#and he slash they earned every last second of it.

[qiupachups]

hobie brown

.｡.+*☆ headcannons 🎸💭

contents: general hcs, london based hobes bc i live there

a/n: my wife! the picture above is ‘stay close to me— omega sessions’ by bad brains (super cute song and so hobie)

When he’s not playing shows, antagonising fascists, or staging unpermitted political action slash performance art pieces— Hobie takes care of his garden. There’s just about anything growing on his canal boat that can survive London.

It’s fun just like him! He can repurpose whatever he finds into a planter, which includes old Henry Hoovers.

Most things we take for granted are ridiculously scarce in his world, like running hot water. Not wanting to waste this luxury, Hobie developed the skill of taking extremely fast showers.

Sometimes it feels like he steps in and comes straight out. It’s a little unnerving.

Once a month, Hobie does a super deep clean of his canal boat. He finds all sorts of inter-dimensional trash he’s collected over the weeks. After heaving it off the deck, you swear the boat groaned in relief.

Where does it all go? Miguel’s dimension, of course. The man didn’t have to guess the mystery fly-tipper when he saw the bags flickering through the colour spectrum. In Hobie’s defence, the waste disposal system is better in Earth-98.

If you hadn’t realised yet, Hobie is a methodical and thoughtful spidey. He plans for the best times to grow his produce and harvests them at the perfect time (not always since he’s usually… busy).

After freezing or preserving the amount he needs, he gives the rest to his community. So, expect some strawberry jam materialising at your doorstep.

For as longer as he remembers, Hobie could always cook. There was never a time he didn’t help feed his community or volunteer at F.E.A.S.T— even with his responsibilities post spider-bite.

In Hobie’s eyes, there’s nothing better than a good home-cooked meal. He can make something (amazing) from nothing so you can trust him even when it feels like there’s just dust left in the cupboard.

Multiple spideys can agree that Hobie’s singing isn’t the best. When Gwendy gave him a very forced smile, it only broke his heart a little. The face of Hobie’s idol basically admitting his singing sucks isn’t a big deal. Duh. He’s a big girl— he can handle that…

Thankfully, playing his MaryJane (guitar) more than makes up for it. If he’s not using it to torment police, he’ll make the best damn art that’s gonna stick in your head rent free.

With at least eleven piercings and counting, the dos and don’ts of them are like second nature to Hobie. That’s only eleven we can see— who knows how many more he has hidden? Without a doubt, there’ll be more to come.

Instead of getting blood poisoning from Claires or judged by a pretentious tattoo artist, go to Hobie. He’ll refuse payment but he wouldn’t turn down a drink.

Hobie isn’t called the Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man for nothing. His genuine (almost violent) care for his community has earned him the respect of basically everyone, despite their initial concerns.

“A dependable young man.” That’s how the elderly women tend to describe Hobie. They’re his biggest allies since he’d drop almost anything to help them cross a road or carry groceries.

Gwendy’s chucks aren’t the first and certainly won’t be the last thing he’ll steal. (You seriously think Hobie just happened to have shoes in her size and colour?)

He’ll definitely nick something of something of yours when you’re not looking. Once you realise, he’ll hold it high above your head and force you to jump for it. Why? Because he can.

Like every other British teen, Hobie’s dabbled in some underage drinking. It’s not illegal if you don’t get caught! When he’s drunk, he’ll be obnoxiously sweet and yell stuff like “You’re gorgeous, luv!” because he truly means it.

In addition to Hobie’s strange array of skills, being good at pub games is another. Beer pong, darts, etc… you name it: he’ll clear it. Hell, he might start organising them if he’s drunk enough.

In his personal humble opinion, roses are way too cliche for a romantic gift. It’s overdone, boring and stupidly difficult to obtain in his universe. So instead, Hobie rips off that patch you’ve been eyeing and gifts that to you.

As much as he’d like to, Hobie couldn’t rip off every patch for you. Instead, he makes a matching set and he’s cheesy enough to sew his one over his heart.

tag: @vhstown thanks for bean card xx

[tearsofcaravel]

Chemistry: Part 4

Chemistry: Part 4

Jake x Danny x (F) Reader

Word count: 8.1k

Warnings: 18+, graphic sexual content, this is a slash fic!!!, teasing, unprotected penetrative sex, dom & sub situations, coming out, BDSM, M & F penetration, language, dirty talk, M & F oral, let me know if I missed anything!

Summary: You and Jake decide it’s time to make some confessions. Smut. Smut. Smut.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Y/N POV

The voice came echoing through your home. You knew that voice, well voices. Josh came in faster than your bodies could move and Sam directly behind him.

You must have forgotten to lock the door last night after letting Danny in. You met Danny’s stare. Both of your eyes bulging from your skulls. You were ripped from your trance. This isn't exactly how you wanted to come out to everyone. You had less than a minute to make yourselves some kind of decent.

Danny scrambled to grab your clothes that were strewn across the living room. You knew how you both looked, red faced, tangled hair, sweat covered. There was no hiding it.

“Is Danny here? He’s usually late to our cookouts,” you heard Sam quiz.

You were begging for Jake to wake up any second now. You and Danny slid on what little clothing you had started out with. Josh and Sam finally made it to the living room.

“Hello, anyone home, I-..” Josh started then quickly cut off catching you and Danny’s eyes on the couch. His eyes turned the size of saucers, Sam’s as well.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Josh boomed at you both, pointing his finger to you both. He knew almost instantly.

You tried to act normal as Danny stayed silent beside you. You had narrated this conversation in your own head a few times now. Every scenario had included Jake beside you and certainly not this awkward situation you were in now. You thought you had longer before anyone found out. You knew they would, or that you would eventually tell them, but not this soon.

“Jake is still sleeping, why don’t I-” you started, but were cut off.

“Jake is here? You mean you guys did this not only in his house that you share, but with him still asleep in your room!” Josh was yelling, red faced. You had never seen him so angry. He never gave you a moment to explain.

He made a quick move to your bedroom, where Jake was sleeping soundly through this entire conversation. “JAKE! Jake get up!” Josh yelled, slamming your bedroom door open.

Of course Jake shot up at that. Josh waited for him to throw some pants on and hobble out. “What is all of this yelling about, geez?” Jake groaned out, still trying to wake up.

He made eye contact with you and Danny, realizing quickly what Josh and Sam had walked in on. “Well good morning everyone,” Jake peeped out.

“Jake, it's the afternoon. We made plans, remember? That’s not important right now. I think that Y/n and Danny have something to tell you.” Josh said clearly annoyed and angry now.

“Oh yeah, what’s up guys?” Jake said grinning. Of course Jake would turn this into a game or a joke.

“Jake, this is serious,” Sam huffed out.

You knew better than to look at Danny. He was still silent, squeezing your thigh. The three of you were clearly trying to suppress the laughs that were ready to erupt out. It was a funny situation you had found yourselves in. You were surely to be laughing about this hours from now. But for now you and Danny especially were a ball of nerves.

“Uhm, well, Danny and I were-” you tried to start.

Josh cut you off once again, finishing your sentence for you. “They were fucking. When we walked in, they tried to hide it. Jake I’m so sorry…”

You had to appreciate how protective they both were of Jake. You knew they meant well. You mouthed a quick ‘sorry’ to Jake, earning a strange look from Josh and Sam.

Jake walked over to you and Danny, joining you on the couch. “Why don’t you guys come sit for a minute?”

Josh and Sam slowly took a seat on the opposite couch. Jake took the spot between you and Danny, holding each of your hands. “What’s going on?” Josh whispered.

The three of you shared a look, nodding your heads, it was time. “So guys, I guess now is a better time than any,” he paused to take in a breath. “Y/n, Danny, and I are together. We’re in a relationship. They weren’t doing anything wrong,” Jake started.

Josh and Sam listened carefully, taking it all in. The shock covered their faces. “Can we ask questions?” Sam said. Of course he was the first to speak up.

“Of course,” you said.

“When did this start? How did this start? How long has it been going on?” Sam began rolling in the questions.

“Why don’t we give them a minute,” Josh said.

It had been some time since Danny spoke. He seemed shocked, maybe it was too soon for him. He had hardly looked up.

“I’m so sorry guys. I would never have acted like that if I had known,” Josh said sorrowfully.

“Josh, it's okay. You didn’t know. I do appreciate how protective you guys were over him though, it was from the heart I know,” you said.

“I appreciate you guys sharing this with us, thank you,” Josh said, Sam agreeing.

“Maybe we should get the fire started and have some drinks. Then we can discuss it more if you guys wanted,” you suggested.

“This calls for a celebration!” Sam exclaimed.

So that is exactly what you did. You all smiled at one another and made your way to the backyard. You did wish that your own bubble had lasted a bit longer, but it did feel like a weight off of your chest. It was nice that your closest friends knew. It was also nice how accepting they were. You were worried that they might be weird or awkward about it, but they were the most accepting people that you had ever known.

You were in a state of comfort now. Being able to hold both of their hands in the open.

Danny POV

You had been racking your brain for a while now, maybe months. You didn’t quite understand your own feelings at first, and you were still coming to understand them now. You were falling for them much harder and much faster than you had imagined you would. The three of you had had plenty of conversations over the last few weeks about your deepest feelings.

You had concerns that you had kept to yourself about telling people. Not because you didn’t want to, you did, more than anything. You were proud of who you were and who you were with. Josh and Sam cared about you and you knew without a doubt they would be accepting of you. But you didn’t want them to tiptoe around you.

You had hoped for more time to wrap your head around it all. You didn’t really know how anyone would react or how to even start the conversation. That bubble was busted as soon as Sam and Josh walked in and saw what they did.

As soon as you heard Josh yelling like you had never heard before you went into another world. Unable to form any thoughts or words. You sat frozen in your spot on the couch. You focused on the carpet underneath your bare feet. You heard voices talking, but they were muffled. Anxiety and fear were taking over.

“I’m happy for you guys, this is wonderful!” you heard a voice say.

You felt a squeeze on your thigh, “Uhm Danny? Would you like to add anything?”

You did it. You came out. You felt empowered, even happier than you already were. You didn’t think that was even possible.

You could see the relief shared between the three of you, the happiness that flowed through the room. You spent the evening opening up to Josh and Sam about your still new relationship. They wanted every last detail.

Jake POV

The four people that you cared for the most sat around you. You could feel Josh’s happiness and acceptance of you in your bones. It meant everything to you.

You thought that coming out would be harder. But it was the easiest conversation you had ever had.

The weeks went by like a dream. Danny stayed almost every night. He had all but moved in with you. The relationship was better than ever. You were learning more and more about your dynamic and how to make things work.

Tonight he decided to head to his own house. You and Y/n decided to make it a date night between the two of you. Towards the end of the night after a few glasses of wine Y/n led you up to the bedroom.

You and Y/n had shared everything with Danny. Every secret, detail, and element between you. He fit right in. He was a part of you both now.

There was one thing that the two of you had left out. One not so little detail, a secret you shared. You and Y/n hadn’t talked too much about it. You simply decided that you would tell him when or if the time was ever right.

There was another side to yourselves that you hadn’t involved Danny in. Part of you felt guilty about keeping it from him. You wanted to be honest with him. But a part of you also wondered if it would scare him away.

As Y/n straddled your lap seductively she spoke, “Why don’t we take this somewhere else?”

You knew exactly what she was getting at, where she was talking about.

“Before we do, could we talk?” you whispered.

She nodded and let you continue. “We should tell him. I think it’s time. Don’t you?”

“It’s almost like you read my mind. I’ve been thinking that maybe we should invite him into our other world,” she spoke so genuinely.

“What if we called him now?” you asked.

“What if we had one more night of it alone? Just the two of us, to just be our’s?” she spoke as you lifted her from the bed and carried her down the hall.

“One more night. Just us baby,” you said as you typed in your security code.

The lock lightly clicked, you griped the handle and turned it swiftly, opening the door to your separate life, separate world. As you made your way in your mind was taking you back to when you’d had this room added into your home. The look on Y/N’s face was priceless. You only came out of the room when you needed food and water for atleast the first week after it was ready. You had never told a soul that this room existed. Until Danny came into your lives you had never even considered it.

Adrenaline coursed through you. Excitement went to your center. You wanted this night to last. It was going to be exciting bringing Danny into this world, if he accepted the invitation that was. It was fun to know that this would be your last night with this secret between you and Y/n.

You took the lead now, guiding her to the satin red sheets on the king size bed in the center of your secret room. This room held secrets, pleasure, excitement, and much more.

The room had no windows, no other entrances. It was dark, but illuminated in the right places. Your play materials lining the walls.

You were inside of your secret that you were keeping from your boyfriend. You had many different names for it. Just one more night. Tomorrow you would call Danny.

Danny POV

You had slept at your place only a handful of times since you had been on break. Especially since coming out, you had stayed with them more and more. Tonight you had decided that you were feeling more like being alone. Even on the few nights that you had stayed at your place, you had spent the days with them. You hadn’t gone without them a single day. You were head over heels attached. You were in this deep.

The next evening you found yourself on the way to Jake and Y/n’s place. Something felt odd. At first you would call or send a message to one of them before coming over. Now it was just expected of you to show up, that was when you did leave. It was later in the afternoon when Jake had called, there was something in his voice that you weren’t familiar with yet. He specifically called you and asked you to come tonight. Something that he hadn’t done in weeks.

It was more of a demand rather than an invitation. You felt almost compelled to do whatever he told you. There was something in his voice that seemed dark, almost sinister. You could hear Y/n giggling in the background.

Just as you hung up the phone, you got a text message.

Y/n🌸❤️: Attachment 1 image: “See you soon!”

Your eyes went wide as you clicked to open the message. There she sat, straddling Jake's lap. Both of them naked, her delicate hands wrapped around his length. His mouth attached to her breast, leaving a trail of purple marks.

When you got to their front porch you hesitated. Did you knock or just walk in like usual? It looked dark inside, you couldn’t see or hear anything. It was too quiet. You decided to just walk in, everything was fine, everything was normal. It was just your nerves working you up.

You slowly opened the door, “Hello?”

You heard the turntable playing slow, romantic music. The crackle of the fire caught your attention, it was the only light in the room, besides a few candles. You looked over to the living room to see Jake and Y/n snuggled up in front of the fire. They must not have heard you come in. You took a moment to capture this image in your mind. They looked so peaceful. They were turned away from you, all that you could make out was their silhouettes.

You shut the door just enough for them to hear you.

Neither one of them spoke, but they turned their heads to you and smiled. You took this as a sign that everything was alright and to come all the way in. Y/n patted the spot on the ground beside her for you to take a seat. You sat down onto the makeshift palette with them. Now you could finally see them.

“Hi baby,” she spoke sweetly, placing her silky legs in your lap.

The fire illuminated them with a bright orange glow. You felt your eyes go wide. Jake had his back laid against the couch. Y/n was slotted between his bare thighs.

They wanted you to see them this way. Naked and exposed, all for you.

They each had a look in their eyes that was new to you. It was something dark, mischievous. You weren’t sure what to expect. The three of you sat in a comfortable silence. You couldn’t peel your eyes from either one of them. You had seen them naked numerous times, been more than intimate. But this seemed different somehow.

“I think that you’re a little overdressed,” Jake said, eyeing your figure.

“What’s the occasion?” you quizzed. You knew that they had to have something up their sleeves.

Y/n spoke up, “We just wanted to have a nice evening together, that’s all.”

You didn’t believe a word that she said, her eyes telling you an entirely different story.

Y/n POV

You and Jake had decided to share more than your secret with Danny. This night was going to be a special one. You had many romantic nights together, spent all of this time building your relationship together. You had spent all day together trying to figure out the way to do it. The way to show him, to tell him. The last thing that either of you wanted was to scare him away.

Now Danny sat in front of you. The fire illuminating his caramel eyes as they bore into you and Jake. You could tell that Danny was a bit intimidated by you for the first time. You sat up from Jake’s lap to help Danny get undressed. You guided him back down to join you and Jake on the floor.

Here you sat in silence again. This time Danny sprawled himself out for you and Jake to gawk over. He didn’t let you look too long before he straddled himself over you and Jake. Sometimes you forgot how dominating he could be. His curls structured perfectly around his glowing face, his innocent and caring eyes switching between you and Jake. Little did he know what you had planned for him.

Jake wrapped one hand around your body and brought the other to Danny’s face.

“We wanted to take care of you tonight baby,” Jake spoke with meaning.

Jake looked back to you, letting you know that he was ready. You swiftly switched your positions. You pushed Danny back into Jake’s spot, comfortably sat up. You and Jake straddled each bare thigh. Jake began peppering kisses down Danny’s body, while you brought your mouth to his. You swiped your tongue over his bottom lip, he eagerly opened his mouth to invite you all the way in.

Jake gripped the back of your neck, pulling you from Danny’s lips. Slowly, he swiped his thumb over Danny’s lower lip, sucking it between his teeth. He quickly took your spot on his lips.

Once Jake pulled away from Danny, you all sat back for a moment to catch your breath. You took these moments to take in each other’s essence. The crackle of the fire and the slow steady breathing from you sounded the room.

Jake took a deep breath and spoke softly, “Before we take this any farther, Danny, Y/n and I would like to talk to you about something.”

Jake’s eyes darted between you and Danny. You could tell he was trying to gather his thoughts. You were shocked that he spoke first. You were always the one to find the words to everything. Danny was clearly panicked by this, not knowing what to expect.

Jake nodded to you and squeezed your hand for reassurance one more time before there was no going back.

“Is everything alright?” Danny said nervously.

“Yes baby, everything is great. No need to be worried. We just wanted to talk, that’s all,” you said now squeezing Danny’s hand to reassure him.

“You know, we’ve spent almost all of our time together. It’s been an amazing time, you basically live here. You know that I’m not the best at putting my feelings into words. I feel, well, we both feel that our feelings for you have grown deeper,” Jake began.

You watched lovingly as he spoke so passionately. You could tell that he was starting to get a bit overwhelmed with emotion. He started to stutter and become bashful. His cheeks were red and teeth flashing white as he grinned. He glanced up to you, signaling for you to take over now.

“Like Jake was saying, our feelings have grown deeper for you. You mean so much to us both. You’ve become more important than we could have imagined. Our relationship has blossomed into something beautiful,” you paused, catching your own breath, and working up your own nerves.

You cupped Danny’s blushed pink cheek and held Jake’s hand tightly, “What I’m trying to say is that, I love you. We don’t want you to feel pressured to say it back or anything like that. We just felt that it was important to tell you how we feel about you. What you really mean to us,” you felt a happy tear fall silently down your cheek.

“I love you, Danny,” Jake said looking caringly into Danny’s eyes.

Danny looked between you two. He seemed a bit stunned by your confessions at first.

“I love you both, so much,” Danny said to you both.

You were all crying just a little. Happy tears of course. Each of you feeling giddy and joyful.

There was an energy charge in the room like you had never felt before. You were drenched, your boyfriends were impossibly hard. You slid over to straddle Danny. Without warning you sunk down onto him completely. He let out a deep groan at the sudden stimulation and gripped your hips. Jake took the spot behind you, placing his hands on top of Danny’s. They began to work your hips together, making you fuck harder onto him. He brought one hand up to your lips, instructing you to open. He pushed his calloused fingers into your mouth.

He brought his soaked fingers to Danny’s entrance. Slowly going deep inside of him as you rode him. Danny’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. You were both crying out now.

“Honey, wasn’t there something else we wanted to tell Danny?” Jake whispered to you, just loud enough for Danny to hear.

“What did you want to tell me Y/n?” Danny said, never slowing down his pace.

“Go ahead baby, tell him,” Jake said as he fucked his fingers harder into Danny.

You tried to form the words, whenever you tried to slow down Danny only worked you harder.

“You’re only making this worse on yourself you know,” Jake grunted, smacking your ass harshly.

You knew if you didn’t make the words come out soon you would have a harsh punishment in store for yourself later. “D-Danny, we have something that we wanted to share with you,” you just barely got out.

“Oh yeah sweet girl? And what would that be?” Danny said, clearly just as close to his end as you.

“Jake, can we show him, please?” you moaned.

“If you cum for us we can baby,” Jake said.

Jake had found Danny’s sweet spot, curling his fingers deep inside of him. Danny swirled his fingers swiftly around your clit. You felt his hips falter and he squeezed around Jake’s fingers. You felt him coat your walls as he spilled inside of you. Just as he filled you up you let go. Jake was holding you up as you came down.

Jake pulled you up slowly, you hissed at the loss of Danny inside of you. You felt his mess spill down the inside of your thighs.

Danny stood up slowly, pulling Jake in for a kiss. He asked again, “So is anyone going to show me?”

You and Jake shared a grin. You had just confessed your love for him, how hard could this be? You were both still a bit nervous to show him this other side of you. The one that no one knew. Jake took the lead, you and Danny trailed right behind him up the stairs. You stopped in front of what everyone knew was just another storage closet.

“You’re showing me the closet?” Danny said, confused.

“Hm, not exactly,” you chuckled.

Jake opened the door and moved around a few boxes, exposing a keypad built into the wall. Jake slowly punched in the code. The false wall slid open, exposing the dimly lit room. Jake walked in first, Danny and you followed directly behind. Danny’s eyes went wide. You flipped on the bigger light to give him a better view. His eyes didn’t know where to land. His face was red. All of you were clearly nervous.

Danny was now in your den. In the center of the room was a king sized bed, with red silk sheets. On each corner of the bed were black cuff restraints. The right side wall was covered in toys, top to bottom. Whips, floggers, blindfolds, vibrators, rope, cuffs, and much more. The left side had a swing and handcuffs hanging from the ceiling. You had LED lights illuminating the room in a deep red.

You watched as Danny took it all in. Inspecting every bit of the room. His feet seemed to be glued to the floor. Jake’s eyes were glued to him, just watching and waiting for any kind of reaction.

“So, uhm, what are you thinking?” you peeped out, holding your breath for his response.

“Honestly?” Danny whispered.

“Please,” Jake said.

“I can’t believe you guys have had this back here the entire time! This is amazing! I uh, I’ve never really engaged in any BDSM type of stuff. I mean handcuffs ya know, but that’s all. Nothing as serious as this,” Danny explained.

“If it isn’t something that you’re interested in, there’s no judgment here. There’s no pressure to do anything at all. We just thought that it was time to show you this part of our lives. We wanted to have shared it all with you,” you explained softly.

“Thank you for sharing this with me. I would like to be a part of this side of your relationship. You just have to, you know, explain things to me. I don’t really know how any of this works,” Danny said, a smile spreading onto his face.

You saw the joy on Jake’s face. This meant so much to both of you.

“Would you like to maybe try something out tonight? We would start slow of course. We aren’t going to jump into anything you aren’t comfortable with. You could watch if you wanted?” Jake asked eagerly.

“Maybe I could watch first, if that would be okay? Then maybe I could join in?” Danny asked shyly.

There was a small couch in the corner of the room. It had a perfect view of the entire room, all angles. Danny made himself comfortable, not really sure what to expect. You both kissed Danny passionately and made your way to the middle of the room.

You and Jake figured that you would take it slower tonight. You didn’t want to overwhelm Danny with too much at once. You were excited for him to see this side of you and excited to have him watch.

“Go pick and then get on your knees in front of the bed, hands out.” Jake commanded you.

“Yes sir.”

You were determined to put on a good show for Danny. You saw the way his eyes lit up at Jake commanding you. You went over to your wall to make your decision. You picked out a pink silk blindfold with matching handcuffs and a small flogger.

You laid it out on the bed, got down on your knees, and waited patiently. It was all about intimidation for Jake, especially with Danny watching. He loved to keep you on your toes, watching and waiting for his next move. He picked up the blindfold first and held it out for you, “Put it on.”

You slipped it over, covering your eyes. The loss of the sense was exciting. “Hands.”

You eagerly held your hands out to him. “Behind your back.” He tightly put on the handcuffs.

He slapped his hard cock against your face a few times, “Color?”

“Green, Sir.”

“Now open.”

You opened your mouth and held out your tongue. Jake let a string of saliva fall to your tongue. He tapped his cock on your tongue, mixing your saliva on his head. He slowly slid himself to the hilt. He pulled in and out a few times. Getting you used to the feeling first. He began slamming down your throat. Fucking your face brutally. The pornographic sounds that were coming from the both of you were sinful. He was making a mess of you quickly.

He pushed himself to the hilt once more and held himself there. With your throat full, he told you to take a deep breath, then he held your nose. Tears began falling from your eyes, your throat was burning, you were trying your hardest to hold back the threatening gag.

He pulled away completely, removing himself from your throat, allowing you to catch your breath.

“Danny, do you want to come try her out?”

“Are you sure?” you heard Danny quiz nervously.

“Tell him what you want baby,” Jake demanded.

“I want Danny to use my throat however he wants, Sir,” you pleaded.

You heard them shuffling around the room. You could hear Danny’s heavy breathing now. You could sense his presence over you.

“I’ll guide you through everything, don’t worry,” Jake said to Danny.

“You don’t have to do anything that you aren’t comfortable with. First, ask her for her color.”

You took a minute to adore the way that Jake was helping Danny along. It was a very intimate moment that you were sharing.

“What's your color sweetheart?” Danny asked gently.

“Green,” you said. You left out the ‘Sir’ part on purpose.

“Do you want to correct her or me?” Jake said to Danny.

“Will you show me how?” Danny answered shyly.

“I’m going to show Danny how to correct you now, okay baby?” Jake said.

“Yes Sir.”

You heard Jake pick up the flogger still behind you on the bed.

“Stand up and bend over the bed.”

You obeyed.

Jaked rubbed the swell of your ass a few times, tapping it lightly. This was him letting you know what was about to come. “You can start out gentle and work your way up from there. She likes it anyway that you’ll give it to her.”

You felt the burning sting as it made contact with you. Just the sound of the ‘crack’ made you wet. Another ‘crack’ and you felt yourself tighten around nothing.

“You see the mess it’s making of her cunt. I told you she loves it. I bet that she left out ‘Sir’ on purpose. She does that sometimes. So, do you want to try now? Remember you don’t have to until you’re ready?” Jake said to Danny.

You heard Danny take the flogger for himself. “Color baby?” he asked.

“Green, Sir,”

You wished that you could see this. You loved when Danny was dominant, but you knew this was on an entirely different level. He mimicked Jake’s moves, rubbing the swell of your ass, even pecking gentle kisses against your whelped skin. The first crack was soft, as Danny got his bearings. He punished you with two more licks. These two were rough, just the way you liked. His nerves melted away. You could tell he was comfortable now.

“Fuck - Thank you Sir,” you whimpered out. Your blindfold was tear stained.

“Oh Jake, you were right. We haven’t even touched her and she is a soaked mess,” he said.

“Sit up,” Jaked instructed.

“Now go back to your place, so that Danny can have his way with your mouth,”

You sat and waited for Danny. You heard them kissing, passionately. Torturing you. They were being loud on purpose, knowing that you couldn’t see anything. You whined pathetically, begging for something, anything.

“Oh I think that our girl feels neglected,” Danny said.

“Tell Danny what you need then. Be good for him,” Jake said.

“Please Sir, fuck my mouth, anything. I’ll take whatever you want to give me,” you begged.

You felt Danny move inches from your face. He rubbed the head of his cock against your plump lips. “Open.” Danny instructed you.

He was slow and gentle at first. He had been rough before, shown his dominating side. But he had never been like he just saw Jake be with you before.

With his cock down your throat he spoke to Jake, “Can you get me something?”

You heard Jake pick something from your assortment of toys, but you couldn’t figure out what exactly. You felt something wrap around the back of your head. It took you a moment to realize what you were feeling. A tight leather belt was wrapped around the back of your head. Danny was holding the reins. He was slowly pulling your head forward, forcing you to swallow him whole.

You were aching to touch him, see him. You wanted to look into his eyes as he made a mess of you. He began to fuck your face brutally, in an animalistic way.

You were trying your best to get any kind of friction. Rubbing your thighs together, in hopes that neither of them would notice. Of course Jake knew all of your tricks. He caught you almost immediately.

“Stop,” Jake ordered.

The pressure from the belt around the back of your head faded away, Danny slowed his pace to a complete stop and removed himself from your mouth. You could hear Jake walking closer to you. He yanked the blindfold from over your eyes.

You knew the look in Jake’s eyes, the game that you were both playing at. And just maybe you were both toying a bit more to put on a show for Danny.

“I was feeling generous tonight. I was going to let you choose, but now I think that I will be making the choices,” Jake growled at you as he lifted you off of the floor. He gave you just a moment to steady yourself before throwing you onto the bed.

“Look at you, a pathetic mess already and we are only just getting started,” he spoke again as he untied your hands, only to tie them right back. He sat you in the upright position, each of your arms laid out and tied to the silk ropes on either side of the bed. He was making you sit and wait, drawing out every well calculated move. Danny had stayed at his place at the end of the bed, watching and waiting.

“Color?” Jake dryly asked.

“Green Sir,” you muttered.

“Now. You will sit quietly and patiently, and you won’t speak until spoken to. You will simply watch,” Jake said. You watched Danny’s eyes go wide.

“I understand Sir,” you said excitedly. He always managed to come up with some new punishment.

He waltzed over to your display of toys and picked up a blue and white wand, as well as rope. He sunk himself in between your thighs, tying the rope tightly around your thighs. Placing the vibrator directly on your soaked cunt. He turned it on a low setting at first, you knew he really was just getting started.

He directed Danny to the center of the bed, almost close enough for you to touch. Just out of your reach, which is exactly what he wanted. Jake made the next move. He began kissing Danny’s neck, softly at first. He guided Danny into his lap, seducing him in no time. In seconds they were furiously making out, fighting for dominance.

You watched as Jake squeezed Danny’s thighs. Danny’s hands wandered up and down Jake’s back, into his hair, tugging gently.

Jake flipped him over now, switching places with Danny. Licking his way down his torso. He kissed along his thighs, just enough to tease him. He licked his tip, wrapping his hand around his hard length. You watched, mesmerized as Jake’s head bobbed up and down, his pace quickening. Danny’s eyes rolled back, struggling to look at you and back to Jake. His muscles flexed, his body was twitching. He pulled Jake up by his hair and took a deep breath, “Y-You have to stop or I’ll cum and I’m not ready.”

“No baby? You think you’re ready for your real turn then?” Jake said as he raised up from Danny’s center.

He continued on, looking between you both now, “Who’s going to be better for me? Do you think that you can obey as well as her? Take it as well as her?”

Danny looked bewildered, stunned, but thrilled as he spoke up, “Yes sir.”

Jake stood Danny up forcefully only to push him down to his knees. Jake placed himself at the edge of the bed. Danny now face to face with Jake’s throbbing cock. He didn’t waste a second before gathering up Danny’s thick curls in his fist and pushing himself down Danny’s throat.

You let out a moan that you had been trying your best to keep in. Jake continued to fuck into Danny’s mouth as he reached out and turned the vibrator to a higher setting. You jerked up at the feeling, pulling at the ties that held you down. You were craving touch from either of them.

The sounds that were pouring from Danny’s mouth were nothing short of pornographic. You watched as he tried to get relief, jerking himself slowly. Jake noticed immediately and pulled him off. Jake had made a mess of him, tears were streaming down his face.

“Both of you are being so good for me. Colors?” Jaked asked both of you.

“Green sir,” you and Danny answered simultaneously.

He guided Danny back onto the bed, never letting him know that he saw. You wondered if he was going easy on him or playing a game. You knew it was probably the latter choice. He would let Danny believe that he had gotten away with it, for the time being.

You couldn’t wait any longer and Jake knew that. You were moments from falling over the edge. You were overstimulated and you hadn’t even been touched.

Jake turned off the vibrator and began untying you. Danny waited patiently at the end of the bed. “Danny, swap places with her,” Jake ordered.

You crawled over to Danny, putting your hand on his cheek lovingly, “You’re safe you know baby, we got you. It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“No, no I want to, I’m just a bit nervous. I don’t really know what I’m doing,” Danny whispered back.

“We’re going to show you, don’t worry,” you cooed.

Danny crawled to where you had just laid. Jake tied the silk ties around his wrists and you tied them around his ankles. He smiled sheepishly at you. You could tell he was getting more comfortable with everything.

Jake made sure that Danny felt okay, then his whole demeanor changed, like the flip of a switch. He grabbed the wand that had just been tied between your legs. Flipping the switch on low at first and running it up and down his hard cock. He looked Danny in his eyes, “You think that I didn’t see that? You thought that you could just get away with breaking the rules? Well that just won’t do now will it?”

Danny was shocked, he had thought that he could get away with it or maybe that Jake would go easier on him. But he was more than mistaken.

Jake turned the vibrator up another notch, “Now, tell me what you did wrong.”

Danny stayed silent, trying to hold his composure together. His voice came out wavering and low, “I touched myself without your permission sir.”

“Y/n, come sit on his face. Don’t get off until he has made you cum.” Jake spoke directly to you.

“And you, you don’t get to cum until you’ve made her cum,” Jake ordered Danny.

As you climbed on top of Danny’s face you whispered in his ear, “Don’t forget to ask for permission.”

You straddled his face and lowered yourself down to his mouth. Danny worked his tongue around your clit expertly. Lapping you up, darting his tongue in and out. You were gripping the headboard to hold yourself up, your own legs trembling around Danny’s face.

“Is Danny making you feel good baby?” Jake asked.

“Y-yes sir,” you moaned out.

“Tell him how good he’s making you feel then,” Jake directed.

Danny’s own moans were pushing you closer and closer, vibrating through you. You looked down at Danny. His face was glimmering with your slick, his eyes rolled back in ecstasy. You knew he couldn’t hold on much longer. His whole body was trembling with need.

You looked over to Jake, his hair falling around his face, his eyes dark with lust. You loved this side of him. “Can I please cum sir? Can I please cum on Danny’s face?” you begged.

“Cum for us baby,” Jake said.

As soon as the words left his lips you were letting go, moaning for them both. Both of your hands tugging the dark bed of curls below you. Your thighs gripped around Danny’s face. You felt Jake’s free hand holding up by your back. Your legs were weak as Jake helped you up. He gave you a few moments to collect yourself, but he never let off of Danny.

Once the haze had lifted from your eyes you looked up to see Danny almost to tears. He was a squirming pathetic mess. You listened as he begged Jake to let him cum and Jake just continued to edge him.

Jake instructed you to take the wand. “Ask us both. No - beg us both.” Jake commanded to Danny. You were a bit stunned. Jake let you take the reins every so often, but you certainly didn’t expect it tonight.

“Do you think that he deserves it Y/n?” Jake played.

“I think that he’s been a good boy,” you said.

You were on one side of Danny and Jake on the other. The wand was at a medium speed as you stroked it up and down his cock. Jake held his hand out just below your mouth, “Spit.”

He dipped his slick fingers to Danny’s hole. He slowly inserted a finger. Danny’s mouth hung open in pleasure. “More, please sir,” Danny begged.

Jake inserted another digit. He began fucking into him with his fingers at a brutal pace.

Jake looked at you and you shook your head ‘yes’.

“Cum for us Danny,” Jake instructed.

Relief washed over Danny. “Oh fuck, fuck,” Danny cried out. His cock twitched and his release coated his stomach. His whole body shook and tugged at the ties. He squeezed around Jake’s fingers.

Jake gently pulled out of him. He leaned up, gesturing for you to do the same. “Clean this mess up,” Jake instructed you.

You and Jake licked up the cum that coated Danny’s stomach. Jake pulled you into a deep kiss. You tasted all three of you on Jake’s tongue.

You and Jake untied Danny, giving him a chance to reel in all in. He laid still, heavily breathing for a few moments. Jake let his other side show briefly, “What did you think of that? Are you okay?”

“That was amazing. I’m better than okay,” Danny said happily.

As soon as he heard that Danny was comfortable with everything and wanted more, his entire demeanor changed back. Jake’s cock was impossibly hard and leaking. He always took care of you first and now Danny to get things started.

“Can we take care of you now Sir?” you practically begged Jake.

“You both have been so good for me. Do you think that either of you deserve my cock?” his voice slightly wavering.

Danny had come back down to earth now. His eyes filled with a new hunger. He sat up and took charge in a moment's notice. You knew that Jake would never give up full charge. He would still give you and Danny a taste.

Danny reached around Jake’s neck and pulled him down, swapping places with him. You saw Jake’s eyes light up at the sudden roughness. His hair cascaded around him and a coat of sweat on his forehead.

You threw your legs over his body and sunk down onto him. He sucked in a deep breath between his teeth at the sudden contact that he had been deprived of. You were in the reverse position so that you had a perfect view of Danny.

You held out your own hand and spit into it, bringing it down to Danny’s cock stroking him a few times. He slowly slid into Jake’s hole, stretching him carefully. You felt his cock twitch inside of you. Jake let out a faint whimper as you began to ride him.

Danny wrapped one calloused hand around your throat as he set his pace in and out of Jake. Sweat and slick coated your bodies, sex filled the room. Danny’s tongue danced around yours. All of your tastes melded together.

You flipped around so you would have a view of them both. Jake’s eyes streamed with tears from the overstimulation. You leaned down to the shell of his ear, “Are we making you feel good Sir?”

His fingers dug into your thighs, bruising your sensitive skin. His moans were louder than you had ever heard them. He was overpowered by the pleasure. He mumbled incoherently in response. “No baby, I want to hear how good we’re making you feel,” Danny spoke up. His own hips faltering in pace.

Your muscles burned and ached as you slammed down onto Jake. Danny grabbed you by your hair and pulled you up to meet his torso. “I think he wants to cum. Hm, not until you make a mess for us first. Can you do that baby? Make a mess of our cocks?” Danny begged you.

Jake began rubbing circles around your clit, begging you to cum. You only took a moment to fall apart onto them both. You squeezed around Jake’s cock and cried out. You felt the white hot release gush from you as you went over the edge. Jake pumped into you, Danny into him. Both of their bodies shaking and their moans filling the room.

All of your bodies limp and weak as you slid off of Jake and Danny out of him. Each of you out of breath and filled with a buzzing euphoria. You felt that you may never come down from this high.

“That was - ,” Danny sucked in a deep breath, “Holy fuck.” Was all that he could manage.

“I would have to agree,” you chuckled.

“Thank you,” Danny continued.

“For what?” Jake asked.

“Everything. Thank you for trusting me with this, everything about tonight was amazing,” Danny said.

You could hardly hold your eyes open. You saw them both beginning to drift off.

The three of you made your way to your bedroom for the night. Your legs weak and wobbly, faces glowing, blissful, and exhausted. Danny picked you up and gently placed you on the center of the bed. He and Jake then slotted in on either side of you. The moment your bodies tangled together under the covers you reeled it all in. You took the time to breath each other in and think about what today had meant for your relationship.

You and Jake shared a special look. It was a relief to both you and Jake now that you had given yourselves completely over to Danny. You felt at peace that he had accepted you both. Today had been far better than you could have expected. You each saw one another in a new light. Tonight had changed the entire course of your relationship.

You each whispered a soft, “I love you.” to one another.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but that was the best sleep you had ever had. You woke up the next morning fully rested, your body still a bit sore from the previous night's activities. The light casting over your room showing you that it was at least lunchtime by now. You rolled over to find yourself alone. The house felt oddly still and quiet. As you crept your way through the hallways you could now smell breakfast cooking and hear the sound of faint slow music. You peeked into the kitchen to see breakfast fully cooked on the counter. You almost spoke up, but quickly stopped yourself when something caught your eye. Jake and Danny slow dancing in only their boxers through the kitchen. This was a sight you could easily get used to. It was like they were the only people in the world. Completely focused on each other. They were softly giggling and whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ear. You could feel the emotion dripping from them. The power that they held over each other and you.

The tour was scheduled to start back up next week. You were going to miss the domesticated life you had created, but you knew this meant there was far more in store to come.

To be continued✨

[amour393]

@kraniumverse HAS COME UP WITH A CONCEPT AND I AM SCREAMING

consider: cole being a ghost is able to see jay and nya’s skybound scars when no one else can

haunted

***

Three weeks after Jay and Nya start dating again, Cole notices something...strange.

Well, another strange thing, he supposes. Jay and Nya have been acting off for weeks- calling out of training early, sneaking up to the roof at unholy hours to whisper, sharing looks no one else understands that seem to mean more than words ever could.

Everyone has noticed their behavior, but has had little success in understanding it. Zane had done his scans and both seemed to be in perfect health, no different from before, but no matter how much Kai asked Nya or Cole asked Jay, the two vehemently claimed that nothing was wrong.

The first time Cole notices something off, it’s a training-free day. Jay comes out of his room in a long sleeve shirt (which in itself was out of the ordinary- Jay grew up in the desert; Cole’s pretty sure he hadn’t owned a long sleeve shirt before Wu had recruited him) and jeans instead of his gi, and Cole has to do a double take as his heart stutters and he takes in a sharp gasp of breath.

The faint green imprint of a large hand wraps around Jay's throat, bright enough that Cole can easily tell what it was, yet dim enough he can't tell if it’s actually there or not. Cole freezes, his spoon halfway to his mouth as he stares. Kai raises an eyebrow at his look, and makes some remark that Cole doesn’t hear.

Then Jay looks over, panic running across his face, and he promptly leaves the kitchen two seconds later, claiming he had promised to help Nya with something.

During sparring the next day, Jay swears that he’s fine and had just suddenly remembered his commitment as he feigns left and jabs right, not meeting Cole's eyes. Nya confirms the story later, swiping a nonexistent lock of hair behind her left ear.

Cole knows they’re lying.

He’s pretty sure they know he knows.

***

Four days later, the team has finally trained enough to earn themselves a day trip, so they all pack up and head out to the west coast.

Jay wears long sleeves again, swearing he just doesn’t want to get sunburned. He runs his hands up and down his arms, shivering despite the warm sun.

Nya wraps her arms around his waist, muttering something in his ear. His shoulders ease, tension dissolving as a small smile grows on his face.

“Hey Lloyd,” he says, starting to grin. “Race you to the water!” He sprints away.

“Hey!” Lloyd calls, scrambling up and dashing to the tide. “No fair! You had a head start!”

Nya grins too. “Wait for me!”

She tears off the hoodie she wears over her swimsuit, throwing it at her brother as she runs to the water to join the others.

Cole stumbles back, trying to blink the image of ugly green acid marring her collarbone away from his swimming vision.

“Are you alright, Cole?” Zane asks, peering up at him, concerned.

Cole doesn’t have the heart to reply.

***

Cole knows Jay. He knows Nya. He knows them almost as well as he knows himself. He knows their favorite foods, the name of their childhood best friend, their love languages and their favorite candies.

He knows how they lie.

Sure, he wasn’t always totally sure when they were lying, but there was always a subtle sign from either of them that they were. He was almost always right.

But Cole has never been more sure they were lying than in this moment.

If Cole had a dime for every time he's barged into Jay's room, he'd have enough money to last a whole month's worth of city repairs. In all that time, in all the years, Cole had never once seen anything he shouldn't have.

Until today.

It's not like he's never seen Jay shirtless before.

It is, however, the first time he's seen it since Jay started acting strange, and now Cole things he knows why.

Ghostly green marks litter his best friend's back, his shoulders, his arms. Slash marks that look like they were from a katana slide from the top of his left shoulder blade to his right hip, though other lines and marks glow softly across his skin. A vivid green line rips across his side, torn like a knife was taken to his ribs and missed. Faint patches of skin glow a dim green, reminiscent of the marks on his neck, sickly bruises haunting his arms and back. Curved gashes press into his left shoulder, almost in the shape of a hook, and the same mark wraps around his head. Vibrant ghost green loops around his wrists, almost as bright as the neon coil around his right ankle.

The teacup Cole holds shatters as it slips from his grip.

Jay whips around with all the speed of the lightning ninja, freezing when he sees Cole.

For a moment, they stand there, horrified ghostly eyes meeting startled bright blue.

Cole can pinpoint the moment panic seizes Jay.

He pulls the rest of his shirt on remarkably quick, forcing a miserably fake laugh. His gaze darts to the shattered teacup, then back up to Cole.

"First Master, Cole, you scared the living daylights outta me." He forces another laugh, carefully walking over the teacup and hurrying past Cole and out of his room. “I-I was just on my way out, Nya asked me to help her figure out this glitch in the Roto Jet, so we should-”

He pauses when he sees that Cole hasn’t moved an inch.

In fact, Cole’s feet may as well be glued to the floor, for all he would even be able to move. No, he can’t- not with that image seared in his head, the cuts and the bruises and the wounds and the scars and the-

“Cole?”

Jay lays a hand on his shoulder, forcing Cole out of his frozen state.

Cole flinches, spinning around to face his best friend.

Jay’s eyes shine with concern, gazing up at him. He retracts his hand, hovering next to him. 

“Cole, are you okay?”

It takes Cole three tries to form coherent words.

“I...I’m...” He stares at Jay, ghostly handprint still rippling across his neck. 

Jay blinks patiently.

“Jay, what happened to you?”

Jay inhales sharply, rubbing his hands around his wrists nervously.

“I-”

“Don’t.”

Jay swallows. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t say that you’re fine.”

“But-”

“Jay.”

“I’m-”

“Jay.”

Jay shuts his mouth firmly, eyeing the floor.

“Don’t think you can lie to me. I know you too well.”

Jay’s gaze shoots up at him, eyes wide. He inhales again, biting his lip. Then e glances around, and shuffles back into his room, and closing the door behind him.

Cole’s heart starts to beat faster, the gravity of the situation weighing in his gut. “Jay?”

Jay slides down against the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest. “It’s-” His voice shakes. He bites his quivering lip, furrowing his brows. “It-” he tries again, shuddering to a stop all the same.

Cole slides down next to him.

“Jay,” he says gently, “you don’t have to tell me.”

Taking a measured breath, Jay speaks again. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” he voices slowly. “I just- I-” 

Tears shine in the young ninja’s eyes, and Cole’s heart breaks in two.

“You just?”

Jay rubs his wrists. Rubs the green rings on his wrists. “I...I don’t know if you’ll believe me. It sounds so ridiculous, and I-”

“Jay,” Cole interrupts softly. “You know you can tell me anything, right? You’re my best friend, I’ll always believe you. If you want to tell me, you can tell me.”

Jay sniffles. “You mean it?”

“Every word.”

“It might...it might take a while. It’s kind of...” He blows out a long breath. “It’s kind of hard to talk about.”

Cole keeps his gaze locked on Jay, who glances up from the floor with shining eyes.

“It’s okay,” he says gently. “I’m here to stay.”

Jay bites his lip again, and then he tells.

Cole listens.

[loving-jack-kelly]

since i have officially been enable (hehe thanks @thefactsofthematter and @daveysjackie)

i think. jack and davey have been friends since the day they met. it was the kind of instant connection that only being in the same class as young kids can generate, the solidarity of having names close enough together in the alphabet that you end up sitting next to each other in every class on the first day of school, and the very fast realization that jack's sense of humor was perfectly matched to davey's ability to convince a teacher he'd done nothing wrong. they're friends all through middle school and high school, even when jack is the popular baseball player class clown and davey is the kid who sits in the front row and answers every question. people outside their immediate friend group kind of wonder why they're so close, but jack and davey and their immediate friends get it.

davey is good at keeping his rebellious streak hidden, and jack is good at acting unbothered, but davey has always been itching to get into trouble and shake that "pleasure to have in class" vibe he's had since he was five and jack cares so much about everything that it's hard not to shut down. so they balance, just like they always have. jack supplies davey with the cigarettes and weed most people would never guess he smokes, and davey gives jack the space to drop the facade and let himself care so much it hurts.

they're the kind of friends that are so intertwined it's hard to imagine one without the other. davey gets out of ap english and jack is already at the classroom door handing him a pack of fruit snacks and laughing at something that happened in the forty minutes since they last saw each other. jack stays late to finish an art project and davey is sitting at the table across from him doing calc homework and making sure jack doesn't get so wrapped up in his work that he doesn't eat.

and then davey goes away to college. and he hates it. he should have known he would hate it because he's hated school and the pressure it put on him since he was old enough to feel the expectations from his teachers. it's not even that college is hard. he earned his spot here, he's smart, he's capable, he even got a really good scholarship. but he hates it. he hates his classes, he hates his major, he changes his major and hates that one too, he misses his family and he misses jack, who facetimes him from the kitchen of the diner he's worked at since he was sixteen excited to announce he's finally starting to work in the kitchen instead of as a server-slash-host.

he first floats the idea of dropping out to jack when they're on facetime at 3am while davey frantically writes an essay that was due at midnight that he forgot about because he just doesn't care anymore. his grades aren't great because he doesn't want to be here, he's miserable, he's only made like two friends, and he hates it here.

he expects jack to react the way he knows his family would, his advisor would, everyone else in his life seems like they would. no, davey, don't drop out, you worked so hard to get here, that would be a waste, you're so smart, don't you want to do something with yourself?

but jack doesn't even look up from his sketchbook when he asks, would that make you happy again?

and yes, it would, davey realizes the more he thinks about it. he would rather go home and work a shitty job for a while than stay here and stay miserable. he would be happier to be home with the people he knows and loves.

so davey drops out. he barely tells his parents he's doing it, but he never registers for classes for his second year and he officially withdraws from the university in july when he's sitting on a fire escape with jack like they used to when they were kids and jack celebrates out loud that he's making his own choices.

so jack gets davey a job in the same diner he works at. they work together and hang out together and are friends like they always have been, but there's something else now because davey, as miserable as he was away at college, has this weird little itch to get out and do something exciting. he starts talking about wanting to get out and see the world, and jack, who has always talked about getting out of the city to see what else is out there, is all for it.

it's impulsive and stupid, even more so than dropping out of college, but they decide to just...go for it. they save up together to buy a van and a few months' worth of spending money and then, when the paperwork is signed and it's too late to stop them, they just leave.

esther and mayer are disappointed maybe. worried, definitely. what happened to their middle child who never got in trouble and got straight As and was quiet and well-behaved his whole life? where did this, this impulsivity and recklessness and sideways ambition, where did it come from? and sarah is less surprised, davey has always confided in her, but didn't expect him to actually go through with it. and les thinks it's very cool that davey is running away as an adult, but sad and a little confused that he barely took the time to say goodbye.

but davey...davey loves it. he and jack leave the city and decide on the spot that they're not using maps, they're headed west and they don't care where they end up. the van used to belong to a plumber, there's no backseat, so they mostly park at truck stops or Walmart parking lots to spend the night. they both have a little money saved up, and jack has been doing commissions online for long enough that he's still got a little income coming in, and they don't know how long this can possibly last but it's fun. it's freedom. they drive until they're sick of driving and then they stop to see what they can get up to until they want to drive some more. they put a mattress in the back of the van and collect pillows and blankets and slowly, strangely, it starts to feel like home.

jack finds an old video camera at one of the thrift stores they stop at and starts recording videos. davey starts pulling them off the camera and putting them on his laptop so he can send updates to his family that show how good this is for both of them. they stop at weird landmarks and tourist attractions, jack fills sketchbook after sketchbook with drawings of the weird places they find, davey starts keeping a journal full of the things that make him laugh and fun facts he's learning.

the van breaks down four months in. they're somewhere in the middle of nowhere, colorado, and jack cracks some joke about it being a miracle they made it this long, and thank god they're actually in a town and not on a highway fifty miles from anywhere. the local mechanic is nice enough to tow it to his shop free of charge, and jack and davey settle in to spend a few days in this tiny town without much to do. they end up sitting in a coffee shop while davey edits together another highlight reel of the last week to send home. jack says he should put it on youtube and see what happens, and davey laughs the idea off but the next morning he's still kind of thinking about it because. why not? maybe nobody will ever watch and it'll just be an easier way to share the videos with his family, or maybe people will watch it and it'll go viral and they'll be famous and making money from it. neither extreme seems that bad, really. so that day, still waiting for the van to be fixed, davey starts editing all of the videos they have so far into one big video. he adds jack's art in there, drawings of the world's biggest ball of string and the world's largest beetle and all the other places they've visited, and he posts it.

and after that, once they get the van back and they're driving north, determined to make it to where Canada meets washington on the coast because it just sounds cool. jack gets it on video when they stop at a campground for the night and davey falls face-first into a river. davey it it on camera when jack has to play tug of war for his phone charger with a crow at a rest stop. they make it up to cape flattery and there's videos of them goofing off on the hike and videos of the view.

davey edits it all together and posts it on youtube. he sends the link to his parents and forgets about it. and that's how it goes for the next month and a half. every week, a forty-minute long vlog of highlights from that week's adventures goes up. every week, they name a random new thing they want to do and start driving in the general direction they think it'll be in. they blow a tire on a windy mountain backroad and the camera, set on the ground, records both of them bickering over the best way to change a tire. they leave the camera, crooked and sliding around, on the dashboard and record the two-man performance of queen's entire discography.

six months into their roadtrip which is starting to feel more like a lifestyle, and two months after davey started uploading videos to youtube, he checks his junk email and sees that he apparently has a comment on one of the videos. he hasn't been paying much attention to what was going on with the old ones once they were up, so he's beyond surprised to see a few thousand views a video, a couple hundred comments on the ones with particularly funny moments. a few hundred subscribers.

jack thinks it's hilarious. davey is not so sure. he keeps uploading though, especially when jack points out that if they get enough subscribers they can monetize it and have some more money. so they keep doing it.

they hit national parks. the spend the winter down south, and davey gets hours of footage of jack wide-eyed and wonderous in santa fe, a city he's wanted to visit for years.

he gets a comment that says something like "I can see them falling in love in real time" and it takes a few days to be able to film the way he has been because now he's self-conscious about how much he records jack just existing. he knows he's had a lingering crush on jack since they were twelve but he doesn't need a random stranger on the internet calling him out on it. he also knows jack is straight. so.

it doesn't take long for the channel to have enough subscribers to monetize it, and it doesn't take long for them to appreciate making a handful of extra cash every month. it's not a lot of money, especially at first, but fifty bucks is a good couple meals with how they've learned to shop, or a full tank of gas. it means they have more time, now that they're starting to run out of savings. and the longer it goes on, the more they're making. they break 10k subscribers on a video that heavily features clips of them rolling down a random hill they found and decided to have fun on and jack rescuing a cat from a dumpster that they brought to a local shelter. davey stops paying attention to the numbers because he and jack both agree if they start doing it for youtube instead of themselves, it'll stop being so much fun.

they got to new orleans for mardi gras, a bucket list item that davey thought of a few months ago when they were stargazing and thinking of more things to do. it's been almost a year since they left new york, and it seems like their list is only growing. they get covered in beads and get a hotel room so they can get as drunk as they want, jack wears the camera around his neck so it doesn't get lost, and it's there that davey has the crashing, terrifying realization that it's a lot more than a little crush.

jack is bright and energetic and even in this crowd full of people dancing and laughing and singing and shouting, jack stands out. davey steals the camera away from him and gets video after video of jack just being jack, being bright and fun and taking davey by the hand and pulling him along to the next thing. jack takes it back and records davey laughing while he tries to dance along to a song he doesn't know. it's wild and crazy and fun.

they got a hotel room with only one bed because they didn't even think about it. they've been sharing the back of the van for a year, but maybe because it's a real bed or maybe because suddenly davey is aware of how much he's actually in love with jack for the first time, but it's different. and they wake up collapsed together, wrapped around each other, and davey has a moment of being so, so grateful for what this year has been.

there's a comment under that video that davey has a hard time ignoring because it says "you just know they kissed when the camera was off lol" and he can't stop thinking about what if. what if they had? what if they did? what then?

when davey is editing the next video he can't help but notice that there are just as many random shots of him doing nothing as there are of jack. like jack is also finding himself recording davey at random moments when nothing is happening. it's hard not to get his hopes up. and the best part of this whole thing has always been the small moments, the quiet and calm conversations at night with rain falling on the roof of the van, being stuck in traffic laughing at each other trying to learn lyrics to a new song, eating at a greasy truck stop diner and trying to figure out what tastes so weird in these pancakes. it's the little things, the inside jokes they've had since middle school spread throughout the brand new adventures every day, the way jack still snorts when he laughs and still teases davey for how he can't help but mess up his hair when he gets excited about something. it's the way they finish each other's sentences without thinking and barely have to talk about things to know what to do next because they can practically read each other's minds.

knowing jack is easy. this whole this has been easy, even when it really wasn't. when they got really lost an a snowstorm rolled in in September for no reason. even when they've been stressed about something going wrong, or being lost someplace scary, or not knowing if they'd make it to the next gas station, even when they've bickered for real and not for fun and even when they've gotten in actual fights a couple of time, it's always been easy. easy to come back to jack, easy to love jack, wholly and simply and completely because isn't that all he's ever done?

davey doesn't think jack is paying much attention to the youtube videos. he's never said anything about the comments or brought up anything from them.

so when they find another quiet moment, way up in the mountains in the southwest listening to the first snowmelt of the spring start to trickle down the slope, wrapped in a big blanket together on the roof of the van so they can see the stars without freezing to death, it takes davey by complete surprise. when jack, who's cuddled into his side and silently taking in the stars he's yet to get sick of being able to see so clearly, says, sometimes I wonder if they're right.

if who are right, davey asks, genuinely confused. the people on youtube who say they're watching us fall in love, jack says, like it's nothing. like it's not a sentence with the potential to upset everything about who they are and what they're doing and who they've always been.

oh? davey says, barely breathing and very, very aware of how pressed close together they are right now.

i guess i just know i could never do better than you, jack says, and davey has a moment of thinking oh he's just kidding until jack rolls to look at him instead of the sky. i don't want to try, I guess, he says. i know I'd never be able to find somebody as perfect for me as you are. I've always known, I've known since we met, and I know it's stupid and crazy especially when we're out here on our own and nowhere to go if things go wrong, but I want to kiss you, I think.

and when davey kisses jack, out here on a van roof wrapped in a blanket, listening to melting snow under a sky full of more stars than either of them could have imagined when they met, that's easy, too. and when they fall asleep, together like they have been sleeping for more than a year, it's easy to forget that anything changed at all because, davey realizes, they've been loving each other this whole time.

it was in the ways jack would pull over on a random farm road in Iowa to pick a pretty wildflower growing in a ditch, and davey would find the flower pressed between the pages of one of his books weeks later, carefully labelled with the date it had been picked. that was jack loving davey. and so was jack's sketchbook, brand new when they left and now so full he'd been adding pages for weeks, and half the drawings included davey's face. and so was jack's easy memorization of davey's order at every fast food place they'd stopped at, his diner go-tos and the drinks he liked when they stopped at an actual restaurant and it wasn't his turn to drive to wherever they were spending the night.

and davey had memorized the same facts about jack, and wasn't that also love? and the way davey would buy a stack of new books and donate the old ones every time they found a good used book store, and he'd sit in the passenger seat and read out loud to pass the time on long stretches of boring road. and when he was driving, wasn't it davey loving jack every time he took a left turn on the hunch there would be cows or horses instead of a right that would get them to where they thought they were going? and when davey found an excuse to stay at the top of a hiking trail lookout for long enough for jack to draw everything he wanted, even when jack kept looking up and saying they should go even when he wanted to keep drawing, wasn't that love, too?

they'd been loving each other this whole time, so maybe those youtube comments weren't the same after all. because maybe this had always been there, and it just took somebody else, somebody with no reason to lie, to point it out before either of them could see the other side.

when they finally, after almost a year and a half, decide it's time to go home to the city they've finally started to miss, they drive all the way out west again first. jack wants to take route 66 as far as it will go, so they drive from santa monica to Chicago and take pictures at every landmark along the way. it takes a month to be satisfied, and a few more days to make it home after that.

it's the last video davey uploads, he doesn't want to keep vlogging now that he's happily settled into his own skin and found a job he doesn't hate. maybe he'll freelance write on the side, eventually write a memoir about the time he and jack spent driving around just to do it.

in the last video, there are the usual clips. jack goofing off and getting himself in some kind of silly trouble, davey being accident prone and only avoiding getting seriously injured by some stroke of minor luck. there's also a shot of the two of them, the camera left a few feet away, standing at the edge of the grand canyon with jack's head on davey's shoulder. a drawing jack did of the two of them sharing breakfast at a little cafe. a video of jack adding his mark to the Cadillac ranch in texas. the two of them looking out from the top of the gateway arch. the kind of casually loving moments that maybe don't mean anything to some people, but that davey knows are exactly the kind of sign others had been picking up on this whole time. only this time, jack and davey know it too.

[choccy-zefirka]

They dive, head-first, into the blinding blue glow of the Eluvian. The glass ripples at their touch, soft and cool and pliable like a sheet of finest silk; and they pass through it, falling vertically onto this silk sheet, towards something that is not quite a dream, but certainly feels like it.

The Crossroads greet them with bristling rows, upon rows, upon rows, of darkened mirrors. The rectangular silhouettes slash like razors into the blue hazy backdrop of odd trees with perfectly round, lace-like crowns. Some of the mirrors sit half-tilted in their ornate frames, some have been smashed altogether. Almost all are lifeless, blinded. Not what they are searching for.

It takes them a short walk — or perhaps a long one, as long as all eternity — before they spot a second window of bright glow in the misty expanse that rolls away in all directions with every step they take. Then, comes another dive, another thrumming, rustling shift of silk — and they find themselves… In between. In a secluded pocket of space and time that is a fraction closer to the realm of dreams than the Crossroads. A piece of the Fade, for all intents and purposes. Not quite, but this definition will do, for the time being. Especially considering that they are rather too busy to ponder their shelter’s true nature.

Too busy running. Too busy scrambling to hide away from an unseen pursuer — a presence that always haunts them. And will always haunt them. Sometimes, as a throb of headache at the back of the skull, a fleeting blur in the farthest corner of peripheral vision. Sometimes, as a dragon-shaped shadow underneath sleep-laden eyelids. Threatening, at any moment, to reshape into flesh — even as the carcass of the actual dragon rots in the now Blighted heart of the Korcari Wilds, where the last few traces of life left behind by darkspawn are clinging on to its carcass, stripping it of every last sticky sinew. Where the soggy marshland moss is painting the old bones a muddy green, and the large, sleekly moist, pallid lilies are growing out of its eye sockets, scented sweet as decomposing flesh.

The dragon is no more, one with the carrion earth and rancid waters. But its — her — return is inevitable, like the cycles of darkspawn that devoured her swamp. One day, she will rise from the decaying mire, and take wing, and find her prey. So the hunted remain wary of the huntress; and of any other encroaching forces that might wish to chase after the witch and her lover and their child, who is not quite a child, and yet already thrashes feverishly in the womb, consumed by dreams of those mossy bones in the tainted bog, and of the splashes of viscera in Denerim’s ravaged streets.

From whatever hidden corners they retreated to, the creatures of darkness call to their unborn master with an eerily gentle song, which he would not have been able to repeat out loud even if he was old enough to speak, and yet profoundly understands, the same way his tiny, floating body understands that it needs to draw its strength from the body of the witch to survive. But for now, for the time being, neither the song that wants to guide his dark soul, nor the dragon that wants to claim it, can fully reach him, or his parents. Not here — not in between.

This place is hidden well. Perfect for a reprieve after being on the run.

It is quiet, and it is serene, and it is undisturbed by the clamor of strife of the outside world — many worlds.

That is always true. The rest, however — the very landscape of this tiny realm — is infinitely different. Depending on which world Morrigan, the Witch of the Wilds, came from. And depending on who traveled across that world with her, and managed to earn her trust, and love, and the unexpected, almost unnerving softness. Depending on who helped her complete the child that she carries.

***

In one world, Morrigan’s companion is a Dalish elf named Revas Mahariel, loyal warrior and hunter of a clan that, they fear, has long since moved on without them. Taciturn and distant around all but those whom they care about. With piercing reflective eyes that, when darkness falls, glint bright against their sun-bronzed face like a pair of fireflies, Ghilan'nain’s curling vallaslin on their brow — for guidance, and for kinship with woodland beings, whose ways Revas find much easier to decipher than those of men — and black hair fashioned into fine braids and then tied into a bun at the back of their head. If Morrigan travels with them, then the space in between looks like a forest glen, always plunged into lilac dusk.

The two of them live, for who knows how many uncounted months, inside an aravel that seems to begin moving the moment they climb in, rocking at a drowsy, blissful rhythm. It feels as if they have sailed endless miles through the tender twilight, even though in actuality, the aravel never moves an inch.

Once he is born, the child — Kieran — sleeps soundly in this enchanted land ship, his dark dreams ebbing away. And when he wakes, his Dalish parent sweeps him into their arms and carries him outside, where a herd of halla has already gathered to greet them.

Revas suspects that they are not quite real, these slender-legged beasts with coats that glisten like silver in the muted light. But there is a very real sweetness to the fresh milk they give; and the da'len laughs a very real, gurgling laugh when they let him grab their antler… And Revas is cloaked in a very real sensation of calm when they stroke that shimmering, ghostly fur and murmur the tales of the People into a tiny baby ear that, against all odds, has a very real, if barely visible, point to it.

Morrigan listens in as well, brow furrowed in confusion: not all that Revas says matches what she read in her stolen books and scrolls. But she says nothing, for the moment she as much as thinks about correcting them, the shadows around the glen deepen, and the ground shifts with a warning rumble that only she can hear. So she has no choice but to learn, just as Kieran is learning.

Sometimes, in the middle of playing with the da'len in the lavender grass or milking a statue-still, uncannily tame halla, Revas glances up, an unvoiced question on their lips, at the blue speck on the horizon. That is Eluvian that they came from; a gateway back to the Crossroads, which will connect him to any other Eluvian, including the one that… But Revas never dares to let the thought finish itself, and, with a stubborn jerk of their head, goes back to whatever they were doing.

On the other side, lies corruption and violence and loss. Everything that they’ve endured a-plenty during the Blight. There will come a moment when they have to face it all over again, but not yet. Not yet.

Here, on this side, theyare safe. Their vhenan, their son — they are all safe.

For the time being.

***

In another world, Morrigan flees into the Eluvian with a fellow human. One Gordon Cousland. Not the late Theirn Bryce’s youngest son, oh no. That poor boy, Highever’s biggest pride and brightest hope, was cut down by Howe’s men before he could even raise a blade, a splatter of crimson painting his nightshirt like a morbid canvas, the loyal mabari sniffing and snarling at his limp form with almost human wails of denial and desperation.

Gordon is Bryce’s little brother. The failure of the family. The black sheep. The broken boy who was far too young during the war for Ferelden’s independence, far too weak to withstand its horrors, and thus crumpled into a drunken mess, a jester whom nobody found particularly funny… Except, perhaps, for his nephews, Fergus and poor Aedan, back when they were a pair of giggling, squirming chubby tykes in their uncle’s lap. And for Rendon, who never missed an opportunity to relentless mock someone who was even more worthless and pathetic than him.

Gordon survived by mistake. He should have been the one impaled on a traitor’s blade, dying an inglorious death in his nethers. He, not Aedan. And yet, here he is, having gone from a wastrel who’d meander aimlessly about Highever Keep and regale Fergus and Aedan with bawdy jokes and tall tales, to a hero, a savior of the world, a man whom everyone expected to do the right thing. And no matter what he still tells everyone, and himself, clinging on to the last tattered remnants of his clownish mask, he managed it well. Well enough to inspire his former drinking buddy Oghren to set himself on the straight and narrow, just like he did.

At the start of their journey, she’d be outraged by the suggestion — so much so that she’d probably turn into a snake and hiss — but now Morrigan finds it reassuring to know that, whenever she looks back, she will find Gordon’s angular, lined face beaming up at her and Kieran. That she’ll meet the gaze of his bruised pale-gray eyes, transfixed on them both with a puppy-like adoration that he once made most amusing attempts to hide (because she’d ever want him to warm her tent, right? Right?)

When he is with her, the space in between molds itself into the sturdy stone walls of a little cottage. The very same rustic abode that Morrigan would mockingly describe whenever she met Gordon’s denial with her own, leering and rolling her eyes at the very notion of falling in love.

The porch is splashed with dappled shade of mighty orchard trees, and the air is lazily thick with honeysuckle scent. There is grass growing on the roof, swaying in a wind that is always gentle and warm, just as the sky overhead is always vivid-blue, with just enough curly cloud wisps to keep the golden sun from turning a scathing, merciless shade of white. The rooms are small, austerely furnished, but with anything that someone might need for a cozy stay, and the pantry appears to magically restock itself after Gordon’s every delve for cooking supplies.

Indeed, in this version of domestic bliss, Morrigan is not the one who does the cooking. It is Gordon that handles all the chores, while she spends most of her time exploring the perpetually green, sun-kissed outdoors, Kieran dozing in a sling that she carries against her chest (or clasps securely in her jaws whenever fancy strikes her to shift into a she-wolf or a mother bear).

It is Gordon that raises a ruckus with the brass pots and pans, until the modest dwelling fills with a glorious palette of mouth-watering, savory scents — soup, roast, sometimes even the delightful Antivan pasta that Zevran once introduced him to. And afterwards, it is Gordon that takes to scrubbing the kitchenware with such ferocity that one might think he was polishing his armor before battle.

Following the cooking and the cleaning, comes the tinkering about the house. It does not take Morrigan long to realize that, idyllic as their little hideaway appears, something always seems to break down for Gordon to fix. Maybe it’s a creaking step, or a wobbly board on the porch, or the railing of Kieran’s little cradle.

The place in between keeps her Warden busy; and she understands why. Work wears him out, it takes his mind off the flames of Highever that still sometimes roar when he shuts his eyes, while his brother and sister-in-law reach towards him, their hands half-charred, stripped of chunks of flesh, yet still pointing at him in accusation.

There is another way to beat down those flames — and now, it is not succumbing to drink again. It is to travel the world, like he and Morrigan have always wanted, to be swept away in a whirlwind of new impressions, to experience the vibrancy of Thedosian cultures, human and otherwise. Without caring, above caring, that they might be derided and pushed away as outsiders, a scheming witch and a silly, sad clown who does not belong anywhere.

And that is what they intend to do, once all the wounds have healed and all the danger has passed.

But right now, they are enjoying the boons of the enchanted house in between, where they are safe.

For the time being.

***

In another world still, Morrigan has Thraer Aeducan beside her. A soft, shy, kind prince, far too gentle for what his fellow dwarves expected him to be. His round face is framed by golden curls and a bushy, elaborately braided beard, and his enormous blue eyes have always taken the surface world in with scarcely a blink, full of a profound wonderment that is all too familiar to Morrigan.

Once, when she was still young, that sensation was all but shattered alongside her golden mirror, but then it returned, on the tips of a thin, uncertain smile that looked up at her from that mirror’s replica, held out tentatively, almost fearfully, its handle clasped in a callused dwarven fist.

For Morrigan and Thraer, the space in between changes almost every day. Or, well, whatever stands for a day this side of the Crossroads.

Thraer’s wanderlust, more fervent, more overpowering than Gordon’s, bends the age-old laws dictating that dwarves should have no command over magic. Influenced by his eager mind, the hidden realm turns into an ever-renewing canvas; a myriad of settings for his, Morrigan’s, and Kieran’s dream-like journeys.

They spend the afternoon splashing about in the turquoise shallows on a deserted sandy beach — somewhere in Tevinter, judging by the architecture of a steep-walled tower that looks upon them from an overhanging cliff. If buildings could express disdain, this tower surely would, but at least, unlike in the real word, it never spews out a throng of some magister’s retainers, ready to capture the intrusive southerners.

They fall asleep in the cove at the cliff’s base — and then suddenly awaken in the heart of a patchwork-bright market square in Rivain, where the sellers are just shadows with blurred faces, and cannot be called or reached out to, but the explosion of spicy fragrances and rainbow colors and seagull screeches overhead is most convincing.

Exhausted by taking it all in, they sit down on a bench in the shade of a tilting, fruit-laden tree, and after Morrigan finishes feeding Kieran, she glances up and finds herself gazing up at a velvety evening sky, all speckled with the bobbing golden dots of floating lanterns. They are in Antiva now, right at the start of some kind of festival.

Morrigan and Thraer duck hand in hand from one winding lane to another, unafraid that Zevran’s former comrades might lurk behind a shadowy corner. But when this maze finally ends, they emerge onto the flattened top of one of the soaring basalt pillars that are ceaselessly battered by the Waking Sea’s swelling tide. Miraculously, the spot where they are transported is completely dry and shielded from the wrath of the wild waters, and even has a tiny table laid out, ready for a picnic, which Morrigan and Thraer savor languidly while gazing out into the sea. Kieran seems content too, until he begins to fidget in his father’s arms: the thundering roar of the waves has reminded him of something deep within that still lies in wait, until he matures, until he is ready.

Noticing the boy’s growing agitation, Thraer cradles him to his chest. Instantly, the flying sea froth freezes in mid-air and turns green. The salty spray is now the canopy of trees in the Brescilian Forest: a version of it where no sylvans threaten to come alive and clench their gnarly claws around the squishy beings of flesh.

And thus they travel in and on, exploring the simulacra of Thedas’ far corners, familiar and yet unseen, but devoid of other living people apart from themselves, and of wild beasts, and of the last, rotting remnants of the Blight.

This is a clean, safe, baby-proof world, where nothing will tear Kieran away from Morrigan, and no-one will deride Thraer — who gives pet names to bugs and writes not-so-secret poetry — for being too soft, too airy-fairy, too unlike the brother that betrayed his trust. It is not real, this journey of their, and they cannot keep hopping from one pretty picture to the rest forever.

Soon, very soon, they will tire of empty town squares and sea waves that never drench them; and they will leave, and Thraer will go back to proving that behind his huggable exterior, lurks a formidable berserker that will rather tear himself apart than allow harm to come to his family.

Soon — but not yet. Before they have the strength to face the blows of the real world, the dwarf and his beloved witch allow themselves to be lulled into bliss by a fantasy. Where they are safe.

For the time being.

[voldemorts-tap-shoes]

Sneaking in my second submission for era #5 of @cruelsummer-ficfest at the last minute!

A brief follow up to my last fic 💜

you still would’ve been mine, we would’ve been timeless

Even though the waiting room chairs at St. Mungo’s are horribly uncomfortable, and Hermione has been stuck in the same position for the past hour while Ron snoozes on her shoulder, and her mouth burns with the bitter taste of some of the worst coffee she has ever had the displeasure of consuming, there is no place else Hermione would rather be.

Home.

Her mind was made up before she even made it back to her hotel after meeting with Ron, and as soon as she got back to Sydney, she had set about making arrangements. After three weeks and a lot of Floo calls, she had a job and a flat ready to go, and she was on another plane to London. For good this time.

Harry bursts into the waiting room then, a smile splitting his face from ear to ear, and Hermione shakes Ron awake. “She’s here,” Harry announces. “Baby and Ginny are both doing great.”

“What are you going to call her?” Hermione asks as she and Ron both rise to hug Harry in congratulations.

“Lily of course, and Ginny picked Luna to be her middle name.”

“Oh, that’s lovely.”

“You couldn’t give one of your kids a name that wasn’t a mouthful?” Ron teases, earning him a sharp elbow to the side from Hermione.

Harry just laughs, and Hermione’s not sure anything could dim his happiness at the moment. “Come back and meet her.”

By the time they’re through visiting with Harry and Ginny and the new baby and are heading for the exits, it’s nearly three in the morning. “Y’know, every one of their kids was born in the middle of the night,” Ron says with a yawn. “They’re bound to be trouble.”

“Is that some superstition about children born during a witching hour?”

“Well, that and they’re Harry and Ginny’s so they’re just bound to be trouble regardless.” Ron laughs as he yawns again. “I guess I’ll take the Floo home, I think I’m too tired to Apparate.”

“My place is closer,” Hermione says, though the offer is far from selfless. The only thing that hasn’t settled itself since she returned home two months ago is where things stand with Ron, and maybe this is her chance to fix that. “You could just…crash with me.”

Although he’s been there for her throughout the whole process and they see each other nearly every day, neither of them has made any sort of move to take things to the next level. On the one hand, she appreciates Ron’s sensitivity, and his willingness to give her time and space while she settles into her new-slash-old life.

On the other, haven’t they waited long enough?

Ron smirks, a sure sign that he’s thinking exactly what she is, that their respective homes are the exact same distance via Floo—nearly instantaneous—even though Hermione’s is technically closer to the hospital. She’s about to laugh it off, tell him to get some sleep and that she’ll see him tomorrow, but then Ron reaches for her hand.

“You should know,” he says softly, “if I come with you, I have no intention of sleeping on the couch.”

Hermione squeezes his hand and leans up to whisper in his ear. “Who said anything about sleeping?”

[obanais-koibito]

𝐙𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐮 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐎𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

ℛℰ𝒬𝒰ℰ𝒮𝒯ℰ𝒟

“Wahhh, I don’t want to go to that mountain, it looks so scary!”

Zenitsu wailed again and you groaned, you and your twin brother were currently out on a mission and he has been non stop whining and crying. You attempted to reassure him that you would protect him but he only kept crying. Your headache grew as you continued to drag Zenitsu towards the direction of the mountain.

“Zenitsu, shut up! You're hurting my head and if you make this much noise at night you could lure demons right to us!”

“WAHH DEMONS?! DEMONS WHERE WE ARE GOING TO DIEEEE!”

You honestly don’t know how you dealt with him during Final Selection, you also didn’t understand why he was so afraid but then again you were always the braver twin. Zenitsu was scared of almost everything and it was very annoying but you still loved and protected your brother anyways. 

You didn’t know what you would do if your brother was injured, you felt like he was your responsibility since you were the older twin. You enjoyed being the braver twin at times because it always made you look responsible and you felt like an actual adult. You were born a couple minutes before Zenitsu but it didn’t matter to you because you were the oldest which meant you were the strongest.

“I swear I will hit you over the head if you don’t shut up!”

“Why are you so mean?!”

You turned to him and huffed.

“Because I’m the oldest, which means you listen to me!”

“We were born on the same day!”

“I WAS BORN 3 MINUTES AND 49 SECONDS BEFORE YOU IDIOT!”

“IT DOESN’T MATTER!”

You both began bickering about why or why not the time difference mattered when someone’s voice stopped you both.

“Uhm Mr and Mrs, are you okay?”

You and Zenitsu turned to a boy that looked around your age who had a concerned expression on his face. You smiled brightly and clinged onto his arm and said.

“Ooo you’re very attractive, do you want to go out sometime?”

You said with a flirtatious tone and while batting your eyelashes.

“Uh mam, I’m not really interested-“

“BUT WHY?! I’M A DEMON SLAYER, I CAN PROTECT YOU!”

You cried and clinged onto him even more while Zenitsu tried to pry you off and the boy attempted to push you off. Zenitsu managed to yank you off the boy and the boy ran away. Zenitsu held you back from running after him and you yelled.

“Why did you do that?! I was about to get a boyfriend!”

“No you weren’t! He looked like he wanted to run far and you do the same thing to me when I want to ask a girl out!”

“That’s because girls don’t like you! But he was DEFINITELY interested in me!”

“You’re a hypocrite!”

You smacked his head which earned a whine from him and began dragging him again. After almost an hour, you both finally arrived at the mountain right when the sun was falling. Zenitsu shuddered at the sight of the mountain and clinged onto you.

“You really want to spend our last minutes alive here?! Why don’t we just abort the mission and go home!”

“For the last time, I said I would protect you plus, we can’t just discard the mission, what if people die because we didn’t eliminate the demon?”

You said in a calm voice while patting his head, he shivered some more and followed you closely while you walked through the mountain. Every sound caused Zenitsu to shudder more and for you to keep an eye on your surroundings. A tree branch snapped which made Zenitsu screech and for you to hover your hand over the hilt of your sword.

You looked in the direction of the sound and saw a shadow with glowing eyes. You quickly unsheathed your weapon and rushed towards the figure that was now charging right back at you.

“AAAAAAAHHHHHH! IT’S A DEMON, Y/N WE HAVE TO RUN BEFORE IT GETS US!!!”

Zenitsu screamed but you chose to ignore him and target the demon, no way were you going to run away from a normal demon, it wasn’t even that scary!

“Thunder Breathing, First Form, Thunder Clap and Flash.”

You raced towards the demon and slashed towards him, slicing his arms and legs off. He didn’t have time to regenerate when you decapitated him and watched him turn to ash. Zenitsu ran to you and hugged you tightly and sobbed.

“YOU GAVE ME A HEART ATTACK! I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO DIE PLEASED NEVER DO THAT AGAIN!”

You giggled a bit and hugged him back.

“Don’t worry, I said I was going to protect you and I did plus, I’m not even harmed see? Not a scratch.”

You wiped his tears away and he smiled a bit, you promised Gramps you would take care of your brother and you didn’t plan on breaking that promise.

[luxxtuxx]

'Get Some Rest, My Little Rockstar'

Hobie + Child!Reader THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE, I also cried writing this (multiple times) TW: Character death ANYWAYS ENJOY!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was supposed to be a normal day in hobies universe swinging around doing patrol, then a villain struck tearing apart a building. He managed to save a lot of people, but something felt off when he was pulling the last man out of the rubble, his spidey senses were tingling. He followed them. The stronger they got, the more he could hear it. A baby sobbing and screaming. He pushed a large chunk of rubble away to find a little baby in a carrier thrashing around.

He picked up the baby and gently rocked it. "Hey, little rockstar. Dont cry, ill be okay I promise. Spider-Punk has got you" He picked up the carrier and carefully walked out of the rubble. The first thing he did was take you to the hospital to make sure that this little baby was okay. the hospital said that either hobie could keep you or register you into the foster system. Hobie took you with him, he took some cash he had stocked away out. He looked at you, you were gonna be the only thing in his life he wanted consistency of. "C'mon rock star! Let's go find you some punk clothes."

Now, hobie wasn't the type to enjoy dressing up, but finding little baby punk clothes to put you in warmed his heart. You were his pride and joy now. A few months later your first word was 'punk' and after learning a few more words, hobie was called 'papa punk'

You grew up like a chaotically smart devil. Hobie constantly encouraged you to try things, you weren’t a spider person, but HQ loved having you around. Hobie enjoyed watching you try everything, and not stand by and be a cookie-cutter kid. You were allowed to wear whatever you wanted and do what you wanted (Within reason)

By the time you were 8, you had earned a black belt in karate, you could play your mini electric guitar pretty well, had been kicked out of 3 different schools for starting fights, and you could read just under 200 words per minute, and you had a secret cat that Hobie hasn’t found out about for 2 months. People thought that hobies yes as much as possible method would you into a monster, but it didn't you were often extremely kind and well versed in etiquette.

Hobie loved rocking out with you, he enjoyed time with you. He was a classic dad at times, making fun of you in front of your friends, or trying to embarrass you in front of your crush. Watching you grow up was his favorite thing in the whole world... Until 4 years later, an anomaly villain reached his universe, you were doing as you normally did helping old people and little kids evacuate the area. Hobie and then the entire squad including Miguel were helping out. Then it happened, a torn-up pipe the villain had thrown slashed a large cut through your side. Hobie heard you scream and immediately ditched the group to run to you, run to his kid, his pride and joy.

You fell down not having the strength to stand, he caught you in time, "Hey kid, cmon keep them eyes open okay? Im gonna get you to HQ and the nurses are gonna heal you up. hold still." he tried to lift you carefully, he sat you back on the ground after he heard you scream in pain, "Kid, I can't lose you, Stay awake" you weakly pull his mask up, wanting to see his face one last time. "Papa punk, You lived 20 years without me, I'm sure you can do it again" Hobie teared up and hugged you close "Im not gonna let you die." "Hey Dad, can I ask you somethings before I go??" his heart shattered. "Yeah, kid, anything"... he pulled away and kissed your forehead "At any point, even for a second....Did I make you proud?" that question made hobies heart hurt so bad "Every single second of every day you were in my life I was proud of you." you nod. "I don't want to go to Valhalla looking like a loser.... can I borrow your leather jacket for a bit?" hobie took off the jacket and slipped it on you. "Papa punk?" he stares at you, "Smile, I'm your canon event. Events are meant to be fun. Smile once last time for me papa" Hobie forced a weak smile at his child's request, ignoring the tears slipping out of his eyes. "Papa don't cry... You'll ruin your eyeliner" You laugh weakly and hobie smiles a small bit at your laugh... "Im sure you are tired kiddo" he kissed your forehead again as the last breath slipped from your lips

"Get Some Rest, My Little RockStar"

Bonus: Hobie had you cremated and put your ashes in a bunch of resin art so he could walk around his boat and you'd be there with him. He keeps a necklace on him with your ashes inside, every mission he completes. he kisses the small vial and say 'we won'. He still plays the guitar, mostly your favorite songs with a guitar pick he had you paint him when you were little. He made sure you were never alone. He missed you so much, and on the anniversary of your death he didn't take any missions he just sat home and talked out loud about all the amazing things you've missed in the past year, in his mind believing you could hear him.

[samblackblog]

here are two requests! I'm ok with whatever you choose of course!

You got into an accident and Carlisle finds you. You wake up to Carlisle working over you and he takes you back to the house. He gives you the option to be changed but you are super nervous. He is super sweet and helps you though it

Second option! you are a friend of the Cullen's and went to their house to wait for Alice. You are just chilling when you start to feel an anxiety attack coming. Jasper and Carlisle help you out

⎔ MASTERLIST ⎔ REQUESTS ⎔ TWILIGHT ⎔

The Accident [Carlisle x reader]

Word Count: 1.3K Warnings: Mentions of death, injury detail. Big talk of vampirism ;) non-romantic relationship between reader and Carlisle A/N: Thank you @lillybearblog for the request and sorry for how long it took to respond, I hope this will make up for it :) I chose number 1, but changed the order of events a little.

UPDATE: tumblr seems to be throwing a mare currently. When I uploaded this originally on my laptop everything was fine, but on the phone/tablet the writing was I black and therefore couldn’t be read. Please comment if you can actually see/read this, I’d greatly appreciate it x

The rain was coming down in heavy sheets, pounding against the windscreen of your car. The wiper blades whoosh frantically as they try to clear the view as you drive back from Port Angeles to Forks. The last sign you’d been able to read properly before the deluge started indicated that the journey was only half done and since the weather changed, your speed had reduced to almost a crawl. The journey would be long and tedious now but you weren’t used to the roads, only having passed your test a few weeks back, so proceeding with caution seems sensible, especially since the visibility is only a metre or two max.

However nothing could have prepared you, not the slow speed or the way you instantly jam your foot on the break. You feel the car dip to the right as you slip off the road on a corner; the wheels sliding over mud, unable to get traction. Instinctively you depress the clutch and break simultaneously but it’s far too late. The sudden loss of power and jarring action of the break causes the car to roll as momentum takes it onward. It clangs its way down the hillside, glass shattering; the shards slashing at your face and arms. You bounce in your seat, held in place by the belt which squeezes at your insides. Darkness seizes your body after your head crashes violently against the headrest. Something warm trickles down your neck and fear creeps in. 

Unsure as to how long you black out for, you come round to the sound of metal being wrenched apart, only just audible over the high pitched ringing in your ears. You want to open your eyes and look to the noise but find yourself unable to. Something calls to you from the peaceful darkness that threatens to never let you go. It promises safety and warmth, eternal and everlasting, if you only let go. Curiosity picks at you as strange sounds evade your peace. Straining you make out voices, maybe even a touch but it’s hard to tell as your body goes numb. The voices drift in and out of range, every word sounding less important to you as you give in to the darkness. That is until you hear the one phrase that drives panic into your chest. 

“Quick, she’s dying.” There's urgency in the voice and yet it still sounds calm. This isn’t the first time the owner has looked death in the face and nor would it be the last. Instantly your eyes shoot open, the vision cloudy and indistinctive. They flitter from patches of light and dark as they try to gain focus, finding it unnerving as blurry shapes move, reaching out towards you at incomprehensible speed. That’s when it registers, something prods your throat, earning a strained gurgle from you as you try to speak. 

“Her pulse is weakening” the voice grows louder as the ringing subsides. 

Help. Please help me. You want to shout, but can’t find your voice. Your eyes shut as the darkness claims you once again. 

The next time you regain consciousness, the world feels as though it’s spinning as you stare up through the tree canopy, cold grey light flooding your irises, making them water. Someone enters your field of vision, blocking the light from view, their face pallid but expression filled with sympathy and kindness. Again pressure fills your neck as they press cold fingers into your pulse point, a shocked gurgle escaping your mouth. You’re aware of a bubbling hiss as wetness pools against your chest. 

The man above you moves his lips and you notice his appearance; from his blonde hair to his strange golden eyes. Coldness engulfs your body as you struggle to focus on anything other than how ethereal he is. For a while, you don’t realise he’s as the world rushes in all at once. Once adjusted, you notice his lips move again and his eyes staring into yours, intent on gaining your attention. 

“I’m a doctor, can you understand me?” The question cuts through the air, crisp and clear. There’s no mistaking what he’s said. A doctor? Elation fills your heart. Your memories are hazy but having a doctor could only be good, right?

“You’ve been in a nasty accident, the windscreen shards have pierced your chest, you don’t have long.” Again the voice deals a heavy blow. However this time the urgency is gone, replaced by a pitiful intonation. The statement is quick and to the point, yet still your brain hesitates in processing the information. 

“Do you understand?” He questions, watching as his heavy words sink in, sparking fear in your darkening eyes as the gravity of the situation hits home. Your hand reaches up to his, grabbing it in a death grip as you refuse to let go of life. Desperately you try to plead for your life, nothing but a gurgle comes as you choke on something hot and thick in the back of your throat. 

Oh god. 

“Puh…” you manage, “puh…” 

Please, for god's sake. Please help me. Tears brim from your eyes as you silently beg him. Surely there’s something he can do as a doctor, or at least help and end the suffering. With that thought your eyes change; defeat accepted. 

“She wants you to help her” another voice sounds from behind you, calm and peaceful. How could anyone be calm right now? 

Because they’re not the one dying.

“Carlisle,” that same voice repeats, “She wants you to end her suffering.” It comes as a warning, in case the blonde by your side was thinking the same as you. 

“I can’t. As a doctor I took an oath.” His eyes flash from you to the other “Edward-” he’s abruptly cut off mid sentence. Would it have been a plea for the other man - Edward- to help, or was there more to it?

“Then let me…” the voice trails off as your breathing quickens at the thought of death coming quicker. The doctor -Carlisle- looks down at you, renewed hope sparkling in his eyes, before he cranes his head to your ear. 

“If there was a way to end the suffering and still live, would you accept? Even if it meant having to lead a different life, shrouded in secrecy, away from family and friends, perhaps alone…isolated even” He leans back, watching as thoughts flicker across your expression. You’d accepted the hand that had been dealt. You’d begged for death as you realised there was no option to be saved. Confused and not fully understanding you nod your head, greedily wanting the life that had been taken from you. 

“Carlisle, you can’t, she doesn’t fully understand what she’s agreeing too” This time the warning is stronger, anger laces the words. The kind of anger one holds onto, that forms a grudge from past experience. 

“She’s given her consent, she’ll learn and understand in time Son” The doctor lowers his head once more. You wait patiently for what seems a long time, waiting to hear words spoken softly like the last, but they never come. You feel the cold skin of his face press against the crook of your neck and hear him inhale sharply. Pain briefly erupts over your neck, like nothing you have ever felt before but is one again in seconds. You notice something dark covering his once pale lips as he withdraws from you. You don’t have time to register what it is before pain returns, running the length of your body, your neck burning the most. 

“Help me get her back Edward” are the last words you remember of your old life.

Your eyes open, anew and restored to the world. Your senses are flooded with vibrant colours, smells and sounds as you take in your new surroundings. Gone is the dark dreariness of the crash site, replaced by a bright cheery start to your next life. 

[theultimatefan]

Unexpected Starts, All-Stars and a Saves Mark Set: Ten Things to Know in the American Association This Week

The American Association of Professional Baseball (@AA_Baseball) season continues with a full slate of series this weekend, all available for free live viewing at aabaseball.tv. With the All-Star Game in Kansas City just 12 days away, check out the roster selections here.

Here are 10 (or so) more Things to Know about the AAPB this week:

When Iowa State Representative JD Scholten (House District 1) made a spot start for the Sioux City Explorers on Saturday, his first trip to the MercyOne Field at Lewis & Clark Park mound in 17 years, expectations were tempered. But that 6 2/3 innings of two-run ball earned the 44-year-old righty a win, media attention locally and nationally, and another start today at Fargo-Moorhead (12:30 p.m. CT, AABaseball.tv).

The Cleburne Railroaders' Carter Aldrete (nephew of 10-year Major Leaguer Mike Aldrete and son of nine-year pro Rich) has had a fantastic first season in powder blue, and he's the cover man in the June/July issue of Johnson County Community Life, which also previewed the season and included a feature on Railroaders Superfan Garey Wiley, who has attended all but two of the team's home games since 2017.

AAPB Broadcast alum Sean Aaronson, who has broadcasted the St. Paul Saints since 2007 (in the AAPB from 2007-20), was called up to broadcast six Minnesota Twins games - replacing Kris Atteberry, who broadcasted for St. Paul (2002-06, including '06 in the AAPB) and Sioux Falls (1999-2001).

On the player alum side, Gabriel Cancel (Milwaukee '23) was recently signed by the Blue Jays organization and homered six times in his first 10 games for Triple-A Buffalo, and Twins organization infielder Payton Eeles (Chicago '23), who began the season in Low A, was promoted to Triple-A St. Paul., where he’s slashing .333/.600/.667 in his first six games.

The Olympics are getting most of the international attention this summer, but there’s more worldwide baseball out there. Fargo-Moorhead RHP Orlando Rodriguez will be representing Spain at the upcoming European baseball tournament in the Netherlands.

Call it vacaciones, a siesta or a quick trip South of the Border, but AAPB All-Star Izzy Alcantara found Fargo-Moorhead more to his liking, returning to the RedHawks after a four-game stint with Aguascalientes in the Mexican League. The speedster (38 stolen bases through Wednesday) is second in the league in batting at .355 and has gone 10 for 26 in six games since his visit to the historic central Mexican city.

The Winnipeg Goldeyes are participating in a scholarship program with Baseball Manitoba, incorporating players, coaches and umpires into the offerings. Applications are due Monday, available through this link.

Members of the Kane County Cougars were on hand assisting clients at the Marklund Hyde Center in Geneva, Ill., on Tuesday for a softball game. The Center provides 24-hour residential care for infants, children and adults with severe and profound developmental disabilities. See a gallery of images from the fantastic day here, and congratulations to the whole Cougars organization on an amazing, fulfilling event.

On-field Congratulations are in order to the Fargo-Moorhead RedHawks' Alex DuBord, who recorded his franchise-record 48th save in a F-M uniform last night in a win over the West-leading Sioux Falls Canaries. A former 10th-round pick of the San Francisco Giants out of Faulkner (Ala.) University, the Fargo native is in his fourth year with the RedHawks, posting 12 saves thus far in 2024.

Earlier this year, former longtime Gary SouthShore RailCats PA announcer, Tommy Williams passed away at the age of 66 years old. Williams was the PA announcer for the RailCats for 18 years and his signature “People, People, People.” opened up every RailCats home game, every fan that attended a game knew the voice and the signature statement as the sign of summer in Northwest Indiana. To honor his contributions not just to the RailCats, but also his love for sports in the Region for so long, the press box that Williams called home was renamed the “Tommy Williams Pressbox” on his birthday, July 4.

Some fun theme nights coming up:

Thursday, “Shirt off our Backs” Night, Winnipeg Goldeyes

Friday, “I’m Ron Burgundy?” Night, Sioux Falls Canaries

Friday, Video Game Night, Kane County Cougars

Sunday, Sensory Game, Gary SouthShore RailCats

Tuesday, Celebrate Reading Night, Sioux City Explorers

Wednesday, Tyler’s Amazing Balancing Act, Fargo-Moorhead RedHawks

[hlcynsouls]

& FOR HALLOWEEN JULIAN → @violentdesires CHOSE FOR CAMILLA :

👾 — a scare attempt ! ( this one once again got away from me , apologies hsdgfs )

AFTER SEVERAL MILLENNIA , it's not easy to get got her . camilla can count on one hand the number of things that actually scare her , and only one might might be reasonably provoked and appropriately timed in some way . ( well , two , but — she's absolutely not going there , mentally . not today . ) and his grumpiness may want some ( well-earned , in fairness ) revenge for her recent bugging — but he's not mean . at least not to her . ( she thought . ) safe to say , camilla expected some shit when he invited her over for halloween . the entrance door opening by itself ? fun , but cheesy . the eerie quiet ? empty hallways ? flickering lights ? great for the gothic castle vibes . the scratching below the antique floorboards ? at least tells her where to go , so she decides to go along with whatever practical joke this is . " hello? " she draws out the last vowel . " anybody home ? " an answer is not expected , and merely comes in the form of a squeaky door opening at the end of the hall . " ... cute . "

THE sitting room is empty and nothing seems out of place from the last time she was here . she tries a few potential candidates for jump scares — the mirror , the fireplace , a few cabinets — but nothing . the only new addition to the room is a little elf doll with a plastic head and a speaker in its wide , cheerful grin . camilla picks it up and finds a little string attached to it — upon pulling , it releases a tinny giggle , but doesn't do anything else of note . aaaalrighty . she gently puts it back into place for the next unsuspecting haunted house visitor , and moves on , guided by scratching and the occasional rumble . all the rooms she's being lead to are the same — unchanged , with the addition of the little elf doll . camilla wonders out loud if julian got them at a factory outlet or some shit , but once again receives no answer .

ONLY after a good while of this does the complete silence start to bother her — shouldn't he be bored by now ? she'd have expected more ... taunting , sort of . commentary , maybe . just something ... more . it can't be that fun to watch her waltz through his place with a frown and an attitude , from wherever her friend must be lurking . " not that i'm not happy about my own personal horror film , but this is getting boring . it's a nice try , but how about we go get some pizza instead ? " the demon waits a moment for an exasperated sigh and acquiescence to her wishes , but once again , no dice . fine . but if this was a horror movie , no one would bother waiting for the second act any longer .

THE wine ( slash blood ) cellar seems a good bet for whatever might be the next stage , though . the lights don't work here at all , and camilla moves a few steps down before turning on the flashlight on her phone . it's full — and she means full — of the creepy elf dolls . sitting on every shelf , on the floor , in between bottles of wine and blood . suddenly , one starts cackling — and then like a chain reaction , they all do . it's a creepy cacophony of squeaks , and okay , fine , camilla can admit ... it weirds her out . it's not scary , but distinctly uncomfortable in an almost exciting way . her pulse spikes ; she gets the nice tingles a good horror movie causes . on the same beat , the dolls fall silent — it makes the thump ! of the door falling shut behind her echo thrice as loud . tense anticipation runs through her ( okay , now what ? ) and despite expecting something , she is not prepared when she takes a step and suddenly something cold wraps around her ankle in the dark .

A high screech — more shock than fear , she'd insist — followed immediately by a surprised laugh , followed by : " fuck you , " directed at the sin's grinning face between the stairs .

[whatwh]

Respect is Earned Never Given

“It seems,” the leader yelled over the crowd, catching Aizawa's attention, “that there is a hero in our ranks.'' The entire gang seemed to scream in outrage, it was only a matter of time before they realized that only someone in their ranks could have told the heroes about the planned kidnapping, he only wished that it could have waited a little longer. The raid was scheduled in 3 days if things went well. The current assignment he was working on was to try and defuse a gang war from the inside, the Cutters (dumb name, Aizawa thought, its not even creative) were very disorganized but had a lot of people so there was a chance of them doing some serious damage to the comunity if they got too out of hand. He was normally able to not intervene in a Gang's choices up to a raid but this time the cutters were planning on kidnapping the young daughter of one of the opposing gang leaders. He should have stayed quiet. They were aware of the mole, the leader was distant at best he wouldn’t be doing an announcement unless they already found him. He slowly started moving to the door.

“I bet you all remember Sato” He booked it, running between the last few members of the crowd, all of which were slashing at him and grabbing. Luckily they were slow to draw their guns. By the time they did he was halfway out the door, using the warehouse's support beams to swing, He was tripped by some sort of string quirk, the high speed leaving gashes on his legs and blood spewing out a particularly deep cut on his cheek. There were people yelling for Sato all around him, trying to trick him into making a mistake, luckily he was too smart to give his real name so he didn’t have to worry about reflexes.

“Hey, just because the heroes have a big raid nearby tonight doesn’t mean I shouldn’t work! You want me to die of boredom?” “I’m not saying you shouldn’t work, just that you shouldn’t leave the Stacks.” “What else is there to do!” “I don't- wait, why not just look over the cameras? You got them set up for something like this!” “…” “That might work”

The Blood had gotten into his goggles when he tried to put pressure on his face wound. Well, It doesn't seem to be serious- He cut himself off, suddenly feeling the pain from his leg wounds. He realized that he must be bleeding everywhere and started to climb to a roof. If he moved vertically enough they might lose him, but he would have to slow down drastically. Good thing he had a head start.

“That's weird” the boy using the fancy looking pc setup muttered. The other boy wouldn’t have heard him, let alone understand him, if it wasn’t for his years of practice. The boy on the computer pulled up a better shot of what was a masculine figure running from a crowd. “Well follow them!” the second said, earning a glare from the first who had already started pulling up more cameras to do so.

Midnight was used to raids, her quirk made it so that she was perfect for taking out large groups all at once, she was more used to cases with more media attention and cameras on her every step of the way, being a daylight hero after all, but that doesn’t change her job. (Maybe she operates more like a twilight hero but that's not here nor there.) She wanted to help in whatever was the most practical way. If that meant that she needed to do a case every once in a while that was out of her comfort zone then so be it. So when Aizawa went fully underground for a case, she was the first to volunteer for the raid. She knew that there was no need to worry since he had done so many before, but hero work is dangerous. It was so easy to forget his experience though, hero work was always so dangerous. It was so easy to make a mistake that a person couldn’t come back from. But she's not going to think about that, he has done hero work for years, he's not going to make a rookie mistake. They have a few more days before the fight anyway. That's what they told her at least. She was not told that the foiled kidnapping would mean so much to the group. She didn’t know that they would only find out that they knew about the mole when the Cutters had an emergency meeting 3 days early. She was running through the crowd, putting as many people asleep as possible. She was looking Sho but it was quickly evident that the gang had split up to find him. She had know clue which path to follow, but she knew her friend well. That was the most concerning thing, really. He should have doubled back by now. She pulls up her comms as soon as the last person falls, looking for an update, only to find a black screen with white numbers - no. coordinates. She quickly uses a back up to send the information to the rest of the raid, and a small group is made to check it out. As they approach, an ambulance is called by the newest sidekick. Shota Aizawa has a very large amount of small cuts that were quickly losing blood. None of them would normally be bad enough to put him out of commission, but the collection as well as the deeper cuts in his legs must have overwhelmed his system. As she watches him get in the ambulance, allowing herself a moment before continuing the raid, the comms message comes to mind. This is going to be something, I just don't know if it's good or bad yet.

[help-im-a-gay-fish]

Following flower petals

Following flower petals.

Original nightmare and Dream by jokublog jokublog

Greekgods au by me

Synopsis: after being recently taken from his home, the young god of joy and spring attempts to find his escape.

Enjoy;)

The flower ran.

He ran, and he ran and he ran.

Robes flowed behind him as his feet beat the path, catching and ripping on rocks and jagged stones. Gnarled and dead tree routs hung above his head like rotten chandler's, each begging for a touch of life. Time he did not have.

It's hard to say how long the flower ran, crossing over the climate at fast as he could possibly go.

One river burned his bare feet, the next plunged his bones into water colder than ice, still, it didn't slow him long. This landscape was unforgiving and never-ending, no cavern wall was ever in view, but there had to be one eventually. This place had to have an exit. 

He'd heard stories of people escaping the place, and how hard it was to reach the borders of the kingdom, and this fueled his determination. 

The ground was cold now, a grey sharp grass was under his feet, the feeling of it sending memories of his home to the forefront of his mind. He wouldn't let the false plants fool him, there was not a drop of life in any leaf.

Dead.

He hated it here.

He was determined to get back to green lush fields, nothing would stop him for as long as he lived.

His immortal life had been a short one by God standards, but he'd spent all of it under the close care of his mother, Nim.

He'd spent his life in a beautiful and thriving fruit orchard. His childhood was spent running around harvesting apples of all colours from the trees, his mother telling him about the different kinds he found.

A charming life for a child. 

"....."

But now? If his mother left his side for a second a nymph was watching his every step like a hawk. Each mouth of food and every sip of water was all monitored and tailored. 

Who would have known that the first time he finally got away from one prison he'd be traded straight for another? Yet he'd take the garden over the underworld any day.

He was not just going to sit and look pretty and wait to be rescued, he was going to get free. Perhaps this was his chance to prove to his mother that he could look after himself!

He would earn his respect.

He would-

Something grabbed his foot.

It hadn't been a strong grab by any means, but the suddenness had startled the young god enough to send him falling flat on his face. 

Quickly he turned to his back and was met with the sight of a shrunken face. One who had perhaps been a rabbit monster in life, but now's ears were hung loosely by their face, framing the sunken eyes and deadpan look. They were on their knees, their hand now gripped harshly on the god's leg. Their airless lungs rattled as they hissed an incoherent whisper.

Dream yelped and shifted fast, fighting to wrench his foot from the monster's grip to no avail. 

Much to the horror of Dream, there appeared to be more around, each dressed in dark black and slowly making their way through the grey field towards him. Not one of them said a word, dry breathing filled the air.

Dream kicked, finally freeing his foot, but finding himself swarmed by grey-faced beings, closing in like wolves on a baby deer.

A vine sprang from the dry earth and wrapped around the feet of one, a humanoid, pulling them back. Another was slashed through the middle with a thorned version. More tripped on roots Dream drew up but each seemingly didn't notice any wounds or feel any pain, all got back up and continued approaching. 

Dream's head felt woozy, the force of using natural powers in the land of the dead draining each sap of energy, his roots and vines quickly withering as fast as he summoned them.

These creatures were unrelenting and unstoppable. One grabbed his golden scarf and pulled, another went for his crown. The young god screamed as the last of his energy was zapped, and was just about to start using his hands to fight them off, when a voice came from the side.

"ελευθερώστε τον!"

The creatures didn't hesitate upon the command, each leaving fast as mice found in a kitchen cupboard. 

The golden-eyed god had ragged breath, shock was just starting to settle in as he tried to calm the beating of his soul. He lay on his back and took deep breaths. For a moment he didn't register the voice that had saved him, and could only let out and breathy "thank you..." Before a familiar "You're welcome my sweet flower" sent his soul into a pit.

Shoot.

His eyes looked up and landed on the figure standing over him. Hooded in a velvet cloak of deep purple, and deep robes of a similar colour, the Lord of the dead was an intimidating sight. Whispy, smokey tentacles flicked like flames behind his back, and golden accents clinked together as he moved.

He was one of the most powerful and feared gods, a very aura of darkness followed his footsteps. However, Dream had never been afraid of him for a second, and he never would be.

He stood over Dream and simply looked him up and down, scanning for any injuries that would merit concern, not that he expected any but he'd always want to check. After seeing none other than a few scuffs and maybe some forming bruises he spoke.

"Made it as far as the fields of asphodel my love....that's further than last time, good for you". 

The darker god tilted his hooded head up, showing off his handsome purple eyes. At first, his face was neutral, but a smirk of amusement cut across his face as he stared at the young god.

"As much as I do enjoy our little games of tag, my dear, it would be best you don't bother my souls next time"

"They didn't mean you harm...they just don't get much entertainment in here"

Dream glared. His eyes were as bright as fire pits, and oh how Nightmare loved the sight of them. For a moment he was entranced by the beauty of his husband to be, and desire licked at his soul. Such a stubborn and precious treasure, the most delicate flower with the sharpest thorns.

This was the fourth time he'd attempted an escape in the 3 weeks he'd been down here, and each time he found himself in some kind of trouble. If Nightmare hadn't known better he'd have said Dream was doing it on purpose so that he'd need to be rescued. 

"Now you don't appear to be hurt Sunbloom, but is there anything I can do for you?"

"Go. To. Taurus." Dream basic spat, hugging his scarf closer to himself. 

Again his captor simply smiled.

"Live next door to it Honeysuckle"

Dream hissed through his teeth.

"Now why so angry? After I just saved you don't I get even a little smile?" Night asked.

The golden skeleton made a show of folding his arms and deepening his frown.

The Lord of the dead sighed and lowered his hood carefully, his expression softer, and voice gentler.

"My dear... I have no issue with you exploring, but please do try to be careful"

"I don't want to see you hurt"

Dream still said nothing and refused to look at him.

".....Dream..."

He said, again attempting to get Dream to understand. 

"I love you with all my soul, all I want is a chance to prove that to you..."

Nightmare knelt before Dream and held his hand out to help him to his feet, his expression still gentle, and his eyes were softly mesmerising.

"....."

The young God raised his hand, but as he reached Night's, he slapped it away.

"Never"

"You are unlovable"

Ouch.

Nightmare recoiled. 

Even Dream could see that was a low hit. In truth, he hated making anyone unhappy, even Nightmare. In the past, he'd seen him from a distance and always felt sorry seeing him alone. 

His mother had told him as a child to stay far away from the dark King, and as such, they had never interacted, but back then he'd always been curious. The other gods all gave Night a wide birth and hardly spoke to him. Dream had always used to wonder why...

However just because he knew Nightmare was lonely, didn't mean Dream had to give himself over.

Right now he would try anything to make Night release him.

But it was proving to be hard.

No matter how many times Dream insulted him, no matter how many meals were thrown to the floor when Dream refused to eat, no matter how many times Dream tried to escape, Nightmare was still adamant that he loved him.

Dream needed to make sure Night knew the love would never be returned.

"Fine, as you wish"

"But for now it's best we go back home"

Dream got to his feet, too tired to argue anymore, the idea of the warm and soft sheets of his private room was now extremely appealing. Though that didn't mean he was about to give up!

As he wrapped his scarf around his skull again, he made sure to look around where he was, see every possible path out. The beings here weren't actually hostile, just bored as Night said. So long as he was careful and more strategic next time there was no way Night would need to come after him. He'd never see his next escape coming!

"Oh, and the next time you wanna play tag, Make sure to avoid Sisyphus and his bolder please, I'd hate to have to save you again"

The amusement dripping his off every word was infuriating.

Dream felt a gold blush tinge his cheeks along with the strongest desire to strike him with a vine whip. If it wasn't for the fact his body was drained from the earlier panic, he wouldn't have hesitated in doing so.

"Oh you!!!" He poked his tongue out "go away!"

Nightmare winked at him, adding more golden warmth across Dream's face. The god stomped ahead of Nightmare not wanting to look at him a second longer. 

Nightmare was tracking close behind him, but that didn't mean Dream had to actually acknowledge him.

Night didn't speak to Dream either, he simply walked a few paces behind, directing Dream which way to go on occasion.

Guilt licked him and flickered at his feet like fire. He tried to suppress it, but it was hard to ignore. 

Dream wanted out, but that was normal for the early days, right?

"......"

He'd settle down...

But in part, the idea of that made Night feel ill.

He knew it was wrong what he was doing, but deep inside a voice told him Dream would thank him for it one day. His mind didn't really believe that, but his soul continued to insist on it. 

It was a constant back and forth, but at the moment, the idea of letting Dream go was more painful than he could bear. 

Was it so wrong that he wanted to love him? Was it so wrong that he wanted to protect him from the slimy hands of the gods with worse self-control? Was it so bad he wanted to be happy...

"......"

He sighed and pulled his hood back up.

Yes...it was.

He was selfish. 

"...."

But for now, he'd allow himself to be selfish. If the other gods could be, then why not him...

"....."

Dream thought that each time he slipped out of the castle, he'd been hyper sneaky and clever, but it was never more than a few minutes later that Nightmare would be aware of his leaving. A trail of small sprouts and flower petals was always left behind his feet, slowly dying in the empty ground. An easy path to follow.

Night hadn't been lying when he said he didn't mind Dream exploring. If the underworld was to be Dream's kingdom someday, he would give his love complete freedom to run around there, so long as he didn't get in trouble. 

It always made Dream so happy when he felt like he'd been sneaky too... he was just adorable...

Again Nightmare swallowed his guilt and buried it with a reminder that he would treat Dream well. He would be a good husband if Dream decided to agree to it.

Perhaps Dream would never love him, but he would do everything in his power to make sure he was comfortable and safe.

And that was more than some others would...

"....."

"Dream...I love you..."

"....."

The other god said nothing, not that Nightmare expected him to.

He never should have listened to Ink...

The two returned to the castle in silence.

[casuallivi]

Azriel Week 2022. Day 5. Ships (elriel)

Prelude: The Whims of Fate, The Wills of Fae

This fic can also be read as a prelude to The Things You Like, The Ones You Don't. The opening act was polished with the help of this gem ;) Hope you guys enjoy the ride, you can let me know your thoughts anytime ;)

Summary:  His life is harsh, his job is strenuous, his responsibilities are endless. His relief is one and only.

Warnings: explicit language, violence. Set during ACOFAS.

Word Count: 3853

Velaris. Two months after Solstice.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The slow rhythmic drip of water brought Leon back to conscious. He wheezed, the coppery stench in the air making he realize it wasn’t water that dripped. Blood. Blood dripped down his nose, splattering on the cold stone. His former chains were discharged a couple feet from his mangled body, for Leon was slowly dying on the unfamiliar floor. His lungs expanded, trying to collect air, and Leon moaned painfully, the shattered ribs radiating pain all over his torso with every little amount of air that he managed to pull in. He tried to move, but all he could do was wheeze a painful breath. Everything hurt. He couldn’t feel one of his arms.

His face was a mess, his cheekbones sunk into the muscles, his nose a pulp of blood, his eyes so swelled, it took him a moment to manage to see through the blood coagulating in his eyeballs, the glimpse of white bone poking thought his left arm sucking another painful whimper out of him, his loose teeth flooding his mouth with blood. Leon didn’t even have enough strength left to spit it. He gagged on it, a silent pray for the gods dying between his useless unmovable lips. Mother, spare your child. Cauldron, have mercy on your son. They would not hear him. The subterrain cells buried deep down the confines of Hewn Mountain was not a place the gods could reach. No. Only the scum earned that privilege.

The events of the day blurred in his feeble mind. It seemed like a life time ago when Leon was captured within the borders of Night Court after making his trade in Day. Getting caught wasn’t an ideal situation, but Leon was your usual thief. He was a master of his craft, and escape was an art he had perfected along the centuries. He went as far as escaping from the infamous Illyrian general during the last war, avoiding the military draft as the rest of the losers in his village.

The Mother knew Leon was a big male, meant for a big destiny. Dying as a nobody, in the middle of a war that had nothing to do with him, was not in his plans. So what if they had him in hold for now? He would escape anyways. Leon was a tall male, but he wasn’t a burly tug who couldn’t go by unnoticed, solving his problems with his fist. His body was slender with finely build muscles, his brown eyes and black hair granting him the perfect common features to be dismissed in a crowd without a second glance, the adversities on the way being solved with the help of his cunning intellect. That, and the bit of coercive magic he was born with.

Blink once, he slashed the pocket of coins from your breeches. Blink twice, he was gone among the mass of bodies. Despite the fact he could steal without attracting attention, Leon had no desire to remain as a measly pocket picker. He built a fame for himself, accepted jobs not even the sliest of thieves would dare to attempt, he even robbed from the vaults of the High Lord of Spring. In time, his fame rendered him a few apprentices, they formed a little group, which later on grow into a massive band of thieves, tricksters, traders, messengers, mercenaries and killers. Whatever you needed, the Hel Raising Faes could got you, and Leon was their leader. The master of all crafts.

He remembered laughing earlier that evening, dumbfounded at the insult of being put in regular iron chains, the same material one would use to bound a lesser fae. How dare these assholes think such a primitive holder would keep him down? They would need magic-restrictive chains to hold a high rank male like him, even then Leon would not be going down without a fight. As every good thief, Leon took notice of all the details while being dragged down the dungeon. He counted two exits placed on opposite end of the corridor, ten holding cells displayed on each side of his block, all of them awfully silent as if there wasn't a single prisoner behind those doors. Which couldn't be true since Leon could hear them breathing, even catching a pair of golden eyes caged by an open hatch.

The Illyrian guard in charge of him pushed Leon through an open door. He bid his time, looking around the badly lit cell, taking in the four dark damp stone walls covered slick mold. Despite having heard the guards talking about his interrogation, Leon noted the lack of structure and torturing devices in the room. No hooks on the wall or the ceiling to hang a prisoner, no metal table displaying sadistic gear, no roaring fire with metal spikes to burn him. In fact, the only things in the cell were Leon, the guard, and two simple chairs. He scorned at them.

The guard shoved him down the wood chair and left. Leon watched him close the metal door, judging the quadrangular hatch big enough to stick a head. Fucking idiots. If you could stick a head, the rest of the body goes with ease. He waited for the familiar sound of a key turning, a lock being put in place. He heard nothing but the steps of his jailor getting farther.

Inching forward on his chair, Leon noticed two things. 1) The chair wasn't fixed on the stone floor, but simply put there, as one would place a piece of run-down furniture in a tavern; 2) He wasn't bound to the meek chair, his arms were only wrapped around the back, his wrists trapped together. With a furious snarl he snatched the chains, kicking the chair with rage, the thing coming apart as it collapsed against the back wall. Leon spit on it. How dare them threat him as if he was just a common thief caught in Night soil. He was the fucking leader of Hel Raising Faes, for fucks sakes, he–

"I see you renounced your privilege of sitting." Leon whirled back to see the other chair was no longer empty, a male sat there. He squinted at him. The cell was dark, but he should have been able to see his features from this distance, yet, he could see nothing except for the vague shape of a male, as if darkness itself molded around him. “Pity.”

Leon’s upper lip peeling over his teeth, a warning growl directed at the unknow male.

“Who the fuck you supposed to be? The headsmale?” he laughed at his own joke.

The male didn’t respond. Instead, he reached inside his jacket to pull out an object Leon knew well. The solid gold brass knuckles, with sharp spikes on the edges, glinted in his hands, the letters HRF, with flames burning behind it, inscripted on the side were carved by him.

"That's mine," he growled in warning.

"Is it?" The male twirled the brass. "I see you are a talker, then,” he threw the brass up and caught it in the air. “Tsk. That’s no fun.”

“I’m not a fucking talker.” Leon rebuked offended, puffing his chest.

He knew what this male was doing, trying to rill him up, scare him with the possibility of torture. Leon wasn’t stupid, they need him lucid and willing if they wanted to find the human whores, they would not lay a finger on him. “I’m not saying shit.”

“I’m counting on it,” the other sneered darkly.

The male inched forward, darkness bending and molding to revel a big pair of wings unfurling on his back, talons scratching the ceiling in their wake, denouncing him as another Illyrian, but not any Illyrian. A glow of blue flickered at the height of his chest, Leon’s eyes growing wild. Shit, fuck, shit. It wasn’t darkness he was willing, it were shadows. Shit!

A drop of cold sweat ran down his face watching the Shadowsinger’s face emerging in front of him, his eyes promising anything but mercy, holding Leon’s gaze as he slid his gold brass knuckles over his bronzed scarred fingers. Leon did not even had time to take a step back before he moved, his massive frame blurring as his fist collapsed with Leon’s jaw so strongly, he felt the bone disjointing. His mouth sagged open as he watched his jailor in shock. A rattling noise shook the cavernous cell, Leon emitting a strangled sound as a swarm of shadow began to descend from the walls, infiltrating from under the door cracks, the open hatch. Suddenly, the air staled, all light consumed from the cell while darkness embraced his piercing screams.

Outside the room, prisoners recoiled within their cells listening to Leon shouts for mercy, each one of them remembering what it meant to receive a personal visit from the Shadowsinger. He’d play with his pray. Put them in weak chains, feeding their wet dreams about an easy escape, let them bluff and puff your chest thinking they could outsmart Night Court’s intelligence. Sometimes he even let them wander around the labyrinth of dark corridors under the mountain. In the end there was no escaping this place, there was only him; The Shadowsinger. His cursed frame emerging from the dark, his devious shadow-hounds doing his bidding, his centuries of experience feeding from fae souls

Leon cried louder.

A prisoner shuddered.

No.

It was never a good thing to be a newcomer received by the Shadowsinger.

+

Azriel was morose and silent as he touched the town house door handle, waiting spelled-door recognized him. He’d been tracking every step of that insufferable band of thieves for months, his intelligence network working to eliminate every wicked branch of it. Tonight, he had finally come face to face with the slave traders, their leader slipping through Night border, in a messy attempt to escape, as he planned. Azriel left his spies taking care of the arrests, dedicating his time to locate the human victims hidden.

It wasn’t unusual for Children of the Blessed to fall into fae traps, their love for the race leading them to believe in promises that would never be fulfilled, happy ever after in the arms of a prince or princess. Learning their weakness, and counting on the easier access to the Human Lands without the barrier of the wall, the despicable leader of HRF created a network to smuggle humans. He’d lure the believers with pretty vows, bounding them into a life of misery and slavery. Only after he found the remaining humans, freed them and place in a proper shelter, did he return for Leon. If he closed his eyes, Azriel could still see them. Smell them. Dozens of humans kept in deplorable conditions, pressed together in a small pension room, malnourished children crying in their own filth, hopelessness and hunger bleeding from their gazes.

To be filthy, hungry and locked in a cell. Azriel knew what it was like, knew the mark it leaves on you. Maybe that’s why he chose to spend an especial evening with Leon, or maybe he was just a bigger of a monster as him. A monster who fed from pain. Azriel ran a hand throw his hair and crossed the foyer, doing his best to forget the memories trying to resurface, his shadows crooning for to sleep as they usually did. Sleeeeep. Sleeeeep. He would do just that once he reached the spared room on the second floor. He and Cassian stayed mostly in the house of wind now that the sister moved down here, but tonight Azriel was too tired to fly all the way back to there, his wings heavy and his muscles strained from days of flying nonstop –and if he was lucky, he could get a glimpse of Elain during breakfast. Yes, shadow-walking here had been a good choice. He was still thinking about he when he felt her.

Elain.

He usually felt her before he saw her. The scent of jasmine assaulting him quicker than Cassian’s jab during a sparring. It was unmistakably hers. Not the suave aroma one could scent the flower, but a deep lingering fragrance only carried by her, pleasant sugary notes of honey blending with it, the delicious mix arousing a variety of emotions within. Azriel found her sitting on top of the stairs with the faelights off. The dark did nothing to hide her from him, tho. That’s how he saw Elain was wearing pants, pajama pants, but pants nonetheless. His stiffness gave place to verve as he climbed the stairs, watching her. She was covered in a fluff grey wool pajama, hugging her knees, her feet guarded by a pair of polka dotted socks, her cheek pressed to the wall, honey colored tresses partially veiling sleepy doe eyes that blinked in and out of conscious. How could a female look so delicious and so adorable at same time?

Azriel chuckled quietly attracting her attention. Elain blinked at the sight of him, the softest of breaths escaping her parted lips, her head almost hitting the rail in her hurry to sit straight. She scanned him from head to toe, wild brown eyes cataloging every piece of him. He reached her in no time, retuning the small smile she gave him, extended his silent shield towards her, keeping their voices from the rest of the house. “You are up late.”

“So are you.”

The way she looked up to him was so innocent, her intentions so clear and honest, Azriel found himself reaching for her hand, Elain accepting his without a second of hesitation. For a moment he forgot how deeply covered in blood they’ve been moments ago, how truthfully he had to scrub himself to feel clean. When he remembered, he felt no urge to push back and hide his hands as he so often did in the pass. No, Azriel held her tighter, making sure she was real and not just a product of his sleep deprived imagination.

As if she felt his need for reassurance, Elain squeezed him back. She was real. She was here. Had she known he would come? Was she waiting for him? His mind spun with questions, yet he asked none of them, patiently waiting for her to finish cleaning her bottom.  

“Come. Let me walk you.” a stupid request to make, since her room was a couple of steps away, and he had to pass by it to get into the guest one. He just wanted to touch her all the way there. He could make twelve steps last for an eternity if he put his mind to it.

Except Elain didn’t share the sentiment.

“No,” she replied simply. Azriel tensed, his hand hanged loose, horrific confusion bathing his face as he tried to withdraw his fingers, which were laced with her. Elain held back. “Because I will walk you.”

Azriel placed his free hand on his chest, his tension dissolving in a nervous laugh. He almost cursed. Almost. “0x1, Archeron.”

Elain gave him a shit eating grin, the mischief in her brown orbs lightening the space between them. Her contagious joy emanated to him, so obvious he could feel it blooming in his own chest, happy and bright as her smiles. The rich sensation spread further along his body as they walk the short walk to the end of the hall, their feet almost dragging on the carpet, his shadows disappearing on his trail, leaving him and his sweet flower alone –save for the rest of their family, sleeping in their respective bedrooms, not that Azriel cared for any of them at the moment.

Once they reached the bedroom, Elain was the one to open the door in a single swipe, letting him pry to what was inside. To his utter surprise, the room was tidy despite the fact that it been a while since anyone slept in it. The window was ajar, letting the moonlight in, the floor was shiny, the bed had clean sheets, a suave fragrance perfuming the air. His eyes darted to the bedside table, noting the two items on top of it. A small crystal vase replete with tiny blue flowers, and mug of tea, steam rising above the rim. Still warm. Azriel eyed the flowers again. His throat bobbed. He had spent enough hours in Elain’s company as she piped about flowers and theirs meaning, to recognize those particular cobalt blossoms. Forget-me-nots.  

This was not the view of a barely visited guest bedroom, this was the view of a room ready for use. A room for someone who was expected. Wanted. Elain was watching him carefully, waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t, she spoke for him.

“I wasn’t sure,” she wetted her lips, feeling nervous for the first time tonight, her tone getting serious. “I just…I had this feeling,”

“That I needed to crash here?” he lifted a brow playfully, trying to lighten the crease in hers.

Elain shook her head, determinate to not let him downplay the urgency of her gut feeling.

“That you needed to rest.” Words came and die in the tip of his tongue.

Elain hadn’t been able to sleep properly tonight. She tossed and turned in bed the whole time, strange shapeless creatures chasing smoke and mirrors. She felt tired to the bone. She got up after a while, deciding a warm drink might help her to slumber. Instead of going down, to the kitchen, her feet guided her to the side, the empty bedroom calling to her. Angst heaved in her chest when she pushed the door open. The place felt abandon. Her heart ache looking at it. There was no way one could have a pleasant rest inside. This would not do.

A sudden necessity to warm the place assaulted her, and before she knew it, Elain was spreading the windows wide open, letting the night breeze sweep the cold creeping in the corners. She replaced the dusty brown bedding with one of her freshly-washed ones, a cozy cream-colored combination that smelled like roses and felt like clouds. She even brewed passionflower, pouring the soothing tea in an especial mug created to keep the temperature perfect for hours. Once she was done, Elain sat on the top of the stairs and waited. Deep down she knew who she was doing this for, knew who she was waiting.

Azriel eyed Elain. Back on the house of wind, the headache powder was placed on his nightstand with the reverence of a trophy. Whenever he slept there, Azriel would glance at vial in the wee hours of night, memories of her flooding his mind as they constantly did. Now here she was, presenting him a cozy room that smelled like home. Once again, she rendered him vulnerable without warning. One word from her being enough to disarm him. This type of vulnerability could be exploited by his enemies, could cost his life and countless others in a battlefield. Yet, he didn’t feel the need to pretend not being shaken, nor the need to hide behind his shadows. Being unraveled by Elain Archeron was unlike anything he had ever experienced. From her, he had no need to hide the cracks of his armor, from her, he had no wish to shield his mind and never let her pry to his insecurities.

For the first time in many centuries of being a spymaster, Azriel felt something other than anger at the possibility of being exposed. He felt relief. Behind his back, his wings sagged in exhaustion, imperceptible for untrained eyes, but another Illyrian would notice from a good yard. Being seen by Elain lighten his shoulders in a level that could not be describe by words, her gentleness sent his barriers careening down, her particular way of displaying affection ignited something deep inside of him.

They stood there for a minute. An hour. A day. Time was irrelevant. Each one of them was rooted to the spot by their own thoughts. Azriel should have stayed quiet. He should have thanked her and bid her goodnight. Elain already did more than he would ever deserve allowing him to bathe in the same warmth she presented to others, indulging in every spec of liberty he took with her. It should be enough. It would never be enough. Although he suspected the answer, he couldn’t help it, he had to know, he needed to know. Needed to hear her say it.

"Would you be here if you knew where I came from?” his voice was raw, vulnerable. Anxiety coming through. “Would you be here if you knew what I done tonight?”

“Yes.” Sometimes a single word can change everything. Sometimes a single word can full your courage in a way a warrior speech, in the peril of battle, would not be able to. “You want to tell me?” The soft squeeze in his hand was comforting weight, a symbol companionship, a prove of confidence.

“Not tonight.”

“Okay.”

Her unquestionable trust swelled on his chest. She made it look easy. To accept who he was, to understand the lengths he had to go, the damage he had to cause. He looked down at their hands, Elain following his gaze, gently running her thumb against his skin. His mangled skin coated in scars, and blood, and gore, and death. Would he taint her if he held for too long? Or would she infect him with her radiant self?

She pulled him in the direction of the inviting bed. “Rest,” she said again.

Rest. His shadows crooned like parrots, her voice mimicked with perfection. Rest. Rest. Rest.

Reluctantly, Elain let go of him, slowly, as if she would rather stand there all night than leave. Giving him one last sunny smile, she closed the door behind herself.

And that was it.

The point of no return.

The whole curse of his life changed by a four-letter word.

From that day on their clandestine flirting evolved. A dangerous dance that could not be stopped by the presence of other fae in the vicinity. Lingering touches that electrified his skin, sparkling chocolate eyes that never seemed to stray, feet touching under the table, pinkies hooked behind their backs, playful winks and beautiful shy smiles, the permanent scent of jasmine that always seemed to linger on his clothes, denouncing how much he spent seeking after her. From that day on he considered himself hers.

And mother had mercy on the land, because Azriel would measure no efforts to see a smile bloom in Elain’s lips, no consequence could stop him from trying to give her the sun if she asked for it. No matter that he didn’t considered himself good enough for her, that the Cauldron knew that as well and gave her to another, that fate would always try to bring her and her mate together. None of it matter. If he ever had the honor of receiving her heart, Azriel would guard it as his most prized possession, for Elain’s affection was something he could no longer live without.

[schmerzerling]

A saccharine, pointless fix-it fic, set post-15x19. Because you deserve it.

Dean doesn’t even make it down the stairs into the bunker before he’s already praying.

Dear Jack, who art in heaven, hope you’re eating your vegetables and wearing deodorant—being a noncorporeal celestial entity is no excuse not to—and, oh, could you please bring your dad back from black goo mega hell?

It seems a little selfish at this point to pray to Jack—kid just brought back the entire human race, so he could probably use a bit of a breather, but it can’t hurt to add just a little tick to his to-do list. Besides, maybe Dean’s earned being a little selfish. Maybe it’s finally Dean’s opportunity to cash in his “whoops, I killed your mom” favor with his wayward antichrist slash omniscient deity slash son.

He gets to the bottom of the stairs, tosses his bag down on the war room table, starts down the hallway toward his bedroom, and.

Oh. There’s Cas.

“It was the first thing he did,” Cas says, like he heard Dean’s prayer. He’s in the kitchen, looking consideringly between a frying pan and a recipe on his phone. From the smell of it, he could be making French toast, maybe, if French toast were black and hard and dense as a brick. “Well, after resurrecting all life on earth, I suppose.” Then Cas says, wistfully, like a proud father who’s just seen his son off to kindergarten, “I hope he’s having a good first day.”

His nose gets that—wrinkle it gets. Dean’s memorized that wrinkle. He knows that wrinkle, and yeah. That’s definitely his Cas filling his kitchen with toxic French toast smog.

“I got back early,” Cas continues, casual like he didn’t do anything more than dodge out of work at four to miss rush hour, “and I figured you and Sam would be hungry when you got home.”

Dean gapes like a fish, mouth open to gulp in toast fumes. Behind him, he hears Sam clang down the spiral stairs in the war room. When he hits the bottom step and clunks onto the concrete floor, he says, “Hey, what do you bet Chuck’s already knee deep in Naked and Afraid territory—”

He rounds the corner, sees Cas in the kitchen, and smiles like it’s his birthday. Then he looks at Dean briefly, uses two fingers under Dean’s chin to close his hanging jaw with an audible click-pop teeth-jowl combo, and flashes Dean a double thumbs up before he retreats quietly down the hallway.

Because he’s an asshole.

Cas looks up from the mess he’s making of Dean’s favorite pan and the nose wrinkle is still there, right above a sweet, wistful smile. He’s really fucking—cute. But he’s an asshole too. The absolute king of the assholes. Because the last time he saw Cas, saw Cas’s eyes, they were spilling over with tears that Dean put there, that loving Dean put there. They were wide and clear and almost reflective, so that Dean could see himself crying back, and so that Dean could see his own devastated face when he realized that Cas was saying goodbye a-fucking-gain. And the worst thing, the absolute worst thing about all that is that he’s smiling now like he was smiling then, like giving up his life for Dean makes him happy in the same way cooking Dean shitty French toast does.

Cas’s smile fades the longer Dean looks at him and doesn’t say anything, and Dean sees when the skittish uncertainty starts taking him over.

“Dean. We can—I know…” He licks his perpetually chapped lips and huffs a quick, fortifying breath. “I didn’t mean to ‘make it weird.’”

He curls his fingers around air quotes when he says it, and a feeling of nostalgic fondness swells up inside Dean so fast it hurts his chest, bursts up against his throat to produce a noise that sounds suspiciously like a whimper. He’s the same fucking Cas he’s always been, Dean realizes. He hasn’t changed, just like Dean asked him not to all that time ago. So the only explanation for the paralyzing feeling of earnest affection bubbling up his throat like top-shelf sangria vomit is—

That Dean has. That Cas hasn’t changed, but he has cast a new light on everything he’s ever done, and now Dean can plainly see that their whole history is painted over in colorful shades of I love you. Dean knew it before, he thinks. That Castiel loved him. But there’s knowing, abstractly, and then there’s seeing and hearing. There’s believing. There’s recognizing that Cas has a secret smile, just for Dean. There’s internalizing his I love you until it buoys him, until it keeps his head above water long enough to see that maybe that secret smile means exactly what he always hoped it did, because maybe he’s been worth that secret smile all along.

Dean lurches clumsily forward, promptly forgetting the two steps that lead down into the kitchen. He trips over his own feet, straight into the kitchen island, with a disastrous clatter. Every spoon and spatula and pot and pan hanging over the top of the island clatters. He can almost sense Sam listening from his bedroom, can almost hear him laughing about how Dean just went toe to toe with God, but one awkward blink of Cas’s baby blues turns him into an bumbling, lovestruck idiot.

Dean skitters around the island, straight into Cas’s space like Cas is always up in his. He says, “No, no,” desperately like that means anything, like he’s afraid Cas is going to disappear before he can make it clear. He breathes right into Cas’s mouth, sharing air like he can’t stand not to. Cas exhales softly as those fucking eyes flit worriedly over Dean’s face. He says, “Oh, Dean, you’re hurt—”

And Dean plants his lips right on Castiel’s.

It’s not much of a kiss. It’s chaste and subdued against the subtle background chime of settling pots and pans. But Cas brings up both hands to cup Dean’s cheeks, just gently, like he’s afraid of exacerbating wounds but can’t stand to let Dean pull away, either. And when Cas finally does pull back to look into Dean’s unfocussed eyes, the sense of beaming contentment that Castiel positively glows with pours directly into Dean through a long, lingering look.

It settles something tumultuous inside Dean. A quiet leaches down into his bones, nestles up against his heart like a purring kitten. And in the sudden silence of his scattered head, he can actually hear himself when he says, “I—I mean. You too. I do too. Love. You, I mean.” He almost ruins it by giving Cas his patented no-homo back pat, but he restrains himself at the last second. He finger-combs Cas’s fringe back from his wrinkled forehead instead.

He wasn’t expecting to say it, because he doesn’t say it, not even in the pathetic, fragmented way he just managed. And Cas clearly wasn’t expecting it either, because his eyes go wide like they were then and he says, “Oh,” on a gentle exhale. “Oh.”

Dean sees his own lovestruck astonishment, reflected again in Cas’s eyes.

Cas drops his hands from Dean’s face and says, all business, “Well. Good.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Dean clears his throat and steps back. Then he nods down at Castiel’s disaster toast and says, “Can I help you not burn the bunker down?” And Cas nods, slowly and fondly, and laughs because there’s no one to tell him not to. They bump shoulders while they cook and sit on the same side of the dining table while Dean eats and that’s that.

That’s all there is.