, bracing your head on your hand bent at the elbow.

“I think he was jealous,” you whisper, stifling your giggles.

You hear the amusement in the Mandalorian’s tone, “Of you or of me?”

You shrug, leaning down to press a tiny kiss on the Child’s head, “Who knows?”

[daebakinc]

Building Up an Appetite

Group: CNCO Pairing: Christopher x Reader Genre: Fluff, Romance Word Count: 1.7K Summary: What happens when you ignore a needy puppy who wants attention.

You were very aware of his hand resting on your inner thigh. You lay on the bed reading, your legs tented. Christopher had come in and stretched out by your feet. Up until now he was behaving. You felt him move his hand lower on your thigh and push at your shorts.

“Quit it,” you swatted at him.

Christopher giggled and took his phone out, seeming to leave you alone. A few minutes later his hand was back on your thigh.

You glared at him over the top of your book. He was pretending to be interested in his phone, but from the smirk on his face you knew he was intentionally being a little butt nugget.

“Move your hand or I’m going to smack you.”

He lifted his gaze to you. “Promise?” His smirk was bigger.

You kicked at him. “Go away and let me read.” You lifted your book again, which was your mistake.

He rested his palm right over your crotch.

You didn’t move the book but couldn’t exactly concentrate on the page either. “Christopher,” you growled in warning.

He giggled more, but his hand didn’t move at all.

His teeth lightly nipped at your inner thigh causing your book to fall from your hands and you to gasp. Your face flushed instantly and you could see him chuckling more as he licked at the spot. Your grabbed a pillow and threw it.

Christopher’s laughter filled the room as he rolled off the bed.

You tossed another pillow in his direction. “Stop being a little jerk! Go play your video games!” You picked up a stuffed animal from the bed and also threw it for good measure then scowled at him until he walked out of the room, still snickering.

You put your hands to your cheeks until you could feel the blood leave them. You glanced at the door to make sure he wasn’t lurking before picking up your book and trying to find the page you were on.

His giggling ruined any shot of surprising you and you saw him running toward you.

Christopher screamed and leapt onto the bed while you shrieked and hid under your book. Both of you were giggling now as he was tickling you without mercy. You tried hitting him with your book but he moved out of the way and it flew off the bed. He tickled at your hips and as you tried to grab at his hands he moved them up your sides. 

Your giggling was just as loud as his. You squirmed and attempted to get out of his grasp. Unfortunately for you, he had you pinned between his legs and knew all of your sensitive and ticklish spots. 

It was getting hard to breathe as you kept laughing and wrestling with his hands. In a quick moment of brilliance you pushed at his chest, which he wasn’t expecting. He lost balance and had to sit up to right himself.

“What do you want?” you whined at him, taking quick breaths. You held your hands out in front of you to block anymore attacks he might make.

He smiled at you, his chest moving just as fast while trying to regain the air in his lungs. His hands were out following the movement of your own. “I want you to love me.”

You scoffed at him, batting at one of his hands that was coming too close to your ticklish side. “I do love you. Now leave me be so I can read in peace.”

His smile grew. “Sí, but I want you to love me right now. Préstame atención.”

“You’re worse than a cat.”

“Eso es porque soy un cachorro,” he giggled again.

Before you could make another snide remark, he grabbed both your hands and pinned them above your head.

“Chris,” you cried in panic. You couldn’t handle it if he began tickling you again.

“Shhh.” He bent down and placed a kiss on your forehead. His lips lingered for several seconds. They felt so soft.  He lifted slightly and whispered to you, “Close your eyes.”

You did as you were told, feeling calmer after his first kiss.

He moved his lips over your right eyelid, kissing it the same length as he did your forehead. He then did the same to the left eyelid. This pattern followed to your right cheek, then left, chin, right side of your neck, throat, left side.

The warm spicy, woody scent of his cologne filled your nose. You felt your heart beating faster.

You didn’t mean to whimper, and you especially didn’t mean for him to hear it, but he did and chuckled once again. “You still want to read your book?” he teasingly bit his lip.

You opened your eyes and sent daggers in his direction. “I don’t like you.”

He laughed easily and shook his hair from his eyes. “I know, because you love me.” His lips were now on yours. They felt even smoother compared to when they pressed against your forehead. They rested there as they had in all the other places he kissed on your face. You caught more vanilla and amber radiating off his skin. He trusted you enough to let go of your hands.

You were already too invested in the kiss to push him away and instead wove your fingers in his umber locks.

He parted his lips, causing you to do the same. Your top lip was sucked into his mouth, and you pulled his bottom one into your own. Orange juice from breakfast lingered on him. His right hand tightened around the fabric of your shirt on your side as his left tangled in your hair. His tongue slid against your lips and you allowed it to enter the cavern of your mouth.

You moaned, taking in his taste and breath. More orange juice and even some syrup invaded your taste buds, along with what was naturally Christopher. You pushed your tongue into his mouth, moving in the same languid pace, grabbing his hair and smirking as you made him moan.

Christopher nipped at your bottom lip and tugged on it lightly to return the favor. He tasted you again, taking his time to memorize the curve of your lips with his own and feel the slow sway and rhythm of both your tongues, wet and silky. His hand pulling at your shirt let go and moved up to cup your breast, his other gripping your hair tighter.

You heard him giggle slightly as he elicited another moan from you. You moved your hands to push you from the bed. 

He followed your movement and allowed you to sit up and crawl into his lap. Chris moved his hands to under your shirt to rest on your lower back and to grip the hair on the back of your head. The warmth of being so close to him mixed with his heated musky, sweet aroma was intoxicating.

You clung onto his shoulder blades, pausing the kiss to look into his deep chocolate eyes. “You’re not fair,” you breathed. He really wasn’t. Especially looking down at you through his beautifully long lashes. It was hard to catch your breath, and at the same time you needed more of him.

His smile widened and then he kissed your nose. “If I was I’d be Joel.”

That caused you to smile in return. “If you were Joel, at least you’d be manly.”

“Ay!”

You quickly bit at his earlobe playfully before he could get too pouty. You nibbled on the soft, delicate flesh. “I’m just joking,” you purred into his ear. You moved to peck at his red, swollen lips. You slipped your tongue back into his mouth.

If he was in any way upset by the comment, his tongue certainly didn’t show it. Nor did his lips or hands.

You started becoming lightheaded from the kissing, almost dizzy. The wet sounds, silken touches, sweet taste. You broke away and took a deep breath.

Christopher continued though, trailing moist kisses under your chin and on your neck. When his lips were at the lower side of your collar, he pressed kisses in the same spot. The area felt so hot, each kiss stoking the flame of your desire.

You knew what would come next, but still gasped when he sucked on your skin. Your hands moved back to his hair from his shoulders, stirring the fragrance of his shampoo. 

The bruise would be big from how hard he inhaled. You didn’t care, gripping his sleek locks tighter. You were happy to be marked as his and groaned when you felt his teeth. Your chest lifted into him as he caused your back to arch.

Finally, he let up and looked back at you with a self-satisfied smile. He licked his already glossy lips and eyed yours once more. Before he could move to kiss you again, your stomach grumbled loudly and you both looked down at it. His playful smirk was back and you grinned sheepishly at him. He looked over at the clock by the nightstand. “I guess it’s been a while since breakfast. What are you hungry for, nena?”

You bit your lip, still a little shy from how loud the growl was. “Left overs from last night would be good.”

Christopher leaned forward, giving you several chaste kisses, then started to get up from the bed.

“Wait, can you grab my book please?”

He glanced at you, pretending to glare, but his smile gave him away. “You’re gonna make me fight off the book again?”

“You can lay on my chest while I read after we eat?”

His mocha eyes looked into yours for a while, debating if this was an idea that appeased him. “Fine, but I make no promises to keep my hands to myself.”

“When do you ever?”

He left the bed and bent over to pick up the discarded book, giving you the perfect opportunity to smack his ass. “Ay!” he cried again.

“I did say I would.”

His mischievous smile was back, and you knew instantly he most definitely would not be keeping his hands to himself after lunch. He gently placed the book next to you and sweetly smooched you again. “Tienes suerte que te quiero.”

“Oh please, as if you don’t also love your butt being touched.”

He giggled, pressed one more kiss to your lips and left to fix lunch for the two of you.

~Admin V

[chaislatt]

WAYV AS HOGWARTS STUDENTS

QIAN KUN

ravenclaw , head boy, muggleborn

excels in every class he takes

when he first discovered he was magic, he flipped out

he had a matilda episode in his room one night

he was staring intently at his toy planes, wondering how it would be like to fly one someday

then suddenly it just?? levitated??

as an eight year old, he did the only thing he could do in such situations—scream bloody murder

first year : in his newly pressed robes and neatly gelled hair, sat at an empty compartment and started reading his textbooks

until the compartment door opened and a cat just walked over him

“oh sorry, leon doesn’t behave very well” says ten who he did not think would stick around but guess what? his cats liked him

being sorted into ravenclaw, he quickly became famous for being the smartest and wittiest most sensible? wizard of his year

he was especially great at charms got so surprised that there was an incantation to make things float, since all he has been doing is just think it (flitwick got a shock at his first year doing wandless magic)

as he grew older, almost everyone depended on him for help in everything

he couldn’t go a day walking in the corridors without someone asking to meet up at the library or thanking him because they aced their tests

but of course, this little ravenclaw had a limit

he didn’t mean to, but one day he just snapped at a poor gryffindor who kept bugging him to meet at the courtyard to practice spells (everyone finally left him alone, too scared to face the wrath of a wizard who knows all the spells for duelling)

OWLS year—the most memorable year for him, as he and ten spent nights in the library (and sometimes in the kitchen but if anyone asks only ten was in there) studying their bums off

that summer, ten just received a holler from him (surprise! he got all o’s)

naturally, he had been picked for prefect and head boy

the first years LOVED him

he taught them all the secrets to their tower and even handed them a parchment full of riddle answers, because let’s be real, even though you’re a ravenclaw doesn’t necessarily mean you want to use your head all the time

eats at the hufflepuff table because they have better breakfast items

adopted a whole assortment of kids with ten (winwin kinda just sticked around because yangyang was his buddy)

would be the boys’ go to— from pesky spells, ink blotts on their robes, th right grams for mandrake powder, they all depended on him for it

hendery was once asked why he wasn’t scared of him (knowing what happened before)

“he’s not dumb enough to duel someone because they’re bugging him. that’s why he’s in ravenclaw”

overall 9/10. minus one point because he still feels the need to get the last remark in everything.

LI YONGQIN

hufflepuff, pureblood

loves hanging out at the common room

doesn't really care much for grades, but does his best when studying

his housemates call him a sloth

moves so slow, especially in the mornings

likes taking walks along the corridors because it's fun to see other students rush and run to their classes while he walks a leisurely pace

always has his tie loosened

sometimes, he doesn't even tie it, he just wraps it around his collar and hope no one notices everyone does

has a talent for transfiguration

will turn anything into cat snacks

he once turned his homework in kibble and his excuse was "my cat ate it"

befriends all the cats in hogwarts

sometimes he lays down at the courtyard and they all just gather around him

one legendary moment (as lucas likes to call it) was when he was walking down the corrider and a train of cats just followed behind him in a single file

sweet wizard boy, befriends humans as well

he's so likeable, everyone just feels drawn to him

has this laidback energy that feels like a breath of fresh air when things get hectic in the castle

speaking of fresh air

he likes to stroll around outside, most of the time dragging yangyang and winwin out with him

"winwin could use the fresh air and your voice doesn't echo" - ten to yangyang

his sister is friends with yangyang's sister, so growing up he kind of babysat the three whenever their families would be together

he didn't imagine that it would continue during school, but poor winwin looked like he just wanted to get his head bitten off

despite having a lot of friends, he sticks with kun most of the time because he's not as chatty when he's focused (and kun is focused all the time so)

his favourite thing to do anywhere is lay down on his back and play with his wand, sending wisps of magic swirling around in the air, creating beautiful artwork

received pencils and a notebook from kun so he could just draw because "your magic might hit someone and i do not want to be involved with any of that"

doodles all the time

he likes to draw butterflies and magic them off of the paper and makes them follow his friends around

doesn't really say much when no one's talking to him, but will keep the conversation going casually

wanted to become a prefect so he could have his own bathroom

would patrol around at night with his cats (hendery jokes how he looks like filch and now he takes his filch impersonation seriously)

when catching students, he makes obvious remarks like "oh wow good to know that there aren't any gryffindors in this corridor! it would be an awful hassle to report them. good thing everyone's in their chambers!"

very lenient on students he doesn't know, but will threaten those he does and ask for something in return

accidentally gave yangyang the idea of becoming a prefect so he needn't have to worry at night

also accidentally gives yangyang dare ideas to give to hendery

he doesn't mean it! most of the time

overall 10/10. everything is cancelled out by the fact that he goes around the castle with atleast 2 cats following him around.

DONG SICHENG

slytherin, pureblood

mr frowns-a-lot, mr don’t-talk-to-me, mr i-want-to-go-back-to-my-dorm

the most stereotyped slytherin

first years believe that slytherins are scary because of him (but they immediately get debunked by hendery “you’re scared of a tall dude who gets tired from talking and likes to eat chocolate? yeah okay”)

but yes this not so little bean finds talking draining

it’s not that he doesn’t want to, but why would he have to talk about his day when as far as he knows, everyone just did the same thing he did??

you can barely get a sentence out of him

will reply with nods or shrugs and just point or look at things

only talks during class when the professors ask him questions

yangyang bugs him the most

when he got assigned to take care of this chatty, full of energy first year he almost cried

ended up just following him around and yanking the back of his robes to stop him from getting into trouble

because of this, yangyang’s friend are his friends

first got introduced to xiaojun, lucas, and hendery

ended up becoming a babysitter for four

when he met ten, he almost cried again, but now out of happiness  because he got yangyang to shut up

met kun last, and immediately took a liking to him for no reason at all

no one knows how, but suddenly mr-i-dont-want-to-do-anything started getting more mischievous and talkative

the whole hall got surprised when he laughed at lucas’ lame joke

this may be an exaggeration but the boy doesn’t even smile

after this incident, lucas just kept talking to him and he just kept replying, and pretty soon the four little troublemakers would joke around with him and he’d just sit back with kun and ten when he got too tired

this made him attractive

but unlike lucas who got confessed to everyday, there was no one who confessed to him

he didn’t really talk to anyone else and just minded his own business when he was alone, so everyone was too scared to confess to him

which is a huge relief to him because the not so little bean is actually very awkward

proven when hendery accepted yangyang’s dare of going right up in winwin’s face omygod when i tell you his whole face turned red

he avoided hendery for a week until he realized it was too hard since they have most of their classes together??

speaking of classes, it’s a miracle how he just passes everything since no one actually ever sees him studying or doing homework

it’s like everything he does is magic well

overall 7/10. doesn’t really try that much and will only voluntarily hang out with kun.

HUANG XUXI

hufflepuff, halfblood

was tiny, like a little bug

no one knows when he got so tall (summer of second year, he had to buy new robes for third year because they were already too short)

spends breakfast half awake, focusing on eating his meal and listening to yangyang complain about how hard his transfiguration classes yesterday were

he’s never around for dinner because he’s always at the pitch and no one has the energy to talk to yangyang in the mornings so he’s the poor guy

everyone loves him, no one can find a single thing to hate about him even if they tried

loves care for magical creatures with hagrid (he measures his height with the half-giant)

other classes? not so much

sure he tried a little bit, but why would he need to transfigure something into a pen when he could just look for one, and why would he need to concoct a drowsiness potion if he can just will himself to sleep

speaking of sleep, he does that a lot

he likes to wait for xiaojun during fourth period because they had arithmancy next, and he would lean against the corridor and sleep

learned how to sleep hunched over so it looked like he was focusing on class (begs whoever he’s sitting with to wake him up)

why does he do this?

“i’m saving up my energy for later”

he’s a quidditch beast

part of the quidditch team, originally tried out for seeker but they realized he couldn’t go fast enough without loosing his balance on his broom

he switched to being a beater, which the team found out he was very good at aha great power comes with great biceps

everyone falls in love with him when he’s on the pitch

he looks big and scary and ultra focused

and they realized after 3 games that he focuses so much because he aims the bludger to hit the player’s upper thigh only (this prevents player from taking a fall and just bruise, not break a bone)

once he accidentally sent his bludger flying too hard and knocked the chaser off, but he was faster than the seeker and caught them (followed the poor chaser for a week saying sorry and giving them semi burnt cookies he made with xiaojun)

gets confessed to every other day and just says “thanks”

but why don’t you ever reject them? 

why deny that i’m handsome?

that makes no sense

as with rejecting them! 

but truly is an angel

he even got winwin to actually converse with him

he makes everyone feel comfortable, talks to everyone and just hangs around when they don’t want to, offering company

overall 10/10. his cockiness about his looks just makes him endearing since everyone knows he can’t break someone’s heart.

XIAO DEJUN

ravenclaw, halfblood

kun’s reincarnation

but there’s one problem

he’s still immature

you would think he’s the prime example of a ravenclaw

practices his passions all the time

likes doing brain-productive things

reads about anything he finds interesting

goes in and out of their tower because he thinks solving the riddles is fun

but ho ho ho oh oh no

he’s a little devil

makes snarky comebacks under his breath that takes a little bit for you to understand

makes things harder on purpose just for fun and because he’ll be the only one able to do it

has a joke for EVERYTHING and never repeats them so i guess he can get away with that

he’s a little menace to the society but he can get away with it because it’s all just minor inconveniences

but we all know minor inconveniences are the most annoying things

likes to annoy kun the most because he understands and reacts immediately

doesn’t like to annoy the hufflepuffs because they just smile at him in confusion

despite that, he’s also a little sweetheart

remembers everything his friends say, so he’s always there to remind them

reminds kun about a test he has to retake, ten about his changing patrolling schedule, winwin’s meeting with a professor, lucas’ need to polish his broom after dinner, hendery’s homework, and yangyang about that incoming howler from his parents

when he realized he’s such a great asset, he became a bit nosy too

likes to meddle with all of his friends’ business

so if someone wants to find any of the six, he can tell you a vague description where they are

because of course he’s not gonna tell you lucas is by the lake practicing his swinging, he’s gonna tell you he’s brushing up on his quidditch skills so you’d go running to the pitch

this way he’s not technically doing anything wrong to both parties

one day, kun asks why he likes doing this

“it makes me feel like a king maker. feeding things into their tiny brains and knowing exactly what they’ll be doing”

“that’s not exactly what a king maker does”

“yeah but does it look like i want them to be more powerful than me?”

co-parents a dog with lucas

aka lucas asked him to take care of bella while he’s in practice but he forgot to take her back with him for 2 days so now bella thinks she lives in the ravenclaw tower too

does random errands for his friends as a way of apologizing (but really just as a leverage so he can cause more trouble)

his ultimate goal was to brainwash everyone so they couldn’t live without him and he succeeded????

now they’re the receiving end of all the sermons his professors give him (you wouldn’t expect it, but he causes quite a ruckus in class)

but still, at the end of the day, they choose to sit next to him at the ravenclaw table during dinner

overall 7/10. he’s annoying, but he’s good at everything he does and helps his friends out in different ways. which makes him more annoying because why? why not

HUANG GUANHENG

gryffindor, muggleborn

does not understand magic. like at all

the only reason he’s still managing is because he refuses to be beaten by xiaojun

he doesn’t know why he’s in gryffindor but anyone who’s ever met him can vouch for the sorting hat

he’s courageous in the way he faces learning magic (it won’t hurt me, i’m magic) he's brave to speak up to anyone and ask for help when he needs it, and most of all, he has the nerve to get right into winwin’s face

surprisingly good at harder spells than that of his year level, so he’s in a few higher level classes

the reason being he wants to save face when with upperclassmen so he actually focuses real hard and actually understands 

because when he’s with his friends, his mind goes wandering and he can’t focus his magic 

a very strange wizard indeed

imagine getting help from xiaojun to levitate a piece of parchment but can explain to ten how to brew an advanced potion

he’s very confident in his abilities

why would he be nervous to stay after curfew??

if filch catches you

then don’t i just have to avoid him??

but has realistic fears

will not go near a broom

yeah okay the broom can fly, but can he?? he can’t even levitate a piece of parchment, how can he levitate himself?

also very practical

lucas kept struggling since he kept spilling his ink pot so he handed him a pen

“dude i forgot these existed!” “who writes with feathers??”

the most laid back yet extra ordinary wizard ever

you can start a conversation with him and he can keep it going for hours on end

very friendly, will talk to anyone but the downside to this is that he talks to everyone like they’re his friends asdkjshjkd even mcgonagall

overall 7/10. uses magic to solve trivial muggle things and still makes bets with yangyang up to this day.

LIU YANGYANG

slytherin, pureblood

a force to be reckoned with

spend a day with him and your ears will bleed

why?? does?? he?? talk?? so?? much??

his friends always complain but everyone else in the castle can’t see why

in the eyes of a stranger, he’s actually cold and reserved, hard to approach

but if you actually knew him

oh boy you’d want to not

can talk for hours

he and hendery wanted to know just how long he could talk

so they timed it

talked for 9 hours straight, no one knows how they managed

good thing this talking is actually useful

he likes to recite during class, always has a lengthy explanation for his answers

people aren’t the only one he talks to

he talks to the ghosts and to the paintings, greeting them a lovely day or whatever

besides talking, he also has another passion–quidditch

he plays as chaser for his house, often times taking his time to freshen up, so he goes back at about midnight during thursdays

good thing ten patrols during thursdays

speaking of ten, he’s been a brother figure for him all his life

so when he was introduced to winwin, he got so excited because he had another brother

by the end of the night, fourth year winwin knew everything about first year yangyang

he loooves his buddy

tries to do everything with winwin but he doesn’t let him

despite being too much to handle, winwin actually likes him too (but don’t let yangyang know)

likes to do dumb dares with hendery

isn’t really into pranking and getting all up into other’s business, so they manage their mischief between the two of them

and the whole of hogwarts just enjoys and guesses which of the two would be the one running around the great hall in their pajamas

yangyang actually encourages his fellow slytherins to stop sticking among themselves

mostly because he’s tired of them bugging him to “go ask your gryffindor friend if there’s homework on-”

at the end of the day, all his slytherin friends have been adopted by ten, took a liking to kun, and watches lucas, xiaojun and hendery fool around for entertainment

that being said, he loves his friends

thankful that he has classes with at least one of them for all his classes

all his professors have learned to sit him next to them, otherwise he’ll just slack off and stare into oblivion

he’s actually more productive when he has someone to remind him to be

okay maybe sitting him next to hendery wouldn’t result to school productivity

overall 9/10. it would be an 8 but he actually does acknowledge he talks too much.

[voidcat]

— take me home

Characters: Dazai Osamu/gn!reader (+agency members)

Genre & wc: fluff — 1.9k

a/n: happy Valentine’s Day!!! Normally I was gonna make this one big thing but my writing style for all this so far and “the second part” don’t carry the same vibe. (Also it was getting v long) Anyways, enjoy. I still suck at naming fics. — part 2 !!

“You could feel the bomb going off and suddenly-“ Doctor Yosano stops looking at the clock, “Oh it’s been that long already? I shouldn’t keep you waiting for any longer” she motions with her hand to you with a smile.

“It’s alright, I enjoy hearing your stories.” You smile back. “If it’s alright with you and no new cases show up, would you like the finish the story tomorrow at my place? Maybe over a cup of tea or a glass of wine?”

The glint in her eyes tell you the answer long before. “Only if the infamous pastries Ranpo cannot get enough of are there!” Yosano says with enthusiasm and all you can do is nod and share the excitement.

As she proceeds to get her coat and bag, you decide to wait until you hear someone else speak up.

“I thought you didn’t like to have people over?” Atsushi asks standing behind you with a stack of papers and files.

Eyes closed, you hum “True, true… But I make an exception for some, dear. Where did you think we baked all those for Kyouka?”

Stopping for a second to recall that day Atsushi scratches his head. The moment of realization comes to him fast, apparent from the sudden change of expression and the wide smile on his face “Oh! You’re-“

“I thought you didn’t allow anyone in the kitchen!” Ranpo exclaims rather loudly, slamming the newspaper he was reading moments ago onto his table.

Tilting back and forth from where you’re standing and occasionally looking for Yosano to come back, you turn to where his voice came from. “That rule only applies to you, I’m afraid. No matter what an amazing detective you are, cooking and baking simply aren’t your forte.” With one hand in the air as if offering the plainest of truths, you say.

“However you’re still my most trusted taster, so please don’t make that face?” You finish with an apologetic smile and hearing a low rumble coming from him, you let out a breath thinking you’re off the hook.

You thought wrong.

As Yosano’s heels clank against the surface, you can feel a persistent gaze on your back, already sensing what’s to come next. Before you can make an attempt to the door however, Dazai announces your name, in a whine no less, coming a little too closer than you expected right behind your ear.

Slowly turning back to see his smug face, right in your personal space just as you guessed, you refrain from rolling your eyes. “What was it Dazai? Is something the matter?”

Coming all the way from wherever he was previously , he couldn’t be here now for anything other than to bother you. You just hoped Yosano would show up and drag you away before your patience was tested again.

Raising his arm and resting the back of his hand against his forehead, eyes closed and mouth open, as if a he were a character straight out of a tragedia, Dazai opts for the dramatic route. “Yes! I’ve just been informed of horrifying news!”

“Which is?..” you leave the statement unfinished, already knowing what’s to come.

“That you never invited me over to your house! And we’ve been friends for the longest time! What our live have come to, have we driven so far away from ea-“

“Enough with the antics Dazai, we’re busy, can’t you see?” Your savior, Yosano cuts in putting a hand over your shoulder. Turning to look at her, you mouth a ‘thank you.’, and you think she has never looked as beautiful as she does in this moment now, with the golden sun behind her setting, the lights illuminating her face, making her look like those heroes painted to be immortalized.

As you step out, you hear Yosano stop and say: “And for the record, I’ve known them the longest.”

The day spent with Yosano goes better than you could accept. By the end your face hurts from laughing, your stomach full from all the food and drinks you’ve consumed, times flies away like a plane and by the time Yosano makes way to the door, it’s dark and you’re both dragging your feet.

Despite the enjoyable day off, Dazai’s recent behavior starts to make you question if it was worth inviting her over so publicly.

At any chance he gets, he tries to get you to give away something about your location, who has been over before and how many times, what type of hosts you prefer and ‘oh maybe we never got the chance because of our schedules, you should invite me over some time’, ‘don’t be so shy, we’re friends after all! Oh is it your place you’re ashamed of? Worry not, I won’t judge!’, ‘hey are you free on a Thursday night?’s met with ‘No, I don’t want you over.’, ‘Yes, I have a very good reasoning.’ And almost a slip up of a ‘I’m free- Oh wait, I have a date with Sergio, sorry no can do!’.

For each cheeky smile he offers, you give back a grunt or a snarl, one time almost yelling right in front of the director and another time you stomp out of the office in fury while Atsushi watches in horror.

Fifth time of your hiding in the café and you find yourself wishing for a crisis to surface, the carefree Dazai to be replaced by the serious and logical man that manages to impress you no matter how hard the case, counter measure after counter measure, even if he takes reckless risks once in a while.

Inhaling the sweet smell of your tea before taking a sip, your wish seems to have come true partially, from the set of steps approaching you in a determined yet unrushed pace.

Taking a long sip, savoring the taste and the warmth of it, you slowly place the cup down and open your eyes to see Dazai standing in his neutral and calm state.

The two of you stay like that for a while, like a photograph, the café empty and the mixed smells of coffee and tea lingering in the air, not quite looking at one another but not dozed off either.

When he opens his mouth, it doesn’t feel like the moment has been broken, not even a clearing of throat or a quite mumbling under his breath beforehand, yet his voice flows along the smells despite the absurdity of the topic of conversation.

But you beat him to it. “If you’re going to be standing for so long, you might as well sit down.”

He settles down as you reach for your cup again.

“So, how are things with Sergio?” He says the name with a hint of hostility.

It takes everything in you not to spit out your tea laughing. “Sergio is a street cat I take care of.”

Composure and crossed arms off, Dazai’s eyes widen. “But- you said that-“ “A date with Sergio, yes, for his yearly check up at the vet.” You finish for him.

“That was just an excuse to get you to stop bothering me.” You add.

“Fair enough, I deserved that.” He chuckles “but you did mention you had a very good reasoning for not inviting me over. I know I pestered you enough about that…” he trails off, reaching for your hand with his. “And yet, would you be so kind to tell me why?” he asks, eyes locked into yours.

“My cat doesn’t like you.”

And this, you think, is the exact moment the atmosphere is ruined, the photograph ripped apart in the middle.

Dazai just stares at you, still holding your hand.

Blinking few times, rather unimpressed, you notice a waitress by the counter, probably there to rearrange something.

“Alright, I’ll be off now if that’s all!” You say a bit too cheerfully, pull your hand before Dazai can do anything, pay and leave as soon as you can.

Dazai just blinks, hands still in the air, stays frozen like that until Kunikida drags him back to work.

Bad decision after bad decision seems to follow you wherever you go because after that interaction at the café, it gets worse.

You thought Dazai was like a fruit fly before? It gets more irritating than an army of them. And on top of that, Kunikida scolds you to undo whatever you’ve done on Dazai, his already poor work ethics now on the floor, getting on Kunikida’s nerves and yours.

Hearing your name spreads terror in you now, the second your ears catch the familiar tone of Dazai’s voice, you fleet for your life.

Coming clean and explaining your statement from earlier would be the logical way to end this but fate disagrees as it laughs you in the face.

“Why wouldn’t your cat like me? I didn’t even step foot into your place before!”

“Hey Dazai, remember the day you wouldn’t get off my back? Trying to embrace at any chance and I gave up in the middle of the day at one point?” Resting his hand under his chin to think, as if his face doesn’t make it obvious he remembers the day crystal clear, he lets out a “hmm…”

With a snap of fingers and a “Ah! I remember now! You were so comfortable, I almost fell asleep.” He grins.

With a shake of your hand, trying to dismiss the memory of how he basically trapped you to the couch, you cough and continue. “That evening, when I got home, my clothes must have reeked of your smell.” He nods, good, so far he seems to follow. “My cat just sniffed the air once and stayed in the living room until I washed those clothes and took a bath.”

Hands resting on his hips, he keeps nodding and humming in understanding. “I see…”

You let out a breath, thank god it’s over.

“Nope! Still makes no sense.” Hs exclaims suddenly, turns away and leaves. You just stare at his back, now it’s your turn to blink in ‘unbelievable, is this real?’

The loud chatter and pestering doesn’t stop however and with each word, it gets more ridiculous.

“Is your cat perhaps jealous of me? That you secretly love me and they don’t want competition?”

“The cat is just another excuse, isn’t it! Admit it, you have a secret! It must be something you’re afraid I won’t like.”

“Is it Chuuya? Did you take pity and let him rent a room?”

“I don’t even know a Chuuya…”

“Maybe a weird collection…” he gasps and says your name. “Are you a hoarder? Is that why you won’t let me in? I told you already, I would never judge your lifestyle!”

“Dazai, please stop-“

“No, no, I got it this time. It’s a shrine of me! Isn’t it? Your face tells it all, it is a shrine! Ah, I must say I’m flattered, if not a little scared now.”

If anger could set a fire, you think Kunikida would be arrested of arson right now. You just rest your head in your palm, trying to ignore Dazai’s ongoing nonsense.

“Is there really a-“ Kenji begins a question as Ranpo ends it with a firm “Nope!”

Getting up from your place at last, you grab Dazai by his coat and drag him out.

“There is No shrine, no other human, no hoarding or weird collections. It’s just me and my cat who scrunches his nose when I bring home a file that sat in your desk all day!”

Before giving him a chance to reply, you walk away.

The next day, and many other days to follow, goes uneventful, Dazai’s never ending bickering about your house seems to have reached a stop. Everyone, especially Kunikida, enjoys the newly achieved peace of going back to normal. You hope this marks the end of this whole nonsense, and that the Dazai everyone knows with a little mix of annoying and impressively serious has returned back to his sense of regular.

Tags: @atsumusdomain @celosiiaa @ywanfen

[inkformyblood]

Name Me Glory

Commander Cody Week Day 01 Bonds (posting just the writing this time cause tumblr) @commandercodyweek

Pairing: Cody & Rex, Cody & Alpha-17, Cody & Jango Fett (all platonic/sibling)

Summary: Cody doesn’t know when or how to quit, and he’ll keep pushing himself until he finds out. Set during training on Kaminoa

“Again.” CC-2224 spat the word out, blood trickling down his chin, thick and wet and blotting out everything else, as he pushed himself back onto his feet. The world tipped around him, the floor buckling beneath his feet as if the ever-present storm had finally broken into the building.

“Again?” Alpha-17’s eyes were wide and dark, and filled with something CC-2224 couldn’t name. Amusement, maybe? Regret? Whatever it was fled in an instant as Alpha-17 stepped forward, the sound of his feet muffled by the softer floor of the training mat, but it still reminded CC-2224 of the closing of a bulkhead door: final and resolute. “Step up then, shiny.”

When Alpha-17 put him down on the mat again, CC-2224 stayed down, the knee in his back a warning as the weight of the older clone pressed him further into the pad. The warning came as a whisper as Alpha-17 stood, cold fear curling down CC-2224’s spine: “Careful now, vod’ika. Mother’s watching.”

Alpha-17 left, each step calm and measured like the beating of a drum, the sound echoing back to CC-2224 as if it was a battalion marching away from him, but he didn’t move. Alpha-17’s warning twisted round his thoughts like a skipped track, slowly infecting everything else until CC-2224 felt a scream bubble up in his throat. Methodically, he bit his tongue, the steady pressure shifting into a wave of pain until the urge slowly ebbed away.

Carefully, he rolled his head to look towards the small observation deck set into one wall. The screen in front of it had once been fully reflective, showing the featureless metal walls and his steady, blank stare, but now the surface was pitted and tarnished. One of the corners had been shattered during a training exercise, the cracks slipping across the surface like a web. A flicker of movement in the broken, visible section betrayed the hiding place of the younger clone.

“Come out then, vod’ika!” CC-2224 called, his voice hoarse and cracked. Every movement felt like agony, his muscles having locked into place as the chill settled over the room now that the heavy electronic cameras — the Kaminoans’ eyes in the sky, almost always watching with their myriad blinking lights — had shut off for a moment. They would cycle back on eventually, a rhythm every clone had learned, but weren’t always manned. He knew he would have a moment of peace before he emerged out into the network of corridors, and was under their scrutiny once more.

The blonde hair wasn’t a surprise anymore, haloed around CT-7567’s face in tight curls as he scampered towards CC-2224. He could see the younger clone was in between growth cycles, his limbs compact but his cheeks were still rounded and flushed.

“Bacta?” CT-7567 mumbled around the edge of the nail he was chewing on, brow furrowed in intense concentration. He moved to flop onto CC-2224’s lap, but caught himself halfway, a wave of anguish flickering across his face.

“No, I’m fine.” CC-2224 reached up to him, and CT-7567 curled into him, his cheek resting against CC-2224’s chest. It ached, the smaller clone unintentionally pressing on the developing bruises that Alpha-17 left — all carefully in non-vital areas — but CC-2224 pulled him closer. “I have to keep pushing myself to be better.”

“You’re already the best,” CT-7567 argued with such perfect childish belief that CC-2224 was helpless to do anything other than let the laughter bubble up, curling forward to draw the other into Keldabe.

CC-2224 let out a steady breath, letting his eyes close, the constant weight he carried on his shoulders abating for a moment.

“Alpha-17 is just trying to follow what Jango taught him. So we can all be mandokarla.”

CT-7567 nodded sagely, but CC-2224 could sense the slight darting of his eyes and that he was chewing his lip as he mused it over, not fully understanding.

“Have you met Jango before?” His voice was hushed, almost reverent, and CC-2224 had to bite back a laugh. What were they teaching the shinies once they were decanted now? Jango Fett was their donor, and they were made in his image like the religions of long ago, but he was still just a man.

“No, I haven’t.” But he was lying.

CC-2224 met Jango Fett, the man rather than the deity who was both teacher and executioner, once.

The air of the corridor was cold and still, the heavy scent of salt lying thickly on the air, coating CC-2224’s tongue as he wept. He could still feel the pressure of the eyes of the other clones as the large door to the rec room opened, and only he walked through, bereft of his batchmates. The realisation that flickered over their faces was a reflection of his own horror upon awakening to the message on his datapad, before they quickly hid it behind blank professionalism. But the gentle tap of their fingers against their wrists, as light as a bird’s wing in the simulations, followed him like the ghost of a heartbeat.

He couldn’t get away from it then, the crushing weight that they had been ripped from him before they had truly become people, before they were able to be more than their numbers, so he ran and hid.

The plan descended on him, half-formed, as he squeezed through the small hatch that granted him access to the eyeless wiring channels and the ducts. They were Mando’a; that was the first thing they learned. They were Mando’a, no matter what anyone else told them.

But they would wear no beskar to paint, only plastoid armour, and CC-2224 had none of his own and had not inherited any. There were the carefully scavenged tins of paint, slipped from batch to batch and unit to unit, barely two steps ahead of the rolling tide of inspections inflicted upon them. Currently, the Alpha Batch retained them in the corridor outside their pods, their armour an explosion of colour in every hue they could squeeze out of the limited palette. They passed down the knowledge in whispers, mouths barely moving under the guise of inspections or during training, so he knew the colours held meaning.

CC-2224’s soul felt bathed in gold, so he slipped through the ductwork, his ribs scraping against the heated metal as wires sparked and snapped over his head, until he emerged, dust clinging to his hair and settling in his lungs. The metal rafters creaked beneath his feet as he slipped down from them, retrieving the paint from it’s hiding place behind a service panel and scrambling back up in an instant.

It clung to his fingers, the scent acrid in the air, and he carefully swiped it over his forearm, goosebumps rising in its wake. CC-2224 breathed out shakily, the grief for his lost brothers rising once more, and he set to work. Hours could have passed as he worked diligently, but he froze as voices echoed back along the corridor towards him.

The Kaminoans were instantly recognisable with their high, measured voices, but the other took him a moment before realisation sparked through him, almost knocking him from his perch.

During training, Jango’s accent was carefully modulated, locked beneath an iron-tight control into careful neutrality. But now it rose and fell like the sun, burning bright with anger.

“Hut’un!” The word was snapped, clear as day, and CC-2224 swayed on his precarious perch, eyes wide. Jango’s steps were a war-drum accompaniment to the Kamionan’s swaying stride as the pair passed beneath CC-2224.

“You go on,” Jango said, pausing just beneath CC-2224’s hiding place, causing his heart to leap into his throat, a cold sweat slipping down his spine as his heart ceased to beat in his chest. The Kaminoan inclined their head and continued without breaking stride, leaving Jango alone in the hallway. When he tipped his face back to meet CC-2224’s gaze, he thought he was going to die, bedecked in the gold of vengeance. But an almost unreadable expression passed over Jango’s face, a deep sorrow flickering like a leviathan passing just beneath the surface, before it was gone.

Wordlessly, he cracked the panel the paint was hidden behind and drew out the smaller tin of orange. He ducked his head to inspect it, and CC-2224 caught sight of a network of scars peeking out from the loose collar of his shirt and shrunk back further against the rafter. The metal groaned and protested with the movement, but Jango didn’t move.

“For Kote,” he said, finally, flashing CC-2224 a quick grin as he stretched up to offer the paint to the clone, who took it with unsteady hands, his eyes wide. Jango whistled as he walked away, something light that belayed the tension in the lines of his shoulders.

Orange for life. CC-2224 couldn’t guess at Prime’s motivations, but he felt the knot in his chest lessen, ever so slightly, as he drew the orange paint over the gold and finally let him cry.

⁂

“Back again so soon, vod’ika?” Alpha-17 called when CC-2224 stepped into the training room. A hush fell over the others, heads turning like reefs blown in a breeze to stare at him, silent and waiting.

CC-2224 merely nodded, taking his place in the line-up. That night’s sleep had been filled with coiling dreams and ran through with a thread of violent orange. He had to get better. He had to improve to keep his brothers safe, and — as Alpha-17 had roughly scrubbed the paint from his skin that night a few months ago, letting CC-2224 sob weakly onto his shoulder as he worked — the other clone knew it too.

“Always eager for glory.”

Alpha-17 paused in his pacing, head slowly turning towards CC-2224 like a big cat sizing up its prey. A chill ran down CC-2224’s spine, but he remained in place, despite the urge to run suddenly coiling in his gut.

“Kote.” Alpha-17 rolled the word around his tongue, catching CC-2224’s eye for the barest indicator of agreement. A name wasn’t something to take lightly, after all.

“Kote. Ni kyr’tayl gai sa’vod.”

“Alpha-17. Ni kyr’tayl gai sa’vod,” the newly named Kote echoed back at him.

Alpha-17 grinned, the same grin as Prime: fierce, righteous, protective rage and fury all honed to an edge, before he stepped away. Taking the pain with the pleasure was always his way of teaching, after all, the name acting as both a warning and reminder of his goal.

Kote grinned to himself. Kote, glory. It was a fitting name, after all.

[daydream-believin]

The Never-Ending Roadtrip (Cavern Creeps)

SUMMARY: Reader joins Douxie in the quest for Nari’s safety. He’ll need company won’t he?  PART 8) Douxie is not having a good time, Nari is not having a good time, no one is having a good time.          start -> (part 1)  next -> (part 9) WARNINGS: swearing, lots of panic and anxiety, anxiety attack WORD COUNT: 2420 A/N: it’s becoming increasingly clear that i do not have any control over where the plot goes in this fic. i never have and i never will. seriously the outline prompt for this one was ‘some downtime in trollmarket’ idk what happened

Douxie opened his eyes. He had been having a dream in which he was lost in a series of caves. No matter how many walls he marked to keep track, he couldn’t remember which way he came from. The marks kept disappearing. He’d etch them with all his strength, and they would fade. The tunnels were endless. He was sure he was too far underground now. The oxygen was getting thin. He had to find the way back up. He had to. The others were waiting for him. His chest got tighter, his breaths shallower. Why was this so hard?

Turns out both Y/n and Archie were sleeping on his chest. No wonder dream-him couldn’t breathe. He wouldn’t move them. The gentle snores filled his ears. It was still late, or more, early. Doux wouldn’t be able to breathe well enough to go back to sleep without another strange dream, so he didn’t try. That was okay. He got a solid three hours in, and that was better than most nights. He felt relaxed in the embrace of his small family. Douxie listened to their breathing. It was cozy, snuggled with the two people who mean the most to him, feeling their heartbeats against his own chest. This is how it would always be, just the three of them. Three magic signatures. No one else in the room. Wait.

Douxie tried his best to keep from waking Y/n and Archie when he bolted upright. He failed. Y/n groggily took in her husband as his panicked gaze shot around the room. She didn’t know why he was panicked but it made her panicked. Y/n also looked around the room to help despite not knowing what she was looking for. Douxie gently nudged her off and moved Archie so he could stand up. Y/n reached her hand up to him, silently asking to be pulled up and Douxie obliged. As she stood to her feet, Y/n got another look around, taking in the whole of the room. Now slightly more awake, the gears turned and she realized what was wrong with the scene. Nari.

Bleeding balroths, they lost the veggie lady. The one person they were supposed to keep close, protect form the Order, or the fucking world will end, and they lost her. Granted, they were asleep when it happened, but still. They lost her. Douxie and Y/n burst out of the door with Archie in tow. Douxie had hoped Nari would have just been in the living room but nope he couldn’t be that lucky. Figures. He could feel his racing heart in his throat as the impact of what was happening settled in his chest.

Douxie quick as lightning scanned all of Trollmarket that his eyes could see. Nari was nowhere to be found. He could barely hear Y/n and Archie start calling out the forest spirit’s name above the incredibly loud screaming inside his head. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Merlin was going to kill him. The Arcane order wasn’t even going to get the chance to end the world before Merlin’s ghost strangled him right here and now.

They were running through the streets of the village, asking every troll they came across if they’d seen her. No luck. Archie couldn’t find her as he flew over either. Douxie kept checking shops over and over, despite Y/n telling him they’d been in every building already and he was looking like a madman. He was a madman. Dictatious was not any help. Beyond seeing the veggie lady leave the house, and not caring enough to alert Doux, he had no idea where she might be. At least now they knew she’d only been out for a little over half an hour. She couldn’t have left the settlement, could she? Could she? Douxie felt ice water flow into his veins.

A quick check of inventory and sure enough, no horngazzle. Oh, fuzzbuckets. FUZZBUCKETS! Y/n went off to acquire another horngazzle from Bagdwella, sprinting across the town, and leaving Douxie alone with his thoughts. The world was gonna end soon, and it would be all his fault. He knew he shouldn’t have trusted the forest child. He had a feeling she was going to have been his downfall, he just hadn’t expected it so soon, or like this.

It’s over. The Arcane Order will win. The universe will be destroyed. He will have failed the one thing he was supposed to be doing. He had one job. Merlin’s last dying wish. And he had botched it. His short reign as a master wizard would be incapsulated by failure. This was his fault. He started taking risks, he stopped listening to Merlin, he stopped studying, he started making his own path, and now he was gonna take everyone else down with him.

Douxie saw Y/n blast out of the shop and head towards the grand entrance gate. His chest felt tight, and he couldn’t breathe again, even though he didn’t have both a wife and a dragon weighing his ribcage down this time. He felt his own feet carrying him the direction of the gate to meet Y/n but barely registered the scenery going by in a blur. Doux barely registered Archie land on his shoulder and the dragon claws digging into his flesh as he watched Y/n drag the magic key across the cavern wall in an arch. If it had been any other time he would have enjoyed the cute little way she did it. She was like a ballerina, leaping as she made the motion. It was an effort to make the door taller so Doux could walk through it without hitting his head, and it worked. Good thing too, as he wasn’t paying enough attention to not when he absent-mindedly ran past her and out of the gate like he was on fire.

When Y/n caught up to the other two, Douxie was huffing and puffing hunched over while Archie made an effort to fan his brother with his wings. The dragon cool-off was not entirely effective. Douxie wildly tossed his head around as he visually searched the area around the river and bridge. His pupils were wide with fear. As scary as this was, it pained Y/n to see him scared like this. She knew he struggled with anxiety, and had even seen his attacks before, but this was amped up to an eleven. She didn’t like it.

As desperate as they were, with the time ticking away, Y/n decided what was best was to calm Douxie down before they did anything else. She pulled him close into her embrace, letting him rest his head on her chest. Her steady heartbeat was bringing him slightly back down to earth.

“Shhhh, I’m here.” Y/n rubbed comforting circles on his back. “Can you look up for me?” It took a moment, but Douxie managed to grant her request. His hazel eyes were still blown wide, haunted. “Good, good. Let’s take some deep breaths. Okay, can you tell me five things you can see?”

Douxie shifted, looking beyond Y/n’s back. “Uh,- river,, trash, in river,,- tree, other trees,, Archie, you.”

“Okay, four things you can feel?”

He breathing was starting to go back to its regular pace. “You,, your hands on my back,, Archie rubbing my legs- the wind.”

“Good. Three you can hear?”

Douxie straightened, his voice sounding a lot calmer, “the wind in the trees, the water in the river, Archie purring.”

This prompted Archie to purr louder in support. “You good now or do you need to smell?” Y/n chuckled.

“Yeah, I think I’m fine now.” Douxie smiled, albeit weakly. Y/n gave him another grounding hug for good measure. She looked past his shoulder as she squeezed, something catching her eye. She let go of her wizard and started off towards the trees behind him.

“Where are you going?” Y/n was a bit worried about how strained Douxie’s voice still was.

“Well,” She turned around to face him and gestured her hands as she spoke, “If I was a forest goddess, where would I be? The forest of course.” She motioned to the treeline. Yeah, she was right. That made sense. He caught up and grabbed her hand for her to guide him to wherever they were going. He needed to hold her hand. It was her left hand, he could feel the cool metal of the ring on her finger. That helped.

They desperately wandered through the trees with no luck. It’s not like they had a veggie lady tracking device. They should get a veggie lady tracking device. Perhaps disguised as a bracelet cuff. She’d like that it was similar to Douxie, so she’d actually wear it. Or maybe they’d just get one of those baby leashes. Bad little forest goddesses have to wear the baby leash of shame. Maye she wouldn’t mind it, if it was shaped like a teddy bear or something. They’d cross that bridge when they got there. Once they found her. If the Arcane Order hadn’t got to her first.

The couple passed so many trees they started to all look the same. Oak, river birch, river birch, oak, sugar maple, oak, oak, oak, river birch. Every now and then there would be a troll carving on a tree or a rock, that they could use as landmarks, but they still had no idea where they were anymore. Thankfully, it was impossible to get lost with Archie around. Speak of the devil, the black dragon appeared through the trees again, calling them over to follow him.

The cat-dragon led them along many twists and turns in the forest. Every now and then Y/n would catch glimpse of a deer trail, but no signs of humans. Douxie accidentally bumped his head on a tree branch because Y/n had pulled him along so fast he didn’t have time to duck. Okay, so Doux didn’t accidentally bump his head as much as Y/n had accidentally made him. It wasn’t that low. She had had no trouble with it herself. It wasn’t her fault he was a giant. He should think of that next time before becoming over six foot. After what seemed like a lifetime, the started approaching a small tributary of the river. A small tributary that a small forest goddess was kneeling beside.

“NARI!” Y/n couldn’t help but cry out in relief at the sight of Nari safe and sound. The loudness of Y/n’s voice startled the veggie lady, and she whipped her head around to see the others as the joined her. Nari’s expression of surprise quickly morphed into one of guilt, like a child getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar. While neither of them looked particularly angry at her, she thought Hisirdoux was a little worse for wear. She supposed she’d caused that. She was always causing trouble for others it seemed. Just in the last week she’d gotten two homes destroyed, several humans injured, and worst of all, Merlin was gone now. It was all her fault.

Nari wasn’t aware of the tears streaming down her face until Y/n was wiping them away. She had crouched down to comfort the little spirit, “Hey, hey now, it’s okay, none of us are mad. We were just really scared for a bit there. But its alright, Nari. We’re just happy you’re safe.”

The forest child tucked her face into the crook of Y/n’s shoulder. Douxie stood a distance away. Archie was perched on his shoulder once again. He shifted between his feet, feeling the soft earth and wet grass of the riverside. Doux couldn’t shake a certain feeling of uneasiness and his familiar sensed his anxious energy. He had his staff raised and all ready to go if the trees so much as shake in the wind. Nothing happened. But he was ready.

He knew it was irrational, but Douxie couldn’t help but feel like they were near. The Order. Something was off in the air. They needed to get Nari back underground fast. However, he was worried that such a thing wouldn’t stop them, and he would just be damning the trolls and their new happy settlement. He hadn’t been too sure before about the plans Y/n had for tomorrow, but now he was. They would be safer if they got to a heavily populated area. It would mask their scent. They had lingered in Trollmarket for far too long now. They would be overstaying their welcome big time if the Arcane Order showed up.

Once Nari had calmed down quite a lot and the tears had long stopped flowing, Y/n wanted to get to the bottom of the reasons for this little late-night escapade. She fixed a braid on the side of Nari’s hair as she asked, “Can you tell me why you decided to come out here.” She was careful not to word it accusatively, lest she upset the poor frightened spirit further.

“I- I needed to get out from there. It’s so cold. There’s no stars down there. The air doesn’t move.”

Y/n nodded to express her sympathy. “I understand.” She really did. Trolls were great, but the underground vibes just weren’t for everyone. It was easy to feel trapped in Trollmarket. Like the world was weighing you down. The cavern over your head going to collapse at any moment. She stood to her feet, waiting a beat before asking, “Do you think you can go back down there for a little while longer? I promise we’ll come back outside in the morning.”

Nari looked up and smiled, taking Y/n’s hand as she helped her up, “Yes. I think I’m ready to go back now. For just a little while longer.”

~ ~ ~

Once they were all safe and sound back in Trollmarket, Y/n was relived. It was early morning by then, and the sun was rising outside, but they still had enough time to get a few more hours in. She looked up at her husband. Bags under his eyes as always, she didn’t think he’d be able to fall back to sleep after all this, actually. A few more hours of cuddle time, then. They passed by the pub on their way home. That could help ease poor Doux. Y/n nudged him with her shoulder, “Wanna go get a pint or two?”

Douxie chuckled, “Nah, I’m not one for glug. It’s a tad too gamey for me.”

“How bout we make some chamomile tea once we get home then?”

“Oh, that sounds heavenly.”

[burningthemidnightcityoil]

AVATARS OF THE LASTING ASPECTS

Let’s talk about Players and Aspects.

There are Two to Three Avatars of an Aspect, and then the Aspect itself. The two are the Player, and whatever Familiar / Sidekick / Fence / Companion they may have.

The Aspect itself is The Thing and the Whole of the Thing. For example-- you can picture Time without a Player. Its the measurement of events as they proceed; but its also the Begining and the End, the Pace-- Its Art is Music and its Artifact is Clockwork.

Think of all Aspects as like that.

The Avatar of the Aspect, or the Player, is capable of both introducing and controlling how the Aspect will function. If the player chooses bad choices, the Aspect will turn to those bad choices. The Aspect as the Thing and the Whole of the Thing is a neutral force of nature, only following its function, and its Avatar can dictate how that function is carried out. The Avatar and Aspect, however, are separate in this-- the aspect can still carry out its function without an avatar, just look at the Troll-Godless Earth.

The Player’s Class often tells you how the Player will dish out their Aspect.

So.

Why is this important?

Consider what we see in Homestuck.

In the Troll Sessions, the Aspects are balanced. There is an avatar for each aspect, and they carry out as players can and will and won’t to do.

But its the Human sessions where all this gets interesting.

Because the Human sessions aren’t balanced. They don’t have an avatar for each Aspect, and worse still, you can see that a powerful entity-avatar has corrupted the human sessions and one troll session (LE)-- The humans sessions is where it becomes blatant how the Aspects function without someone to direct or with someone with malicious intent.

Let’s start with Beta Session.

Here, we are introduced to Avatars of Breath, Light, Space and Time. Spacetime, its a given we need, because for anything to happen you need Space to fill and Time to pace.

But Light and Breath?

Breath is motion, progression, plot. Everything about the Beta Session is fast moving and constant action, and in fact, is too fast. Everything has to be done quickly, established quicker, and it jumps around.

This is a session without any sort of grounding-- There are no Real Aspects to tie everything down, so everything is all over the place.

Light is Relevance, Meaning and Symbols; Eyes and Color, Consciousness (lights on and everybody is home). There is next to nothing dark about what we’re seeing-- intention is often made plainly clear, most of the characters are in their right minds, and the Beta Session is chocked full of Symbols and Meaning and the promise that things will be made Clear if we can only Look.

But the problem here-- is that its too much all at once. Like above, there are no Real Aspects to ground the Ideals we have. We are given all this information, but have no fucking idea how to process it or where to put it, or what’s relevant to what.

Without Avatars of the Real Aspects (Void, Doom, Blood, Rage, Heart), there is no SENSE. And the Guardians that are there, are just that-- Guardians. They hold an Aspect, but don’t do much with it.

The Aspects that are the Thing and the Whole of the Thing are there, but they merely Are, and do not bend to or over the whims of anyone.

--- Until the Trolls come in, do things start making Sense.

Let’s talk the Alpha Session.

So we have Avatars of Life, Void, Hope, and Heart.

Life is Health, Experience, the Breaking of Impossibility and Normalcy. The Players are Alive, and surprisingly Well, in spite of their awful circumstances. Roxy and Dirk should’ve Died (Dirk fell in the middle of the Ocean as a Baby, how did he survive? Roxy fell in the midst of Carapacians, how was she not Eaten?). And yet, they’re just ordinary teenagers.

But now, the Avatars are forced to live through horrible circumstances. There is no Time or Space-- No way to move forward, and no Space to grow. Just Surviving through all Impossibility-- And its fucking awful.

Hope is Coherence, Belief, Fantasy and Divinity. The fact that the players are experiencing something wholly fantastical-- a literal Alien Empress has come to take over Earth, there are Alien Monsters outside of Jake’s door, their best friends are 500 years into the Future or are in another universe entirely, Apocraplyse and Metaphysical-- That’s a helluva a thing to have.

But now all they have is Hope. Hope that there’s gonna be something better. Hope that something is gonna come down-- and ye gods, that’s awful. They’re living 2020 without it ever being 2020.

And their hope player is a self-serving jackass.

Heart is the Inner Self and Character, the Ego and Persona, the Facet and Aesthetic, Love and Soul and Self. Each character is appropriately theme’d-- Jane is the Heiress to a Cooking Empire and literally acts like the Betty Crocker character we see on the logo (not the Batter Witch). Roxy is a Scientist, and has a Science Lab, and she loves cats and wizards. Jake is a movie enthusiast with a love of adventure, and literally has a Tomb Raider Island just outside his door. And Dirk is surrounded by Robots and Brobots, and quite literal (and distorted) reflections of himself.

And did we mention the Romance Problems.

So many Romance Problems.

Heart here is one of our First Real Aspects. And lot of Dirk’s stress comes from being one of the only Real Aspect Avatars, and trying to temper nearly everyone. Remember that music can be played to the beat of one’s heart-- Heart here is trying to play Time, and uh-- well--

I mean, you tried but...

Void is Irrelevance, the meaningless Physical, the Dark and the Deep, the Incomprehensible. The world is real damn it, and suddenly it doesn’t matter as much anymore. The Session is Void, void of life, void of hope, void of heart, until something comes along and fixes it.

One of the Real Aspects, and it more or less just sits there like a Generic Object. Literally only Roxy is thrilled about this session and for good reason-- she’s the only one in her element. Void fills in what Space doesn’t-- and it doesn’t do that good of a job because NOTHING IS HERE.

... So how many of you called Act 6 meaningless? How many of you had quit ship come Act 6? Feel bored or disappointed? Void did its job, didn’t it.

So.

What about the Aspects that Aren’t here?

Easy, the Trolls fill in what Classes and Aspects are missing. Kanaya brings in Sylph, Karkat Blood, Gamzee Rage and Bard, Sollux Mage and Doom, Terezi Mind, and Vriska brings in Thief (Though it can be argued that Jack Noir originally brought in Thief and Rage).

As  an Avatar of Rage, Gamzee is mean to bring Contrivance, Madness and Passion, the Self Evident Truth. The Problem here, is that he only brings in Madness. Take the Juju Episode. He isn’t the Avatar of Rage itself, he’s the Avatar of the Lord of Time’s Rage-- He comes in to do the work of LE, not the work of the real Rage Aspect.

A real avatar of Rage would’ve shown our Alpha Players that they can change the system to favor them-- because this is bullshit.

As Avatar of Mind, Terezi brings in the Outer Self, the Choice, Cause and Effect, Superego and Karma. The Multiverse at your disposal. When she is down because of Gamzee, suddenly you lost all your Choices and there is no Karma (Pre-retcon Meteor).

Mind is also Memory and the Saved Game. If it wasn’t for Terezi, John would not have been able to go back and fix things. For a Narrative, Saved Games aren’t particularly Clean-- But SBURB is also a Game and a Story. We’ve seen what happens when the Player dies and lives are lost-- but imagine if you can just go back to a Saved Game and redo an action without having died in the first place.

That’s Mind.

As Avatar of Blood, Karkat provides not Character-- but You. Your Place, Yourself, Your Choice. Blood is the most Grounded and the Most Real of the Aspects. Everything might be Fake, but You, the Reader, are here and making it real. Blood falls under being Self-Driven, Promises and Friendship, Collective and Shared. Only as strong as your greatest weakness.

When he is down, you’ve lost Everything. When the Avatar of Blood flees, all those bonds and promises go out the window (Murderstuck). When he dies, there is nobody left but despair (Bad End).

As Avatar of Doom, Sollux provides Destruction, The Limit and the Crossed Line, Inevitability and the Impossible-- Death at the End. No matter how bad that seems, Doom isn’t a Bad Aspect. Its the Cleaner. Something has gone wrong, and there’s no way to fix it, you can take solace in the fact that it’ll be over soon. Doom is a very sorrowful aspect, with a thankless but needed job.

He tends to avoid the Human’s (and yet looks up human culture) cos he’s not that interested (Doom avoids the Players). When he’s defeated by the Avatar of Hope, Murderstuck seemingly has no End (and yet, he isn’t dead, just changed). When he leaves to go hang out with Friends once the Humans arrive, Doom has left them (Their journey is guaranteed to succeed).

Sollux has a frightful job, being an Avatar of Doom.

And what of the Muse and the Lord.

Muses are Inspirational. You have something that inspires you to create. Calliope is that inspiration. The Avatar of Space inspires its creation.

And the Lord? Well, he’s the Creator and the Director of the Piece. The Avatar of Time ensures Creation.

Worse though, is when Caliborn proves to be a malicious creator and director, and he literally takes Avatars as his own.

Gamzee, an Avatar of Rage, is now an Avatar of Caliborn’s Rage. His Madness. Spread either via Murderous Intent or Juju.

Equius, an Avatar of Void, is now an Avatar of Caliborn’s Void. His Physical Reality.

Dirk, an Avatar of Heart, fights so hard not to be Caliborn’s Heart. And plenty of Dirk’s other selves Fail this Fight. Bro is merely a distilled version, and that’s horrible enough. Hal fails outright, and his nature tends toward maliciousness toward all other players.

And Homestuck. The Alpha Timeline? -- Its Caliborn’s Time.

And you Will Follow it. You have no other Choice.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Eye of the Storm 13

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, angry Thor, spanking, binding.

This is dark!Thor and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a new servant at the palace of Asgard but the job isn’t so easy as you thought.

Note: It’s the moment you all (and @lokislastlove​) have been waiting for.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Thor was so angered by Loki's impromptu visit that he did not follow through on his threat to his wife. He left his marital duty undone and you didn't miss the mix of relief and concern as it sparked for an instant through her stoic veneer. The king thanked her for the meal and gruffly ushered you from the room and back to his own.

The night ended much the same as the previous. Thor was just as insistent, just as impatient, and just as cloying in his attentions. You spent hours writhing with his head between your legs, begging him to stop one second only to plead with him to keep on. As before, it ended in a haze of fatigue.

However, you did not awake alone. The king slept beside you, his hand nestled between your legs. He snored as his other arm stretched beneath your neck and his body pressed against your as his breath warmed your cheek.

The sunlight streaked in across the stone floor and the end of the bed. You were careful as you sat up and lifted Thor's hand from your cunt. He grumbled and you watched him nervously as he fell flat on his back. As if instinctual, his hand slipped over his own pelvis. You shuddered and left him alone.

You were even more sore than before. It hurt every time your thighs brushed together, every time you took a step. Your clit still felt swollen and was sensitive to even the slightest stimulation. You pissed and wiped yourself with a wet cloth, holding in your whimpers.

You lingered in the bath chamber. You paced and paused before the round looking glass over the counter. The golden collar remained, shining against your skin. You touched the little mjolnir along the front and grimaced. 

You'd always known you were little more than property but now you felt little better than a lamp or a stool. You were just a thing to him. Only good for his use, for his pleasure.

"Pet," Thor's voice was thick with sleep and cleared his throat. "Ah, ever clever. I do think we should wash away our deeds."

You turned to him and bowed your head, hiding your distress. You went to the pump and began to churn it. The water spilled out and you watched the ripples crash and build as they spread across the marble and flooded its depths.

Thor did not wait. He stepped in and eased himself down into the steam.

You stopped the water as it reached his chest and he ran his fingers along the lip of the tub. He smirked at you, his other hand dipping beneath the surface.

"Come," He coaxed. "You needn't be so nervous now."

You swallowed your voice and lifted your leg over the side. The warm water felt good despite your retiscence and you lowered yourself down with a suppressed sigh. He reached out and drew you to him. He brought you against him and slung your leg over his. 

"You slept well," He said. "You looked... peaceful. Satisfied."

You kept your eyes down and resisted the urge to shove him away. He was always near, always touching you. It had barely been more than a day since he'd dragged you back and you couldn't stand his presence. even if he could make you feel such wonderful things.

"I am tired still," You said softly. "I could sleep some more, my king."

"Well, you've much to do but you might earn yourself a cat nap," His wet hand went to your chin and he turned your head. "If you ask nicely." 

He kissed you and his hand crept down your arm. He took your hand and drew it over into his lap. He pressed your palm to his hard cock and groaned into your mouth. He closed your fingers and pulled back to let out a sharp breath.

"Keep me happy and I'll do the same in kind," He uttered as he guided your hand up then down. 

He dropped his hand and you carried the motion. He kissed you again as his arm hugged you closer. His tongue explored your mouth and you found it hard to breathe and keep your hand moving. When he parted, he pushed his forehead against yours and gave a low growl.

"That's it, pet. Just like that," He rasped. "Faster, just a little--"

As you obeyed, he spasmed. You didn't let up until he stopped you himself and whined. He sat back heavily and exhaled. He shook his hair back over his shoulders and you looked down as his cum floated in the water. Your stomach turned.

You recoiled and slid away from Thor. He barely seemed to notice as he basked in his bliss. Your entire body was on fire and yet it felt like ice had frozen in your veins. This wasn't who you were. This wasn't what you wanted to be for... for... forever.

The water fell off of you as you stood and climbed out of the tub. Your lip quivered as you felt yourself close to cracking. You heard Thor's voice but you're heart was beating so loud in your ears that his words were gibberish. 

You rushed into the bed chamber and found the showy red dress. You pulled it over your head, the skirts folded into and tangled with each other. You heard the king, heard his feet slap across the stone as you turned to flee into the receiving chamber.

You ran for the door but were stopped by a sudden bang before you. The large hammer, that sacred tool, landed before the doors and blocked your way. You stared at Mjolnir and turned slowly to face Thor as he stormed in behind you. His nostrils flared as he seethed.

"What do you think you're doing?" He roared.

"I can't-- I can't do this," You reached to your neck and fumbled with the clasp of the collar. You loosed it and fought to free yourself from it. "My king, I am not-- I cannot be-- I am a maid. I am not this."

"You are what I say you are," He marched towards you until you nearly fell over Mjolnir behind you. "Do you understand?"

He grabbed you and spun you away from the door. The collar flew from your grasp and clanged across the floor. You fell to your knees and shakily got back to your feet as you turned to him. 

"Please, please, I cannot," You begged. "I could ever be your servant but I cannot bear this. You are--" You inhaled and something in you snapped. "You are cruel. You frighten me. You torture me!"

"I have fed and clothed you. I have shown you pleasure you could never--"

"No, no!" You hollered. "Say what you will, but you are mean. You are terribly unkind. Your brother might be so but he could never measure to you. Never in th--"

Thor was before you in an instant. His large hands was around your throat and he almost had you off your feet as he glared down at you.

"Never speak of my brother again. Never compare me to him or him to me," He spat. "I did not keep you to hear such insolence."

"My...king," You sputtered out as your hand slapped against his weakly. "I-- I--"

He watched you as you gasped for air, as you struggled to cling to life as your head pounded. As stars appeared in your vision, he dropped you to the stone. You hit it hard and scraped your elbows.

"You think me cruel?" He bent to grab you and wrenched you back to your feet. "I will show you cruel."

He dragged you back into the bedchamber and tossed you against the end of the bed. You bounced off it and barely stayed on your feet. 

He tore open a draw along the side of his wardrobe and fished around. He turned around, a thick belt in hand and held his other in the air. A hum came and the heavy hammer soared through the air into his grasp. He placed it onto the floor only a foot from you and forced you away from the bed. 

He wound the leather around your wrists, your struggle nothing to his strength. He hauled you forward and yanked your hand down so that you bent. He wove the other end of the around Mjolnir's handle and once more around your wrists and secured it tightly. You were trapped, prone and bound to the immoveable hammer.

He stood straight and stomped around you. Still naked, you looked up with a sob and pulled at your hands. You could do nothing but strain every muscle in your attempts to free yourself. His cocked bobbed before him, throbbing, and he rounded you once more.

He pushed your skirts apart and his large hand stretched across your ass. There was a pause, a silence. Horrid and hellish. He drew back and you closed your eyes. You knew the slap would come before it landed. Your legs trembled at the force and you bit into your bottom lip. You'd never felt such pure agony.

He struck you again and the breath was forced from you. A third time and you cried out. Again and again as you got louder and louder. Each left your as more raw than last. The pain rippled down your leg and had your eyes streaming.

You lost count as his hand settled on your lower back and his other continued to fall steadily. Your knees buckled and your fingers wrapped around the hammer's long handle. You braced it as you fought to stay on your feet. He hit you again and your entire body went weak. 

You crumpled and whined. In your teary-eyed panic, you swore the handle had twitched just a little but you remained weighed down by the immoveable mass. 

Thor chuckled darkly and grabbed your hips. He pulled you back up and held you as you struggled to get your feet beneath you, still bent over Mjolnir. He rubbed your sore ass and pinched it. You yelped as your nerves buzzed with fear.

"I would have been patient," His hands ran up your back and he grasped the back of your dress. "Gentle even." He tore it with three sharp yanks and it fell away, bunching around your wrists. "I thought perhaps you might even enjoy it. Gods, a king! How gratefull you should be."

His hands slid down your sides back to your hips. He steadied you as you quivered and clung to your left hims as his other hand left you. His heady breath filled the silence and you felt a prod along your cunt. He rubbed his tip up and down your fold, pushing until he found your entrance. When he did, he did not hold back.

He jerked your entire body as he entered you. You shreiked as he filled you to his limit and well past yours. He held you up completely as your legs went limp. His fingertips sank into your hips as his other hand grazed your tender ass. He thrust and you exclaimed.

"My-- king," You pleaded. "It-- I'm so... sorry. Please-- stop! stop!"

"I didn't want you to be like them," He snarled as he rutted into you, each stroke sent a jolt up your spine. "Gods, everytime I-- try to fuck--" He grunted as he hammered into you. "My damn wife-- I can't-- even-- Fuck!"

He growled and you felt the flood of warmth inside of you. He dug his nails into your hip as he stilled and huffed. He stayed inside of you and there was a long moment of silence.

He bent over you and loosed your wrists. He wrapped his arm around your middle and pulled you straight. He clung to you and turned you toward the bed. He walked you closer until your knees met the mattress. He urged your knees up and climbed up with you, still inside of you.

He kept you upright, against him, his arm still around your middle as his other hand kneaded your tit. He nuzzled your hair and let out a dusky breath in your ear.

"Your choice," He began to rock slowly. "I can be mean... or I can be nice."

He kept his thrusts slow but even. He inhaled your scent as he brushed his nose along your cheek and toyed with your nipple. His other hand crawled lower, tickling your stomach and hips. He pushed a finger down along your pelvis and found your clit. He added another finger as he began to traced circles around your bud. You inhaled sharply and your hand fell over his but you didn't, couldn't, push him away.

His voice gristled in your ear as he moved against you. Despite your fear, your doubts, your spite, it felt amazing. You wanted more, more, more. You needed it. You were almost there. So close...

Then he stopped. He chuckled and removed his hand from between your legs. He pulled out of you and shoved you forward so that you fell on your stomach. His cum seeped out of you but he hadn't climaxed a second time, as you hadn't.

He turned you over and held himself over you. He smirked and his eyes roved down your body. He watched himself as he tilted his hips, dragging his cock against your cunt. You shuddered as you couldn't look away, the sensation almost as hypnotizing as the sight.

He lowered himself slightly but kept his hips slow. He hot breath tickled your ear as he leaned close. "Tell me you want me." He said.

You whined and turned your head away. He slowed even more and drew you further from the edge. You needed release. Your already overwrought clit was so swollen and sore.

"Tell me," He sneered.

You shook your head and he stilled. He pushed his cock against you and bit your ear lobe. He let go and rocked his hips once.

“Tell. Me.” He demanded.

“I--” You quavered. “I want… you.”

“Mmm,” He hummed and ran his nose along your cheek. “What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t-- I can’t--” You uttered. “I can’t say.”

“You want me to fuck you?” He taunted. “Tell me.”

“I want-- I want you--” You choked out through gritted teeth. “To fuck me.”

“Mmhmm,” He purred. “Do you want me to make you cum?”

You sobbed as he lifted his pelvis slightly and left you wanting.

“I want you… to make me cum.” You breathed.

“And do you want me to cum in you?” He asked. “To fill you with my seed?”

“I do,” You gasped. You needed a release; anything. It didn’t matter that it was him, you just needed it. It hurt so bad. “I want you to cum in me.”

“Well, pet,” His lips were just above yours as he stared into your eyes. “You must remember your manners.”

“Please,” You touched his hip shyly and pushed your legs apart. “Please fuck me. Please make me cum.” You pressed your fingers more firmly to him. “Please cum in me.”

“As you wish, little one.” 

He pulled his hips back for only a moment and prodded at your entrance. He slipped inside you, easier than the first time, and sank to his base. You squirmed at how full you were. It hurt but it was so, so good.

“Is this what you want?” He sped up with each thrust. “You want me? Huh?”

“Yes, yes,” You stammered. “Yes.”

He snarled and kissed you as he rammed into you hard. Your legs hooked around his and he nibbled your lips as he parted, only to smear his spit down your cheek and chin. His thick arm curled beside your head and he pressed his head beside yours as he pounded even harder.

His pelvis rubbed against your clit with each thrust and stoked your orgasm. You came suddenly with a cry and clung to Thor as your body shook beneath him. Your pleasure only seemed to drive his own and he sped up once more.

He pushed himself up onto his knees, quickly regaining his pace. He looked down at his cock hammering in and out of you and bit his lip. He let out a deep, long growl as his eyes shone eerily. 

Little silver blue bolts bounced off his body and along your flesh, adding to the buzz already within you. You arched your back as another, unexpected orgasm struck you. You clawed the blanket as your eyes rolled back as you writhed like a wild animal.

Thor’s flesh clapped against yours and interspersed with the snap and fizzle of the electricity flowing off him. The bed quaked beneath him and his voice grew louder and louder and suddenly peaked. He slammed into you several times then slowed. Another burst of warmth seeped into you.

He stilled and eased himself down over you again. He snaked his arm under you and scooped you up as he rolled over. You rested atop him, sweaty and spent. The heat within you was suddenly replaced with a chill so intense it made you shiver.

And Thor began to move again. Your cunt squelched around him as his cum leaked down his cock. He held you to him as he began to pant once more. Your walls ached around him as you hung your head against his shoulder weakly.

“You are mine,” He snarled. “And the little welp I put inside you will be too.”

[pastaaa-bird]

Day 4:historical

@aphrarepairweek2021

Sorryforbeingadaylate

Oh warning for very minor swearing(only happens three times) but other then that there is nothing inappropriate and also there is implied period typical homophobia in this

Summary: An 80s human AU where a stressed out Chiara (nyo Romano) is saved from going crazy by a hero(Amelia aka nyo America)

Basically this is just fluff, fluff and more fluff

Chiara Vargas was a second a way from flipping her desk and raging down the halls, or at least she would be if she had not possessed just enough self control to hold back on the urge.

“Fuck fuck fuck….” Chiara muttered, the sound coming out muffled from her face being squished against her desk in failure.

“OH, CHIARA” came a high pitch voice down stairs.

Reluctantly she lifted her head to the sound.

“WHAT?I'M BUSY”,she yelled back, mentally cursing her brother for disturbing her sulking.

“A CERTAIN SOMEONE IS HERE FOR YOU",

“WHO IS IT?”,

“YOU'LL HAVE TO COME DOWN AND SEE",

After managing to hold back a bitter protest she stood up then stormed down stairs.

“This better be worth my time, Feli or l swear to Dio l’ll-",

Chiara came to a halt once she saw the girl beside Feliciano.

“Hey!” a cheerful voice as usual from the smiling blonde with pink sunglasses in her hair, dressed in her demine shorts,  red t-shirt and long white socks with a pair of roughed up old sneakers.

“Amelia- uh hi there" She replied while awkwardly fidgeted with the sleeves of her jacket, embarrassed at the realisation that she had heard her yelling.

“Nice to see you calm down, anyway l’ll you two ladies to it”, he winked at Chiara who rolled her eyes at the look, not sure whether to love or hate that it felt the exact same to when her grandfather would make comments about her bringing a boyfriend home.

He disappeared into the sitting room to join Valentino on the couch.

“I was wondering if you would want to hang out, we haven't done that for ages”,

“Oh right, ugh l don't think l can”,

“Sure you can! You're not busy are you?”,

“l am, study”,

Amelia raised an eyebrow at that.

“Study? Our exams aren't till two weeks" ,

“I know, l know but l'm sick of revising everything on the night before the exam, besides l need as much of time as possible to understand this crap",

“Ah fair enough- how about l help ya with it? math l'm guessing?”,

Sighing at the memory of her many failed attempts at completing and understanding equations and formulas she nodded.

“Yeah, but are you sure?”,

“Definitely!”, stated Amelia with both hands on her hips and standing tall to her eagerness for the task.

“Alright then...",

A while later Chiara found her self back at her desk with Amelia standing beside her reading over her practice questions, nervously waiting for the results.

It felt like an eternity before Amelia finally looked up and spoke.

“And…that's like sixty five percent right!”,

“Sixty five?! Where did l go wrong this time?!”,

They had been at this for quite some time now. Despite Chiara’s frustration she stayed relativity calm for the most part thanks to Amelia’s encouragement and little jokes that made her either outright laugh or complain due to what she claimed was annoyance even if though she did find it humorous.

“Symbols, you forgot them again, there's supposed to be a measurement symbol at the end of this to say whether it's centimetres squared or cubed or meters squared- eh you get the point...", she paused then continued.

Miss Kirkland is your math teacher, right? She's real strict when it comes to small stuff like that so she takes off a lot of marks”, explained Amelia while doodling with the pen in the corner of the practice sheet of paper Chiara had used.

Miss Kirkland, certified smartass- even if it is technically her job to be one. Now, Chiara didn’t exactly hate her but she was far from a favourite in terms of teachers she was forced to put up with.

She hated how Miss Kirkland loved to call on those who she knew where not paying attention, there was a sense of snobbishness when it came to the way Miss Kirkland would proudly correct the unsuspecting student with a smile that more closely resembled a smirk.

“l hate this, I'm so close to getting this right but l keep screwing it up”,

“Come on it's fine! You've made awesome progress since when we started! It's only been like what….an hour? Give yourself some credit",

“…l guess you're right. But I'm also stuck for other things- like history and geography suck",

“ Wanna head to the library? They got good resources for both”, questioned Amelia now looking up from her doodling.

“Nah, I've had enough school for today. Let's do something else, anything in mind?”,

“Ooh! A few things-“,

Understandably Chiara was not surprised when they had arrived at the arcade on their bikes.

“Is this becoming an addiction for you?”,

“Ha-ha very funny, you have your obsessions and l have mine”,

“You even call it obsession, keep all this up and l'll be hosting an intervention for you",

This time Amelia genuinely laughed in response, Chiara savoured every second of the sound.

They were stuck there for a while, when it came to Amelia's great interest and Chiara’s competitive attitude it was easy to guess that there would obviously be competitions to see who could score the highest.

To Chiara’s dislike Amelia ended up winning proportionally more then she did followed by listening to the victory taunts from Amelia.

And it seemed that as quickly as they arrived they where off again.

“No, no, no, nah, no, nope, no”,

“Oh come on! l thought you weren't a quitter”,

“I have my exceptions, this is one of them",

Roller skating, she wanted Chiara to roller skate. Clearly Amelia wasn't aware of the fact that Chiara would likely crawl into the ground out of embarrassment if she would likely- no when, when she would end up falling flat on the floor.

“l'll help ya along! You'll be fine", urged Amelia tilting her head to the side with pleading eyes.

Upon arrival to the centre she instantly felt her heart sink knowing what would be expected her. After much convincing from Amelia and equally as much rants about what could go wrong from Chiara- she ended up agreeing to at least attempting to skate.

Chiara felt her chest tighten and face heat up once she suddenly felt the hand of Amelia intertwine with her own, guiding her into the skating area after they got their roller blades.

It was fascinated to see how effortlessly Amelia could move, practically gliding with ease although at a much slower pace due to guiding Chiara along. For this moment anyway, Chiara forgot how to feel anxious.

The last destination for the day was the local diner.

“Two milkshakes please, a double chocolate for myself and a strawberry and banana mix for her”,

“Coming right up, dear", replied the waitress.

“Oh and don't worry l'm paying, l owe ya for last time with the ice-creams” reassured Amelia after she placed their order.

It was the small things that Chiara adored about Amelia the most, how she remembered her favourite foods was one of them. Along with her passing small notes with funny faces on them to her whenever they shared a class and she had noticed that Chiara was dying of boredom.

They sat on the high chairs in front of the counter top as they awaited her drinks, Amelia flapped her hands with giddy excitement once they were received, Chiara couldn't help smile at the sight.

She thought about sharing the milkshake together, putting the straw in her drink like those shitty romantic movies Amelia loves so much. It would be cute wouldn't it? Cuter to see Amelia's reaction to the gesture! She smiled to herself at the idea.

Then her face dropped.

No, no they couldn't, not here, although her smile was brought back again by looking towards her girlfriend who had all her attention on blowing bubbles into her drink.

“Should you really be playing with your food like that?”, she questioned placing the straw into her own drink.

“Might as well make the most of it when my folks aren't here to tell me off ", Amelia shrugged in response.

Chiara found her self agreeing with that mentality and joined in with the childish behaviour.

They cycled back to the house, it was getting dark already.

Amelia was invited in and the two walked past the living room seeing Feliciano and Valentino with their eyes still glued to their precious TV.

At peace now they were sat together on the back porch. There was a small garden behind the Vargas' house, it was closed off by the tall fence( put there mostly so the neighbour's cat couldn't hope over and ruin the vegetable patches or flowers).

The air was humid all day and was beginning to cool down with the sun getting lower and the clouds moving in.

For what could have been anywhere from a minute to a thousand years the two spoke about anything and everything, the topics seemed to flow so easily, naturally changing with ease.

Finally the two sat in comfortable silence, looking towards the sky who’s colours had turned into oranges, yellows and pinks.

This is what Chiara so deeply enjoyed, how they could just sit together and feel so secure.

Routinely this what would be done for one another if the other was upset and asked for so, this time was often spent with their hand held or being hugged by the other.

 There would be times where Chiara in particular would wish to be alone, in cases like this Amelia would go prepare or buy a snack for whenever Chiara is feeling okay again, it gave her something to look forward to when she needed to be alone with her own depressing thoughts.

Sometimes when Amelia would be upset she would just want to vent and vent with no words of “it will be okay" or “look on the bright side of things", Chiara was there to listen and agree with the difficulty of whatever situation she found herself in.

Chiara's head was rested on Amelia’s shoulder, her arm wrapped around her in response to it.

Now it was getting cold, thankfully she still wore her jacket…but maybe…

“Amy?”,

“Yeah?”,she quietly answered back to the nickname.

“It's getting a bit…chilly don't you think? Would you, would you like my jacket?”,

“Oh...Uh sure.If you wouldn't mind that is”, a blush covered Amelia’s cheeks, she was rarely flustered or at least visibly.

The jacket was a gift to Chiara for Christmas from one of her relatives, it was given oversized to her but she kept it since it seemed more comfortable like this. On Amelia the jacket finally looked normal, it fit her well and looked quiet lovely.

They went back to silence until Chiara broke it again.

“Thanks by the way. I really needed today- to get my mind off of all this stupid fucking stress l've been trapped in lately",

“Of course. We all need a break now and then",

“You could say that again…l love you" Chiara looked up, her chin now on Amelia's shoulder.

Amelia glanced down at her and grinned.

“The feeling is mutual, sweetheart"

The end

Okay now for me rambling

Uhhhhh l read through this and l don't think l made any mistakes? I'll edit this if there are and sorry if you saw any, idk l'm bad at checking for mistakes and l don't have someone to proof read for me

Oh and Valentino is human Seborga and alsooo not sure if l made it clear but Feliciano does know about their relationship and also Chiara is Bi and happy to feel valid in her relationship with Amelia as if it were the exact same as when she is with a guy and not something taboo in this time period

ALSO damn, sorry this isn't that particular to the 80s- l did leave out things l was originally going to add in though! Like l was going to have Felicianio and Valentino have a movie marton but according to Wikipedia they werent common around then and the ones that did happen were anime soooo y e p

Also thought about adding in a house cord phone but eh idk it felt nicer to have Amelia visit instead of having Chiara call her or if l tried writting it as Amelia calling and then showing up it just felt forced and weirdly put in any way l tried to write it in

AH l am so worried that this is boring or cringy, like l honestly can't tell if it is or is this fine-ehh l guess l've written worse um yeah if you've read this far thanks :)

(I'm editing this for mistakes and wtf 90 is so high why would she be shocked- damn l think l know why l originally wrote that, l was thinking Amelia said ONE of the questions is 90% right but before it l said she was correcting multiple questions so it reads as multiple questions being 90% right all together ANYWAY l corrected it so it's fine again okay bye -AND it turns out l missed some mistakes yet again-editing this for the 3rd time rip)

[olliepig]

Centre Stage, ch 10

It’s taken a while thanks to real life thoroughly kicking my ass, but the next chapter is finally here! Massive thanks to my amazing beta and cheerleader @willow-salix, who, along with @misssquidtracy, @sugar-fiend, @inertplanetary and @chenria have all variously listened to me moaning and picked me up over the last few months. 

As always, the whole thing is also on AO3 here.

**************

Tucking his phone into his pocket, Scott pushed himself away from the wall he’d been leaning against, letting his long legs quickly take him around the groups of tourists as he made his way back towards the entrance to the gardens of the Peterhof. The unplanned alone time while Cat was stuck in an overrunning rehearsal had been a rare treat that he’d made the most of, exploring almost every inch of the palace and its extensive grounds as he enjoyed the peace of solitude that was hard to find on the busy island.

Now, alerted to her imminent arrival, he glanced at his watch impatiently, calculating that, despite her lateness, they would still have a gloriously uninterrupted twenty hours together before she was due back at the theatre the following evening.

Her debut with the Mariinsky Ballet in St Petersburg was a big deal, and he’d lost count of the number of times she had told him about the history of the company and the honour of being asked to dance with them. Her excitement had been infectious and, despite it causing a raised eyebrow from his dad when he had asked for the time off rota to attend, he wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

He was ashamed to admit that he hadn’t officially told his father about her, despite them having been dating for close to eight months. He knew Jeff wasn’t stupid and was completely aware that he had a girlfriend, but something had always held him back from sitting down with him and bringing it up. The obvious time for that would have been right after his return from the Oort Cloud, but it had been such early days in their relationship that he hadn’t wanted to do anything that might put more pressure on it. As the weeks went on and they grew closer, it never seemed to be the right time and, with every passing week, it   became harder and harder to admit that it had been going on the whole time.  

Turning his collar up against the bitterly cold wind coming off the Baltic Sea, Scott made it to the entrance just in time to see a sleek black car pull in. A smile crept onto his lips as he caught sight of Cat peering out at the golden domes of the palace behind him, reminding him of her first arrival onto the island where he was completely ignored in favour of Two behind him. This time, however, he didn’t have to fight for her attention when she got out.  She flew into his arms, catching his lips with hers in a fierce kiss before disentangling herself.

“Well, hello there,” Scott smiled as she grabbed her bag from the back of the car, slamming the door with a force that made him wince. “It’s nice of you to finally join me.”

“Oh shut it,” Cat grinned in response, taking the opportunity to snuggle back into him again. “It couldn’t be helped today and well you know it. Anyway, you know I’m worth the wait.”

“You sure are,” he agreed, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead as he tightened his arms around her, taking comfort from her presence. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” she murmured as she pulled back, taking him in properly for the first time, his pale skin and the dark circles under his eyes making her eyes widen in surprise. “Are you OK?” she asked, concern firing through her, “You look tired.” “I always look tired,” Scott countered, meeting her gaze briefly before quickly looking away, finding a passing bird very interesting as he saw the worry written on her face.

“OK then, smartarse,” Cat pressed, his lack of eye contact making her even more suspicious that something was amiss. “You look more tired than usual.”

“I’m OK, honestly,” Scott reassured her, finally looking at her properly, his eyes a studied calm that Cat didn’t fully trust. “It’s just been a busy week that’s all. You don’t need to worry.”

Cat nodded slightly, accepting his answer without further comment but making a mental note to keep an eye on him over their time together. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she knew him well enough to know when something wasn’t quite right and all her instincts were screaming at her, telling her that this was one of those times.

“Shall we?” Scott asked, effectively changing the subject as he gestured to the entrance before them.

“Lead on,” she declared as they set off. They navigated their way through the imposing gates and past the grand palace, following the path that Scott had discovered on his previous exploration that would take them into the lower gardens with their spectacular fountains.

Despite the significant difference in their height, they fell into a comfortable stride with each other, Cat matching Scott’s pace with ease as they made their way around the beautiful grounds. Her hand fitted perfectly in his and he found himself absentmindedly tracing circles on her soft skin with his thumb as they walked together, not feeling the need to talk as they simply enjoyed being in each other's company for the first time in several weeks.

Cat lost track of time as they wandered, marvelling at the multitude of little fountains and walkways that littered the Lower Gardens. Scott confidently led the way down paths covered by archways of carefully trained trees, their fresh Spring leaves rustling as they provided merciful shelter from the contrasting warmth of the sun and the coldness of the breeze.

Finally coming out into the open, they came to a halt underneath the rear aspect of the palace, taking in the full vista. The late afternoon sun made the golden statues in the fountains sparkle as the water droplets created rainbows in the breeze.

“It’s so beautiful,” Cat sighed wistfully. “It reminds me a lot of Versailles.”

“Funny you should say that,” Scott smiled. “Apparently, Peter the Great extended the original plans after he visited Versailles, so I don’t think it’s a coincidence that it looks so similar.”

“How on earth do you know that?” Cat asked, trying but failing to keep the incredulity out of her voice.

“Because I’m amazing?” Scott tried, batting his eyelashes at her and making her giggle.

“Well yeah, we know you are, but generally, even amazing people need to find stuff out for themselves somehow,” she pointed out, raising an eyebrow as she spoke.

“Aah, but I’m not just any person,” he reminded her.

“Also true, but you’re not known for your interest in Imperial Russian history either, so spill it,” Cat pressed playfully, giving him a nudge and fixing him with her best pleading stare.

“Not fair,” he complained, the effect ruined slightly by the smile playing on the corners of his lips. “You know I can’t resist when you look at me like that.”

“Who said anything about fair,” she laughed as she wrapped her arms around his neck, batting her own eyelashes a few times for good measure.

“Fine,” he groaned, conceding defeat and wriggling out of her grasp to pull a guidebook out of his pocket. “I had to pass the time somehow when I was waiting for you, so I thought I’d try to learn a few things to impress you when you got here.”

“OK, that might be the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” Cat murmured as she wrapped her arms around him again and buried her face in his shoulder, unsure what she’d done to be so lucky as to have someone as wonderful as him in her life.

Scott didn’t hesitate. Sliding a hand into her hair, he pulled her head back, meeting her lips with his own in a bruising kiss, the intensity of which took both of them by surprise. Pulling back, their eyes met briefly before Cat tightened her grip, burying her face in his shoulder once more as he cradled her head in his hand, holding her close against him, the outside world ceasing to exist.

For a long moment they remained there, cocooned in their own little world, until a sudden flash caught Scott’s eye, jolting him out of his reverie, his whole body stiffening at the first sign of a threat. Looking around he became aware that they had attracted quite the crowd, a number of whom were snapping pictures of them. Most concerningly was the woman he could see further behind the rest with what looked to him to be a telephoto lens on a professional camera. Immediately, he lost all sense of calm as his mind started working through all the options for getting them out of the situation.

Sensing his discomfort, Cat pulled back, looking up at him, taking in his troubled eyes before craning her head around to try and see what was upsetting him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, only seeing groups of people milling around and flashing a smile at someone who seemed to be taking pictures of them.

“There’s a photographer over there,” Scott told her quietly, not wanting to make a scene and draw even more attention to them.

“OK,” Cat agreed warily, her smile fading as she took in his serious demeanour, unclear as to why he was suddenly so worried about being photographed when it had happened plenty of times in the past. “And this is a problem because…?”

“Because some of these pictures will end up in the press, and then we’ll have to decide whether to confirm or deny the speculation about our relationship,” Scott finished, suddenly unsure as to whether to keep her close or put some distance between them.

“Why do we have to do either?” Cat asked, looking up at him in confusion. “Can we not just let them talk and while they’re busy doing that, we can get on with our lives?”

“I mean, I guess that could be an option?” Scott mused uncertainly, his mind still whirling with the ramifications of them being pictured together as he reluctantly let go of her and dropped his arms to his sides.

Refusing to let anyone put an enforced distance between them, Cat discreetly slipped her hand into his and gave it a squeeze. She looked around, trying to decide on the best way to get them away from the situation that seemed to be making Scott so uncomfortable. Spotting a narrow path, she moved off, leading him away from the Grand Cascade and into a more secluded area in which she hoped they could talk more privately. Walking together quietly, she could feel him relaxing as the onlookers thinned out, allowing her the space to gather her thoughts before continuing the conversation.

The idea of making a private relationship public had always seemed absurd to her and wasn’t a subject she’d thought they would have to decide on so soon, despite the constant media interest in the love lives of the Tracy brothers and the fact that Selene had been erroneously linked with Scott only a few months before. While a few pictures of them together had made their way into the press already, they had just laughed about them and brushed them off, so she had no reason to think that any others wouldn’t be treated the same way. But Scott’s reaction, and their current conversation, suggested that she’d been mistaken about that and was going to have to think quickly.

“I’ll be honest, I hadn’t really given this a lot of thought yet,” Cat admitted, breaking the silence. “My instinct is to say nothing because it really isn’t any of their business, but I don’t know if that’ll make life harder in the long run.”

“Well, in my experience, when the press think that there’s a story, they’ll pick at it until it’s either confirmed or denied,” he replied with a sneer of disdain. “I don’t particularly like my private life being splashed across the papers, but if it comes to it, I don’t have any issues with putting a statement out confirming that we’re dating in the hopes that you’ll be left alone if we take away the mystery before it even arises.”

“Wow,” Cat breathed, her heart skipping a beat at the realisation that he was prepared to sacrifice some of his fiercely guarded privacy to shield her from the press. “I didn’t think you’d ever want to do that.”

“Of course I would; I love you,” Scott declared, stopping to pull her into him for a kiss, amazed that she could possibly think that he wouldn’t do anything to make sure that she was protected. “I don’t have any issues with telling the world if it means you’re not hounded for a story. I’m just worried that if we don’t say anything, you’ll end up being the prime target for them because you’re much more accessible than I am, so really, it’s your decision. We both need to be happy with what we do but I think it’s only right to be led by you here.”

“I just don’t know,” Cat sighed as they started walking again. “I don’t like the idea of having the press at my door, but if we say something, my concern is that my family will find out and start trying to find a way back into my life because of who you are.”

“Yeah, I can understand that, and given your previous experiences with them, I can’t say I’m surprised you’re worried about that,” Scott sympathised, giving her hand a squeeze of reassurance. “But just remember that if they do start bothering you, you’ve got my full support now and I’ll do everything I can to help in any way that you want.”

“Thank you,” Cat smiled gratefully as they came to a stop at a viewpoint looking out over the Baltic Sea. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“There's nothing you have to face on your own now, remember that,” Scott reassured her, tucking a stray lock of her hair behind her ear and smiling as she leant into his touch. “The way I see it, we have two options right now. We either put out a press release, confirm that we’re together before the speculation gets too much and deal with whatever consequences come our way from your family, or we say nothing, continue as we are and deal with whatever that brings us in terms of disruption if the press interest becomes too much for you.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, not particularly wanting to make a decision but knowing that she had to. Her privacy was important to her too and not just because of her family, so the thought of the world knowing about her still relatively new relationship made her deeply uncomfortable. Equally, the idea of potentially having the press at her theatre or worse, following her home, didn’t exactly fill her with joy either.  

Snuggling into him against the bitingly cold wind, she took a moment just to enjoy the feeling of his arms around her, holding her close and reminding her that they were in this together, regardless of what they decided.

“Neither option sounds great, does it?” she admitted as the silence stretched between them, knowing that the decision was hers alone.

“Not really,” Scott agreed sadly, tightening his arms around her just a little bit more. “Trust me, I wish we didn’t have to deal with this sort of thing but unfortunately it seems to come with the territory.”

“I know,” she replied softly. “I guess I kinda knew we’d have to decide on this at some point. I just didn’t expect it to happen so soon. Or in Russia.”

“Yeah, I have to admit that this wasn’t top of my list of places I thought we’d be when we had to have this conversation,” Scott laughed.

“Right,” Cat declared, straightening up in a way that told Scott a decision had been made, causing him to release her from his arms. “I say that we just let the press stew. We’ve done perfectly well without confirming anything so far, and I sort of feel that as soon as you tell the world about something, you start to get expectations put on you about it and I don’t know about you, but I cannot be fucked dealing with that shit.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Scott smiled, leaning over to press a soft kiss on her head as they leant on a railing next to each other, looking out to sea.

“It’s a deal then,” Cat declared with an emphatic nod. “Let's get on with our lives and if people want to speculate, then that’s up to them. We don’t even know what’s going to happen if those pictures get published and obviously if the situation changes then we can revisit it, but I think for the moment at least, we’re better off not saying anything.”

“That sounds like an excellent plan,” he agreed, slinging an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close as she shivered slightly. “Shall we head back now?”

“Yeah,” Cat agreed readily. “It’s bloody freezing, isn’t it?”

“It really is,” he laughed, offering her his arm before leading the way back into the maze of pathways.

Walking quietly, Cat found that now the mood had lifted, she was much more aware of her surroundings. The part of the gardens by the sea was exquisite and she found herself dawdling, slowing Scott’s stride as she took in all the floral arrangements surrounding an ornate building that Scott informed her was in fact Peter the Great’s summer house, pointing out ones to him that particularly took her fancy.

A persistent chime coming from Scott’s wrist broke their conversation, taking her by surprise and his face, when she glanced up before he answered it, suggested that he was not the only one unhappy about the unwelcome intrusion into their day.

“What is it, John?” he answered smoothly, turning away from Cat as he did his best to hide his displeasure.

“I’m afraid we have a situation,” John informed him. “Four climbers trapped in the Southern Alps. Virgil and Gordon are coming to get you in Two.”

“Can’t they handle it themselves?” Scott asked. “I’m on leave and even if I wasn’t, I’m not exactly on the way.”

“I know and I’m sorry,” John sighed, his displeasure at the task that had befallen him apparent. “I’ve already checked, but Dad - “

“Gotcha,” Scott growled before John could finish. “I’ll be waiting when they get here.”

Cutting the call without even waiting for John’s response, Scott turned on his heel and began to stalk back towards the entrance to the gardens, leaving Cat to scurry along behind him.

Gone was the relaxed attitude of a few moments before and as Cat hurried to keep pace, she took in the firm set of his jaw and the way his eyebrows gathered together. She was at a loss as to his response to John’s call. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for leave to be cut short or cancelled at the last moment because of a rescue, and his reluctance to jump into action was very out of character.

The more she thought about it, the more she realised that John’s demeanour on the call had been strange too. It wasn’t the first time that he had called to report a rescue while Scott had technically been on leave but from what little she had seen, there seemed to be a tension there that she’d never been aware of in the past.

“Sorry about this,” Scott started as they reached the car park and found space large enough for Two to land, helped by the late hour and the fact that the majority of tourists had left for the day.

“You don’t need to apologise,” Cat reassured him, taking his hand in her own and giving it a squeeze as she scanned his face for clues. “It’s not the first time this has happened, and I very much doubt it’ll be the last.”

“I know,” Scott sighed, seeming to deflate a little as he stood. “It’s just really frustrating that’s all.”

“You sure that’s all that’s bothering you?” Cat pushed, no more convinced by Scott’s words than he was.

“I sure am,” Scott replied, the forced jollity in his tone grating with the tension radiating off him as he forced a smile.

“Fair enough,” Cat agreed, knowing better than to push him.

Getting Scott to talk was a delicate operation when he didn’t want to, and when he was still in the first phase of being angry or upset it was well-nigh impossible. Experience had taught her that giving him some time to process things by himself was essential and forcing the issue at this early stage would be counterproductive in the long run, making him defensive and less likely to talk even when he had calmed down, so she let it lie.

“How long do you think we’ve got before you’re picked up?” she asked, changing the subject as best she could. “Do you think we’ve got time for a walk around the Upper Gardens before they arrive?”

“I reckon so,” Scott smiled, feeling the tension easing just a little as he realised that there wasn’t any immediate need to leave. Even his usual form of transport would take a little time to get to him, and by his calculations, they should have almost an hour before he was needed. “Anyway, it’s not like we won’t see them coming.”

Cat smiled as they turned back into the gardens once more, glad that he seemed to be making the best of the situation, despite his initial reaction. Whatever was going on, she intended to get to the bottom of it, but for now, she was going to make damn sure that they enjoyed the last little bit of time they had before duty took him away again.

-x-

Letting the door swing shut behind her, Cat crossed the room and flopped onto the bed, letting her bag and keycard fall beside her as she sank slowly into the soft mattress. It wasn’t exactly the way she’d expected to return to the hotel when she’d left that morning, and she eyed the bottle of champagne that she’d ordered accusingly, as if it was responsible for her lack of company, her mind whirling as she tried to piece together the events that had brought her here.

It wasn’t the first time they had been forced to change plans because of a rescue, but it was the first time that Scott had seemed genuinely angry about it. There had always been a quiet acceptance that it was part and parcel of what he did and while it had been a blow, he had never seemed as angry as he had been when the call came through that afternoon. The way he’d cut John off and then cancelled the call without waiting for a reply had made her wonder whether there was something going on that she wasn’t privy to, and it was fast becoming a nagging doubt that her mind wouldn’t let go of.

All her instincts told her that something to do with his dad held the key to the mystery, but she had no idea what it could be. They had promised to be completely open and honest with each other and until now, Scott had never given any hint that there was anything that he was keeping from her so she hadn’t had any indication that something might be amiss.

As she started thinking back however, she realised that there had been a steady decline in the amount of times that he had mentioned Jeff over the past months, aside from brief updates about his health. When he was first back on Earth, a large portion of their conversations had focussed on how he was and Scott’s hopes for his recovery, but they had steadily lessened over time and now it seemed that he barely featured. It seemed to have happened so subtly in the six months since his rescue that she hadn’t even noticed it at the time, but given the afternoons’ events, she found herself wondering if it was more than just the natural waning of interest in a well discussed subject.

With a start, she realised that Scott never brought him up any more, and a sudden chill ran through her at the thought that when she asked after him, he had started giving the briefest of answers before rapidly changing the subject. Given his desperation to get their father home again and the risks they had all taken in doing so, it now struck her as strange that he was not the centre of more of their discussions. Aside from this, there was nothing to suggest that anything was amiss and Cat found herself desperately hoping that her instincts were incorrect, but no matter how she dressed it up, Scott’s reaction to John mentioning him seemed out of character and spoke of some underlying issue that she wasn’t aware of.

Unable to lie still any longer, she hauled herself up, pulling her phone out of her bag and dropping it on the bed before quickly tidying the rest of her belongings away in the wardrobe. It wasn’t in her nature to be fastidiously neat but she knew how much her messiness irritated him and, while Scott had never made her feel bad about it or like she had to change for him, she wanted to make sure he had a nice, tidy room to come back to when he returned.

Finding that the movement was calming her mind, she allowed herself a few moments to stretch out her legs which were beginning to protest a little after a full day of rehearsals followed by the long walk around the gardens of the Peterhof. She knew they would be absolutely fine in the morning regardless of what she did, but the familiar stretches soothed her and gave her the thinking space to decide what to do next.

Her stomach rumbling alerted her to a more immediate need to order some food. Dinner reservations had already been missed so she quickly grabbed the room service menu and ordered herself some pasta for a quick energy fix, trying to not feel too regretful of the beef stroganoff that she desperately wanted but knew would leave her too bloated and uncomfortable for her performance the next day.

She had no idea how long Scott was likely to be. Although she very much hoped it would be a simple rescue, she was thankful that at least he had another keycard to the hotel room from when he had dropped off his bags before they met so there was no need for her to stay up until he got back. With nothing to do but wait for both her dinner and her boyfriend, she grabbed her phone and perched herself on the small seat in the window, idly watching the cars go by as she scrolled through her contacts until she found the one she needed.

“Catriona, what a lovely surprise,” Penelope answered, her voice sounding strangely tinny through the phone speaker. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

“Oh, charming,” Cat laughed. “Can’t a girl even give her best friend a call with no warning these days?”

“I just meant that I thought Scott was with you this weekend,” Penny huffed, though Cat could hear the smile in her voice.

“He is,” Cat confirmed. “Well, he was. He’s been called out on a rescue.”

“So you thought you’d call me to pass the time?” Penny queried.

“Something like that, yeah,” Cat agreed, finding herself annoyingly at a loss for words, her worry about the outcome suddenly outweighing her desire to ask Penny’s opinion.

“Well, you've caught me at a good time. I’m just on my way to dinner with the Swedish ambassador.”

“Ooh, that sounds fancy,” Cat cooed. “Are you in the car just now? And am I on speaker?”

“I certainly am, and yes, you are now,” Penny confirmed after a small pause, bracing herself for what she knew was coming.

“Hi, Parker,” yelled Cat, hoping that her friend had taken the phone far enough from her ear to avoid being deafened.

“Hello, Miss Catriona,” Parker replied without missing a beat, quite used to Cat’s tradition of greeting him as he was driving, one that had started when the girls were at school together.

“Now that you’ve got that out of the way,” Penny continued seamlessly, changing the phone back to its more private setting, “how are the rehearsals going?”

“Yeah, they’ve been fine, thanks,” Cat confirmed. “No matter how many lessons I got from John, my Russian is still pretty much non-existent but everyone speaks good English so it’s not been too bad.”

“Well, that’s good,” Penny replied. “And are you all set for tomorrow?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be. The stage is massive though and the rake on it is more than anything I’ve ever danced on before so it’s a bit daunting. I don’t want to travel so far downstage during the fouette’s that I fall into the orchestra pit.”

“Yes, I can imagine that being a concern,” Penny soothed. “I’m sure you’ll be wonderful as always.”

“I hope so…” Cat tailed off, the weight of expectations for the following night weighing on her in a way that they hadn’t until now.

Admitting her fears made it feel like a lot to handle. Dancing Swan Lake with the company that it had originally been created on nearly 200 years before was scary enough, without the added stress of worrying about whatever was going on with Scott. She’d very much hoped for a relaxed evening that night, but it clearly wasn’t going to be on the cards.

“What’s wrong?” Penny asked when the silence stretched out between them. It wasn’t like Cat to sound so overwhelmed, and worry spiked through her.

“Nothing,” Cat sighed. “I just… Do you know if everything’s OK on the Island?”

“As far as I know,” Penny replied, her interest piqued. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t really know. Scott just seemed really tired and he wasn’t at all happy about being called out, which is really unlike him,” Cat replied, the words tumbling out now that she had opened the dam.

“I’m sure he was just disappointed to have to leave you,” Penny soothed. “And as far as him being tired goes, he’s probably just been burning the candle at both ends again. You know what he’s like.”

“That’s what he said but I just don’t know,” Cat sighed, rubbing her face with her free hand. “Something just doesn’t seem quite right.”

“I could always ask Gordon or see if I can find anything for you if you’re worried?” Penny asked, keen to do whatever she could to help out.

“No, no it’s OK. I don’t want to go snooping.” Cat squeaked, instantly regretting her choice to involve her friend. “Scott’ll tell me when he’s ready if there’s anything going on. I shouldn’t have asked. Sorry.”

“OK, well it’s your decision,” Penny replied smoothly. “The offer is always there if you want.”

“Thanks, but I couldn't invade his privacy like that,” Cat declared, already feeling uneasy about involving Penny in something that she was now sure Scott would rather be kept private.

“Yes, it might not be very popular,” agreed Penny.

“Anyway, how’re you?” Cat asked, rapidly changing the subject now that she was convinced that there wasn’t anything obvious going on that she’d missed. “How was that thing you and Gordon went to the other week?”

“Oh, the Governor’s garden party? Yes, it was lovely,” Penny confirmed, a hint of frustration in her voice making Cat instantly wary, even before she elaborated on the event. “Gordon though… well, you can’t take that boy anywhere.”

“Uh oh, what did he do?” Cat asked, moving away from the window and settling herself in a chair, feeling the need to be comfortable while she dealt with whatever complaints were heading her way.

This wasn’t the first time that Gordon’s natural exuberance had caused Penny to air her grievances about his behaviour after an event, but if she was honest, Cat had only occasionally felt that they were justified. The few events of this type that she had been forced to attend had been painfully boring and very restrictive in what was acceptable and her sympathies almost always lay with the aquanaut. However, her loyalty to her friend ran deep and so she felt she needed to be there to support and help in any way she could.

“Well, firstly, he wandered off while I was talking to the Governor's wife and was nowhere to be seen,” Penny began, her clipped tone making Cat wince slightly, her anger apparent. “And then when I did find him, he was in a corner of the grounds, playing what looked like rounders with some of the children.”

“And this was bad because…?” Cat asked, genuinely unsure as to why Penny was so upset about it.

“Because everyone knew he was with me and it is not how one is supposed to behave at these sorts of things,” Penny huffed. “There were lots of very important people there and I heard a good number of them making comments about it. There were chaperones employed to occupy the children so there was no need for him to be involved.”

“OK, I understand why that might be a bit embarrassing, but it sounds exactly like something Gordon would do,” Cat countered, wanting to challenge her a little.

“He used to act like this as a child,” Penny grumbled, the anger still evident in her voice. “He should have grown up by now.  Anyway, it wasn’t just that. I spoke to him about it and he apologised but then he disappeared again and I found him holding a platter of canapes and offering them to people. Apparently, a waitress had fallen and he was ‘just trying to help,’ but that’s what the staff were there for. It’s unheard of for a guest to behave in such a manner.”

Cat sighed. She could see where Penny was coming from and why Gordon’s actions would have been embarrassing to her at the time, but that didn’t mean that it was the disaster that she was making it out to be. Getting her to admit she was overreacting was a delicate task, but she had time on her hands and she felt like she owed it to Gordon to at least try.

“Admittedly I don’t know him as well as you do,” she began cautiously, picking her words carefully, “but again, that sounds like something that’s absolutely in character for him. I know for a fact that Scott would too if it had been him that was there.” “In normal circumstances, yes, helping someone who has fallen is admirable,” Penny agreed, a concession that Cat was surprised she had made so quickly. “But you know how stuffy these events are. I don’t like some of it any more than I’m sure Gordon does, but it’s what is expected and you need to play a part to fit in. My standing depends on it and I simply cannot be shown up like that by my guests.”

“I know,” soothed Cat. “But remember, all of the boys save people for a living so it’s basically instinct for them now. Gordon probably just saw someone in need and went to do whatever he could to help her.”

“I know, but I just need him to think a bit more about where we are and the image he’s projecting,” Penny sniffed, the anger slowly leaving her voice.

“I understand that, but just don’t go nagging him too much, OK?” Cat warned. “Just remember that it was his attitude of making the most of every opportunity and grabbing life with both hands that was one of the things that made you fall in love with him in the first place. I know you’re pissed off just now, but you can’t just expect him to turn that off when it doesn’t suit you.”

Silence stretched between the friends as Cat’s words hit home. Ordinarily, she would have tried to fill the gap, offering more advice or sympathy for how Penny was feeling but she was suddenly worn out. She’d lost track of the number of times she’d had conversations just like this one with Penny over the years, her boyfriends never quite living up to her exacting standards.

“I know,” Penny finally replied, her voice unnaturally quiet. “Anyway,” she added, sounding much more like herself, “his heart was in the right place and I suppose that’s the most important thing, not what everyone else thinks.” “I think you’re right there,” Cat agreed, her energy lifting now that Penny seemed to have accepted her words. “Nobody's perfect, but you’ve got a good one with a heart of gold and ultimately that’s who you fell in love with.”

“It certainly is,” Penny agreed. “Anyway, darling, I’m just about to arrive so I need to go.”

“No worries,” Cat smiled. “My dinner should be here soon anyway so I’d better head off too. Have a fun evening.”

“I’m not sure I’d call it fun but I’m sure it will be fine,” Penny laughed, the smile back in her voice again now that they were on more neutral topics. “Best of luck tomorrow, not that you’ll need it. Goodbye.”

“Byeeee,” Cat sang cheerily, hanging up the call as she crossed back to her perch in the window.

Looking down idly once more at the cars speeding past on the street below, Cat let her mind wander back over the conversation with Penny. It definitely didn’t seem to her like Gordon had made any massive mistakes, and even Penny herself had admitted that she didn’t always agree with the expected behaviour at the events she was so often called upon to attend.

Having been in attendance at some of these events herself in the past, she had first-hand experience of the rigidity of the class division between guests and staff. She had always found it laughable and so her sympathies were firmly with Gordon for acting as he had, especially in regard to the waitress. In any other circumstances, Penny would have been commending his behaviour, so she knew that her friend's anger had come from embarrassment caused by the situation rather than any real judgement on his actions.

Cat sighed, hoping that Penny would allow Gordon the time to mellow into the experience of attending high society events and not become too overbearing in her desire to help him fit in. Even though her concern always came from a place of generosity, Cat had found to her cost that it was sometimes misplaced and unwanted and she was well aware of how hard it could be not to get swept along with her, although she had a sneaking suspicion that Gordon might stand a better chance at avoiding it than most.

Quickly shrugging away unwelcome memories of her own painful experience of being on the receiving end of Penny’s help, she checked the time on her phone, wondering where her dinner was as her stomach let out another loud grumble of protest. No reassuring message from Scott telling her that he was on his way back was yet forthcoming either she noted, so she figured she probably had at least another hour or so before he was back too, depending on the complexity of the rescue.

She had to admit that she felt a little calmer than she had before now that she knew Penny wasn’t aware of anything that could be causing issues on the island. Aside from her obvious concern that Scott was unhappy, the fact that John seemed to share his anger had made her worry that her physical distance from the family meant that she had missed a more general issue and hadn’t been a support to him when he had needed her.

It was clear to her now that the issue was perhaps more limited to Scott and possibly John as she was sure that if Gordon was directly involved, then Penny would have known about it too. A little twinge of guilt spiked through her at the thought that she might have given Penny a hint of something that he might have rather be kept private but she shot it down quickly, reminding herself that she had only asked in the most general sense, not mentioning anything to do with her own suspicions as to the cause of his earlier anger.

A sharp knock at the door shook her out of her musings and sent her scurrying across the room to retrieve her dinner, having to stop herself from grabbing it from the bemused looking porter on the other side. Her stomach growled at the delicious smells radiating from the plate in front of her as she settled herself down at the small table and tucked in, but her troubled mind continued to whirl. All of her instincts were screaming at her that something was going on so, with a sigh, she grabbed her phone and scrolled through to find the number she needed. Placing it down, she drummed her fingers on the table as she listened to the rings until finally it was answered.

“Hiya Tippytoes!” sang the voice on the other end.

“Selene? Can I ask you something?”